Page 78 of Sugar Coated Lies
“What about the house and everything we have to do?” I eye her as she walks to the door.
“The house isn’t going anywhere. We can enjoy tonight, catch up, and start packing when you’re ready. One more day won’t hurt, and I’ve missed you. Let’s have some fun before we get all serious and sad.”
She’s right. Why not have some fun before we dig in and it gets emotional, because it will. “Okay.”
I rinse the dust from two wine glasses and tell myself this is okay. Grandpa would want me to find happiness where I can, and he loved Sadie. He thought she was crazy and a bit wild, but he adored her as my friend.
Chapter22
Daire
“Why the last-minute trip?”I ask my dad again.
He stands by the window of my office, staring across the parking lot, watching the workers harvest peaches from the trees.
“It’s not last minute.” He sips his peach milkshake from the café. “Apparently your mother and Aviana planned this months ago. They just forgot to tell us.”
A trip to Scotland to golf isn’t out of the norm. They do it once a year with Benedict’s parents, but usually I know in advance. Well, usually I don’t care because I’m not protecting a secret employee-turned-love-of-my-life from Benedict. What if he wants to visit while they’re gone? I need to put my foot down on this. I’ve let it slide for too long, and now Everleigh is more important to me than Benedict ever was or could be. But ending this in a civilized conversation isn’t likely when it comes to this old family friend.
“Ha!” Mom strolls through the open doors. “I told you more than enough times, you just weren’t listening.”
“I listen.” Dad swings around, a smile on his face. “I just forget.”
“Same thing.” Mom waves his words away and stops to kiss me on my cheek. “How’s Everleigh?”
“She’s good. She’s coming by the farm later with her good friend, Sadie. They packed up the house and donated most of the stuff. She has a realtor listing the place. It’s been difficult, but she’s decided she can’t live there. Too many memories and heartache. It’s time for her to move on.”
I agree with this. Last night, I visited her and Sadie at the house. All the furniture was gone. They had an estate sale and sold almost everything. What they had left, they donated. It took them three days to do all this. Everleigh said Sadie took the lead. I may have to hire her, because that is impressive—not that Sadie needs a job. From what I’ve learned, she’s doing well working for her stepdad’s business.
I also talked them into staying at my parents’ estate in the guest suite above the detached garage. With my parents leaving, I might be able to talk them into staying in the house. Everleigh with me, of course. Neither of them wants to impose on my parents’ lifestyle, which is no longer an issue.
A smile breaks across my face. I like this plan. “Well, I suppose you deserve a vacation after managing the farm for me while I was gone,” I tease my dad and elbow his arm.
“It felt good to be back behind the desk, but it’s not for me anymore. I’m happy to pass the official title over.”
My heart stops for a moment. “Seriously?”
Mom doesn’t look surprised in the slightest by Dad’s announcement as she sits on one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“It’s your baby now. You don’t need me back-seating you. You’ve got a better grip on this place than I did when my father passed it down to me.”
“Dad?” I’m blown away. “Are you sure?” If the roof were to fall onto my head, I’d be less shocked.
“We’re more than sure.” Mom gives me an approving smile. “We realized how much you’ve done for this place while you were gone. We knew it was a lot, but what you’ve implemented…”
“Let’s just say,” Dad cuts in, “there wasn’t much for us to do. Everyone respects you and works hard to keep the farm going. The farm practically runs itself with all the new systems, updates, and regular notifications. It’s not my farm anymore, Daire.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and stares at me with pride. “This is your farm.”
Tears sting my eyes. Everleigh must be wearing off on me.
“And the estate,” Mom adds.
“What about the estate?” I ask her.
“It’s yours.”
Dad says, “My father gave it to me when I was ready, and now I’m giving it to you.”
“Unless you don’t want it,” Mom says, sitting forward in the chair. “You don’t have to take it. We can leave it to Easton. But if you want it, it’s yours. You are welcome to remodel it and add your stamp. Or Everleigh’s stamp. I assume she’ll be a part of this, should you choose to accept it.”
