“Suing…you?” There's no way she's the neighbor I've been trying to reach for months. The one who's ghosted every letter and email.
“You heard me.”
“You're saying you own that place?” I nod my head over the hill to the mess of a property that has been an eyesore to everyone in town.
“As of a month ago. My grandparents used to own it, and then my sisters and I inherited it. I'm taking the lead on renovating, so I'll be spending half my time here every week until the job is done.”
“Interesting,” I say.
“Yeah? Interesting enough that you’ll tell your friend who owns this place to drop the lawsuit? He can’t win it, you know. I don’t know what he’s paying his lawyer, but whatever it is, it’s too much.”
Sheowns the land next to mine. Her family hasn’t responded to countless overtures from me. Irritating. Infuriating, actually.
This would have been good information before I spent the better part of a month savoring the memory of her. And much as I want to lash out in frustration…I can’t.
Despite how little I know, I already like her more than most people I meet.
Maybe if I plead my case, she’ll help me secure the water I need so I won't lose my shirt next winter and my fields won’t go fallow.
Then again, she doesn’t seem like she came here to make my life easier. I put my hands on my hips, sizing her up. “Yeah? You a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“A good one?”
“What kind of question is that?” Her bottom lip juts out as though I’ve offended her. I’d feel bad if she wasn’t sitting on my property talking about my lawsuit like I’m some country idiot who doesn’t have a case. I wish she didn’t look so damn gorgeous, glaring at me like a sassy supervillain who I’ve tied up in ropes.
“The kind you should answer,” I say.
“Why?”
I rub a hand over my face, wondering if she’s always this difficult. Of course she is. No one but someone difficult would wait until I sued her to come on out and find out why. I debate what to do here. Not that I won’t help her if she’s hurt, but then what? Bandage her up, send her on her way, and send my lawyer after her?
I consider that as I hack away some knee-high plants and extend a hand to her. She's smart enough to take it, and I heft her to her feet, but she doesn't stand for long.
“Ouch!” Hopping on one foot, she gingerly rests the other on its toe. I see the internal struggle in her eyes as she debates grabbing on for support.
“Jesus. You’re in pain,” I observe, exasperated by her carelessness but angry at whatever hurt her.
“Um, yeah, Captain Obvious.”
I turn so she can’t see me fight a smile. This woman. “Let's start at the beginning. How in the heck did you end up on my property?”
“Yourproperty?” she asks. “This ranch belongs to some jackass who thinks a lawsuit will scare a couple of eighty-year-olds into signing over an underground spring in order to keep the rose bushes watered.” She looks over my shoulder at the acres and acres of crops growing behind me as though I haven't seen them before.
“Yes, I'm familiar. I’m not growing roses, by the way. That’s yarrow, and those are daisies. They’re native. I planted them because you can’t have organic farming without biodiversity. This is my ranch.”
She holds up a hand. “What do you mean, it’s your ranch?”
“Just what I said. I own this place. I’m the jackass who’s suing you.”
That does it. Wipes the smirky confidence right off her face. “You’re John Fitzgerald?” She slaps a hand against her forehead. “Oh my god. Fitz…Fitzgerald. Why didn’t I put that together?”
“Maybe because you’re too busy climbing up dirt in heels to think straight. But we’ll let that slide when you tell me why you ignored the thirty letters I sent you before I resorted to suing. Coulda made it much easier on us both if you’d just answered. And by the way, you look pretty good for an eighty-year-old.”
“Hang on, this is really your place? You work for the fire department, and you also own a ranch?” I don’t know why she’s so resistant to the idea that I own the place.
“Yes, I own it, but what makes you think I work for the brigade?” I ask.