Dear Mum and Dad,

Things are going well at Mystic Acres. Since the end of the summer growing season is coming up, I have a lot of things to harvest before the cool weather sets in. Cliff and I came up with an arrangement where he's sharing some of his catches with me while I'm giving him some of my extra produce. We're able to eat more complete meals together that way. While I know there is a sense of pride in doing it all myself, money has gotten tight, and I'm happy to share with a friend.

Claire frowned and shook her head, erasing the latest sentence she had just composed. That wouldn't do. She didn't feel like telling her parents that she hadn't planned properly, especially when she was still trying to convince them that she had made the right choice by leaving her steady accountant position in favor of something new. She was determined to focus on the positives for her report back home.

I'm really enjoying sharing with my best friend, and he works hard at what he does, too. We make a really good team.

That sounded much better. That new feeling of warmth spread through her belly and up to her chest. She set down her pencil and closed her eyes gently, her hands resting over her heart as she focused on the feeling. It was soft. It was gentle. It made her relaxed and full of energy at the same time.

Eyes the same color as the deep ocean. The lovely sound of his warm tenor with that endearing folksy lilt. The scent of rosemary and mountain air. The tender touch of his calloused hands.

"Oh, Cliff…" she murmured, her quiet voice nearly inaudible. She breathed in deeply and let out a happy sigh. The young woman's eyes opened at the sound of Koro's nails tapping on the wooden floor. He approached her and sat against her hip, letting out a squeaky yawn. "Hey there, Cutie." She gave the top of his head a rub and he looked up at her with large, soulful eyes, begging her not to stop. "You're a bit of a flirt, you know." She laughed aloud when she got a snort in response and Koro rested his chin on her thigh, nuzzling the denim. Claire continued to pet him with her left hand as she wrote with her right.

I've commissioned Rick for some mechanisms to help streamline farm work. He has a very creative mind, and the devices have made work a lot easier. I can harvest so much more than I used to. He'll be stopping by to check the calibrations every so often. With clockwork mechanisms, I don't have to worry about an energy source, and I can already tell this is going to be something I use a lot. I don't know what I'd do without such great friends here.

Shaking her head, she erased once more, brushing the pink eraser dust on the floor. Although the line had come naturally to her, it could easily be interpreted as her struggling on her farm if she didn't have others to rely on, and that simply wouldn't do. Dumonts never showed signs of hardship – doing so was embarrassing and gave off the impression that one was weak. Therefore, all letters Claire sent back home were full of nothing but good news and mild boasting. If she were completely honest about it, she disliked writing to her parents because it always felt like a bit of a lie. It was a twisted, convoluted game – struggling to navigate her way through words and phrases in an effort to make them all sound positive. It was almost like writing a persuasive essay, and she hated it.

Claire sighed as she wiggled her pencil between her fingers, watching the instrument appear to bend like rubber in her loose grip – a fun illusion she had learned as a child. No one pressured her to keep up her letter writing when she moved out of home for the first time; she rarely received more correspondence than a birthday card and a New Year's card after she had moved into her own apartment. Every time she had tried to call, she got voicemails or she always managed to catch either parent as they were heading out the door or in the middle of a very pressing project. After seeing how close Ann and Doug were and witnessing Karen laughing and singing with her father, Claire couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Even Mary was gaining the courage to talk a bit more honestly with her mother.

Claire could still remember the day she visited her parents to tell them about her decision to move. She hadn't given herself much time between her purchase of the house and her move in date, and she was already in the process of selling her belongings off when she came to visit. She had reasoned if she was already in the process, they would have a hard time talking her out of it, as she had a feeling they were likely going to try.

It had been a mug of Earl Grey that sat on the table between the palms of her hands that snowy evening, but it wasn't the cold that was making her fingers tremble as she watched her parents take their seats with matching cups of black coffee. Her mother placed a plate of colorful bakery macarons in the middle of the table and her brothers eagerly reached for the sweets.

