Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4) (3 page)

BOOK: Our Chance (Los Rancheros #4)
2.68Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

My mom replies, "Grandma Pierce knew how much you loved her stuff, and we've all grabbed new pieces when we came across them at thrift stores and yard sales. She's been keeping it here for you."

"Oh, you guys are the best family ever! I get to make new dishes with this stuff every day. How lucky am I?" I ask rhetorically. I spin to talk in the camera. "I need recipes! Whole foods! Casseroles! Things I can make from my garden. I still have to see what we have, but I know we have cows and chickens, so I need egg dishes and different things I can make with raw milk. Send me links to your recipes, or post them down below. This is going to be so great!"

Jet yells, "Cut," really loudly and then mumbles he has to get his clapper out of the car.

Brody asks, "What the hell just happened?"

My mom steps around me, gazing back at my bakeware and bowls to explain to him. "Jules has a blog and video blog on YouTube. People learn to do things by watching her, and they give her ideas. It's like her video diaries she used to do, but she makes money at it now."

Brody looks back and forth between us, and I shrug self-consciously.

"You make money, from telling people how your day was?" he asks incredulously.

I feel my shoulders go back. "It's about raising kids, what works for me and what doesn't. My trials, that are other peoples trials, too. Recipes, crafting, everything. I have sponsors that pay me to advertise on my page."

"Huh," is all he says before walking away.

I look after him. "Huh? That's it?" I get a pat on my shoulder from my mom.

"I've got ten dollars that says he Googles you and finds your stuff tonight, darlin’. He's just in shock, is all."

I shake it off and look to Harper and Trigg. "Alright, let’s go get an inventory of what we have going on outside. Go get your wellies on. They’re in the back of the van." I made sure we all had two pairs of the tough rain boots before even stepping foot onto the farm. Old habits and everything. I trail behind them before mom stops me.

"Your dad and I are going to go and let you get settled in here. I put a casserole in the fridge for you, so don't worry about dinner."

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best." I shut the cabinet doors before going out to the garage to see my dad has already put on the cover for the GTO, so it doesn't get damaged. I hug him, too. “Thanks, Daddy."

"Any time, baby doll."

I turn to see Brody petting Angus, his dog at his side. Jet is standing with him, already in his waterproof boots. I sit on the bumper of the van, slip my flip-flops off and put on black rubber boots as I listen to Brody talking to Jet.

"His name is Brutus. What's your dog's name?"

"Angus. Mom named him."

"Isn't that interesting?"

Jet scrunches up his eyebrows. "Why?"

“Your mom and I promised each other we would get our pets’ names from Shakespeare." He glances over at me.

"Why?"

"Cause your Granny loves Shakespeare and named all of her kids after characters, and then got my mom into it. We hated that."

"Wait, Brody's not a Shakespearean name. And Aunt Darcy isn’t from there, either," Harper says. "Is it, Mom?"

I shake my head "No, they aren’t. You aunt goes by her middle name. Brody’s middle name is from a play."

He looks down and laughs, making me laugh with him. That laugh makes me think of quiet talks and summer drives. I missed that laugh. "One day I'll tell you what mine is."

I stand up and say, "Alright, munchkins, let’s go see what your chores will be." They groan collectively and I bend down to kiss their heads.

Trigg asks, "When are we discussing allowance?"

Brody frowns at him with a playful sparkle in his eyes. "Boy, you live on a farm now. I didn't get money unless I did good in school. The rest I
had
to do. No rewards except food on the table and not getting grounded."

"Exactly. And I hear Grandma even has an automatic pump for milking the cow, so you don't even have to do that by hand," I tell them excitedly.

I look over at Brody and he's smiling at me.

"When I was in school, we had to walk, in the pouring down rain, to the bus stop."

I smile back. "It was at least a mile down the road; the whole road was all mud."

