Prose Before Bros

by Smartypants Romance

  Thuy swallowed as best she could over the Sahara that was her throat.

  Mr. Graham emerged from the back, flanked by the disapproving receptionist. “You must be Edward’s children,” he said, offering his thin hand first to Maddy, then to Drill. He was wearing a suit complete with a tie and a vest. Thuy thought he might have one of those pocket watches on a chain. He reminded her of Ichabod Crane. “Come with me.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” Thuy said, her voice cracking slightly. She gestured to one of the seats in the lobby.

  Maddy gave her a grateful look, then Drill ushered her into the office. Mr. Graham shut the door behind them.

  Thuy sighed. She hadn’t brought a book, and she wanted to save her phone battery in case the GPS on the ride home was as squirrely as it had been on the way there. She took a deep breath.

  “I don’t suppose you have anything to read?” she asked the receptionist.

  The receptionist gave her a withering look.

  “Didn’t think so,” Thuy mumbled, then settled down in the chair, hoping that the meeting didn’t take too long… and that Drill left soon afterward. She wasn’t sure what was going on there, but the more time she spent with him, the less she liked her reactions to him. The sooner they left this town, the better.

  Chapter Eight

  Drill felt out of place. The lawyer, Walter Graham, had an office that was as fussy as the rest of the house: dark paneling, shelves with nautical knick-knacks and thick leather-bound books. Diplomas with fancy cursive writing hung on the walls. The guy gestured to the leather seats.

  Drill sat down. He saw that Maddy had gotten at least a little dressed up, wearing a flowing green dress thing that encompassed her enormous belly. She’d done her make-up, which only accentuated the rim of redness in her eyes. He, on the other hand, was wearing his scuffed and dirty black shit-kicking boots, black jeans, a Dragon Bar T-shirt and his leather jacket, complete with fraying patches. He looked like he’d just stepped out of jail. At least he’d taken the time to shower and shave his head.

  Walter Graham looked just as finicky as the surroundings. He was a thin man with graying mouse-brown hair that was going high on his forehead. He had wire-rimmed glasses and cleared his throat a lot. Drill could probably snap him like a twig without breaking a sweat. That said, Walter the lawyer did not seem intimidated by him at all. If anything, he seemed to be looking with more concern towards Maddy. Probably because she looked like she was ready to pop.

  “I’m so sorry to see you during this difficult time,” Walter started, sitting at his desk and adjusting his glasses. “Your father wanted everything cut and dried, so at least this shouldn’t take too long.”

  Drill heaved out a breath. No, it probably wouldn’t take long at all. It’s not like his father had a lot of stuff: no stocks and bonds, no fortune. All he had was that damned farm. And it wasn’t like he’d left anything for Drill, either. It was probably stupid to have shown up, only to be slapped in the face with that stark reminder.

  Just suck it up. Maybe he could have coffee with Maddy afterward — back at the farmhouse. Not anywhere that Catfish’s spies might see. He sank a little lower in the chair, hating that he had to sneak around to see his own damned sister.

  “All of the possessions — furniture, memorabilia, and whatnot — inside the house goes to his daughter, Madison Abigail Blount.”

  Maddy made a sniffling sound. Drill felt like hugging her. He knew that she’d had her differences with the old man, even if they weren’t as extreme as his. But he also knew that she had a tender heart and was way, way more forgiving than he was. This was obviously hitting her hard.

  “Are you okay with that?” Maddy asked him.

  He shrugged. “I’m good. What the fu… er, the hell am I gonna do with a bunch of old chairs and a couch?”

  She sent him a watery smile. “If I see anything like photos, I’ll make you copies, okay?”

  He nodded, then looked back at the lawyer, who had paused during their exchange. Walter cleared his throat again nervously.

  “He also had two vehicles: the Chevy Silverado 1500, and a Lincoln Continental. The truck was his farm truck,” Walter explained. “He said that you two could pick which one of each you wanted.”

  Drill startled. “He said I could have one?”

  “Insisted on it, actually.” Walter sent him a small smile. “He figured you’d go for the Lincoln.”

