Weekends in Carolina (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

M
AX
KNOCKED
ON
the barn door late Monday morning. Kelly’s car was gone, so Sean wasn’t enjoying a cozy sleep-in with his lover. Sidney and Norma Jean had headed out to the fields over an hour ago. If she had to guess, Sean was hungover. She balled her hand into a fist and pounded on the wooden door before a sense of kindness could convince her to knock softly. She was his boss. Kindness didn’t enter into the equation.

Sean’s appearance shocked her into saying, “You look like shit,” as soon as he opened the door.

He leaned against the doorway, a slow smile on his normally handsome face. “Good morning to you, too.”

Then he scrubbed his face with his hands and the smell of stale booze and cigarettes hit her. She sniffed again.
Was that pot?
If he was growing pot on her farm... No, she didn’t want to think about that now. She had steeled herself for one difficult conversation and she wasn’t yet ready to have another.

“I could ignore that you’re an hour late, but you aren’t in any condition to work right now.” The wrinkles in his face from whatever piece of fabric he’d slept on would need a belt sander to get out. Then there were the bloodshot eyes, and the way he couldn’t focus on her face for longer than a couple seconds before he had to look away. “I can’t see how you could be out in the fields in less than an hour without vomiting all over my plants.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once. Twice. Then a third time. “Bad dreams, that’s all.”

“Play the wounded-vet card on Kelly. He seems to eat it up. I’m not interested. I hired you to have a strong back and tender hands—and I wanted those for my tomato plants, not for me.” Before she said her next words, Max took a steadying breath. “You have a week to find yourself a rehab program to attend. I’ll give you time off for meetings. I won’t even tell Vets to Farms that you’re drinking. But if you don’t find a program, or you slip and miss a meeting before the season is up, I will fire you without blinking. You’ll be out of a job and you’ll be out of housing.”

Sean was either eyeing her for seriousness or trying to focus on something that would help him stay upright. “Kelly will take me in.”

“Will he?” She looked directly into his eyes as she asked the question; Sean looked away first. “That’s what I thought. If you need today off, you can have it, but not again. I have too much work on the farm to accommodate drunkards.”

Before she lost her nerve, Max turned on the heel of her boot and marched off the porch, Ashes at her side. Once they were behind the house and out of sight of the barn, she collapsed cross-legged on the dirt. Hank had been a misogynist and would probably have made a terrible boss, but he had also happily taken care of the discipline problems among her employees. Not that she’d had very many, but there had been a couple. Hank had enjoyed laying down the law—Max didn’t. The division of labor had happened so naturally that she hadn’t noticed how much she’d relied on the old man until he wasn’t here to be her enforcer.

Her moment of self-indulgence over, Max stood, wiped the dirt off her clothes and headed back to the fields. She’d take the .22 out after the farmwork was over and shoot cans. Of course, since Hank was dead, she wouldn’t have an endless supply of targets. Hank had been an asshole, but his death had left a hole in her life that wouldn’t be easily filled.

* * *

M
AX
HAD
BEEN
so lost in her thoughts while hoeing weeds in the carrot fields that Sean’s cough startled her. She looked at the watch on her belt loop, then up at her intern. He was presentable—mostly. He either actually smelled better, or the fresh scent of dirt and spring vegetables covered up the stink of alcohol. In any case, if he had come to the fields like this on time, she might not have laid down her ultimatum. “Can you work?”

He started to nod, then turned a pale green. After taking a deep breath, he nodded again, this time with more confidence. “I’ve had two bottles of V8 and half a bottle of aspirin. If I keep drinking water, I should be fine.”

“You’re lucky it’s only the beginning of May. If this were July, I’d ban you from the fields for the day out of fear that heat exhaustion would kill you. As it is, I’m going to keep a close eye on you. If you start to wobble, you’re done for the day.”

Sean nodded again, apparently chastened by his weakness.

“I expect to hear about a rehab group by next Monday.”

