by Vicki Essex
“I’m not qualified, despite my experience. I don’t have the right schooling for it. I don’t have any schooling at all. Kind of ironic, really, considering everything I’ve done back home.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But even if I was qualified, I don’t think I could do it. Being here, away from the farm... New York isn’t the place for me.” Admitting it out loud closed a bunch of doors in his mind. His gaze meshed with hers, even as she lowered her eyes, understanding clear in the slouch of her shoulders.
“To each his own.” Her attempt at sounding trite fell flat. Her lips lifted in a tremulous smile. Dammit, he should have kept his mouth shut. He wanted to go to her, pull her into his arms, but if he touched her, he might do something stupid like promise to stay, sell the farm, buy some horrid little box of a condo in some stale little suburban borough and move in with her.
He couldn’t do that. Not to his son or his father. But most important, he couldn’t do it to himself. He was happy as a farmer. He’d always thought he’d been missing out on something bigger, grander, more important. But he’d achieved more in his hometown than he could have anywhere else. It wasn’t on the same scale as working for an environmental lobby group, but he was making a difference.
For the first time in his life, he was truly proud of who he was and what he did. Tiffany couldn’t give up her dream any more than he could give up his.
“We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he said, throat tight. “Do you want to join us for brunch before we go?”
“I...I’d better not. I have a lot of work to do.”
“I thought your boss told you to take the weekend off.”
The corner of her mouth twisted up. “I snuck a few manuscripts home.”
“Rebel.” He chuckled, then slowly pushed to his feet. Dragging up the energy to be courteous and friendly was painful. “Okay. Well. Thanks for playing tour guide. And for...everything.”
He waited, hoping beyond hope she’d reach out, show him something. She stared at him across the short space between the living room and the kitchen. It might as well have been miles. “You’re welcome.”
Every limb felt like wood as he forced himself to open the door. She started walking toward him to see him off, but he simply smiled, waved and shut the door behind him.
The next day, he headed home to Everville.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WHEN DANIEL CAME HOME around midnight, he found his sister facedown on the futon, sobbing.
“Tiff?” He threw his jacket aside and knelt by her. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t be with him,” she wailed, and hiccuped as she tried to take a breath. “I can’t be with him. This is where I’m supposed to be, and he can’t be here. He doesn’t want to be here. I can’t be with him.” She was hyperventilating. The emotional dams had at last crumbled, and grief swamped her.
Daniel brought her tissues, brewed tea, then comforted her as best he could while she remained curled up in fetal position.
“Oh, God, Daniel, why am I so miserable?” she blubbered.
He patted her back. “Love is funny that way, I guess.”
“I don’t love him,” she said staunchly, blowing her nose. “I can’t love him. We don’t belong together. We’re too different.”
“Sure, sure.” He was too tired to point out how much she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“I love my job,” she asserted, fist clenched. “It’s a great job. It’s what I’ve always wanted. What I trained for. This is where I am supposed to be.”
“No, it’s not.” He clasped her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I saw it the minute you opened the door. Tiff, your job is making you miserable.”
“It is not. I love my job. I worked all my life for this. If you’re going to sit there and question my feelings all night—”
He burst out laughing, hearing his own words echoed back to him. His sister stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”
“What?”
“Remember when you first found out about Selena and you were all ‘What do you have to offer her blah, blah, blah?’ You told me we were too different, that she could never leave her practice and move to Everville, that I’d never figure out how to live apart from Mom and Dad—”
“I never said those things.” She smacked him in the arm.
“You didn’t say them out loud, but I got the message. And now it’s the same for you, isn’t it? You think you love your job, but really, you’re in love with Chris.”
“I am not!”
“You’d do anything for him,” he went on relentlessly, “but you’re too stubborn to because you’re too focused on what you think you should want. You think you want all this, but in the week I’ve been here, all I’ve seen is how hard you work and how unhappy you’ve become. You don’t have time to have the life you’re dreaming of. I’m not sure you even know what that dream life is supposed to be. Make your own happiness, sis. Success is how you define it, not how someone else does.”
As the words tumbled out of his mouth, it was as if a window had opened in his mind. It was all so clear now, and he took a deep breath.
He settled both hands over his sister’s shoulders, looking her straight in the teary eyes. “We’re both idiots,” he said.
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Also, you’re an ugly crier, so snap out of it and clean yourself up.” He got to his feet and grabbed his jacket.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “Are you going to leave your poor, heartbroken sister all alone in her hour of need?”
“Tiff. Chris drove all the way here with his son to see you during harvest season. You need to think about that and what you really want in life.” He snatched up his keys. “You already know what that is. You just have to admit it to yourself.” He hurried out the door, praying he could win back what happiness he could for himself.
* * *
IT WAS CLOSE TO ONE by the time Daniel arrived at Selena’s condo. He buzzed her code, and when she picked up, he said, “It’s Daniel. I’m sorry for calling so late. I’m not drunk. But I am an idiot and I need to tell you to your face how much of an idiot I am.”