  Drill looked at Maddy, who was now smiling more broadly. “I’m okay with that,” she said. “I like trucks. They’re more useful.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve got another passenger to consider,” he said, nodding at her stomach.

  She let out a little peal of laughter. “I think we can figure it out. Kid’s going to have to get used to riding in trucks, I think.”

  He frowned, wondering what she meant by that, but Walter continued. “The farm itself is completely paid off.”

  Both siblings stared at him. “Completely?” Drill repeated.

  “How is that possible?”

  “Your father was supplying seed and specialized plants to a number of nurseries,” Walter explained. “He was also haying, and he winters cattle. Which is something you’re going to need to deal with, by the way. At any rate, between that and living very frugally, he managed to pay off the mortgage. The house and farm are free and clear. If the farm is sold, then the proceeds are to be split evenly between the two of you.”

  Drill felt his jaw drop. It was as if someone had shoved him into a frozen pond. “Both of us?”

  You mean, even me?

  This was much, much bigger than leaving him a car. It was mind-boggling.

  Walter’s expression turned compassionate. “I know that you didn’t see eye to eye with your father,” he said, his voice lowering a little. “I know that things between you were… strained. I don’t think it’s betraying a confidence to let you know that earlier drafts of the will left you out for several years.”

  Drill’s stomach churned.

  “But as he got older, he told me that he felt he may have been partially responsible for the path you’ve taken,” Walter added gently. “He felt like, had he not been quite so harsh on you in your formative years, perhaps you would’ve made different choices. He was of the belief that once your mother died, he had to be extra vigilant, and he was… well, this is my opinion, but I think he was frightened that he would make mistakes with you and your sister, and ruin your lives.”

  Drill blinked at this bit of insight. He couldn’t imagine his father afraid of anything. And yet, his father’s descent — and the punishments — had started in earnest after his mother’s death. It was something to think about.

  Walter cleared his throat. “I think that the money from the farm might have been his way of helping you have the leeway to have other options. If nothing else, it might be an apology, of sorts.”

  “My father never apologized.” Drill’s voice came out harsher than he intended. And it was true. In his entire life, he’d only ever heard his father apologize to one person: his mother. Once she died, it was as if his father forgot how to say “I’m sorry.”

  There had to be a catch here. There had to be. Yet Drill still felt a wild fluttering of hope in his chest, like a bird flapping futilely against a cage.

  “You said ‘if the farm is sold,’” Maddy pointed out, bringing Drill back to the present. “What does that mean?”

  “There is a further stipulation,” Walter said, pushing his glasses back up on his high, thin nose.

  And here it comes. Drill braced himself.

  “If one of you wants to keep working the farm, then ownership will go to him or her,” Walter said. “Or both of you can split it evenly. I understand there are two residences?”

  “The farmhouse, and the guest cabin,” Maddy clarified. “The guest cabin’s awfully small, though. I guess you could build some extensions, there’s space around it, but…”

  Drill shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, so
meone’s bound to like it,” he said. “It’ll look good on the real estate brochure. Because we’re going to sell it. I mean, I’ve got the club, and I can’t be a farmer. And you’ve got…” He motioned to Maddy’s stomach. “… all that going on. So obviously you’re not going to…”

  He stopped abruptly. Maddy’s expression was thoughtful.

  “Maddy?”

  She bit her lip, her complexion reddening.

  “Oh, Jesus, no. Tell me you’re not honestly thinking about this.”

  “I want to raise my baby in Green Valley,” she said. He could hear the stubborn lilt in her voice. This was the sound of Maddy digging in.

  God damn it.

  “You can raise your baby somewhere else in Green Valley,” he said, his own voice going harsh.

  “I wanted to raise him on a farm,” she argued. “I always wanted that. Do you know how long it would take me to afford a place like the homestead? Even with a nest egg of half of the proceeds?”

  “You can’t even take care of a farm!” His voice was raising, and he forced himself to keep it down. It wouldn’t do to yell at a pregnant woman, even if said woman was his sister and driving him nuts. “You’re in no state to run a farm, and you know it, Mads.”

