Page 3 of Apple of My Eye

Chapter Three

Eloise

Reasons my Parents Will Be Proud of My Loan Application*

*Written by Evan and Shari

– I am saving them from the same fate as the Parkers (bankruptcy!)

– They love me and will be grateful to spend more time with me

– Regenerative agriculture will improve the health of the soil, better for all generations to come (like their grandchildren!)**

– I will be around to take care of them as they get older instead of stuffing them into a retirement home like Linden, my older brother, would***

– It was so much hard work!

**It is worth pointing out that I made it very clear grandchildren are not on the horizon, seeing as I’m single as a pringle and quite literally haven’t thought a man was hot in a year.

***It is also worth pointing out that, although I have beef with my older brother, Linden, I do not think he wants to stuff my parents into a retirement home. But I do agree with Shari and Evan that he would .

Even though I had been working on the loan application for months, when I finally cross off ‘submit loan application’, I don’t feel any sort of relief or celebration.

I try modifying my ongoing to-do list, adding ‘send in loan application’ and scratching a clean line right through it, hoping a double cross-off will shake the feeling, but .?.?. nothing—no butterflies in my stomach, no sense of accomplishment or pride. I squint at the message on the computer.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOAN APPLICATION TO THE US FARM SERVICES AGENCY.

Why is it so .?.?. anticlimactic? They couldn’t even animate some sort of ‘CONGRATULATIONS!’ banner? I think, before remembering how notoriously underfunded the Farm Services Agency is and deciding it is probably for the best that they are not wasting taxpayers’ dollars on animatronic word art.

I thought it would be like the movies. I imagined myself going to the bank in person and waiting nervously for someone to meet with me. The day I started the loan application I also started online shopping for a blazer.

I planned to sit back and cross one leg over the other while a man in a suit scanned Excel sheet after Excel sheet.

I was going to let a smile bloom across my face as they looked up to tell me, ‘Yes, Miss Anderson, your numbers do look correct. How refreshing to have someone come in here with a well-thought-out plan to pay us back and save the world while doing it. Forget the firstborn son, you are the prodigal daughter every parent dreams of.’

In reality, the loan application was late nights after weekdays in the lab, weekends sharing pizza with Evan and Shari after volunteering at the kids’ camp, ceaselessly double-checking my numbers, and almost ruining the surprise to my parents every time they asked me how my summer was going.

Shari wrote up a business plan to finish her Master’s degree too, but hers was to secure a loan to farm hydroponic strawberries, and mine was to save my family’s apple farm.

I text my group chat with Evan and Shari.

Me: I just pressed submit. *Scream emoji*

Shari: ME TOO ME TOO ME TOO!!!

My phone vibrates loudly on my desk.

Shari: So .?.?. how did telling your parents go?

I grimace at my phone. I start to type out an honest response, that I haven’t told them yet.

But I hesitate. Shari is leaving for Italy tomorrow, her ‘Lizzie McGuire’ moment before she settles down to farm strawberries, and I don’t want her to feel like she has to pump me up to tell my parents all over again.

Lord knows she and Evan have done that enough times already.

Instead, I avoid the question, opting to ask Evan if he’s lonely in Seattle yet now that Shari and I have left.

Evan: Ha! It is still summer in Seattle. So .?.?.

People who rave about Seattle summers clearly haven’t spent time on a farm.

Wide open spaces, clean air, and fresh eggs in the morning.

Tangible work for the apple harvest—the sweet smell of dandelions and the thick smell of old roots, the feel of a gnarled branch and the bud of an apple blossom, the sight of a perfectly pruned, symmetrical orchard.

Evan: JK. I really miss you guys *Sent with invisible ink*

Shari sends a selfie in response, posing next to a half-packed suitcase.

You’ll miss me even more after tomorrow!!

Shari’s tall, with dark brown hair that is either cascading down her back in soft waves or pulled back tightly into a braid.

Her eyebrows are dark and arch perfectly above her piercing brown eyes.

She has a square chin that lends her a permanent look of defiance.

In short, she’s nothing like the strawberry shortcake you would expect to be running a strawberry farm. She doesn’t act like one either.

The next picture she sends is a screenshot of her Hinge with her location changed to Rome. Her inbox is filled with messages asking when she’s free.

Shari: *Purple devil emoji*

Shari: Emphasized ‘so how did telling your parents go?’

Evan: LOU – don’t tell me you didn’t tell them yet?! You said you would when you got home.

Me: I will. I PROMISE. But last night was so nice. Mom made lasagna.

Me: I couldn’t ruin it. *Sent with invisible ink*

Evan: Ruin shmuin. I want to be eating lasagna. When can I come.

Shari: Evan, don’t visit without me. Lou—it’s OK to apply to buy out the neighbor’s farm. It’s not like you are the one making them bankrupt.

Evan: Well?.?.?.?my regular person inside job doesn’t start until September so?.?.?.?maybe I should just pop up to the farm and make sure Lou tells her parents.

Shari: OMG DON’T GO WITHOUT ME.

Evan:?Lou, you know that fall festival thing you always talk about. CAN I COME. Plz I miss you. *Kiss emoji*

Shari: You can’t be serious.

Evan: Sorry I’m not that sorry. *Sent with invisible ink*

Evan: You’re on your Eat Pray Love journey anyways.

Shari: Emphasis on the eat and love.

Evan: Eloise, we can make little seed pods for the kids at the festival like we did over the summer.

