“Not my problem. Not anymore.” I know Dad is blowing smoke about changing his will, but maybe I’ll just pretend to take him at his word. Maybe there’s no secure future for me here either and no percentage in busting my ass. Maybe I’ll just do my job.
I grab a hat emblazoned with our logo. “I’m off to number seven to make sure everything’s on track with that new variety.” I expect Dierdre to chastise me for not doing my part but when I pass her desk, she’s humming to herself.
“’Bout time,” she murmurs as if I’m not supposed to hear her but I do.
I stop. “You agree with me?”
“I never thought you should be expected to take it all on, but you’re a good man, Mike. A responsible one. And he leaned on you hard. We need an operations manager and we have for the better part of a year. My saying it doesn’t make a difference, but you doing this might just be the charm.”
“Thank you.”
Her smile broadens. “Thank you for finally saying no. I’ve been worried about you. It’s not good for people to put in as many hours as you have this year.”
“Thanks.”
Dierdre is old enough to be my mom though she never fusses. She’s worked for Cavendish for decades, rules theoffice with an iron fist, and probably knows more about all of us than we realize. I’m glad to have her support.
She peers at me. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Just a little run down, I guess.” I’m not going to tell Dierdre about Sylvia.
“No wonder. I’ve been hoping you don’t get that bug.”
“You and me both. I’ll try to stop in at noon, but with two foremen out...” My phone dings. It’s a text from another person calling in sick. “Make that three. Scott’s out today, too. We’re going to go another round with this bug.”
“Maybe it’ll be shorter. You’ve been sending people home sooner. And don’t worry about any of that.” She gestures to the pile I’ve evicted. “Go deal with tomatoes. Just don’t turn off your phone.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say with a salute and we grin at each other before I head out.
It feels good to focus on what should be the sum of my responsibilities. It also gives me the space to think and plan.
What do I really want?
I want to work on that small greenhouse, ideally with Sierra but even without. That’s the first thing that comes into my thoughts. It’s a different challenge and I’m ready for the variety. I like her enthusiasm, too. It reminds me of my own when I was younger, and gets me thinking about future recruitment. I get a call just then from the greenhouse rep who wants to review the site and make an appointment with him for late afternoon downtown.
That reminds me that I also need to talk to Luke.
Whether or not I’m not looking forward to any conversation with him is irrelevant. He owns the building where Merrie’s bistro is located, and putting a greenhouse on the roof requires, at the very minimum, his agreement. I’m not sure he’llbe up to paying for it but the rep is offering me a good deal, provided he gets to photograph and show it off.
It’s an investment in the future, to my thinking. If it sparks Sierra’s curiosity, all good. If Merrie ends up growing her own herbs there, that’s fine, too. I’ll help her out. I’ll learn something and likely gain some new skills. All good.
We have a nice first harvest of that new hybrid, but instead of sending them to Merrie, I send a couple of flats up to the sales and marketing people. We’ve talked about them already and they’ve made their plan. Now they have the tomatoes to cinch the sales.
The greenhouses seem particularly hot today. My shirt is so soaked that I head home to shower and change before going downtown.
By the time I’m driving into Empire, I’ve almost convinced myself that the nature of Luke’s relationship with Sylvia isn’t my business. It appears that the two of them have worked out whatever balance needed to be negotiated, not just for Sierra but for their own interactions. If Sylvia is distrustful of relationships, thanks to Luke, that’s not my problem to solve – particularly as she doesn’t want me to. I don’t have to approve of Luke pursuing Daphne Bradshaw. I don’t have to feel insulted on Sylvia’s behalf for his inattention. I don’t have to be annoyed that guitar lessons seem to fall a long way short of my ideas of parenting.
I am. All of it. But I remind myself that it’s not my problem.
My problem is simple. Luke might leave town for good at any moment, so I need to get his approval while I can. I park across the street from the Odeon, just down the way from The Carpe Diem Café. There’s a pick-up truck from Havelock’s permit department parked out front and the sounds of renovation coming from inside. I haven’t been inside the Odeon in twenty years and I’m curious.
Why on earth would Luke undertake the job of renovating this theatre? Maybe he has so much cash he doesn’t care.
I’m not sure I could ever have that much cash.
You’d think that if he was throwing money around, he might have tossed some to Sylvia for Sierra’s future, but there I go, thinking like the traditionalist I am.
Not. My. Business.