  “I’ll get help. And I’ve got Thuy,” she said.

  “Has Thuy ever worked a farm?”

  “Well… no.” Maddy looked thrown off, but then she rallied, her expression turning mulish. “But she’s tough.”

  He shook his head. Then he looked at Walter for help.

  Walter looked at Maddy, and shrugged. “If you agree, we’ve got some paperwork to fill out, to transfer the business. And you’ll want the books and things. I can put you in touch with Edward’s accountant.”

  “Maddy, you need to think about this,” Drill said. Almost pleading.

  She sighed. “You could come help,” she said tentatively. “We could run the farm together.”

  He growled. “You know I can’t.”

  She looked impossibly sad for a moment. Then her face set stubbornly.

  “Then I guess you’re still making bad choices,” she said. “And that’s not my fault. I want this farm, for my family, and I’m willing to work for it.”

  “So, you’re screwing me over, then?” Drill couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe his sister was capable of it.

  “You said you didn’t expect Dad to leave you anything anyway,” she said, sounding only a little sorry. “I will do everything I can to make sure some money comes your way. But I want to keep the farm in the family, and I want to raise my child there. I want you to be a part of that, not part of some damned criminal biker gang.”

  Her words bit into him, and he winced.

  “So no, I’m not selling. You do what you want.”

  He glared at both Maddy and Walter. Then, without another word, he stormed out the door, past a startled Thuy, and off to his bike.

  Chapter Nine

  Thuy watched Drill’s retreating figure as he got on his bike, put his helmet on with jerky motions, and roared off. She looked back at the door to the lawyer’s office. Maddy was shaking hands with the spindly looking man, who patted her on the back kindly. Maddy looked a little upset.

  “What happened?” Thuy asked. “Are you all right? Did Drill upset you?”

  “Not as much as I upset him,” Maddy muttered, then shook her head. “Come on, I’m starving. I feel like cake.”

  “Cake?” Maddy was a prime comfort-eater, and cake signaled definite upset. “Um, okay. Grocery store?”

  “Let’s go to Donner Bakery. They have the best cakes, I hear,” Maddy said instead.

  They headed out to the rental car. “What happened?” Thuy tried again.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Thuy suppressed a sigh. Maddy was her best friend, but she knew the woman could and would be stubborn. She wasn’t going to spill the beans until she was damned good and ready. Which was probably when she’d gotten some cake in her system.

  After only getting lost twice with the GPS before finally resorting to Maddy’s hazy sense of direction, they finally made it to Donner Lodge and Bakery. It was a pretty place. With its fresh awning and French-styled wrought iron tables and chairs, it could fit in as a café anywhere in Berkeley, and the college’s café game was fierce. She was impressed. It reminded her a bit of Artis Coffee or Espresso Roma, only with a ton more pastries.

  Seriously. The glass cases were filled with glossy, decadent creations, from cupcakes to eclairs to petit fours. And the smells coming out of the kitchen were like God’s own bakery.

  She considered going for something chocolate (because, hello, chocolate) but finally went with their special, a hummingbird cake. “It’s like a spice cake with banana and pineapple,” Maddy explained, ordering two of her own slices.

  It was around one in the afternoon by now, but the place was still doing brisk business. They grabbed a small open table by the window and settled down with their cake and some coffee, decaf for Maddy, fully leaded for Thuy.

  “Ready to tell me?” Thuy asked, taking a sip of the coffee. Ahhhh. Caffeine.

  Maddy held her hands around the winter-white mug, staring down at the cake. “Well. Things started out pretty good. My Dad left each of us his car and truck. However, we wanted to split them.”

  Thuy waited. That wasn’t what had pissed Drill off, or had left Maddy looking so shaken but determined when she left the lawyer’s office.

  Maddy sighed. “The farm. The house. He left it to both of us… if we sold. We’d split the proceeds from the sale, I mean.”

  Thuy stared at her for a second, but Maddy picked up her fork and started eating. “And…?” Thuy prompted.

  Maddy kept on eating methodically, not meeting her gaze.

