Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

9. Fig

CHAPTER 9

Fig

A fter getting the ring, it’s time to psyche myself up to tell my parents that I’m getting married out of nowhere to a man I haven’t seen in four years.

A little buttering up goes a long way. I got a nice big bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey and a fluffy bouquet of roses, the most elaborate the florist could make on such short notice. We ride back up to the Rough house, and get out. Some smoke is coming from the backyard.

“Fire?” Hank asks.

I sniff. “Nah, my father is slow-smoking something. That’s how he likes his brisket.”

“Your family sounds better and better by the day, Fig. I love a good brisket.”

“And my dad makes the best brisket you’ll ever have.”

“Just gotta hope he isn’t pissed at me for running off with his little girl. Don’t think I’ll get much brisket if he’s raging at me.”

I let out a long sigh. “I’m doubting that's the case. Or at least hoping that’s not the case. My father has always been supportive of us kids being our own people and not just doing what he wants us to do.”

“Easy to say that, but three of your brothers ended up following in his footsteps.”

“Yet they sent me off to study fashion. Hardly in line with the family business.”

I worry greatly about my family shooting my plans full of holes. Pointing out how small businesses are always threatened with failure, and how maybe Home isn’t big enough to support its own bespoke fashion boutique.

I love my parents. I know they’re supportive. But I don’t think it’s madness to have worries about what they’ll think of everything.

I head into the house, and my father comes in from the back, wearing his apron, and sees me. “There’s my little girl,” he says, squishing me in his bear-like hug.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Are you joining us again tonight, Hank? We’re always happy to have more people at dinner.”

“You could say I’m joining you, yeah.”

“Fig, my darling!” my mother says as she comes down from her room. “Oh, and who might those roses be for?”

I walk over and present them to her. “For you, Mom. For being the greatest mom who ever mommed.”

She accepts the flowers, but has an eyebrow cocked.

I turn around and pull the bottle out of the gift bag and present it to my father. “And a bottle of Jack Daniel’s for you.”

He takes it, and also eyes it suspiciously. “What horrible thing did you do, Fig?”

“What? I can’t just give gifts to my lovely parents apropos of nothing?”

They both stand together, arms crossed. So much for buttering them up with gifts.

I’m trying to work up the courage to tell them the truth, but it’s hard. Harder than admitting that I broke Uncle Angus’s window with a soccer ball when I was a kid.

Fortunately, I’m not here alone. Hank grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me close. “We’re getting married.”

Mom and Dad look at one another in shock. “Already?”

“Fig and I see eye to eye on a lot of things, and we’ve decided we’re not going to mess around and deny ourselves what we really want. We’re getting married as soon as we can get it all planned out.”

I timidly show my parents the ring, but they're still a bit awestruck.

“Aren’t you going back to Los Angeles in a month or so, Fig?” my mother asks. “Getting married seems like it might get in the way of your plans, doesn’t it?”

I can’t keep running away from the truth. I have to tell them, because the longer I wait, the more likely they’ll do something like rent an expensive cabin just to be near me for Christmas. “I’m not going back to Los Angeles, Mom.”

“What do you mean? I thought that was always your dream. Don’t tell me you’re giving it all up for a man.”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not like that at all. I’ve felt this way for a while, and I’ve been meaning to tell you ever since I got back, before Hank showed up and won my heart so quickly.”

“Fig, dear, you went on for years about your dream of being a fashion designer and taking over the world.”

A tear is in my eye, but I keep shaking my head. “That was before I left Home, Mom. That was before I learned how rotten and corrupt the fashion world is. I came back, and realized how much I miss this place. And remembered what I truly love about fashion. How I want a personal touch in my projects, and not just trying to appease some crotchety old men.”

“Jeez, make me feel bad for being a crotchety old man,” my father says, scratching his head.

“Those guys are disgusting, Dad. Really, really disgusting.”

“So, really bad co-workers, got it.”

