“You should have told them where to shove it, too.”
In the silence that followed that statement, Sanna’s ears picked up on what had been going on while the adults had been fighting. In the corner, the girls were giggling and pointing at Bass, who had gone to see what they were playing on their iPads.
“Why is your hair so long?” Gabby asked.
Bass shrugged his shoulders.
“Can you put it up in a ponytail?” Sarah asked.
Sanna’s eyes narrowed across the room.
“No.” Gabby laughed. “He would look even more like a girl.” Bass scowled, and Sanna’s blood boiled. She stormed over to the girls and grabbed their iPads.
“Since your mom isn’t stopping this behavior, I will. You can’t say whatever thought pops into your mind. For example, I don’t call you mean, useless twits, even when you’re acting like ones.”
Their eyes widened, and big fat tears poured out of both sets in an instant. Julie bustled to them, pulling them into her arms and scowling at Sanna. Sanna rolled her eyes, recognizing crocodile tears when she saw them. Bass shuffled over to Isaac, who gave Sanna a grateful nod.
“You can’t talk to them like that, Sanna.” Anders rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. Their whining sniffles rubbed at her already raw nerves. She didn’t want to be in this small, fluorescent room with any of these people anymore. She needed the solitude of her barn with its dim lighting and sweet, musty apple scent.
“I’ll be back.”
She left the room and turned a few corners to find a door leading to a small outdoor patio. Bursting through the doors, she sucked in the warm late-June air. The hospital was close enough to the lake for the air to carry a fishy tang. She breathed deeper. If she couldn’t be back at Idun’s, this bit of space to herself would have to do. Sanna had endured enough mean girls growing up, she couldn’t abide it in her presence. Mean-spirited teasing like that made her skin twitch. She knew she should apologize to her nieces for speaking so harshly, but she couldn’t muster the necessary sincerity. For the sake of her dad, she turned to give it her best shot, but Thad stood in her way.
“You okay?” he said.
“Fine.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, and she had to tilt her head down to look at him.
“Sanna, I couldn’t help hearing what your brother said about the offer and the orchard. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it for ages, but now with your dad hurt and apparently so much debt on Idun’s . . .”
His monotonous words droned on, mushing together into a dull murmur. When would he stop talking? She needed to get back to the waiting room in case a doctor came to talk to them.
“. . . why we should marry.”
She moved to go past him, then froze.
“Marry?”
“Yes. It’d be ideal.”
Sanna snorted, then realized he wasn’t joking. This wasn’t a friendly attempt to cheer her up with absurdity—he really meant it.
“You can’t be serious.” But his blank expression made it clear he was. “You and me? No. Absolutely not.”
He took a deep breath and began to speak as if he were explaining to a toddler for the tenth time why he couldn’t eat gum from the sidewalk.
“Sanna. I’ve known since we were kids that you should be my wife. It’s perfect. Our orchards are next to each other. Neither of us would even need to move—not really. Mom always said we’d make a great team and you know how she loves your trees. And now your dad is hurt, so I can help with your land, too. You can let Isaac go, and I’ll take care of all the finances. Mom says I’m wonderful at numbers. It makes perfect sense.”
Wow. He wasn’t proposing to her, he was proposing to her orchard. Sanna had stopped thinking about marriage years ago, but when she did used to dream of finding a good husband, the imaginary proposal always mentioned love and passion—not an actual land merger and her future spouse’s mother. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she could even find words to respond.
“Do you even like me, Thad?”
“You’re a little tall for me, but we’ve known each other a long time, and we’re a good fit.” When Anders had suggested they sell the orchard, she thought she had heard the craziest thing possible. This, this she couldn’t even comprehend, like string theory or why people liked candy corn. She started to speak, but he apparently wasn’t done. “Okay, I get it. You want a little romance, a good story.”
He took a knee in front of her and clutched her hand in his sweaty palms. He’d always had sweaty hands, even back in college. Sanna tried to pull her hand away to stop this farce from continuing, but he held firm.
“Sanna. Marry me. Your eyes are sparkly like blue diamonds, and your hair is soft. I love how you can handle heavy machinery without the help of a man. Let’s get married.”
She couldn’t listen to any more of this. She yanked her arm out of his grip—without the help of a man, good grief. This was why she’d dismissed dating years ago. She didn’t need this kind of frustration complicating her life.
“Thad. Stop. You’re being an idiot. I am not marrying you. Ever. Get it out of your head.”
She left him gulping air like a fish and pushed through the doors, straight into silver-haired Mrs. Dibble, who had evidently been watching through the window. Great, now all of Door County would know about that proposal disaster before the sun set. Fresh heat rose up her cheeks, rising until her eye twitched in irritation. As she stomped back to the waiting room, attempting to slow her breathing, she reminded herself that all that mattered was her dad getting better. With one more deep breath, she entered the room where Isaac and Bass quietly talked in the corner, Julie and the girls sat in another, and Anders paced.
“We need to seriously talk about this offer, Sanna,” Anders said, then realized she was alone. “Where’s Thad?”
“Gone.”
She could still feel her cheeks flushed with irritation as Isaac studied her face from where he sat. She didn’t want to think about what had just happened, let alone explain it to anyone. They would know soon enough. Thankfully, she was saved by a doctor.
“Are you the Lunds?”
Sanna turned to face him as he entered the room.
“Yes,” Anders said. He reached out his arm and took the lead in the conversation like he was the one in charge here.