"If you're eating, you're sitting down," Yvette ordered with a mix of sternness and playfulness that only a mother could master.

"So, is everything alright, Claire?" Her father offered her a macaron from the tray, his brows furrowed a bit in concern.

The young woman nodded and chose a green one, hoping it was lime or pistachio. She stared at the round dessert on her plate, too embarrassed to look up as she murmured her thanks. It was rare for them all to get to be together for a meal like this, and she knew that it was because she had specifically asked if she could speak to them both; she had an announcement to make, referring to it as "exciting news" over the phone.

"Armand, of course she's alright! This is our little Claire. Let me guess, you got a promotion at the firm." Yvette's eyes were glittering as she inhaled the dark, pungent scent of coffee.

"Claire became president!" Byron shouted out.

"No, Queen!" Lucas was determined to top his older brother. "Queen of the numbers!"

"She became the math-magician!" Unable to really explain what an accountant did to a couple of children under the age of six, Claire simply told her brothers that she worked with numbers and did math and counting for a living. She couldn't help but smile; they had broken up the tension in the room – for her, anyway.

Their father was losing patience. "Let Claire speak, kids." It was a phrase that she had heard several times throughout her childhood, often spoken to her older sisters, and now more frequently to her rambunctious younger brothers. She had a tendency to slip through the cracks due to her much more verbal family members.

Now that the reason for their meeting revolved around news of hers to share, she realized that she couldn't hide behind the noisy boys anymore. Her confidence in her announcement deflated and her throat closed up a bit. "Ah, i-it's not a promotion, but rather… a change in careers."

"You were offered something different?" Yvette looked over her coffee curiously. "Did someone from corporate take an interest in you?"

"Did you end up taking that subway lad's offer at Peachtree International?" Armand's face lit up as a grin spread across his lips.

Claire sunk further down into her seat and she wished that she could melt through the floor. The mere mention of that embarrassing interview made the blood rush around her ears. After telling her parents several times she wanted nothing to do with that man or his company, she was annoyed they were still bringing it up. She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. The young woman took a quick sip of tea for good measure and pulled the wrinkled, folded up newspaper insert from her pocket, smoothing it out and placing it in the middle of the table with an inaudible gulp. The bright colors caught her parents' eyes, along with the headline "A fulfilling future in agriculture awaits you in beautiful Mineral Town!" blaring across the top. It suddenly looked hopelessly corny and embarrassing to Claire, and at the sight of a large ear of corn decorating the bottom corner of the page, she disguised a weak chuckle as a light cough at her lame pun despite the seriousness of the conversation. She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them, refusing to make eye contact.

"Agriculture?" Yvette tried the word in her mouth, but she shook her head. "Is there an agricultural firm out there that needs you for their financial department?"

"Uh… no." Claire bit her lip and struggled to find the words as her parents looked at her curiously, her own eyes straying to her brothers who were quietly helping themselves to more macarons.

Just say it.

"I-I… I purchased a large piece of property out there and I'll be moving there in a week to run a farm."

Armand blinked and stared ahead blankly. "A farm? You're pursuing a new career in farming?"

A frown spread across Yvette's lips as she gave her daughter a concerned look. "What kind of farming? What kind of property and how large? Are you running it yourself? I take it you've stopped by to check it out? I didn't even know you had an interest in being a farmer. You have no experience. How are you even planning on starting?" Her voice's pitch raised slightly in urgency and she was unable to hide the worried look on her face.

Claire wasn't sure how to begin responding; it hadn't hit her how rash her decision had been until she heard their reactions.

"Crops? An orchard? Livestock? Have you been researching it, Claire? You've come so far with your accounting in the past couple of years. Are you sure you want to just let that go? You really had such a great position offered to you at Peachtree…"

Of course her father had to bring up the Peachtree proposition again. Perhaps the whole idea really is foolish.

"A lot of farmers have a hard time making ends meet. Is this really what you want to do?" Yvette's blue eyes were wide with worry and she stood up, her hand accidentally pushing off of and crushing the dainty yellow macaron on her plate into a crumbly mess.

