Nigel takes in the information, the old man working with speed that makes him appear twenty years younger.
“Would you like my advice? Or would you prefer I just listen?” he asks.
“I don’t think I can handle advice right now, Nigel. My mind still seems to be in a very sensitive mind frame.”
“Very well. Is there anything else you’d like to add?”
I place yet another finished bouquet in the bucket of water.
“I’m worried I screwed this whole thing up. This and everything else.”
“Everything else?”
“Yeah, I have all this crap with work and trying to sell the company, and I didn’t find somewhere to live in time before my parents came home, so I am pretty much failing at every main aspect of life.”
Nigel’s face falls into a frown as he picks up the final set of flowers. “I’m not a fan of the words you’re using there, son.”
“What words?”
“You say you’re failing. Having a to-do list isn’t failing, nor is making one mistake.” He looks me dead in my eyes and places a hand on my shoulder, firm and reassuring. “You’re allowed to have flaws, Finley. They make us who we are. If Simone wasn’t so disorganized, she wouldn’t be half as interesting as she is to me. I love her chaos and her vibrancy. If we don’t make mistakes in life, then we’ll never learn. You’reallowedto make mistakes.”
But am I?I want to ask. Not because I don’t want to believe it, but because I don’t see how it’s true. I need to be exactly what people need me to be. If I fail at doing that, then how can I show I’m worthy of being kept around?
I think he knows I’m not convinced. I think he knows that while I appreciate his advice, I can’t bring myself to change my thought pattern to accommodate it because that would mean accepting that I’m only what I make myself.
Anxiety grips me, even with Nigel’s reassuring gaze. My breath shortens and the room begins to feel smaller. My hearing tunnels until it’s only the intrusive voice in my head that I can hear.
Useless, it says.Utterly useless. Flaws are what make you so pointless.
I try my best to ignore it, I really do. But it’s like a foghorn in my mind; deafening and dominant, demanding my attention in a way that has been perfected since I was a kid.
My eyes close involuntarily, a habit I’ve made for myself in the hopes of blocking it out, or at least quietening it. It never works.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your house dilemma,” Nigel says, taking over the last bow that I failed to complete.
If he’s trying to distract me, it’s working, because that piques my interest immediately.
“What about it?”
He has a knowing smile on his wrinkled face as he moves past me to place the final bouquet in water. He wraps a ribbon around the rim of the bucket of water.
“I have a plot of land, not too far from Goldleaf Farm. Further down the road.” I lean forward in my seat and wait eagerly for him to continue. “I inherited it from my brother, who passed years ago. Never had to pay a cent on it, but even when business has been booming, I could never make enough to build on it.”
He stands in front of me, still shorter than me even with me sitting down on a stool. His posture has been spared the weathering that time provides, still allowing him to stand straight and proud.
“I’ve been thinking of selling it for a while. Especially since Simone and I are more than happy where we are. Besides, we’re way too old to be building and moving into a new home now, and even older to be starting a farm. I’ve been waiting for someone I deem trustworthy enough to sell it to. Someone good, someone with good intentions.”
He’s killing me. Out with it, man!
“And?”
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the old man smirk. “You interested?”
* * *
I’ve been house hunting in Eaglewood since before my parents returned.
It’s been annoying yet exciting at the same time. I’ve been a bit picky with it—insisting on somewhere that’s not too far from my sister, but also not far from Main Street, giving me easy access in and out of town in case I need to leave for jobs and such.