  “Is it because you have to split it with Drill?” Thuy asked, puzzled. Maddy had spoken about her brother with such fondness, she had a hard time believing that her problem with Drill was going to be money. And besides, if Drill was getting half the sales price, why was he so pissed?

  She took a bite of the cake, and momentarily, her brain went on the fritz. “Holy shit, that’s good.”

  Maddy smiled. “I know, right? Lives up to its reputation. This is Southern cooking, right here.” She paused. “I’ve missed it. I didn’t realize how much. There’s a lot of good cooking in the South.”

  “So you’ve pointed out,” Thuy said. “We’ll have to hit as much of it as we can while we’re here. Are you feeling overwhelmed? Is it about finding a realtor, or emptying the house? Because you know I’ll do whatever I can to help you out. I’ve got your back.”

  Maddy went silent. Then, to Thuy’s shock, she put her fork down.

  Maddy adored cake. Even when she suffered morning sickness, cake was the thing that brought her out of her funks in the afternoon. For her to stop eating — especially cake this monumentally delicious — meant something really serious.

  Thuy felt a ball of ice form in her stomach. Maddy was finally looking at her. And her look was sad, but no less determined than it was when she’d left the lawyer’s office.

  “Ah, crap,” Thuy breathed.

  “I’m staying,” Maddy said, her voice shaking slightly. “I’m keeping the farm, and running it.”

  Thuy blinked for a few seconds. “You’re running the farm?”

  “Whoever runs the farm gets to keep it,” Maddy said. Then she looked at Thuy imploringly. “You know I always talked about wanting to raise my kid in a place like Green Valley. And that I always wanted to have my own farm.”

  “Well, yeah,” Thuy spluttered. “But that was, you know… back when you were with David-the-farmer, before he went to Australia.”

  Maddy looked more pained, and Thuy wished she’d bitten her tongue. “It was,” Maddy said, with dignity. “But we both wanted to have a place we could set up a small-scale organic market farm. I wanted to grow vegetables and plants for sale, either at a farmer’s market or to private nurseries. And o
f course, I wanted it to be a working farm.”

  Thuy put her own fork down, which was a crying shame. “How big’s your Dad’s farm, again?”

  “Forty acres.” Maddy swallowed. “It’s a lot, I know…”

  You’re just one woman! One pregnant woman!

  Thuy took a deep breath, then another, letting the wonderful scent of the bakery act as a sort of aromatherapy tranquilizer. “It is a lot,” Thuy agreed quietly.

  Maddy’s mouth turned down at the corners. Then she straightened her back. “This isn’t what you signed on for,” she said quietly.

  Thuy blinked. “Hey, now. I didn’t say that.”

  “You’ve got a job, and a life, back in Berkeley,” Maddy said, her voice gaining resolve as the words tumbled out. “I can’t ask you to give all that up, just to move with me here in Tennessee. I’m not going to ask that of you.”

  Thuy felt cold lashes of panic strike her, but outwardly forced calm. “You can’t handle a farm all by yourself,” she pointed out. “It’ll be hard enough handling a baby all by yourself. The two together… Maddy, are you sure?”

  Maddy was silent for a long, torturous moment. Then she nodded firmly.

  “I’m doing this.” Her blue eyes blazed. “I want to raise my child like I was raised.”

  “But your childhood sucked!” Thuy blurted out, surprised.

  Maddy’s eyes widened, then she laughed softly, shaking her head. “Not… I mean, not later. When my Mom was alive, the farm was the greatest place on earth. I want that for my child. Not living in the city, or the suburbs. I want my kid to get to know where his food’s coming from. I want him to be able to wander in the woods. I want him to get to know the Smoky Mountains, and see the trees changing color, and love nature as much as I do.”

  Thuy watched as her friend’s expression grew dreamy. She was truly home here, Thuy realized.

  Thuy bit her lip.

  Maddy would walk across fire for her, she knew that. And quite frankly, Maddy had given Thuy her future. If it weren’t for Maddy, she wouldn’t have any of her degrees. She’d still be…