When the Adams’ children cleaned out the place, they didn’t leave much behind, just the long-forgotten shotgun Jane had hidden in the attic and four broken Adirondack chairs which were stacked in the corner of the barn.
The shotgun was locked up now, ever since Brooke used it on the light, but the wooden chairs had become her pride and joy. She’d repaired and repainted each. This year she’d chosen a rusty shade of red to match both the season and the truck. While the color of the chairs might change, the color of her truck never would. (And that’s yet another thing we’ll talk about later.)
The views from Tall Clover Farms were the best in the county. There was nothing Brooke and Peter liked more than sitting in those chairs with Whitney, their black lab, on the grass between them. Luci was now old enough to join them, while her brother was down for his afternoon nap.
Last night had brought the first dusting of snow, so it wouldn’t be long before Christmas was on them, Brooke thought. She’d need to start thinking about that soon, but not yet. After all, they still had Halloween and Thanksgiving.
As the afternoon sun played with the yellows, oranges, pinks, blues, and browns stretched out before them, they wondered if the rain over the hot summer had helped the colors this year. Peter paid close attention as Brooke explained the brilliance created by the magenta in Nature’s drama. She was starting to understand the nuances in colors, that had taken time.
Then it was Brooke’s turn to patiently listen as he showed her a cloud formation or pointed out the hidden rooftops, each with their thin sliver of smoke confirming winters arrival.
Luci threw a tennis ball for Whitney, then giggled when the families lab returned it to her feet, often barking for her to throw it again.
The fresh clover lawn had filled in nicely this year under the trees — an ideal food for the whitetail deer who came out in the early morning as the sun began to rise over the valley to burn off the mist from the night. The lawn showed off the chairs Peter had carefully arranged around the new pit where he had already laid in the fire, ready for the evening.
Brooke could sit there for hours, looking first at the view and then at her husband; but there was still too much to do before their guests would arrive. Her mind wandered to the day she had first seen Peter, before even knowing his name, sitting alone having lunch at the soup kitchen. He looked different back then. Yet now here he was, relaxed in the chair, with a hot cup of tea.
After dinner, the four old friends would sit by the fire, with a glass of wine, or two, and tell the same stories they had shared so often before.
There would be stories about Brooke wanting to do something with her life, about meeting Peter, the geek. Others about when the business was new when Brooke had met Justice and needed his help with the dogs. The story about the wreck and how Justice had, maybe, saved her life. They’d talk about Sunya and the injury that ended her career but brought her to them. More stories about building a social media business where people could see pet pictures, and how much the country needed that when their newsfeeds were so full of hate.
Then there would be stories about how they had named the company Barking Out Loud, how they went public and everyone made boatloads of cash – to live happily ever after.
All stories they knew and enjoyed telling, and retelling, because that’s what people, and storytellers, do.
There were also some things that would need discussion. Peter was the oldest, having turned 40 this year, so he’d been chosen to lead the conversation of what Sunya and Justice should do, now that she was pregnant. Their situation was so different from when Brooke learned about Luci. The couple would need to settle down and not be competing on the ballroom tour, hoping to land a spot on So You Think You Can Dance, but Sunya didn’t think to settle down should mean marriage.
Was that necessary for them, she wondered?
Brooke said how if they were going to raise a family and live in these parts then marriage was the only answer, no matter the question; because, well just because, everyone knew how people could be.
Brooke and Peter hoped they would live close by. After the sale of Barking Out Loud, paying for a place wouldn’t be a problem, but they still wanted to offer them a spot on the mountain, inside the original grant. Peter had asked the lawyers to look at the sale agreement, and they said it would be fine.
Then there was this whole business of a philanthropic foundation the advisors wanted to start. Peter knew that would take time to hash out.
By now his tea was cold, and Brooke reminded him that he still needed to pick up Luci from piano. She was taking lessons two afternoons a week from a woman who had taught Brooke how to sort through the green beans in the market. Brooke was helping the woman’s sister learn to paint, so everything balanced out in the way mountain folks have always kept the books.
She would remind Peter how she didn’t want the two of them to get lost on their way home. Getting lost was never something Peter and Luci did on purpose. It just happened when they saw something like a butterfly crossing their path, and they each wanted to see where it went and what it did.
As she watched Peter start down the long gravel drive, Brooke thought about her life, how her parents had given her so much, how it had seemed hard in the beginning to find her way, and how ironic it was for her to fall in love with someone so unlike her image of perfect yet how perfect he had become. How life could be complex, but contentment could be simple.
She realized how choices do matter and that someday she would tell these stories, but there wasn’t time now.
What she needed to do was take a last walk through the house, then adjust the pillows, so the one covered in the bandana Justice used that day was where he could see it.