Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,28

I do arranging, but part of the reason they hired me is because I already knew so much about plants and flowers.”

Dad smiles. It makes him happy when any of us can use the things that he taught us. “I’m glad. But I have to ask, have you ever thought about doing something else? Something from school?”

Tension springs up in my stomach. Basically the same question that Casey asked me—that I avoided entirely with a blowjob. I don’t know. The place where I used to have goals and dreams feels…flat and empty. School was a blur that was filled with Tyler. I was taken with him. Enamored by him. And I somehow graduated with an English degree. But from the moment I met him, everything was about him. Always.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” he says. “You’re a smart girl, Carley. You make good decisions, and you can figure out what you want from life—no matter what other people tell you.”

I appreciate the subtle support, but I’m still not certain. Am I able to figure it out? It only took me seven years to figure out that being with Tyler was a mistake. That doesn’t exactly give me a great track record.

My phone buzzes.

Get apples. Only green ones. We’re making a pie.

From my mother.

Noted.

Pulling up to the general store is entirely overwhelming. There are so many memories here. After school excursions and shopping for my favorite meals. I even spent a summer as a cashier here, so I know the store backwards and forwards.

And as soon as I walk in, I’m bombarded. The first person that sees me is someone that I don’t even know. And that’s saying something given how long my family has lived here. An older woman. “Oh my goodness, Carley Farrell. I was starting to think that we’d never see you around here again.”

I smile. “Here I am.”

“I can see that. Hoo, the things that I’ve heard about your adventures in New York? Amazing.”

“Chicago, actually.”

She waves a hand. “A city is a city. How’s that big city husband of yours.”

My lungs freeze. “I’m not married. Never have been.”

The woman laughs. “Well then, gossip has been getting around!”

My phone buzzes.

Pick up some bread, we’ll need it for sandwiches.

My dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s good to have her back, Elain. But we’ve got to do our shopping. You know how it is.” He shrugs in his charming manner and pulls me away from her.

“Thanks.”

He chuckles softly. “Don’t thank me yet.”

He’s right. The store is busy. I hadn’t even realized that it’s the weekend, and there are plenty of people that see me and talk to me. Most I recognize, some I don’t. But I run the gauntlet. Everyone wants to know the truth of what they’ve heard going around town, and somehow I manage to get through it without giving too much away.

But the things I hear are truly legendary. I hear at least one outlandish story from each person; from broken combines to a herd of chickens that literally got stuck crossing the road and spurred a whole host of chicken jokes. The one thing that makes me suddenly snap to true attention is the little tidbit that, ‘Did I hear that Casey Bowman is taking Megan Gingham to Firework Night?’

I react a little too strongly to that, and get some looks, including from my dad. I’m saved by the next buzz of my phone.

Please tell your father to hurry back.

There’s more gossip and more shopping and three more text messages asking for additional things to add to the list before my father interrupts the conversation.

“Speaking of the fireworks, we’d better get back to working on the farm?”

Everyone laughs at that. It’s common knowledge that my dad likes to pretend that he’s the one that puts on the show all by himself. It is the Farrell Farms Fireworks, after all. But in reality, he hands out the sparklers and has a good time just like everyone else on Firework Night, and the professional team that the town hires does the heavy lifting. We’re just the venue.

But it does the trick. We manage to extricate ourselves, check out, and make it back to the truck. It’s only been an hour and a half, and I’m exhausted from the sheer amount of information that was thrown at me. But I actually enjoyed hearing about the town—even if the stories were exaggerated. Mom never tells me anything like that during our monthly phone calls.

I slump against the seat,