The Penny sisters were cramped in Marigold's bed that was far too small for the three of them. This was because one-bedroom, Birdie's, was being used for theater props, and the other, Ophelia's, was being used for theater props making.

This, of course, was because of Ophelia's upcoming play.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Marigold moaned.

"It's not so bad," Birdie said.

"You're not crushed in the middle!" Ophelia complained.

"Oh, you mean like this?" Marigold scooted in closer, followed by Birdie, until Ophelia was so squished on both sides that she could only utter, "Thtop it!"

The three girls fell into a fit of giggles, including Ophelia because she was the reason for the close quarters, after all.

Once their riotous laughter was shushed from their father downstairs, they all watched the dark ceiling, content smiles on their faces.

"Don't you want it to be like this forever?" Birdie mused. "The three of us, making trouble for all eternity?"

"Not me!" Ophelia cried triumphantly, leaping up from the bed to stand on the mattress. "One of these days Katharine Hepburn and I will be sipping champagne from crystal glasses and I'll say, "Oh, Kath, you know I must away to my dear husband at home"."

"I can only guess who that'll be," Birdie mumbled.

"Must away?" Marigold echoed. "Who says must away?"

"Elvis will serenade me by the pool every evening." Ophelia sighed, clutching her hands together against her chest.

"And when I go to college," Marigold added, standing up with Ophelia, "I'll invent a new car. You and Elvis will be the first to try it out and I'll live in New York by the harbor, sitting in piles of money."

Birdie watched this exchange, her heart giving a painful squeeze, though she kept a smile on her face.

Here was something secret about Birdie Penny: she was on the brink of change. Here was another secret about Birdie Penny: she did not like change.

Birdie Penny was an adventurer. She would travel to the ends of the world if she could, get lost in the woods, and sail the seven seas. But an adventurer's heart is always tethered to one of two things: a someone or a place.

Birdie's heart was tethered to both.

She was too fond of the idea of home to go too far for too long.

But deep in her heart, Birdie knew that her haven was disappearing. Because, unlike her, her sisters could travel anywhere and never come back.

They loved their someones and their places, but they weren't tethered to the same things as Birdie was.

Marigold would go to college and revolutionize the automobile industry.

Ophelia would be drinking martinis at the Golden Globes.

Of this Birdie was sure, because she knew her sisters better than she knew herself. She knew that they were capable of greatness. And it terrified her because that meant losing them.

"Oh, don't look sad," Ophelia said, misreading Birdie's panicked expression. She grabbed Birdie's hands and pulled her up to stand on the mattress. "You'll become the greatest writer of the twentieth century!"

"Of all the centuries," Marigold added because she was feeling especially benevolent, though the possibility of Birdie actually becoming the greatest writer of all time was very slim by her calculations.

"Will you invite me to your mansion with Elvis so I won't be lonely?" Birdie teased.

Ophelia slapped her arm. "You'll have a husband of your own, stupid."

Birdie scowled. This was a topic she did not like to talk about. "I refuse to get married. I'm a busy woman; I don't have time for whiny and boring men."

Marigold rolled her eyes. "Not this again. I'm not discussing Birdie's disbelief in love again."

"That's not true," Birdie argued. "I believe in love for some people. What I don't believe in is romance. It's fake and doesn't last."

"But romance is what makes the world bloom in color," Ophelia said wistfully.

Birdie jumped softly on the mattress. "My ears are closed to this conversation. All I need in my life is a good typewriter that can move mountains and fell kingdoms as soon as the ink dries."

"Girls!" Rose Penny's voice called, sharper than usual. "Please be quiet! Your father and I are trying to have a conversation!"

This made the girls exchange questioning looks with one another.

"A conversation" had many possibilities in the Penny family. It could mean anything from matters regarding the cotton field or a disaster regarding a ghost getting caught in the town's water silos and making everyone's faucets smell like death-tainted cheese (which had only happened twice). And when Rose called Oscar their "father" instead of their "dad", this meant something of the latter, more serious, nature.

Without saying a word, the girls moved as one unit across the dark floorboards, stepping over the ones that creaked, and pressed their ears against the closed door, each beneath the other: Birdie, Marigold, Ophelia.

"...the money to do it," Rose was saying.

"Darling, I know our finances," Oscar replied. "We have the money to pay him, we just won't have any to spare."

Rose was quiet for a long moment. "It's really not the money I'm worried about."

"Then what is it?"

"It's the boy himself," she admitted. "We've never had a young man in our house."

Marigold gave a slight gasp. "They're talking about Wyatt Best," she whispered. "I'll bet my new shoes on it."

"He seems like a good kid," Oscar said. "And we really will need a hand this summer. I've taken on three new employees to help with the harvest and I reckon they'll need some more brains between their ears before they'll be useful, so I'll have to spend time training them."

He dropped his voice so that the girls could only hear fragments of his next sentence. "..to get him away...I just don't trust..."