"Okay, now I know you're lying," Harper says. We laugh together and walk behind the house to the backyard. Over on the far end of the house, to the left, is an herb garden that surrounds cement blocks with four bee boxes in each corner and a birdbath in the center. In the middle is all garden. Rows and rows of different plants, short in front to tall in the back.

Brody points to the garden. "Granny had everything marked." He points to the brightly colored wooden spoons and I laugh warmly.

"She's always used those spoons." I spot her handwriting on an orange spoon by my feet and crouch down to look at it. Her swirls on those sticks make me feel closer to her suddenly, and I'm instantly saddened that she won’t be here to switch out her spoons for the next crop.

"Spring crops are coming in consistently. That's pretty much all I've been doing, milking and picking crops, weeding. I started some seeds in the shed last month for when these are done."

I turn to him. "So you're the hand that Granny left all her money to pay?"

He shrugs and keeps walking.

"It wasn't all that much. I was helping her out for nothing for a while, before she was gone. I've been floating around the family farms for about two years, helping out when they need it." I nod, but am thinking it's crazy for him to be floating around. Why didn't he have his own place?

"Wow, look at all the work you get to do!" I exclaim to the kids. "There's spinach, onions, carrots, potatoes, and all of these strawberries! Oh, here's broccoli and lettuce, too."

They're looking at me dubiously. I explain feebly, “Granny's garden got big while I was gone."

"Yeah, well, Granny had a helper and didn't mind expanding anymore," Brody explains wryly.

I ruffle Jet's hair. "And now, I get to take advantage of you guys! Just think, next year, we can plant all the way back there . . ."

The kids are waving their arms and shaking their heads saying, “No, no way. No, Mom. Seriously, no," as I talk over them.

I throw my hands up in fake exasperation. "Fine, just don't complain about what little work you have to do with what we have now."

We walk behind the garden and see the pond and dock to the left with the barn to the right. I wave over.

"Pond is there. No one goes in without an adult. I don't care how good of a swimmer you are. Jet, I'm serious."

He nods his head sulkily and I reach for his bottom lip. "Mom, no. I told you, you can't wrap it around my head! No!” He tries to ward me off. I let him go and look to the water. The pond isn't large, but not small, either. Too small for a boat, though. Ducks are swimming around in the water. White, black, brown.

"They're runners," Brody tells me. My eyes get big and I tell the kids excitedly, "Those are runner ducks! Wait ‘til they’re on land. It's the funniest thing you've ever seen."

Jet asks, "Why?" His favorite word.

I tell him patiently, "They stand straight up and waddle, not hunched over. Seriously funny."

We turn to the barn that's classic red, but in need of paint. One half of the barn is all tractors and equipment for hauling the orchard harvests, and the other side is three stalls with nothing in them. In front of the barn, but behind the detached garage, is the fenced in chicken coop. It's a house, with the nest part hanging off of the main rectangular building so that you can lift the hinged roof and grab the eggs. There's a ramp that goes down, and then six hens in the fenced in area. The fence is black wire with white painted posts. The grass is green under the coop and I see a sprinkler on a fence post. The hens will go in the house when it comes on, and it keeps the grass greener.

Directly behind the garage are the rabbit hutches that are in a low white picket fence. The buildings are as tall as I am at 5'6". About ten feet away are two massive compost bins. They're black round bins on a stand, and when you turn the handle off to the side, it will tumble and spin. The kids squeal at the black and white bunnies hopping around. I open the gate to the little picket fence and let them in then shut it behind them. All three immediately plop down on the grass as the bunnies hop around them. Against the wall of the garage are three wire and wood cube cages on stilts with dirt under them. Brody points to them.

"I let the rabbits out during the day when I'm in the garden so I can keep an eye out. Just in case something tries to take one of them. I don't know if you remember, but every few days the rabbit droppings go into the compost bins. They're on a month-to-month schedule. The one with the red painted lid is the one that's in use. You just switch out the tops every month. It was easy for Gran to remember that way."

I nod and tell the kids we're going to look at the cows. When none of them move, I tell them to stay there until we get back and make sure I get eye contact before leaving them.

