“Hello, trouble,”Maggiesaid, scratchingWillow’scheek with the back of her glove.Thenshe looked up and saw me, and her wrinkled face settled into a grin.Theway the wrinkles disappeared when she smiled was a testament to how she’d come by them. “Teddy,” she said, standing upright and letting the mattock fall to one side, stepping over to me with her arms wide.Ilet myself be wrapped in them, ignoring the mud no doubt transferring to me.
“Hey,Mags,”Isaid into her chest.Shewas a bit taller than me– even taller thanJen– soInestled perfectly under her chin.Asalways, she smelled of sweat and woodsmoke. “Imissed you.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve been gone too long.”
“Tell me about it,”Isaid, trying to keep the wistfulness from my voice.
Maggie released me, and we instantly started talking shop– pruning schedules, the odds of another frost, and whether we’d need to net the cherries this year.Mostpeople might have caught up on each other’s lives from the last few months, butMaggieandIwere cut from the same cloth; we both took solace in our work.Thiswasour life.
I kept my tone light as we spoke, butMaggiehad known me for a long time now, and she could spot a lie at forty paces.
“Jen says you’re extra grumpy right now,” she said, not unkindly.
I rolled my eyes. “Iwent to bed early, andI’vebeen working all day.It’smy first full day back.Whatdoes she expect?”Shewasn’t wrong, though.Myearly bedtime had been partly due to jet lag, sure, butIwas also avoiding talking any more about theChloesituation until the sting had faded.Iwasn’t very objective right now, though perhapsInever would be whereChloewas concerned after the way we’d met.
“She thinks you’re mad about the new hire.”
“I don’t get mad,”Ilied. “It’sjust … fast, is all.”
Maggie laughed. “You’rethe only personIknow who’d complain about more help.”
“Yeah, well, if she turns out to be a disaster,I’mblaming you.”
“She seems harmless to me.”Maggieplucked the mattock from the mud and dug back into the root ball, but her smile lingered. “Jensays she’s got some good ideas.”
I made a noncommittal noise, then changed the subject again.Icould feel the rage stirring within me; clearly,Istill wasn’t ready to talk about it.
OnceI’dcaught up withMaggieand made her promise to stay for dinner sometime this week,Icalled forWillowand started back toward the house.Thedog came running, her fur slicked with mud and whatever rotting thing she’d rolled in.Ihosed her off outside, detangled her ears, gave her a towel rub, and let her loose inside.Fromthe wet marks she left on the wood floors,Iclearly hadn’t been quite as thorough asIshould have been, but oh, well.
After dinner– cheese, leeks, and carbs, like most late-spring meals on the farm–Iwent to check the soap moulds.Theywere setting well, and the honey and vanilla scent was strong enough to make me want to eat one.Tomorrow,Iwould remove them from the moulds, each bar perfect, ready for their sleek new labels.Beforewe could sell them,Ihad to send a couple dozen bars off to a lab that would certify that they wouldn’t melt someone’s skin off or some such disaster.Thenwe could add them to our website and our stall line-up, and maybe have another income stream.Iwas determined not to let my own projects drop just becauseChloewas in the picture.Istill wasn’t convinced she was capable of doing what she’d been tasked with, based on the carelessness she’d shown when we’d met at theRenFaire.Sure,Iwasn’t blameless.Butshe’d been careless and inconsiderate, andIdidn’t trust her not to treat her work atGwenynenthe same.
I eventually made it up to my room, stripped off my filthy clothes, and collapsed onto the bed in my underwear.Willowjumped up and curled herself into the curve of my legs, her breath warm against my calves, her fur sticking to the sweat that glistened on my skin.Icould see through the window that the sky outside had turned black and glossy, one star shining through in the clear patch above the hill.Ipatted myself on the back for a job well done on my first day back.Mentally, of course; after said first day back,Icould barely move.
I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but, of course,Icouldn’t be so lucky.Themoment my eyelids flickered closed, my vision was filled with flowing auburn hair, sparkling hazel eyes, and a slight smirk that wound me up so tightlyImight explode.
It was going to be a long summer.
* * *
Maggie cameto dinner the following night, but she scarpered so quickly afterward thatIwas sure there was some sort of emergency.Itwas only whenI’dcaught her andJenwhispering in the front doorway thatIsuspected it was out of awkwardness.Iwondered, not for the first time, what their time together had looked like whilstI’dbeen away.
Jen finally broke our semi-standoff, presumably to avoid addressingMaggie’ssudden departure, broaching the subject of our new hire instead.
“I hope you’ll giveChloea chance,” she said, asIcleared the plates from the table.
I shrugged, butIcould feel her watching me, waiting for more.
She moved to stand next to me and started washing the dishes. “Youdid the cooking.I’lldo the clean-up.Houserules.”Shenarrowed her eyes at me. “Butyou’re not getting out of the after-dinner talk.”
“Since when is that a rule?”
“SinceIdecided,” she said, and there was an edge to it.Notunkind, but not optional either.
We passed plates and cutlery back and forth asIdried what she washed.Wedidn’t speak for a couple of minutes, the silence broken only by the clatter of dishes and the slosh of dishwater.
“You’ve been in a mood since you got here,” she said, handing me a plate.
“Just tired,”Ireplied, which was true, but not the whole truth, of course.