“I’m putting down an offer on a house just outside of town,” Hank adds. “Cash. It’ll be finalized within the week by my guess, and Fig wants to join me in making it a proper home.”

My mother sighs. “What are you going to do instead of LA, Fig? Just become a housewife? There’s nothing wrong with that, mind you, I just thought you wanted more than that.”

“I do, Mom. Hank’s also helping me lease the old shoe store downtown. I’m going to open my own boutique and try to pursue my dream that way. Be my own boss, be in charge of my own destiny, free from the creeps that inhabit the world of high fashion.”

My dad laughs. “Becoming an entrepreneur is in the Rough bloodline, Fig. You’re following in the Rough footsteps whether you intended to or not.”

“I’m worried. There’s always a need for construction,” Mom says. “But fashion? Not necessarily.”

“I believe in you fully, my little Fig Newton,” Dad adds. “You got the smarts to catch the eyes of the right people and succeed beyond your wildest dreams, whether you do it in California or right here at Home.”

“I hope you’re right, Dad.”

“I am right. Always. Except the times I’m wrong, and we don’t talk about those times.”

Relief washes over me and I break into giggles. Dad always has had that way of breaking the tension and winning me over.

“Do what you want to do, Fig,” my mother says, a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Your father and I are behind you no matter what. And it seems like Hank will be behind you too, if he’s so willing to put his money where his mouth is.”

Hank smiles. “Don’t you worry, I’ve been in love with this girl since before I should have been. I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure she succeeds, and that each and every day is the best day of the rest of her life.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I should have never doubted my parents. I should have never doubted Hank. Maybe someday I’ll learn to always trust those who love me the most.

The front door opens again. Graham comes in, followed by Tallie who is carrying her child, Lucy.

“Ah, is Hank joining us again?” Graham says.

“He didn’t tell me he was coming, is he here?” Reuben says, coming in behind them.

Looking at the street behind him, I see a bunch of cars. “Uh… what’s going on?”

“Dad’s throwing a barbecue,” Rye says as he comes in. “Didn’t the smell of brisket clue you in?”

“I just thought he liked brisket.”

Dad laughs. “I do, but we all wanted to get in as much time with you as we could. So we’re going to do two family dinners this week.”

The entire Rough clan is piling in, wives and kids with them, all of them here to make me remember what family I’m a part of.

“Well, everybody, I think I have an announcement to make,” I say. “I told Mom and Dad just now, but everyone else should hear this too.”

So I tell them. About how I’m not going back to Los Angeles, about how I’m getting married to Hank and opening up my own boutique right here in Home.

“You’re getting married, bro?” Reuben says, bumping fists with Hank and doing a weird handshake thing. “Knew you wouldn’t stay on the market for too long around here, and my sister couldn’t have picked a better guy.”

“So this business,” Lemon announces. “You think you could use an interior designer? To make sure it says fashion boutique instead of old shoe store? It’s a message you want to clearly convey.”

“Are you offering your services, Lemon?” I ask.

“Pro bono. I want your little boutique to succeed as much as you do, little sister.”

“I know a few things about retail,” Bartlett adds. “Can give you plenty of tips to stay in the black.”

Rye nods. “And you know the family construction company will help with any renovations you need.”

“I….I guess I’ll try to keep you from getting robbed?” Graham shrugs. “You know. Same as I do for everyone. I shouldn’t be playing favorites.”

Mac rolls his eyes. “Like Home has enough crime that Fig even has to worry about that.”

“I do think that maybe we should still rent that cabin,” Reuben says. “I was kind of looking forward to Christmas on the beach.”

“I think we can make that happen,” my dad says, stroking his chin. “As long as we can drag Fig and Hank away from their exciting new life together long enough for a holiday.”

The conversation turns away from me, and I’m so happy no one judged me for stepping away from my dream of being a fashion mogul. Not only that, all of them were so eager to encourage me and offer whatever help they could.

Everyone wanders through the house, talking and laughing. The Roughs have powerful family values, ones I want to carry on. As I look at Hank, I’m certain that we’ll carry them into the future.