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Summary
"Joe Miller? Ain't heard of him before. Gotta be some city slicker with no damn clue… One second, Viv." Your mom sighs and covers the phone with her hand as she turns to you with an impatient expression.
"What do you want? I'm on the phone."
"You're blocking the fridge. Just need some water." You mumble, motioning to the fridge with your hand. Another sigh escapes your mom like you're asking her to call upon the lord himself and beg for water. You just need her to step out of the way. And she does, rolling her eyes like that was the most irksome thing she's had to put up with all day. You're about to turn around and head back outside to finish up the mowing when you hear your mom snapping her fingers at you. It makes you feel like a dog. Especially when you turn and wait for her instruction.
"Go tell your dad someone named Joe Miller bought the old Harris farm," she whispers, her hand still over the bottom half of the telephone. You want to groan, to ask why the hell your dad would even care, but she's shooing you out with a flick of her hand. Maybe he knows whoever this Joe guy is and why it's so dire to spread the news that he's bought the farm. Maybe.