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Such a compliment would normally have my mother preening, but she steps back, her body language closed-off as she clutches the pitcher to her chest like it’s a shield. “It’s not for you. This is just how we do things around here. Being kind is a habit.”
A habit she’s currently deviating from.
Maybe she’s not as on-board with selling the farm as she tried to seem this morning.
Still, even if she doesn’t agree with it, she’d be more likely to voice that to my father. She wouldn’t take it out on someone else.
Before I can ask if there’s something she’s not telling me, she quickly changes her mood as she gives me a warm—and a bit worried—look. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m actually great. Feeling really good today. Like, seriously better than I have in a while.”
Instead of seeming happy or relieved about my statement, her eyes are a well of pain as she tries to keep her smile in place. “I’m glad to hear that. Excuse me, I’ve got pies to make.”
With that, she goes back into the kitchen.
Feeling bad about her hostility, I swap my donut with Ellister’s.
As I switch our plates, he looks on with confusion. “What are you doing?”
“You can have mine.” Before he can argue, I dig my teeth into the hours-old treat, not caring that it’s not straight out of the fryer. “Everyone who visits the farm should try a fresh donut at least once.”
“You are kind, Hannah Wildwood,” Ellister says, his tone a bit bewildered as he touches his warm dessert, and I’m rewarded when he moans around his first mouthful.
In a few large bites, he and I have both finished our desserts, and I decide I need to have a word with my mom.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ellister, regretting the need to move away from him as I push myself to my feet.
Once I’m upright, a wave of dizziness hits me, as does a shooting pain through my skull, and I sway a little.
Ellister stands. “Would you allow me to escort you?”
Oh, how I want to let him, but I need privacy for the conversation I’m about to have. “Thanks, but nature calls.”
That’s not a lie. I do have to pee, but after I’m done in the bathroom, I stop in the kitchen.
Mom’s busy making some pie crusts, and I shuffle over to her where she’s kneading the hell out of a ball of dough on the stainless-steel countertop. There’s flour everywhere. Her hands are covered in it, and every time she turns the dough, she slams it down, causing white clouds to billow up.
“Mom, you can call off the petty parade. Ellister’s not so bad.”
“You don’t know him,” she shoots back sharply. From the way she takes the rolling pin and starts beating the dough down, I’m definitely reading her anger.
“He’s just doing his job,” I defend softly. “Cody checked him out, and Dad obviously found him worthy of staying in the cabin next to mine. He’s eager to learn, and he’s genuinely interested in the farm.”
Sighing, Mom stops her abuse of the pie crust and mutters, “I just wish he weren’t interested inyou.”
“Oh.” I laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”
Not when he’s got Faith’s information memorized.
Mom stays silent, chewing the inside of her cheek as she goes back to rolling.
“I’m serious,” I insist, keeping my tone light. “It’s not like he wants to date me, and that’s smart of him. I’m a bad bet.”
“Don’t say that.” Mom closes her eyes, and I think she might be close to tears again. “Don’t sell yourself short. Ever.”
I put my arm around her and lean my chin on her shoulder. “You know what I mean. I’m not relationship material at the moment. Just… be nicer to Ellister, okay?”
She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t refuse either. Instead, she says, “I think you should rest this afternoon. Alone. I’m not sure I like how much time Ellister is spending with you.”