"You're sure he'll be good company?" Rose asked in the tone that carried a warning. A warning that told Oscar that this was his last chance to share any of his concerns or face the consequences if things went awry.

"I'm sure, Rosie."

"Then I'll make him breakfast in the morning," she replied.

The girls all backed away from the door, their exchanged glances holding a conversation of their own.

Birdie had expected her sisters to be elated at the prospect of a mysterious stranger coming to work for them, but they seemed just as concerned as she was.

The Penny's were a close family. They were open and kind and giving and welcoming. But they were special, and they shared a special something with each other. This special something allowed their hearts to be knit together as one single tapestry, which made it difficult to weave new thread into it.

How were they going to add this new strand without upending some of it?

"He's just coming to work during the day," Ophelia suggested hopefully. "It isn't like he'll be part of the family."

"Would it be so bad if he was?" Marigold said, but only half-heartedly.

But then there was Birdie, who did not like change, and this felt an awful lot like change.

"We'll see," she said, trying to maintain hope, but her words came out as a challenge instead.

The girls made their way back to bed, each lost in their own thoughts, and, suddenly, the air tasted a little different.

~~~~

The next morning was a Penny morning, meaning that it was full of the scent of bacon, fighting over the bathroom, and coffee being spilled, then sworn at.

Birdie was off to the newspaper office, Marigold to the shop to repair a motorbike, and Ophelia to her player's club to work on their stage blocking.

It was six in the morning, and Wyatt Best was almost forgotten. Almost.

He'd arrived at exactly five-thirty, where he found a bacon-and-egg sandwich wrapped up for him in brown paper from Rose (she'd had another call to a birth in the wee hours of the morning and still wasn't back to meet him).

Oscar showed him around their large barn, assigning him different tasks that he'd be doing every day.

There was hay to be bailed, animals to tend, gardens to be weeded, and repairs to be mended, among the probabilities of various other tasks popping up throughout the summer.

Afterward, Oscar leaned against the doorframe. "Well, how about it, son?"

Wyatt glanced around the barn that was just now being illuminated by purple morning light. "Swell, sir."

But he still wasn't sure if it was quite swell or not.

Wyatt remembered everything Oscar had told him to do, but he didn't know how to do exactly most of it.

"Now don't think everything has to be perfect," Oscar said, sensing Wyatt's worry and clasping his shoulder. "Just do it thorough and do it well, whatever you do."

"Yes, sir."

Oscar glanced over his shoulder and called, "Girls! Come meet the new backbone of this farm before you go!"

There was a shuffling of feet and Oscar moved out of the way to reveal a line of girls standing behind him.

The first was Marigold, whom Wyatt had already met. She had that clever lift in her brow that could be perceived as smug if she didn't have a grin on her face. She had a cool composure, however, as if she was always just the slightest bit smarter than everyone (which, he figured, she probably was).

The second girl was taller than the first by only a fraction. She had dark hair that was cut just above the shoulders, a firm chin, and eyes that told him she knew about more things than she ever said. If Wyatt had to put it into words, she looked like the human embodiment of a biography.

The third girl was the shortest, with soft brown curls and large eyes. She had a pucker to her lips that were both childish and sly at the same time.

"I have to run," Oscar said. "The guys are probably at the field already." Then, under his breath, as he walked away, "Be polite, my girls."

His footsteps shuffled away and Wyatt was suddenly left with the Penny sisters that he was already intrigued by and a little afraid of. Despite their physical differences, they had a certain aura of otherness that Wyatt couldn't quite put words to yet.

"Nice to see you again," Marigold chirped. "You look much less confused than when we first met."

"Things are coming together," he replied. "I didn't quite know what I was getting into when I got here."

"I'm Ophelia," the third girl said quickly, coming forward and shaking his hand vigorously. "We're glad you're here."

Wyatt greeted her, then his gaze moved to the second girl he'd seen. The biography.

She was reluctant as she shook his hand as if she'd been hoping he wouldn't notice her. "People call me Birdie."

"What don't people call you, then?" Wyatt asked.

"Bernadette." She frowned. "But I don't answer to it."

Wyatt gave a grin that wasn't reciprocated.

"Well girls, we've got to go now if you want a ride into town," Marigold said, herding her sisters away as if they were ducklings.

Birdie marched away, back rigid, as Ophelia kept glancing behind her to catch glimpses of Wyatt.

"Don't mind them," Marigold said when they moved out of earshot. "We're not used to new people, as you can probably guess." Her eyes warmed. "I hope you end up liking it here. I know we're...unusual and a lot to take in, but..."

Wyatt wasn't sure if she was talking about the Penny's being unusual or about Nowhere being unusual, but he said in answer to both, "I think I'm liking it just fine."

And he was surprised to realize that it was true. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heyyyy everyone! I have had a crazy week XD But what else is new? How has your week been so far?

~How do you think the Penny family/Wyatt Best dynamics will turn out?

~General thoughts about the chapter?

Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment, vote, and share!