Brody and I walk to the back of the garden to the acre of pasture that is holding the two cows. They're tiny Irish Dexters. Their backs come waist high and they’re both solid black. "They're on a rotation so you always get milk. The one on the left is Grace and on the right is Hope. Hope has the crooked horn and is a little shorter. Grace is pregnant right now. She should drop at the end of May or June. They're both giving milk right now. I've been trying to dry Grace out to get her ready for her calf. She's slowed down to about three-quarters of a gallon, and Hope is giving one and a half. I hope you get some good recipes."

I look over at him and smile widely. "I've been researching everything like crazy. I know how to make mozzarella, ricotta, ice cream, kefir, butter, and yogurt. I’m ready."

He studies my face before saying softly, "I'm glad you're excited about this. You could always sell."

I shake my head. "I need a healthier lifestyle for the kids. Harper has RA. Jet had a cavity."

He nudges my shoulder and I immediately get chills down my arm. "Cavities aren't that huge of a deal, Jules."

I look over at him. "They are to me. I didn’t get my first one until I had two kids and was eating crap food all the time. This is a severe life change for them, but it's getting back to what I know for me."

"And what do you know?"

I look over at him and then back to the kids in the rabbit pen. "I know I have to do better, try harder. That's what I'm doing."

I leave him and pull some spinach leaves out of the garden and go play with my babies.

We play with the bunnies for almost thirty minutes while Brody picks from the garden. I get the kids in the house to wash up, and finish unpacking their suitcases. In Jet's case, I know he’s probably just playing with the toys he brought. I go into the kitchen and look around for the first time. The old dining room table is still the same. It's wider than most rectangle tables and has eight chairs down the sides, one on each end. Behind the table, on the wall, are white cabinets and butcher block counters with windows at the top instead of upper cabinets.

By the back door is a red wooden bench with cubbies and hooks above it, for changing shoes and jackets. The kitchen juts out from the house a bit, so there are windows everywhere. Along the back wall are more white cabinets, butcher block counters, and a huge ceramic apron kitchen sink. Over the sink is a bay window that always held plants, but is empty now. There's a red dishwasher on either side of the sink.

On the interior wall is a massive red refrigerator. It’s the size of two side by side fridges with an ice maker and water dispenser on the outside. Down the wall, next to the butler's pantry door, is a set of double ovens that are also red. On the side of the kitchen that shares a wall with the butler's pantry is a huge burner stove that's red and has two ovens, a grill and griddle, and six gas burners. The back splash behind all of it is a light blue rectangular tile that has been there for as long as I can remember. The center of the kitchen is taken up by an island that is massive, all cabinets with one end shelf for cookbooks and its own sink. At the other end are two wooden barstools, while in the middle of the cabinet space, facing the refrigerator, is a little red and glass faced beverage fridge.

"Whoa. Granny upgraded," I say as I finish my inspection.

When the deep voice tumbles over my shoulder, I jump and instantly try to cover the action by sitting at the bench to take off my shoes. "Yeah, she bought all the appliances a few years back. You know how she liked to have the whole family over. And she was making a lot for the market, too," Brody tells me as he does the same with his shoes.

I walk to the fridge and pull it open, finding the casserole mom left on the top shelf, along with some cheese, bacon, eggs, milk and oranges. The refrigerator looks massive with the small amount of food in it. Grabbing the casserole, I turn to find Brody sitting on a barstool watching me. "I saw the market, it's grown so much."

He nods. "It's huge right now. We've had celebrities move into the neighborhood and that draws people, along with the health movement." I put the casserole in the oven and turn it on then turn around to face Brody. He pushes a huge stainless steel bowl in front of me. "I thought you would want to make a salad."

Other books

Assault or Attrition by Blake Northcott
The Killer's Tears by Anne-Laure Bondoux
The Pinch by Steve Stern
The Silver Kiss by Annette Curtis Klause
Never Wanted More by Stacey Mosteller