SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,26
night before seemed imperative because the avocado vigil was the only thing on Harper’s mind since she’d dropped Mad off in Harry’s parking lot. The old truck had become the size of a tuna can during those hours alone, but she’d inexplicably prolonged their time together—and then ended up at their old make-out spot!
What was that all about?
She ordered the two lemonades, and took her time making her way back to their own stand by checking out the other offerings. Kettle corn, flowers, jerky in all flavors—even teriyaki emu—soaps and shampoos. Olive oil, avocado oil, and sunflower oil. A woman in a paisley apron sold hand-sewn dolls and prairie bonnets, not to mention table linens. Harper tasted local cheeses, olives, grapes, and a piece of a chocolate chip cookie that could bring about world harmony if it could be globally marketed.
With the sun shining down on her face, it was no wonder she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be. The thought sent her scuttling back to her mom, just as patrons began wandering through the market. Remembering her training from years ago, she chatted and bagged and smiled.
“You haven’t forgotten a thing,” her mom murmured.
“Been making change since I was seven years old,” Harper reminded Rebecca, as they waved off the latest patrons, now laden with fresh corn, oranges, and a bunch of basil.
“Yes, but your dollars and cents have been Euros and wons and forints lately.”
“Vegas, Mom, remember? Though admittedly that’s more casino chips and credit card slips.”
Her mother looked down and made a minute adjustment to a display of yellow squash. “You know, you could stick with the dollars and cents. Stay with family at Sunnybird Farm.”
Stay with family. Harper gave her mom a sharp look as a pang of worry struck close to her heart. “You’re really worried about Grandpop, aren’t you?”
“That’s not it.”
“Mom—”
“Truly. He was already putting weight on his foot at lunch.”
“You said he wasn’t getting any younger.”
Her mom looked away, looked back. “I miss you, Harper. There. I said it.”
Harper stared. Not one person in her family had ever expressed any sort of judgement about her life choices. They’d been happy to see her when they or she visited, of course, but they’d been very supportive of her travels. Very follow-your-bliss.
“I’ve always felt as if I…well, as if I somehow was responsible for pushing you out of the nest.”
“Mom, all children grow up and leave home.”
“They don’t all grow up and leave the country.” Rebecca fiddled with the stack of glossy zucchinis.
“We’ve talked about this,” Harper protested. “You didn’t have anything to do with that. It comes from my dad’s side, I think.”
Her father, known only to her mom as Joe Jones, had shown up at the farm when they hired help for the harvest. He’d stayed for months, and she’d fallen in love and gotten pregnant with Harper, knowing the entire time that Joe Jones had a far-off gaze. He was determined to see the world, which made him even more appealing, her mother had once shared. A romantic dreamer.
“You should have gone with him,” Harper said now. “And had your own out-of-this-world adventures.”
Her mom hesitated, then squarely met Harper’s gaze. “I might have exaggerated a little about…about your father’s wanderlust.”
She blinked. “What?”
One of her mother’s shoulders went up, down. “It might have made him seem more…exciting to you. More interesting.”
“He didn’t want to see the world?”
“He wanted off the farm, that’s certain. He’d had enough after harvest. And you know I didn’t realize I was pregnant until he was gone. I’ve told you I didn’t have a way to trace him once he left.”
Harper took a moment to absorb this. She’d known her father had hitchhiked out of town before her mom had seen a plus sign on the pregnancy test, but perhaps he didn’t have a global wanderlust after all? “I always envisioned him visiting the Eastern Steppe or exploring the wilds of the Amazon River.”
Now that she said it out loud, it sounded almost silly. A childish image, for sure.
“He could be doing those things,” her mom hedged.
Harper laughed a little. “Or you’re saying he could be in a trailer park in Death Valley.”
Her mom’s eyebrows drew together. “Harper…”
“Still, Mom, when he left the farm, if you were so in love with him—”
“I was,” Rebecca said quickly. “That’s completely true. Head over heels.”
And still true, Harper thought, since all indications were her mother never dated anyone else. “If you were so in love, you could have gone with