I walked opened the door to the farmhouse and threw down the rope. The smile on my face was bigger than when I roped my first calf. Ma, Pa and Clint were due back today. I was sick of being in this house alone. I sure had a lot to keep me busy, but the animals only kept me company for so long. I kicked off my work boots and looked at the clock. It was 9 o'clock in the morning. They'd be getting in within the hour. Shedding my clothes as I headed to my room, I hopped in the shower. I didn't need to arrive at the airport covered in pig poo and sweat. As I scrubbed myself clean, I went through everything in my head to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything for breakfast. After knocking the dust off myself, I threw on a fresh flannel and shrugged into some clean jeans. I took the stairs two at a time and hopped on one foot at a time as I put my boots on in a rush. I swung the door open and stopped dead in my tracks. There were two county officers standing on the porch.
“Can I help you folks? I'm in a bit of a rush?” I said as I closed the door and locked it.
“Ms. Hartman, we have some bad news.”
Those were the words that started me on my new life. My parents and my brother had died. Their plane had gone down just an hour away from the airport on the way home. The lawyers and I went over all of details of my parents' estate, which I knew was quite substantial. What I hadn't known was that they owned an old rundown diner in a little town in Louisiana, not far from Shreveport. It hasn't been in business in nearly a decade, but it was mine. Included in the inheritance. I was the sole survivor. That is, unless my twin ever surfaced.
That is a completely other story, my twin. I'd never met her. Ma and Pa told me that we were fraternal twins, and that I was the younger of the two, though only by a few minutes. I've carried this torn picture from when I was a baby. Ma told me that it was of me, and that the other half had been sent with my sister. They never told me why they kept me and not her. I assume it was money troubles.
I still remember a smaller house and hand-me-downs from Ma's old things. We struggled a lot when I was a kid. It wasn't until about 10 years ago that we won the lotto and got the farm. After that, it seemed that things just took off. Ma started crocheting blankets and selling them at the local shops. Pa was a ranch hand for a wealthy man who paid a pretty penny for a good, hard worker. When Clint and I were old enough to help, we kept the farm up. We all lived a lot off the land and the animals, which helped with saving up dough.
So now, I make my way to Bon Temps, Louisiana. I have no idea what I will find there, but I know I need to try. I can't stay here with the memories. I sold off all the cattle, hogs and the chickens. The house is up for sale, and the real estate agent told me that she would get in touch when she got a good bid. I could afford to keep it on the market. My parents worked hard for their home, and I's be damned if it sold for less than the price it was worth. I owed my family that much.
While going through all of the papers in my parents' insurance file, I saw a name. Cindy Lou. After talking with my lawyer, and a private investigator, I have an address for her. She is ironically in Bon Temps as well. So, the plan is to look her up, find a place to rest my head, and get to opening up that diner. I need a purpose to keep my mind off all the pain and loss. So, here goes. My new life.
“Can I help you folks? I'm in a bit of a rush?” I said as I closed the door and locked it.
“Ms. Hartman, we have some bad news.”
Those were the words that started me on my new life. My parents and my brother had died. Their plane had gone down just an hour away from the airport on the way home. The lawyers and I went over all of details of my parents' estate, which I knew was quite substantial. What I hadn't known was that they owned an old rundown diner in a little town in Louisiana, not far from Shreveport. It hasn't been in business in nearly a decade, but it was mine. Included in the inheritance. I was the sole survivor. That is, unless my twin ever surfaced.
That is a completely other story, my twin. I'd never met her. Ma and Pa told me that we were fraternal twins, and that I was the younger of the two, though only by a few minutes. I've carried this torn picture from when I was a baby. Ma told me that it was of me, and that the other half had been sent with my sister. They never told me why they kept me and not her. I assume it was money troubles.
I still remember a smaller house and hand-me-downs from Ma's old things. We struggled a lot when I was a kid. It wasn't until about 10 years ago that we won the lotto and got the farm. After that, it seemed that things just took off. Ma started crocheting blankets and selling them at the local shops. Pa was a ranch hand for a wealthy man who paid a pretty penny for a good, hard worker. When Clint and I were old enough to help, we kept the farm up. We all lived a lot off the land and the animals, which helped with saving up dough.
So now, I make my way to Bon Temps, Louisiana. I have no idea what I will find there, but I know I need to try. I can't stay here with the memories. I sold off all the cattle, hogs and the chickens. The house is up for sale, and the real estate agent told me that she would get in touch when she got a good bid. I could afford to keep it on the market. My parents worked hard for their home, and I's be damned if it sold for less than the price it was worth. I owed my family that much.
While going through all of the papers in my parents' insurance file, I saw a name. Cindy Lou. After talking with my lawyer, and a private investigator, I have an address for her. She is ironically in Bon Temps as well. So, the plan is to look her up, find a place to rest my head, and get to opening up that diner. I need a purpose to keep my mind off all the pain and loss. So, here goes. My new life.