Of course it’s raining. Not only does the gray sky suck away any joy I might have found outdoors today, but it also sort of makes me unnecessary in the garden.
I try to silence the voice in my head shouting that I’m unnecessary pretty much everywhere. It’s rough. I hear Eden leave the house and begrudgingly drag myself out of bed.
I water my shower plants and wander through the house with a spray bottle, misting all the herbs on the porch and the sweet potato vines I trained all along the front windows as an experiment in natural window treatments.
I’m stuck in between the memory of Ben worshiping my body and his shock that I thought I could actually make a career of hops farming on vacant lots. I spend about an hour spiraling about it before I decide I need my big sister. Esther will probably come at me with the same information as Ben, but it’ll feel better coming from her. Hopefully she’ll also know someone with advice.
I decide to walk to Esther’s bar, despite the rain. I’ve got nice rain gear and am craving the time outdoors. I’m not used to being an indoor cat, as Esther sometimes calls Eva.
Bridges and Bitters isn’t open yet, but I tap on the glass door until my sister looks up from her paperwork, frowns, and lets me in. “You look terrible.”
“Nice to see you too, sis.” I sink into a chair at the bar and flop onto the wood surface.
Esther sighs and tosses me a towel. “You’re dripping on my floor, Eila. What brings you in?”
I drop the towel and rub it around with my shoe, mopping up the puddle I made around the chair. I take off my raincoat and hang it over the back of my chair and shake out my hair, feeling chilly in the cool air of my sister’s workplace. “Ben and I had a fight.”
Esther arches a brow and closes her notebook, reaching beneath the bar. I hear the sound of ice hitting a glass and I watch as my sister mixes me a drink. She slides the amber liquid across the bar without fanfare. “You’ve got about twenty minutes before my friends get here for lunch. Spill.”
I sip the drink and smack my lips when the whiskey hits my tongue. Esther has blended it perfectly with whatever she used as a sweetener and, of course, bitters. “You made me an Old Fashioned? Like I’m some sort of elderly man?”
My sister crosses her arms, her tattoo flexing on her forearm as she gives me the stink eye. “Classy ladies also enjoy classic cocktails, Eila. Is it not delicious? Does it not inspire you to bare your soul to me?”
I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t think the hops on lots can be my real job. He thought it was a side hustle.”
Esther grips the edge of the bar, waiting for me to continue. I take another sip of my drink. “I just … thought he was the one person who had faith in me and my ideas. I know it’s a long shot.”
My sister sighs. “Look, I’ve already asked you about your numbers and you didn’t want to talk practicalities. Is that what you want today? I’m always happy to work through a business plan with you, Eila. You know that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “The business plan depends a lot on forces beyond my control.” I take a deep breath and meet my sister’s gaze. “But I know I can push the buy local angle and I know I can sell. I know it, Esther. You know I’m good with plants.”
Esther arches a brow. “But…”
I swirl the ice in my glass and stare at my lap. “But best-case scenario I’d be, like, living on minimum wage.”
Esther walks around the bar and pulls up the stool next to mine. She drapes an arm around my back and rests her chin on the top of my head. “Tell me why hops and why vacant lots. I mean, you could have planted up the entire ugly side of your house if you really wanted more space for a cash crop.”
“My house is not ugly.” I sniff into Esther’s shirt, and she laughs. “The teal paint was on sale.”
“For a reason.” Esther plants a kiss on top of my head and releases me from this side hug. “Why hops?”
I release a deep breath and turn my palms face up. “In addition to being the secret to amazing beer … I love that they don’t take much to thrive. They twine onto other things, but they don’t destroy like ivy does. They hardly need any soil, and they make something magical.” I blow my hair out of my face. “Hops unlock the fermenting, boiling mush liquid and turn it into something beyond—something incredible. And vacant lots, I don’t know.”
Esther squints and I pop an ice cube into my mouth, crunching it with my teeth. I turn to face her. “The lots are abandoned … they’re left to their own devices without any guidance. They’re overrun by weeds and invasive species taking advantage of them. Stripping their soil. Eroding the land. It really doesn’t take much care to turn them around, help them thrive.”
