Debbie. Audrey and I need a night out anyway, right? And why not watch the kid play his fiddle?”
“You should stop calling him the kid,” Audrey points out. “You’re going to be business partners. You should refer to each other in terms of mutual respect.”
“You’re right, babe. Now let’s watch the kid play.” He points at the stage, where Dylan and Keith have appeared to hoots of applause.
“Evening!” Dylan says into the microphone. “Who wants to dance on Valentine’s Day?”
There’s an estrogen-fueled shriek.
“Let’s do this!”
Keith counts them in, and they launch into a fast-paced tune. Keith is on an electric guitar this time, giving them a slightly grittier sound. They call their style funkabilly, whatever that is.
Right before he left us to tune up with Keith, Dylan announced to us that they had “a nice, tight ninety minutes” of music prepared for tonight. “It’s gotten easier to put a set together.”
“That must be the result of finally declaring your major,” Griffin had teased.
Dylan had barely rolled his eyes. He and Griff are getting along a lot better now.
As for his major, Dylan went with agriculture and a minor in music. He and Griff are buying the Abrahams’ farm. Leah and Isaac will leave for Wyoming in May.
Since I'm not going with them, they may leave even before classes are through. The farmland is leased for two years to a vegetable grower from Hardwick. This will help them pay the mortgage and some of the taxes while Dylan finishes school.
Later this spring, after Leah and Isaac leave, Griffin will try to rent out the house, and Dylan will take over cutting the lawn and looking after the place.
“Someday I think Griffin will live there,” Dylan had said the other day, as we lay naked and sated in bed together. “If they have a second baby, the bungalow will get too small for them. And I bet Audrey has designs on that commercial kitchen.”
“I’ll bet she does, too.”
“For now it will be ours to use and rent out. How many caramels do you think we can make next fall?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if I got two more goats?” he’d asked.
“Wait, you’d double the milk production?” I’d yelped.
He’d laughed. “It’s just an idea. I have a lot of those.” Then he’d rolled on top of me and kissed me.
Leah and Isaac are already dancing. They’re pretty good at it, too. Isaac spins her, and Leah laughs.
I'm already starting to feel sad about their departure. I wish they wouldn’t go. Maeve is going to be such a big girl next time I see her.
I've promised to visit the following summer. Leah would like me to stay for a couple of months, but she said I can come for a short visit if that makes me more comfortable. “It’s different for you. I realize that now. Two years means it’s all still raw.”
She isn’t wrong. I’m taking another writing class this semester, too. Because I’ve discovered that writing about the Paradise Ranch has helped me process my feelings about the place. And I like writing more than I expected to. So who knows what will come of that.
Griffin and Audrey start dancing, too, leaving Rickie and I standing against the wall. “T minus two minutes,” he says, checking his phone.
“Are you sure this will work?”
“Baby, I was born for mischief.” He swats me on the backside. “Go on. Count to sixty and then get into position, okay?”
“Sure.” My heart does a little flop, though, because if we get into trouble in the middle of Dylan’s performance, it’s going to be embarrassing.
“I’m going,” he says.
I start counting as I watch him head for the exit, where he stops to talk to the bouncer. The other man puts a stamp on Rickie’s hand, probably to make it clear that he already paid the cover charge.
When I get to sixty, I head for the ladies’ room. Since the music just started up, it’s almost empty. There’s only one woman standing at the mirror, putting on lipstick.
And that woman is Kaitlyn.
“Hi,” I say, startled.
“Hi,” she says without turning her face. She’s busy. “You need something?”
“Well…” This is going to be awkward. “Not really.” I look up at the window that’s five feet off the ground. Rickie has already opened it. A hand appears on the sill. Then another one.
Ellie’s face pops into the opening. “Hey there! Maybe I should be feet first?”
“Oh definitely,” Kaitlyn says. “You are both a couple of amateurs.” She sets her lipstick on the sink. Then