Seeing her mother behave less than gracefully was disturbing to Claire; she knew at that moment that she had made a huge mistake. Yvette's eyes traveled to her husband, and Claire found herself watching him as well as he cleared his throat.

"Claire, let's talk about this rationally."

The young woman's cheeks burned and she stared back down at the table's surface. If anyone had been overemotional about all of this, it would be her parents, surely. Still, she managed a small nod. Perhaps she had been too rash with her decision… Maybe she should have given more thought before purchasing the farm in Mineral Town…

No, this is for you! Don't let them ruin it!

Claire let out a tiny gasp at how defensive, feisty, and slightly mean-spirited her inner thoughts were becoming. Her eyes drifted to her mother, who was carefully wiping off the lemon cream and crumbled cookie off of her hand.

She could have at least licked it off. Lemon macarons are delicious. What a waste… But I guess that's why Mom's the graceful one and I'm a bumbling fool…

Armand's voice brought her back to reality. "You've been working since you were sixteen. Bussing tables and running the cash register before finally landing a desk job. You were so happy when you got your receptionist position, and when the finance department saw your skills, they were happy to adopt you and pass on some more projects and hours to you… Sixty-hour weeks. Most people can't score something that big at twenty-two."

"I-I was twenty-one when I was offered the position…" Claire's voice was nearly inaudible as she corrected him. It had felt like an eternity ago – taking basic accounting courses on the side of her full time job had made the days go by so slowly. She was so exhausted from it all…

"Exactly my point, Claire. You're making great strides despite your young age. They were willing to take you on while you were still training in accounting. So… why do you want to throw that away for a job that's going to be so much more work with a fraction of the pay?"

But I've been working far more than sixty hours a week! That doesn't include all of the work I bring home! Expressing this aloud would make her sound like a slacker; Claire bit her tongue as she felt her forehead gather beads of perspiration. Her throat tightened and all she wanted to do was cry.

"I purchased the property already. It's finalized. I'm moving next week," she replied, removing the emotion from her voice, lest she lose her nerve.

"I'm sure that if we speak to the realtor, we can come up with a reasonable solution," Armand replied calmly, giving her a kind smile.

Claire bit her lip. She felt ready to burst with frustration.

"I bet there's some sort of escape clause in that deed," Yvette added, a bit more confidence in her voice. "We can help you find it."

Claire found that her nails were digging into the palms of her hands, suddenly aware she was clenching her fists. "I don't need a solution! I don't want to escape from it! I want to live there! I want something different and I found it! Why is that so hard for you to understand?!"

The room fell silent; even the two boys stopped eating their sweets.

"Boys, run along now and wash your faces." Yvette's voice was quiet. They looked eager to get out of the room. Each boy cast their older sister spooked glances before hurrying off.

Claire gritted her teeth; she hated that her parents were behaving as if she was someone to be frightened of.

"Claire, what is this all about?" Armand reached his arm across the table to her. He gave her hand a squeeze. He looked at her with concerned eyes. "Did that boy from Peachtree do something… inappropriate to you?"

The young woman let out a cry in exasperation. "You're not listening to me! It has nothing to do with Peachtree! I want to do something new! I don't want to be someone's doormat anymore! I'm tired of living day in and day out exhausted and unhappy with what I do. I'm sick of wishing for something more!"

"Claire, you're twenty-two." Yvette's tone turned a bit sterner. "You're far too young to start acting jaded. This kind of attitude breeds laziness-"

Her daughter snatched her hand back and stood up, her chair screeching loudly on the wooden floor. "I just want something new! Why does that have to be a bad thing?"

"You have to work your way up," her father interjected, his brows furrowing at the fact that she had interrupted his wife. "Claire, you can't expect great opportunities to just fall into your lap. We taught you from a young age that you need to put in the time and effort for them!"

"Why can't Mineral Town be a great opportunity?" Claire's voice cracked as she gripped the edge of the table with white knuckles. "Why is this idea so stupid to you?!"