“I’ll have it to you by Friday.” He said this with a force she didn’t fully believe could be sloshing around under all the alcohol.

“Oh?”

“Kelly’s deadline before he left was Friday.”

Knowing Kelly was also on her side—and on Sean’s—gave her more courage. “And the pot?”

Sean had the grace to blush, making his skin match the blood she suspected was shooting through the whites of his eyes. He had on dark sunglasses, but the tightness around his mouth was a dead giveaway that he was one loud noise or bright flash away from barfing on her plants. “It won’t happen again.”

“Are you growing it here?”

“No.”

She lifted her sunglasses up off her head and looked at him. When he didn’t meet her eyes, she reached out, pulled his glasses off his face and stared until he met her gaze. “There’s some growing in the woods, near the creek, but I didn’t plant it. There’s a good crop of it. Probably been there for years.”

Just as she was mourning Hank’s death... “After we’re done for the day, you’ll show me where it is and I’ll make sure it disappears. I can’t have a drunk—” he winced at the words “—working on my farm, and I definitely can’t have pot growing wild on my property.” God knows what would have happened if it had been discovered during an inspection. The very thought made her heart pound and her breath shorten.

She wondered how long Sean had known, and if he’d ever planned to tell her. The trouble with drunks was that they are hard to trust. The trouble with this particular drunk was Max had kept her blinders on for too long. Fear of getting through the summer season short a worker. Hope that Sean would pull his shit together and be the farmer he wanted to be.

Ugh. Well, this is one more lesson I’ll have learned this summer.

“Pot goes in the same category as drinking. Go to meetings. If I catch you, you’re gone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He tensed like there was a salute coming, but his hands stayed by his sides. Or maybe that twitch was a precursor to an upset stomach. Either way, she wanted to be far away from him until she reined in her urge to beat him senseless.

“Go take over from Sidney in the greenhouse. Work as long as you can. If you have to quit for the day, I’d rather you tell me than I find out tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded. After she turned her concentration back down to the carrots, he started to walk away. Walk was a polite term. Sean shuffled like a man both deathly ill and chastened. Hopefully he could give her enough work to help her get through this season. She needed a full staff and perfect weather if she was going to feel comfortable writing Trey and the bank a check at the end of the year.

She pushed at the hoe too hard. The tool slipped and she nearly cut the top off a carrot. A good summer required her concentration—the more energy she spent being stressed out about all the changes in her life, the more carrots she’d behead.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
, Max walked into the house to a voice mail from Trey. “I’m thinking I’ll come down this weekend. See how the Kickstarter planning is going. Take you to dinner. I’d like to stay at the farm, if that’s all right with you. Though we could take a vacation to Kelly’s apartment, which I understand is still empty most nights.”

The last bit made her chuckle. Trey hadn’t been able to hide his dislike of Sean. He’d tried not to be the big, older brother upset with who his younger sibling had gotten messed up with, but he was only fooling himself. More amusing, Trey was obviously torn between trying to warn Kelly off a man he considered bad news and respecting that Kelly was a grown man who could make his own decisions. Playing the role of older brother for the first time in years was probably hard enough. Trying to do so when you weren’t sure what the rules were for warning your brother away from a man was going to tax all of Trey’s charm and energy.

Thinking about Trey’s predicament was easier than addressing her mixed feelings about the man. The more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. She respected his advice about her business. She looked forward to seeing him, even if the way he challenged her wasn’t always relaxing. She loved seeing his smile. And she definitely wanted another go at sex with him.

But the more time she spent with him, the clearer it was to her how foolish expecting anything other than a fling would be. He was angry at his father and he hated the farm. He lived in D.C. and wasn’t moving back. He’d never expressed any interest in this lasting longer than the time it took for her to buy the property.

He is a man I could love.

She could tell him that she wanted their relationship to last beyond their business dealings—just open her mouth and blurt out all the feelings milling about in her heart. But what would be the purpose? She wasn’t moving to D.C. for him; why should she expect him to move south for her?

