Page 50 of Silver Lining Love

“Wow. This really is a small town.” She stared out the window with a look of wonder and awe.

“Look, more cows!” Alice exclaimed as we passed by Old Man Spratt’s field.

She’d been pointing out cows and horses and sheep from the time we left the airport. Benji was asleep, and Michael was watching something on his phone. He was always on that thing. I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything to Whitney, so I’d kept my mouth shut. But I hoped that during the visit, he’d put it down and be in the moment.

As we drove through town Whitney was commenting on how cute and quaint everything was.

“The Best Little Hairhouse in Texas,” she read aloud as we drove past the beauty salon. “I love it!”

I had never given any thought to what the town would look like from an outsider’s perspective. I tried to look at it with new, fresh eyes.

The downtown area was a square with a large grassy park in the center. City Hall was the tallest building in town at a whopping three stories. My sister-in-law Delilah owned The Flower Pot which sat beside the beauty salon that Whitney had found so amusing.

Our dining options were limited. There was no fast food at all. We had a steakhouse, The Pig Pen, a diner, The Greasy Spoon, and a pizza parlor, Goodfella’s, where I’d had a part-time job as a delivery driver in high school. There was also a bar in town, The Tipsy Cow, owned by my friend Bryson, which was passed down from his father.

As far as entertainment, there wasn’t a whole lot. On Saturdays, we had Movies in the Park, where the entire town would gather in the town square, and a movie would be projected onto City Hall. In the summer kids hung out down at the river or Emerald Cove Lake. And then teens went up to Critter Peak, the make-out spot on the top of the only hill in town. It was a simple way to grow up and as much as I’d wanted to leave the second I turned eighteen, when I thought about the kids in the back seat, it seemed like a perfect place to raise them.

“What’s that?” Alice pointed to the center of the town square.

“That is the wishing well that the town was named after.”

“What’s a wishing well?”

“It holds water in the bottom, and you throw pennies in and make wishes in it.”

Her eyes widened at the magic that I’d just described. “When you threw pennies in it, did your wishes come true?”

“I never threw a penny in it,” I admitted.

Whitney’s face scrunched up. “You never threw a penny in it?”

“No.” As a kid, the only thing I’d wished for was peace and quiet so I could read or just think, and I knew there was no way a well was going to give me that.

Alice chattered on about what she was going to wish for when she threw her coin in the well for about five minutes before the four words, I’d dreaded hearing the most this trip were spoken, “I gotta go potty!”

We were almost out at the farm, and it would take us just as long to turn around and go back to the Spoon or the gas station.

“We’re almost there, kid.” I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that she was wiggling in her booster seat. “Can you hold on just a few minutes?”

She nodded her head up and down.

It was less than two minutes before we pulled up to the wrought iron security gate that had a large plate with a capital B on it. Growing up, we’d just had a swinging metal fence that one of the kids would have to jump out and open. The rule had been that whoever the youngest was had to get out, which, being the second oldest, meant I only had to do it if just Sawyer and I were riding with my dad or mom.

Now, there was a security camera and intercom. Before I had a chance to press the button to the intercom, the gate opened, and we drove through. I’d texted my mom when we’d left DFW so she was expecting us around this time.

“Holy shit!” Whitney exclaimed beside me as she looked out the passenger window at the rolling fields of green pasture.

“That’s a bad word!” Alice chimed up from the back.

Whitney shifted in the front seat and looked over her shoulder. “You’re right, Alice. And I need to stop saying it.”

Whitney had mentioned several times that she wanted to stop cursing in front of the kids. I’d told her that hearing a few f-bombs wouldn’t kill them because, honestly, I thought she was too hard on herself. She was doing an amazing job. I just wished she knew she was.

As we made our way down the long drive, Whitney’s eyes grew as large as saucers. “When you said you grew up on a farm, I was expecting…a white picket fence and maybe some horses.”

“Briggs Farm is actually one of the highest-grossing agricultural farms in Texas.” I never really appreciated that growing up, but as an adult, I was so proud of my family, especially my parents. I wasn’t sure how they’d built the empire that they had and raised nine kids, none of whom were in jail, but they’d pulled it off.

“What do you guys sell?” Whitney asked.

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