Her parents both flinched as if she had used a strong curse word. Yvette blinked a couple of times in shock, startled at the fact that Claire was raising her voice at them.

"Claire." Armand's voice was steady and firm. He ran a hand through his pale hair. "Why farming? Why not use the skills you have? Why something so vastly different?"

"You didn't listen to me at all!" she cried. Shoving her chair in loudly, she refused to meet their gaze.

Yvette grimaced. She could tell that her daughter was upset, but she didn't want her to do something she was going to regret. "Darling, think about it. You're emotional and you're setting yourself up for failure…"

"I quit my job at the firm! My notice is put in with my landlord! I'm going to Mineral Town next week, whether you like it or not! I just… I just wanted you to be happy for me." Claire's voice cracked and heavy tears tumbled out of her eyes before she could stop them.

Armand slammed his fist on the table, causing both women to jump. "Next week?! Why are you only now just telling us?!"

"Because I knew you'd try to make me change my mind!" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

"Did it not occur to you that there might be a reason for that? We're your parents, Claire. We have more experience than you about these kinds of things. You don't want to just throw away what you have for something like this. Think about it."

"You never listen to me!" Her voice rose into a shriek. "I've followed your rules my whole life, and I don't understand why I've never earned your trust!"

"It's not about trust, Claire. It's about experience. You've worked so hard for these things that you're just throwing away in favor of what? Adventure? Life isn't a fairy tale; I thought we taught you that years ago."

"We Dumonts have our pride and always play to our strengths. You're a city girl, Claire. You're not a farmer." There was a tone of finality to Armand's statement.

Claire often admired the way her parents acted as two parts of a whole. They were a well-oiled machine, complementing each other; she sometimes wondered if they shared a brain. That day, Claire had learned just what a formidable force the two of them were combined, and in that moment, she hated it.

She wanted to continue crying. She wanted to scream and yell. However, she knew that these would only make her parents further believe that she was incapable of making her own decisions. She wiped her eyes, choking down her emotion. "If that's how you really feel… then I'm sorry." She unhooked her purse handle from the chair she had been sitting in and slung it on her shoulder. She hurried outside, deciding to take a further bus stop so that her parents wouldn't come looking for her. Claire shivered with cold and clenched her teeth. She had left her coat on the rack by the front door. She shook her head, her eyes becoming blurry once more from tears. She would not go back to get her coat.

Dumonts had their pride, after all.

That had all taken place only a little longer than half a year ago, Claire realized, looking back down at her paper as she listened to Koro's soft, rhythmic snores. In the time she had been here, she had only written a few reports to her parents, and no correspondence had been sent back from them. What was she trying to tell them? Was she trying to rub their faces in her successes? Was she apologizing in some way for how she had ignored their advice and stormed out of the house like a spoiled child?

I… I want them to know I'm happy. That's what they wanted for me underneath it all.

Things had changed so much since she lived in the city; it was a completely different life. It was something she had dreamed and wished for – something fresh and new. She was her own boss, and the loving support she had gotten from Mineral Town was unexpected, but more than welcome.

This report – no, this letter – would be different than the rest of them. Claire looked down at her erased words and carefully traced her pencil back over them.

I don't know what I'd do without such great friends here.

Author's Note: I was a little nervous about posting this one, as it's pretty OC heavy. I know I've written small sections with Claire's mother in the past, but I was hoping to expand on their personalities and relationship with Claire in this one. After looking up how to properly shift into a flashback, I hope this scene wasn't as jarring as some were in the past. I hope I was able to portray them as loving parents who mean well, but aren't quite on the same page with their daughter, and I wanted it to connect with her fears of coming off as a city girl who doesn't know what she's doing with her life. I didn't want to make her parents come off as outright villains, and I hope I succeeded in that. I also wanted to highlight the rashness of Claire's decision to move to Mineral Town in the first place.

Thank you so much for all of your support. Wishing you all the best.