He is a man I could love
.

It wasn’t fair for her not to tell Trey how she felt, but Max didn’t think she had enough energy right now to risk being fair....

She returned his call. “No minivacation at Kelly’s, but I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

“Great. I’m sorry I couldn’t come down last weekend. I had a bunch of work I’d been putting off, plus some events that I had to attend.”

“Must be nice to attend
events
as part of your job,” she said with a smile.

“It’s better now that I can escape to the farm for a break from everything.”

Did he realize he’d referred to the farm as a break? She wished she could see his face and all the meaning in his eyes. She also wished she could shake her head and get rid of the “is all I am a country vacation to you” thoughts from her head. They weren’t fair to him. As long as she wasn’t willing to risk asking him for more, she shouldn’t be hurt by feelings he might not have.

“Just so you know, I have to work the farmers’ market on Saturday morning.”

“Besides seeing you, the market is one of the things I’m most looking forward to. I want to see the farming revolution you’re a part of and that my family’s land will be connected to.”

Max tucked the phone in the crook of her neck and gestured to Ashes to follow her into the living room. “Not that long ago you were ready to sell this land to a developer and only decided to sell it to me under duress. This is quite a change of opinion.”

There was only silence on the other end of the line for a long time. “You’re right. One of the first rules you learn as a professional convincer is not to fall prey to your own marketing, and I’ve fallen prey to everything we’re going to tell people in your Kickstarter. I believe in Max’s Vegetable Patch.”

She fell into Hank’s old recliner—it was much more comfortable than the kitchen chairs. “Thank you.”

The words weren’t adequate—especially considering the week she was having. Sean seemed to be making the most of his last week of drunkenness. She hoped he took to sobriety with the same enthusiasm. “Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“Is something wrong on the Patch?”

It was Max’s turn to be silent.

“I don’t believe in Max’s Vegetable Patch so much as I believe in you, Max.”

Should she heed Trey’s warning and be careful falling prey to her own marketing, even if the positive press was out of Trey’s own mouth? He was a sympathetic ear and gave good advice. In the long run, she needed him to sell her the property—not be a believer. A good listener was more important. “I’ve had to give Sean an ultimatum.” Then she told him the rest. Like that first week when Trey had asked for a tour, her insecurities poured out of her until no pile of sandbags existed that could stop them. “I’m not sure Sean’s relationship with Kelly or me will survive his last week of alcohol.”

“This is harder on both you and Kelly because you let yourself develop a relationship with him.”

“I’m his boss,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding what he was saying. “Of course I’m going to develop a relationship with him.”

Trey ignored her. “And he disappointed you, as drunks always do.”

“I’d rather risk disappointment than keep myself closed off from someone with wonderful potential. And, drunk or not, Sean still has the potential to be a great farmer—even a great partner for Kelly.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Trey was a man with strong opinions and once he’d committed to the fight, Max had been sure he’d follow through until she cried exhaustion.

“I don’t want to fight with you about Sean in the little time we have together before December.”

“Oh.” Trey’s sudden capitulation didn’t feel so good anymore.

“You said before that Max’s Vegetable Patch was your farm and you would manage it how you wanted. I said I supported you. I gave you advice and acknowledged you knew both the farm and Sean better than I did. I still disagree with how you handled it, but if I really support you and The Patch, I shouldn’t play Monday-morning quarterback.”

With one hand, life hands you a man who can both disagree with and support you. With the other hand, life informs you that this man won’t be staying around long, so don’t get comfortable with him.
“Thank you” was all she could say in response, wishing he was next to her instead of on the other end of the phone.

“However, if you ask me how I feel
before
you discipline Sean again, I’ll argue with you until we’re both blue in the face.” His tone had lightened and she managed a laugh in return.

“Plus, you and Kelly are both right that Sean isn’t my dad.”

“Ugh, your dad. I can’t believe Hank had pot growing on the farm.”