“Don’t look like that.” Sienna’s face fought a grin at something she saw on mine. “This is your night—yours and Jenn’s. People want to wish you well and tell you how excited they are for you.“ She looked to Billy as though to seek his help.
He gave Sienna a stare which was likely inscrutable to her, but which I read as, Don’t look at me. Cletus does what he wants.
About that, he was right. I didn’t want this, I didn’t sign up for it, I didn’t subscribe to it. I wasn’t angry at being caught unawares and unprepared, not anymore, not now that I’d seen Jenn and how happy this spectacle seemed to make her. But acceptance didn’t mean I felt moved to participate.
I took another gulp of my whiskey, finishing it.
“Is that—is that whiskey?” Sienna made a frustrated sound, pulling her purse up and digging around in it. “Ugh. You boys. You’re lucky you’re so cute. Here—” she held out two breath mints and took the empty teacup “—if you’re nervous, just say so.”
I accepted her mints and wrinkled my nose at the bitter cooling effect on my tongue against the lingering heat of the liquor. “I’m not nervous.”
I wasn’t nervous. I was avoidant. There’s a difference.
And, honestly, I was still of half a mind to scoop Jenn up in my arms and just flat-out leave. I appreciated the dress, I absolutely did. It was splendid, and Jenn was magnificent in it. But the dress being what it was, and Jenn being who she was to me, should I venture within its gravitational field, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions. Best I didn’t venture too close, else the urge would become overwhelming.
“Uh oh.” Jackson stood straighter, his eyes sharpening. “Farmer Miller is here.”
I followed the deputy’s line of sight and, sure enough, Farmer Miller—or I guess just Mr. Miller given the current state of his non-farm—was threading through the crush of people, on a collision course with Jenn’s momma.
“I’ll get Boone, and we’ll stop him without causing a scene. Maybe Evans is here?” Jackson said, sounding resigned to his fate, and set off through the crowd.
“What’s going on? What’s wrong with Farmer Miller?” Sienna placed the empty teacup on a tray set up behind us to receive used dishes.
It was Billy who explained, likely because I was too absorbed by the alluring picture sublime happiness painted on Jenn’s features. “Well, you know that trouble last year? Where Kip Sylvester—you know, Jenn’s daddy—bought all those farms and promised to lease them back to the former owners? Kip was going to open a farm stay business. He promised the farmers they could stay on their property and host guests. Experience minded tourists, like spend a week on a working farm sort of thing.”
“Ah, yes. I met Jenn’s father once. He made a lasting impression, like those tuna eyeballs I ate in Japan that one time, or the smell of an LA dumpster on fire. And I’ve also heard of this farm stay tourism phenomena. Interesting idea,” she said, sounding like she didn’t actually find it interesting. Sienna loved living at the homestead with Jethro and their progeny, but I knew she had no interest in keeping animals other than as pets.
They had a dog. He was cute. His name was Morty. We’d bonded. But I digress.
“Except the farms are no longer actual working farms. The farmers sold off most of their livestock, keeping just a few animals to make the experience feel authentic.” Billy gestured to where Diane and Jenn stood talking to Scotia Simmons and her husband. I kept my attention trained on Jenn to ensure Scotia didn’t say anything untoward that might dampen my lady’s happiness.
Billy continued, “Which is why Diane had the opportunity to buy all of Miller’s cows at auction last year. He sold off almost everything, keeping just a few goats for the tourist experience.”
“Didn’t she buy the cows for a ridiculous amount of money? That was—when? Over a year ago, right?”
“Yes. I believe she purchased them in the month of January last year. We’ve had those Guernseys for going on fifteen months.” Mention of the cows had me reluctantly looking away from Jenn so I could elucidate for my sister-in-law. “Once upon a time, they may have belonged to Farmer Miller, but now the lodge has the Donner Dairy.” I couldn’t help the pride in my voice. The Donner Dairy had been my brainchild and—like my brain—it was a beautiful thing.
“I know all about the dairy, the milk is outstanding. But did the other thing ever happen?” Sienna plucked two glasses of red wine off a tray as a server walked by, handing one to Billy. “The farm stay business?”
“Thank you.” Billy accepted the wine she offered. “No, Kip turned all the farmers out of their houses—Danvish, Miller, and a few others had already signed and sold—and hasn’t done a thing with the farm stay business.”
“Kips has been a little busy,” I muttered.
“The farmers are—excuse my language—pissed,” Billy said. “As are Kip Sylvester’s investors. He basically took their money and did nothing with it.”
I didn’t volunteer that Kip had done quite a few somethings with the money. For one, he’d paid his legal bills. For another, he’d bought himself and his girlfriend a big house in Maryville.
But I did say, “And Miller wants his cows back. He’s been trying to get Diane to sell them back since last spring, even offering the colossal two hundred thousand purchase price Diane paid. But she won’t budge and has sought a restraining order against Miller.”
I’d counseled Diane at the time not to seek the restraining order and instead to try to forge a partnership of some sort with Miller.
With regards to Jenn’s father, the court had granted a restraining order for both Diane and Jenn, which was good indeed. However, he and his lady friend—Elena— had been given just probation for their assault of Jenn last year. The prosecution had negotiated a guilty plea in return for a sweetheart deal of time served, no additional jail sentence. Much to my chagrin.
Then again, the deal had saved Jenn from having to testify in court. His admission of guilt had also greatly favored Diane in the divorce settlement, with Kip getting exactly zero of the Donner Lodge or Diane’s substantial portfolio. Just half the value of their house, the small vacation house and big boat in Key West, and that’s it.
He’d disappeared for a time after, only to reemerge in downtown Green Valley the day after Jenn and Diane’s restraining orders expired. The degenerate was planning something, and I felt certain it had to do with the farms he’d hoodwinked away from their rightful owners.
Don’t get me wrong, Nancy Danvish in particular held a good measure of my ire due to her—albeit ignorant—part in what happened last year. Nevertheless, she and Miller, the other farmers who’d been duped, and Kip Sylvester’s ring of investors had all been sorely cheated by Jennifer’s father. They were still angry, incensed even. I didn’t care about their woes, but I did care about justice. If Diane had sought to use their collective wrath against Kip, the common enemy, she could’ve destroyed him once and for all.
Sadly, Jenn’s momma was and would always be a reactionary, acting before thinking, where Kip Sylvester was concerned. Diane fundamentally lacked the foresight, patience, and sinister strategic acumen required to bring her ex down. At some point, I’d have to step in, organize folks, and just make it happen.