Silence answered him, and then a loud buzz. He nearly wrenched the door off the hinges going in.
His heart was hammering so hard, he could feel his sweat- and food-stained T-shirt jumping against his skin. He should have showered and changed before walking into this conversation, but he couldn’t waste another minute of his life without telling Selena how he felt.
She opened the door at his knock. She had on pajama shorts and a T-shirt with a dancing kitten on it. Her hair was piled in a bun on her head, and she wore glasses rather than her usual contacts. Even so, she was the most radiant woman he’d ever seen.
“I love you, Selena,” he said.
Her eyebrows climbed into her hairline. “Are you high?”
“Only on your love. Can I come in?”
“Depends.” She cocked a hip and leaned against the door. “Are you going to pass out on my couch again and leave without saying thank you? Are you going to tell me your parents won’t like me because I’m a gwai-mui?”
He chuckled at her use of the Cantonese slang term for white girl. “I promise never to do either of those things ever again. If you don’t want to let me in, that’s okay, but I have something to say and I might get a little loud about it.”
She glared, considered him a moment. “In case you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’m mad at you.”
“I know.”
“I can’t begin to tell you how ticked off I was when you showed up here drunk after you told me I wasn’t good enough for your parents.”
“I know.”
“I don’t owe you a goddamned thing. And I’d probably be better off without you.”
He swallowed thickly, glanced at his shoes. “Yeah. I know that, too.”
Her fingers flexed over the edge of the door, but the
n she swung it wide open and waved him through.
He followed her into the living room, as if he were walking up to the edge of a precipice. He knew exactly how far he had to fall if Selena didn’t return his feelings. The way she was eyeing him now, he might already have lost her. He must look slightly crazed. But now was the time for leaps of faith.
“I was making excuses,” he declared. “I got it into my head that my parents wouldn’t approve of you because you’re white. Because you don’t meet this strict list of qualifications that I made up in my mind based on nothing. My parents don’t care what you are. In fact, I don’t care what my parents think about you. The reality is that I’m not good enough for you. I’m the one who doesn’t meet my own standards. I’m the one judging our relationship against some nonexistent benchmark.” He breathed deeply. “I’m sorry I ever tried to put any of my own insecurities on you. I’m ashamed of myself.”
“Go on,” she said flatly when he paused for breath.
“When I met you, I was...overwhelmed by the fact a beautiful, smart, caring woman like you would want to have anything to do with me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you first messaged me online. You’re everything I could possibly ever want. And I was terrified that you’d see how much of a loser I am.”
“Loser?” She appeared genuinely puzzled. “Why would you say that?”
“C’mon, Selena. Look at me. Thirty-four and living with my parents, working for them in a small-town Chinese restaurant with no real income of my own. Someone must have said something about how I might only be with you for your money.”
The discomfort that flitted across her features confirmed his suspicions.
“It was my sister who made me face the facts. You were right, talking with her was helpful. Even if she kind of knocked me for a loop at first.” He grimaced. “But she also made me realize nothing else matters except what I feel for you. I was bogged down by the idea that I should be the breadwinner and supporting you. It scared me that I could want something so bad and realize I hadn’t earned it.
“I can’t tell you that one day I’ll make as much as you do in some job here in New York. Right now, I’m making fifteen dollars an hour working in a Chinese barbecue restaurant as a cook and waiter on the dinner shift. Frankly, I don’t know that I want to do anything else. I love cooking. I love the restaurant business. But I would give all that up to become your trophy husband and raise our children if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Tears shone in her eyes behind her glasses. She pressed a trembling hand against her heart. “Shouldn’t you be on your knees or something?” she asked in a choked whisper.
“I would already be on them if I had a ring.” He dropped to his knees anyhow. “Selena, will you marry me?”
She shook her head. “All this melodrama and you come here in the middle of the night, expecting me to give you a life-changing answer now?” She laughed shakily, and Daniel smiled.
“I’ll stay on my knees until you do give me an answer.”
“Get up, you goof.” She flung her arms around him as he shot to his feet and wrapped her in his embrace.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, you idiot,” she choked out. “God, I’ve missed you so much.”
Hot tears of happiness welled in his eyes. He squeezed her tight. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for what I’ve done. Anything you want, Selena, just name it.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He did. And he didn’t stop.
* * *
TIFFANY HAD A LONG THINK ALL SUNDAY.
Puffy-eyed and exhausted from a night of emotional diarrhea, all she could think about was the week ahead. If she could focus on taking one step at a time, taking things day by day, it would all be more manageable.
But the thought only drove her into a deeper depression.
Daniel hadn’t come home last night. She’d worried about him briefly, but then received a text around three in the morning, informing her he’d gotten back together with Selena and wouldn’t be coming home. How nice for them, she’d thought bleakly, though in the light of the morning, over a strong cup of coffee, she had to admit she was happy for her brother...and a little envious.
She tried to settle down to read, but found herself staring blankly at the page, the words blurring together. She was watching the clock, she realized, counting down the minutes to Chris’s departure.
