“Dancing like Frankenstein, just stomping and clapping offbeat. You can’t convince me he isn’t adopted.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s always a no show. Our presence reminds him that he is not like us.”
Dial sang off key, “One of these things is not like the other. One of these things is not the same.”
I hoisted my arm in the air pretending to be itching to answer. “Who is Cyrus Birch for one thousand, Alex.”
We shared a much-needed laugh. “I’m heading up to the office. Holler at me before you leave,” Dial said.
I watered the repotted plant and washed the empty ceramic pot clean. After college, I returned home and joined the family business. Figs and Twine was started by my great, great-grandfather whom I was named after. It had been handed down from one Birch generation to the next. A family business in every sense of the word. Everyone who worked here was related or so damn close there was no distinction.
Figs and Twine was situated on twenty acres of land. We didn’t start out that big but as neighboring businesses went under, we purchased the land and expanded. At one point this place was a small storefront with a plot of land out back. Withsweat equity, put in by my ancestors, Figs and Twine was now the first and only stop when in need of flowers, plants, trees, or shrubbery.
We serviced all of Hume and most of the neighboring towns. As a kid I ran down the aisles of the store, mostly getting in the way. By middle school I was helping customers find stock and hauling items to cars. In high school I wasn’t allowed to linger around campus because I had to get to the shop and stock shelves and water plants, while Dial shadowed my mom learning to order inventory, and Cy was being taught about budgeting and payroll from our dad.
It was clear our parents intended to pass the family business to us, although they never expressly said it. Cyrus went off to college and when he returned he was no longer interested in the twenty-four-hour, seven days a week commitment running a nursery required. But Dial and I were up for the challenge, working alongside our parents like the Birches before us.
I knocked on the open office door where Dial was now holed up. “I’m going to head home and change. Are you bringing Maple?”
“You know mom would kill me if I didn’t.” Maple was my niece and our mother’s pride and joy. The way my mother doted over Maple made me wonder if she’d been body snatched while no one was looking. Growing up our mother was no nonsense, which is where Dial probably gets her strong personality from. But now Maple got away with murder, and by murder I meant being allowed two servings of dessert or staying up way past her bedtime.
“Meet you at the farm.”
“Don’t be late.”
“I’m never late, always right on time.” I smiled before heading to my truck.
Pullingup to my childhood home, my shoulders instinctually relaxed. This place was filled with fond memories and a few sad ones everywhere I turned. My childhood was kind of idyllic, with swimming in the creek, catching tadpoles and fireflies, and barbecues. I loved an evening barbecue with the grill fired up, music playing, and laughter filling the air. While us kids ran in between adults on our way to get into trouble.
When it came to parents, I was luckier than most. Mom and Pops were patient teachers who guided Cyrus, Dial, and me while never pressuring us. They didn’t force their expectations on us. Working at Figs and Twine was my choice and not some obligation I felt to the family and its history. Inside the farmhouse, which had been recently renovated, I found Dial and Maple with my mother mixing some specialty drink.
“Why can I always find you two near the alcohol?”
“Uncle Eddy,” Maple screamed, jumping down from her stool. She wrapped her arms around me and I gave her a squeeze.
“If we weren’t farmers, we would’ve been in the distillery business,” my mother said.
“Birch Brewery has a nice ring to it.” I played along.
“Momma you do know Edison is brewing something outback in that garage of his. He won’t let me taste it though,” Dial said.
“Because it’s fermenting. When it’s done I’ll let you nip a taste.” Beer making was one of my pastimes. When you lived in the boondocks you took up a lot of hobbies. I’d tried archery, model cars … the miniature kind, and poetry. Right now, I was working on becoming a brewmaster. All the extracurricularactivities kept my mind and hands busy and my dick in my pants.
“I may have to make a trip to your place when you crack that barrel.” My mom flashed her warm smile.
“Now what are you cracking open?” Cyrus entered the kitchen and the axis in the room shifted. My mother set down her mixing spoon and crossed the room to give him a hug.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence,” Dial said.
“I promised Momma I’d be here and my word is my bond.”
“Well, that must only work with mom because I’ve been stood up by you more times than I can count,” I said.
“Mothers and nieces take precedence over bratty little brothers.” Cy kissed the top of Maple’s head.
“How is city hall?” our mother asked.
Dial snorted. “It’s hardly city hall. It’s a store front with a few desks and plants.” Our mayor didn’t currently have a proper government building. The one that was erected years ago burned down right before Cyrus took office, making it a lost landmark.
