Peanuts and Fruits

Once she waved goodbye to the final suitor of the day, she plopped down onto her chair, tossed her clipboard, and stared out at her rows of peanuts. Since her parents’ retirement, Cassie has owned this land. However, since she could see, she loved this land. It was her mother’s family’s land for centuries. Later, her father married in and brought fruit-farming expertise with him. Their love story has been as smooth as butter. It was easy. They just made sense together.

This year, the crops were plentiful, but the lovers were not. The pig breeder smelled. The potato farmer had no manners, and the pumpkin-patch man wouldn’t last more than a season. She needed a fresh and bright partner, someone who would be around all year for years to come. Someone with a berry farm. A fruit orchard would be lovely and so complimentary.

“Knock, knock, knock.”

“What do you want?” She huffed, head never turning.

“Can I come in?”

Charlie. The sweetest, fluffiest man she ever knew.

“Charlie, I’m sorry.” She rushed up and over to greet him.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He tipped his hat and handed her a glass jar. “A fresh batch from me. My best yet.”

“You didn’t have to,” she said out of reflex. She smiled down at the marshmallow fluff.

“So, Cassie, how was your day?” Charlie asked from where he always sat: the chair in the corner.

“Horrible. These men are a waste of my time.” She threw up her arms before sampling the fluff. “As great as ever, Charlie.”

The man smiled and wiped his palms on his shaking legs. “Cassie, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” she replied between scoops of fluff.

“Why didn’t you interview me?” He asked.

If it wasn’t for her calloused farming hands, she would have dropped the jar. “Charlie, what are you getting at?”

Unlike his typical do-what-you-need-and-nothing-more self, Charlie got up from his seat, took off his hat, and moved his arms around to find the words he needed.

“Charlie, what are you doing?” She laughed.

“I’m thinking.” He smiled.

“What are you thinking about that’s got you so smiley?”

“Cassie, you know.” He stood still except for his fingers fiddling around with the rim of his hat. Looking at the man who couldn’t stand to look at her, she knew. She knew within the first year of their friendship. He gave her unlimited marshmallows every year, no matter how light the harvest. He went into town to get her medicine whenever she was sick. He never humored the women flirting with him at the farmers market. She knew, so she looked away, stopped snacking on his kindness, and sat as silent as him.

“Cassie, why didn’t you interview me?”

“I can’t marry a man who makes marshmallows for a living.”

“Why not?”

“Peanuts and marshmallows don’t go together. Now, peanuts and berries? That’s a winning combination.”

“Fine, I’ll grow berries instead.”

“Charlie, it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not established. You know a different trade. I can’t have you switching up your livelihood for me.”

“But it would be an honor.”

Charlie sat in front of Cassie. No shaking legs. Just a steady gaze and a racing heart, not from nerves but from closeness. Cassie looked at him and then away, but she wasn’t quick enough to hide her smirk from him. He smiled his strongest smile since he first met her. Her messy hair and bounciness. From running between fields to line-dancing at the yearly community harvest dance, he hadn’t caught up to her until now. Now, they were on the same level. He was with her, if only she’d have him.

“Cassie! Cassie!” A voice yelled outside. “Where is she?”

“Mom?” The woman of the hour got up from her chair and ran out. Charlie followed her, back to being behind.

“Cassie, there you are!” While hugging her mother, she noticed her father and a strange man standing together.

“Hi, Dad,” Cassie started. “Who’s this?”

Charlie thought of a few profanities to use, as he jutted out his jaw.

“Darling, this is George,” her father introduced the lad. “A local berry farmer,” he added with a wink and to Charlie’s dismay. The poor man scoffed and kicked some pebbles. Cassie nodded to George and looked back to Charlie pacing.

“Hi, George,” Cassie started with her eyes hopping from one person to the next. “I’m Cassie.”

“I know,” the stranger replied with a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, George!” An arm stretched out from behind Cassie. “I’m Charlie.” She turned to see him standing beside her. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.” The men shook hands.

George took a step back. When staring with furrowed brows at Charlie, he asked, “Cassie, would you like to get dinner tonight, without this odd company?”

Charlie hocked a loogie.

“George, thank you,” she started. “But --”

“Damn,” he sighed as Charlie jumped and hollered.

“Charlie!” Cassie snapped.

“What?” He sank to his original form, head down and hands together.

“You’re not getting anything either, so stop celebrating nothing.”

“What do you mean, Cassie?” He stuttered.

“Charlie, I’m flattered.” She turned to the other suitor. “George, I’m flattered.” She turned to her parents. “But I don’t think I want a partner, in business or in love. Seeing all these men act like fools makes me sick. Mom. Dad, I’m sorry I can’t marry like you did. I’ll just start my own orchard instead. Is that okay?” She asked with eyes bigger than apples.

Her parents looked at each other and back at her. Her dad asked, “You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a smile like a slice of watermelon.

“Gentlemen,” her mom started. “Thank you, but you can go home.”

As the rejects walked off into the sunset kicking dirt and swearing to themselves, the family of three started planning their daughter’s new business, a life all her own and no one else’s.