The snort that came from the general vicinity of my throat made her laugh. "I'll bet. And that's part of the reason I'm happy to be here. That job drained the soul right out of my body."
"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad."
I cut her a look. "It sounds so innocent on paper, right? Receptionist at a photography studio. Perfect if you’re trying to become a photographer yourself. But when you're talking anywhere in the Los Angeles or Hollywood area, the subheading of that job description is Must Be Willing to Wrangle Pigs, Perverts, and Princesses. I've never been told to get my boobs done or had my ass groped so much in my life."
Now my full-body shudder was apparent, and she gave me a sad smile. "Well, I'm even more glad you're here then. It’ll be a good change of pace for you."
I leaned my head back and stared up at the soft blue sky. The edges of their yard, tips of the trees sweeping back and forth in the breeze, was starting to shift to a pinkish-orange as the sun began its descent somewhere that I couldn't see.
The sounds were different here, and they soothed something in me that I hadn't realized needed soothing. Like I was a cat whose hair was still lifted along my spine, a frightened child ready for a fight, and those birds singing sweetly as they swooped from tree to tree were slowly helping me lower my clenched fists.
Noises that I couldn't identify, no matter how hard I tried, were a song I wanted desperately to put on repeat, let it wipe away the memories of grungy buildings and plastic faces and gridlocked traffic.
"I'm glad I'm here," I heard myself saying. "I don't think I care what I do."
“What about the bakery? Joss has only been gone for about a month since she and Levi moved. I’ll bet she’d call over there for you if you want an interview.”
I couldn’t have stifled that laugh if I tried. “I’m a terrible baker.”
“Oh, hush, you can’t be that bad. It’s just following a recipe is all.”
“I suppose it’s something,” I said quietly. “Maybe I’ll call Joss tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes again and listened to the sounds pushing through the branches and the leaves.
"There's got to be something that calls to you, sweetpea," she said softly, like she could tell I was in a trance. “Beyond just a paycheck. I know you need that too, to get your feet under you, but what do you want to do?”
My eyes closed, even though I wanted to watch the sky change color. "I love taking pictures, but … probably not much of a calling for that here. I couldn't make that a career in LA either. How bad is that?"
"You're young, honey, of course that's not bad. I think you'll figure it out."
My job at the studio was supposed to be my foot in the door. The lever into my success. Except all it got me was a boss who catered to the fake and the phony. Any suggestion I had, any ideas I tried to bring to him earned me a pat on the head and a pointed finger back to my sterile desk in the lobby.
I turned my face in her direction and opened my eyes. "How did you do it? Figure out what you wanted to do with your life?"
"Oh goodness." She smiled gently at my uncle as he closed the tailgate on his truck. "It may sound old-fashioned to you, but I knew when I met him that building a life with him was what called to me. Make a home, raise a family of good, kind people who'd leave the world better than they found it. That's always what I wanted. Finding something to pay the bills came second, and I've been fortunate enough that since your cousin Hunter was born, I was able to stay home."
"There's nothing wrong with wanting that," I said honestly. "I just don't know if that's the case for me. I'm not sitting here dying to get knocked up a few times and change diapers for the next six years. Not that I don’t want kids someday, but I hardly worry about my ovaries shriveling up just yet."
Aunt Fran laughed. “It’s not the dream for everyone, but it was for me. But I’m a lot older than you. My generation was raised differently. There’s no right or wrong about it, mind you, just not the same.”
“And Green Valley is a lot different than LA,” I told her.
"That too." She took a sip of her tea. “You’ve got a perspective on life that I’ve never experienced, sweetpea. And it’s good to try to understand the people who don’t see things the way you do.”
Sitting in her chair, drinking the tea she warmed in the sun on her deck, with the sun setting in the sky, I told her to stay just as she was.
I leaned over and grabbed my camera, lifted it to my face and made a small twist to the lens. When I snapped a picture, she smiled.
“Goodness, what was so interesting about that?” Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink.
“Sweet tea in the south is interesting,” I said, pulling the camera back so I could see the shot on the screen. I smiled and showed it to her. “Especially when you’re not used to it.”
Her eyes turned speculative as she listened to me.
"What?" I asked.
“That’s what you should do. You should take pictures of the way you see life here. You probably notice details that we take for granted, because we live it every day.”
Just like that, ideas sprang into my head, a million balls bouncing wildly on a trampoline.
“Who knows what I’d do with them,” I said slowly, “but it’s something to keep me occupied, at least.”
She patted my hand. “I tell you what, you call Joss about the bakery, and in the meantime, I’ve got somewhere to take you tomorrow.”
“What is it?”
“A meeting.” Aunt Fran winked. “Good subjects for pictures, trust me.”
A brief, bright burst of nerves fluttered around my stomach. A meeting full of Green Valley residents who'd peg me as a newbie as soon as I cleared the doorway. People who'd probably call me a Yankee or smile at my flat vowels. Tucker's face slipped right back into my head, an unwelcome flash of hard jaw and dark eyes.
Get. Out. I thought viciously.
"What's the meeting about?" I tipped the tea up to my mouth while I waited for her to answer.
"It’s just a meeting, sweetpea."
She'd called me that since I was little, maybe four or five. "That's a blatant non-answer."
"Goodness, so impatient."
"I'm impatient because I know exactly what you're doing, Aunt Fran."
"Do you now?"
"You don't want to tell me what it is because you think I won't come with you."
Her lips curled up in a tiny smile. "You always were too perceptive for your own good."
I sighed and settled back into the chair again. "Fine. You win. I should probably start unpacking anyway. That way Grady can't try and take the apartment from me when he gets here."
Aunt Fran laughed. "Want some help?"
I shook my head. "It's okay. I wouldn't mind some quiet. Wrap my head around being here, you know? I kinda feel like I left it back in California as real as this feels."
Inexplicably, that made her smile.
"What?"
She stood from her chair and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Nothing. You'll hear all about heads tomorrow, that's all." When I glanced up at her, she winked. "Or lack thereof."