Shari: You are horrible. You know she can’t resist showing little kids how to farm.

Evan: YOU’RE THE ONE GOING TO EUROPE, BITCH. *Sent with invisible ink*

Shari: You could have come with me if you weren’t such a coward.

Evan:?Speaking of cowards. *Sent with invisible ink*

I gasp at my phone. ‘He did not!’

Evan: On that note, I need to tell the man in my bed to get out of my bed. *Sent with invisible ink*

Shari:?OMG have you been texting in front of him this whole time? That’s rude.

Evan: He’s ASLEEP.

Shari: Good luck with that.

Evan: *Peace sign emoji*

Me: A COWARD????

Me: I rly love the seed pod idea though.

‘Lou!’ Mom shouts up the stairs. ‘Dad wanted to know if you could help him in West. Are you done with that school thing you had to do?’

‘Yes! Coming!’ I heave myself up and shut my laptop.

‘I still don’t understand how you have more schoolwork,’ she says, as I pull on my dusty farm boots. She follows me outside, a bright afternoon sky, the breeze ruffling our hair. A chickadee squawks from its perch on a nearby cherry blossom tree.

‘I’m done now,’ I tell her. Despite all my reservations, I feel a swell of pride as I say it. I am done. Whatever happens now is out of my hands. Now I just need to tell them.

She squeezes my forearm as I straighten to a stand. ‘I’m proud of you for getting all of that finally done,’ she says, her eyes wrinkling at the corners. ‘We’re happy you’re home.’

‘I’m happy I’m home too.’

She stills, her grip lightening. ‘Are you?’ she asks, her hazel eyes piercing. The chickadee cheeps, like it’s also waiting for my answer.

I avert my gaze. ‘Mom, I gotta go. Dad will be looking for me.’

She releases her hand, but when our gazes lock again I can tell she’s seen right through my carefree expression.

I manage to time my day perfectly, heading to meet JJ at golden hour once again.

He nickers, happy to see me, and I feed him another unripe apple, stroking the bridge of his muzzle.

‘I got all my stuff done today,’ I tell him as I walk him to the back paddock.

He neighs. ‘I know, I know. Almost all my stuff. I’ll tell them tonight.

I swear.’ He blinks a giant brown eye at me.

Half an hour later, Mom is doling out servings of her famous gnocchi tomato soup.

‘So,’ she asks, sitting down and smoothing her napkin onto her lap. ‘How was your day?’

Dad glances at me. ‘Good.’ He shrugs.

I can’t help but grin. ‘Good’ is dad-speak for ‘Eloise did well today.’ Even though my parents are proud of me for going to graduate school, I never felt like they were as proud of me as they are after a hard day’s work in the fields.

Thankfully, Linden understood why continued education was so important to me and co-signed on my student loans, the only helpful thing he’s done in years if you ask me.

‘Day was fine,’ I manage to say before I start spearing gnocchi and shoveling them into my mouth.

Mom laughs. ‘Clearly someone worked up an appetite.’

‘You have no idea,’ I tell her.

We chat about what we need to get done for the remainder of the week and I wait until the end of dinner to ask, ‘Are you planning to help with the Fall Festival this year?’ My parents help with it most years, either volunteering at booths or baking apple pies to raffle off or helping to plan the fireworks show.

Fall Festival is always the first weekend in September.

The whole town comes together to celebrate the arrival of fall.

‘Why do you ask?’ Mom sits up a little straighter like she’s already preparing to guilt me into helping too.

I sigh. ‘Mom, I’m not trying to get out of it.

You’re confusing me with your other kid.

’ She raises an eyebrow at this and purses her lips together, but says nothing, waiting for me to continue.

Dad stifles a laugh. ‘I was thinking about throwing something together for the kids that are there. At the kids’ camp I volunteered for this summer we gave out seed pods and seedlings and they loved them. ’

Mom’s face breaks out into a wide grin. ‘That’s a really cute idea, Lou.’

‘Technically, it was Evan’s,’ I admit. ‘I was thinking of asking him to come help out. Would that be OK? If he was here for the .?.?.’ I trail off mid-sentence. There’s a strangeness in the air, it’s too quiet suddenly.

Dad looks across the table at Mom, who shifts in her seat. ‘We love Evan, but .?.?. are you sure? It’s a busy weekend. Especially if you tack on something child-friendly.’ Her eyes are a bit wider than usual.

‘I just thought it would be nice to see him,’ I reply. I can sense the mood shifting but I don’t know why.

Mom shifts again, crossing and uncrossing her legs. ‘I mean of course you can invite Evan .?.?.’

‘Is Linden visiting or something?’ I ask the only thing I can think of that would make them this shifty—most summers Linden comes home as a surprise to somebody, but he alternates who he’s telling.

Last year he surprised Dad by disguising himself as a disgruntled apple picker on the day before his birthday.

Dad laughed so hard he cried when Linden peeled off his bald cap.

Neither of them respond, so Linden must not be the reason.

Dad sighs, keeping his eyes on his plate.

‘I just think—’ But before Mom can finish, Dad cuts her off.

‘Just tell her,’ he grumbles.

‘Tell me what?’ I ask, my voice comes out high and strangled. This doesn’t seem like a good surprise. My heart starts to race.

‘Lou,’ Mom says gently, ‘I just didn’t know if you would want to really soak this one in. You know, without having to host a friend? This might be the last year we help the town with the Fall Festival .?.?. I think we’re selling the farm.’