Esther is silent for a bit, and I see a tear form in the corner of her eye. “Of course you can see that, Eila. I had no idea, and I never thought about it that way.” My sister wipes her face with her hands and shudders. “I tried my best to give all you girls the love I know you needed. But … in the end, you really needed parents. And we never had that.”
I nod. “I know that. You did great, Esther. I love you so much. I always knew you would do what you could.”
She squeezes my hand. “Yeah, but honey, I am really seeing that you are freaking traumatized. And I think you need to find help working through all that so you can move on into your amazing future.”
“Well. I was trying to do that. With my project. Like … if I could save this one lot, it would feel like it made up for nobody looking after me. I know it’s dumb.”
Esther shakes her head. “It’s not dumb. But it’s also not a career path.” We stare at each other for a long while. And damn her, Esther keeps my eye the whole time, like she knows I need to sit and stare at her until I accept that I’ve been a stubborn ass.
I’m on the verge of a good sob, about to ask Esther to give me a job washing glasses or something. She puts a finger under my chin. “Do you want to stay for meatballs and do a career consult with the Foof ladies?”
My sister’s friends call themselves Foof, for Fresh Out Of Fucks. They meet at her bar and rage about shit and, apparently, offer job consultations. “I feel weird doing that. They’re your friends.”
“Eila. This isn’t high school. We can have friends in common.” As she says the words, the door to the bar opens and I see Esther’s friends Piper and Samantha duck in under their umbrellas. I’m surprised by the delight on their faces upon seeing me here, invading their friend-lunch. But both of them rush over to where Esther and I are sitting.
“Good thing I brought extra balls,” Piper says, laughing at her juvenile joke as she sets a fragrant package on the end of the bar. My mouth waters as my sister digs out plates and forks. There’s a gourmet meatball cafe down the road that I can never afford to enjoy. If the Foof ladies are offering classy meat, I don’t have it in me to say no.
The door opens again, and Chloe Preston runs inside, carrying a box of books she gleefully plops on the end of the bar. “Fresh off the presses.” She holds up one of the books and my eyes widen seeing the cover. Chloe writes steamy historical romance novels, and this one is evidently about a man who plows fields with no shirt on. “Eila, want an early review copy?” She slides me one of the books. I glance at my sister, who nods.
“Thank you. I’ve never read one of your books before.”
Chloe grins. “Well, you’re all grown up now and it’s time you dove in.” She pulls up a stool and reaches for a plate of meatballs. Soon we are all seated around the bar tasting the different boxes Piper brought.
And then my sister embarrasses the crap out of me by saying, “Eila needs help brainstorming job leads.”
I whip my head to face her, about to tell her to please shut up, but Samantha claps her hands. “We always need good people at Vinea. What are you interested in doing?”
Esther gestures with her fork. “She has a certificate in horticulture. And she’s obviously interested in something urban.”
“Hmm.” Samantha frowns. “Well, I can’t really help with that. But if you ever consider a pivot to office work, I’m getting desperate.”
Chloe swallows her food and grins. “Well. Now that you mention it, I saw something the other day when I was in Homewood Cemetery for research.”
I frown at her. “Why were you researching in the cemetery?”
Chloe taps the book. “I do all kinds of historical research for these babies. So anyway, I saw the cemetery is hiring a horticulturalist. Which I never thought of before, so I was reading the description, and they are looking for someone to manage the arboretum and gardens.” She looks around the group. “Did you know someone wrote a book about that cemetery? It’s like 200 acres and has 40 species of trees.”
Samantha shakes her head and laughs. “Only you would know that, Chlo.”
Piper holds up a finger. “I knew! I take fitness clients in there for walks. The hills are great cardio for my seniors.”
I blink in surprise as my sister pulls a job listing up on her phone. “Is that the actual salary? Seriously?”
Esther nods and taps her screen. “And look at that. Full benefits.” She grins. My hands shake as I scroll through the listing, astonished that there might be a way to grow in a new direction while still staying rooted in my hops plan. Esther smiles knowingly. “You could get yourself some really good therapy in exchange for fending off invasive species from the beech trees.”