Ridiculous. What was she going to do? Run to his hotel and fling herself in front of the car to stop him from leaving? He had to go home. Simon had school. William needed to be cared for and the farm needed its farmer.
What did Tiffany need? A brain transplant, apparently, because the way her thoughts were headed, she couldn’t believe she wasn’t going crazy.
There was absolutely nothing for her in Everville—not careerwise, anyhow. If she went back, she’d be throwing her hard-earned English degree out the window. That act of rebellion that had broken her away from her parents’ expectations would be for nothing. If she went back, what would she be facing except humiliation? Failure? She would become Tiffany, the brainy Chinese girl who couldn’t keep a job, poor thing.
She closed her eyes. Here, she was something. She was editorial assistant at Haute Docs Books. She was a gatekeeper, a publishing demigod.
But she was tired. And overworked. And alone.
And she was miserable.
She had to face it. She woke up every day dreading her life. She went through the motions, but her work was joyless, Sisyphean, even. But she was sticking around because she was certain it was what she’d been born to do.
There was only one thing she could think about doing, now.
She opened her laptop and started typing out her letter of resignation.
Three weeks later
TIFFANY DRANK IN the crisp smell of dried leaves and rich earth newly turned after harvest. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved this time of year in the country. The fall fair would be coming up soon; she thought about painting something to enter into the arts contest. Perhaps a view from Osprey Peak.
Her heart rate doubled as she pulled into the gravel driveway at the Jamieson farm. A familiar figure strode toward her from the field.
“Hi, Jane,” she greeted. The farm manager didn’t say anything as she gathered her into a hug. Tiffany hugged her right back.
“Thank God you’re home. It hasn’t been the same around here since you left.” She held her away. “They’re all in there.” She nodded toward the house. “Don’t know if you need backup, but...”
“I’ll be sure to call for you if they chase me off with pitchforks and torches.” She chuckled. “Here. Insurance.” She handed the woman a large double espresso mocha latte with extra foam from the Grindery.
“You’d better marry that fool of a man,” Jane called after her as Tiff walked up the veranda.
The door was unlocked. It always was. It was something she’d have to get used to, she supposed, though she wasn’t sure she’d ever shake her city habit. Locked doors around here seemed to suggest you didn’t trust your neighbors, though. And she was through shutting people out of her life.
The door opened on silent hinges. She stepped in, breathing in that slightly stale smell of old food, animals, grease and men. Another thing she would have to become accustomed to.
She hoped.
She heard voices raised in heated discussion coming from the dining room. As quietly as she could, she peeked around the doorway.
Chris and William were sitting on opposite sides of the table, with Simon sitting at the head between them, a laptop and several books spread open in front of him. His gaze bounced between father and grandfather, and he was scratching his scalp with the tip of a pen.
“It’s not about love. It’s about duty,” William argued hotly. “Those girls, Regan and Goneril, they had the right idea. Just smile and nod and say what they were supposed to say. If what’s-her-face had gone along with it, Lear w
ould have given her his kingdom.”
“And there wouldn’t be a play,” Chris said tiredly. “Look, Cordelia loved her father the most. She owed him the truth. King Lear overreacted and cut off his nose to spite his face.”
“You make it sound like he’s crazy.”
Simon raised a finger. “Uh, spoiler alert, Grandpa....”
Tiffany cleared her throat, and all three of them looked up.
Their expressions ranged from surprise to shock to befuddlement. Chris lurched to his feet.
“Please,” she said, staying him with an outstretched hand. “I have something to say first.”
He sank into his chair. Her pulse hammered in her throat and she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
“Simon was right about me. I was playing house. I jerked you all around. I never meant to. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” William grabbed his crutches and hopped out of his seat more spryly than she ever would have imagined. “C’mon, Simon. I need your help in the greenhouse.”
“Greenhouse? What do you—”
“There are seedlings we need to...um...plant. Or...hell, let’s just go already.”
Simon looked between his father and Tiffany and followed his grandfather out. He paused at the kitchen doorway and gave her a narrowed look before disappearing. She deserved his suspicion. She vowed then to do everything she could to make him believe she’d never hurt his father or him again.
Before she could get a word out, something nudged her ankle, and she looked down.
“Mack!” she gasped, and scooped up the kitten. Her heart swelled as she cradled the purring black cat and nuzzled him. “Look how much you’ve grown. You kept him?”
“Simon did, actually. I don’t think he was willing to give him up.” Chris stayed seated, hands clasped on the table.
Tiffany sniffed. Dammit, she was not going to cry. She hadn’t even gotten to say what she had come to say yet. She was supposed to save her tears—happy or sad—for after Chris had answered her question. She set the cat down, and Mack trotted away.
“I’ve never felt like I belonged here,” she began, gripping the back of a chair. “I never fit in with my family, with school or in town. But when I came back and I started working with Simon and being with you...it all clicked. I’d spent all these years thinking I could never love this place or my place in it. I thought I knew where I belonged. And then you changed my mind, and it terrified me.
