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“I think I’m more of a country girl than I thought,” she said. “I like it here. Mike and Gerty are here. Jane and Cord. I think my next step will be for me to find my own place to live.”
“Mm.”
“And I’m thinking of maybe asking Hunter about doing something at HMC. I don’t know. I don’t know if I want a full-time job in the city.”
Tag looked over to her. He didn’t know every stitch of Hammond family history, but he knew Gerty and Mike had a lot of money. A lot.
He didn’t want to ask Opal about her savings, but she hadn’t worked in almost a year—since she’d come to the farm to help with West when he was barely a month old. He’d turn a year old at the end of next month, and that was a long time for anyone to go without money coming in.
For all Tag knew, Opal had money coming in. Or maybe her living expenses at the farm were nothing. His weren’t much, he knew that.
“I have some other ideas too,” she said. “I’m still working through them.” She offered him a quick smile then. “But I guess I felt ready enough to try a date now when I didn’t before.” She looked at him, and with more street lights in a more populous area, he could see her apprehension clearly.
“You know that’s why I said no before, right?”
“I didn’t know,” Tag said roughly.
Opal frowned. “I tried to say—you’re the only person who knows I’m not on sabbatical from the ER in Burbank.”
“I think you should tell them,” he said. “What if I let it slip?”
“In all your talk about my life with Gerty?” She laughed lightly again. “I think it’s fine.”
“It’s not them you’re worried about anyway,” he said. “Right? It’s your parents.”
“I’ll tell them at the Christmas party, which reminds me.” She turned toward him and put her other hand over his. “I need your help planning the party.”
“Excuse me?” Tag stared at her for probably a couple of seconds too long. “I am no party planner, honey.”
“I need a committee,” she said. “And Gerty said I could ask you and Carrie.”
“A committee?” He scoffed, The Golden Coop only minutes away now. “How many people are coming to this party?”
“Just our family,” she said, and Tag’s heart did a nosedive in his chest at the word “our.”
“Your parents,” he said. “And Easton?”
“I mean the farm family,” she said. “My parents, yes. Gerty’s parents. Her grandparents. Easton, Allison, and their daughter Violet. Mike, Gerty, and West, of course. Me and you.”
She said “me and you” so casually, like they might be a couple, but she didn’t want to define such a thing yet.
“Fourteen people,” he said. “Does not need a committee.”
“It does,” she insisted. “There’s food to plan, decorations, activities, communications, invitations. I really need more than you and Carrie.”
Tag grinned, because she really didn’t, and they both knew it. “What would I be over? And it better not be communications, because I’m not texting your daddy about the Christmas party at his own son’s farm.”
“It’s technically Gerty’s farm,” Opal said, never one to let him get away with something incorrect.
“Oh, excuse me,” he teased as he turned into the parking lot at The Golden Coop. “I’m not texting your daddy about the Christmas party at his daughter-in-law’s farm.” He pulled into an available space and put the truck in park before looking at her, plenty of challenge flowing from him.
“Not communications,” she said. “I’ll do that. I was thinking…décor.”
“Décor,” he repeated. “Like, you want me to hang garland and decorate a tree?”
“And coordinate linens for dinner. Maybe get holiday napkins. Put up a wreath, and maybe some mistletoe.” She grinned at him, and Tag shook his head.
“Sounds like you’ve got the décor department worked out.”
