Page 2 of Finding Basil
The home was in an area close to the town called Foggy Basin. The name brought so many visions to his mind: misty mornings that were cool, even in the summer; lazy, sweet-smelling air. He pictured the people who lived in the town, all waving as he drove past, smiling, inviting him to early dinners. No, suppers. The people who would live in a town called Foggy Basin would call the evening mealsupper.
After emailing the realtor for the property, adding a bid for the place, sight unseen, he opened another tab and thought it out again.
What business do I start?
Blank. Then some more blank. Then a little more blank.
Finally, he typed inWhat business should Herb open?
Then it came up with a hundred results, all centering on, what else? Herbs.
Herb sat back on his terribly expensive sofa, sighing as he was about to give up the search. Maybe he’d just…
Wait. Herbs. He sat up again and opened one link from the search. In it, he saw a happy family showing off the little pots ofherbs they sold. Happy customers, happy employees, beautiful green products, all lined up on shelves in a quaint little shop.
“Herbs?”
He had farmland. He had the zoning. He could easily enough work off his name. Sure, it was cheesy, but cheesy worked. He pictured the selfies the kids would take, the fun business cards, the impeccably decorated little shop…
“Herb’s Herbs.”
Laughing, he fell back on the sofa again and laughed harder while he thought of it.
Herb’s Herbs.
He went to bed after rinsing out his thick crystal glass and dreamed of it. A happy place that smelled of oregano, thyme, and rosemary. People would come in, buying the plants, and if they didn’t have a green thumb, he’d offer the cuttings, both fresh and dried.
When he woke, he found his offer had been accepted. “That was fast.”
That didn’t worry him a bit. Not everyone could afford the place, of course. He offered nearly the asking price as well, so he made the plans he needed to move from the city and finally go to a place in the country, where he could finally relax.
The following day, he gave his notice at work, suppressing the urge to take the raise they offered him if he stayed, put his condo on the market and started to pack.
As he looked at all his expensive, modern furniture, and couldn’t see it in the new house. It didn’t scream farmhouse. It was perfect for the high-rise condo.
The place was furnished, after all.
He got on the phone to a guy that did estate sales and had all the furniture cleared out of his apartment exactly three days before he was set to leave. After handing the keys to the realtor, he checked into a hotel for the few days he had left at work andorganized the movers to pick up his boxes of personal items from the storage container later that evening.
Drinking a glass of champagne, he stretched out on the king-size bed and flipped through channels until he found another movie he’d likely ignore.
“Well, Herb, we’re about to move to the country,” he toasted himself. “May I have nights of soft breezes and days of slow movement.”
The next few days went by in a blur. Rushing, appointments, phone calls by the dozens. All that furious activity did was make him yearn to get to the quiet home in Foggy Basin.
Herb was exhausted, but still energized at the time of his departure. Almost a thousand miles to drive, and he was ready for it as he got into his Jag and headed east.
The stereo played hisLeaving the Cityplaylist he’d made the night before, when he’d been unable to sleep a wink. Road songs, leaving your lover songs, joyous songs, and melancholy ones all played while he tapped the leather steering wheel with his fingers.
Passing big trucks, little cars, and even two buses, he drove for hours before he stopped to piss and refill his cup with surprisingly good coffee. He couldn’t help but smile at all those he came across at that truck stop, and he even winked at the clerk behind the counter where he paid. She looked exhausted at the gesture, however, and he wondered how many times the thin blonde dealt with that in a day.
After leaning in, he confessed, “I’m not hitting on you, I promise. I’m just in a great mood.”
“Oh. Wow, okay, no one’s ever said that before.”
“Glad to be your first and hopefully the first of many. Have a beautiful day.”
As he practically skipped back to his car, he threw smiles at all the weary travelers in the parking lot, including one mother whowas trying to contain her two little kids. Their license plate was from a few states away, so it was likely the kids had been cooped up in the car for hours on end.
