Irresistible: Cloverleigh Farms Standalone

by Melanie Harlow

She dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand. “Nah. It’ll take him all of two seconds to see how crazy Frannie is about you. And what Frannie wants, Frannie gets. All she has to do is turn those big green eyes at him, and he’s a goner.”

  All I could do was sigh. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

  Frannie

  On my way up to my apartment, I did my best to work up my nerve. You can do this. Chin up. People believe in you.

  Sitting at my kitchen counter, I went over all the notes I’d taken over the last week, the lists of needs and wants I’d made, the approximate cost of equipment, ingredients, and employee time. I’d need at least one helper to start, but I wouldn’t be able to pay anyone full-time. I’d been thinking maybe I could find a college student, or even a high school student who was interested in baking and had time on the weekends.

  Finally, I called the number on Maxima Radley’s card.

  “Hello?” She sounded like she was in the car.

  “Hi, Mrs. Radley, this is Frannie Sawyer from—”

  “Frannie Sawyer, how are you? You got my note?”

  “Yes. I’m—I was really glad you came in.”

  “Well, I’m telling you, Frannie, this is meant. To. Be. My entire honeymoon, I kept thinking of what I could do for you, and then the very morning I get back to the office, I got a phone call from the daughter of a friend of my mother’s. They were in pageants together or something.” She laughed. “Anyway, this girl, her name is Natalie Haas, has owned this little coffee shop downtown for years and it’s doing really well, but she’s got a two-year-old son and she’s pregnant again, and apparently she runs another restaurant as well, so she needs to cut back.”

  “What’s the name of it?” I asked, wondering if I’d ever been there.

  “Coffee Darling.”

  “Oh, I know that place!” I exclaimed. “It’s adorable. That’s the shop for sale?”

  “Well, she’s not sure if she should sell the building, which she does own, or try to find a reliable tenant. She was looking for advice. Her dream scenario, actually, is to find someone to partner with. I thought of you immediately.”

  My heart had started to race. “Did you tell her about me?”

  “Not yet. But I just couldn’t help thinking that with her experience, and all the equipment in place, plus a built-in clientele, and your fresh new ideas and youth and energy—I see a home run.”

  “I’d love to meet her,” I said breathlessly.

  “Great! I’ll set up a meeting. In the meantime, why don’t you see if you can get down there and check out the spot? Look at it with your vision in mind and see what you think.”

  I sat up taller. “I’ll definitely do that.”

  “Perfect. I have to run, dear, but I’ll be in touch as soon as I connect with Natalie again.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said.

  We hung up, and I set the phone down and sat there for a moment, my stomach a tangled but excited mess of knots. For the first time, I felt like this thing really might happen.

  I jumped off the stool and hummed a tune as I went into my room and changed into sweatpants and a hoodie. All this nervous energy inside me needed to burn off, and I could use some time to think as well. A walk outside in the brisk cold evening air would be perfect. The farm was beautiful in the summer, but I loved it in the winter too—the rolling hills blanketed with snow, the evergreens tall and majestic, the sky full of stars you couldn’t see in town because of all the lights. Everyone complained about the frigid northern Michigan weather—myself included—but I loved the seasons up here so much, I could never leave. And what was better than hot chocolate or Irish coffee or whiskey by the fire after you came in out of the cold?

  For a moment, I wished Mack was around to walk and talk with me, but I knew he was probably already on his way home, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was a Therapy Wednesday. But I texted him quickly.

  Great news! Call when you can.

  Then I stuck my phone and earbuds in my coat pocket, pulled on my mittens, and went out the door.

  After my walk, I was sweaty beneath my winter layers, bursting with ideas to write down, and hungry for dinner, but decided to try again with my mom and dad. I was excited and needed to share my news with someone, and since April and Chloe were already gone for the day—their cars were not in the lot when I got back—my parents were my only option.

  My mother had worked with me this week, but she hadn’t mentioned the scene at Sunday night’s dinner. She hadn’t spoken to me much at all, really, and she’d pointedly ignored the envelope Maxima Radley dropped off. It was strange for so much tension to exist between my mother and me—we’d always been close, and I didn’t like feeling as if we were on opposite sides of a divide.

  But I wasn’t going to back down, and she needed to know it.

  After pulling off my hat and mittens, I knocked on the door that led to their living room. My father answered, looking surprised to see me. “Hey, peanut. Come on in.”

  “Hi, Dad. Mom around?”

  “Yeah. She’s in the kitchen harassing me about retirement again.”

  I followed him through the dining room into the kitchen, where my mother was stirring roasted Brussels sprouts in a dented old pan. “Hey, Mom,” I said, unzipping my coat. “Smells good.”

  “I made chicken and rice,” she said. “Do you want to eat with us?”

  “Sure.” I slid onto a seat at their kitchen table, where I’d grown up eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner almost every day of my life. Hot, healthy, homemade meals for seven people that I probably didn’t appreciate then, but realized now took a lot of time and effort and taught me to value real food, fresh ingredients, and time with family. It was something I wanted to pass on to my own children someday. I told myself to go easy on her.

  “I thought we might talk again about my opening a pastry shop,” I said. “I have some news.”

  My phone hummed with a call just as I was climbing into bed. It was Mack.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey. Sorry it took so long for me to call back.”

  “That’s okay.” I hopped into bed and pulled the covers over my legs. “How was your night?”

  “It was fine.” But he sounded tired. “I took them to therapy, then out for some dinner, but Winnie is still struggling to eat.”

  “Poor thing.”

  “Then Felicity freaked out that she didn’t have enough valentines for her entire class, so I had to run out to the drugstore. And Millie’s eye-rolling is out of control, but all in all, not a terrible night.”

  I laughed. “Don’t take it to heart. She’s at that age. Eye-rolling is sort of an automatic reaction to anything your dad says.”

  That prompted a groan. “I’m not looking forward to the teenage years.”

  “Maybe it won’t be so bad. I wasn’t a sassy teenager.”

  “No?”

  “No, but that might have been a reaction to Chloe. She was as sassy as they come, and I saw how my parents struggled. I think I was trying to be the anti-Chloe.” I sighed. “I was a pleaser.”

  “You still are.”

  I smiled. “But guess what?”

  “What?”

  “I talked to Maxima Radley, and it went really well. Then I went down to tell my parents about it.”

  “And?”

  “And I convinced them that if they really loved me, they would support me in this. I told them that I was doing this with or without their support, but I’d much prefer to have it.”

  “What did they say?”

  “My dad asked me some practical questions. My mother mostly gave me the silent treatment. But in the end, it was my father who talked her into easing up on me.”

  “Really? How?”

  “It was pretty incredible. He said he’d been thinking about it all last night and all day today. He reminded her of how her family—which was wealthy and old money—had treated her when she announced she wanted to marry a guy she’d met at college who
ran a family farm up north. And how they told her it was beneath her to run an inn. And how everyone told them they were crazy to buy more land and plant a vineyard.” I felt my throat getting tight as I described the next part. “Then he took her hand and reminded her how they’d always agreed that raising children was the hardest, most important job they’d ever do … but that the job was over. That even though they’re still parents, their children were all grown, and they had to trust that they’d raised smart, kind, responsible people unafraid to face the world and chase their dreams. Otherwise, he said, they’d have failed.”

  “Wow. How’d she take it?”

  “She shed a few tears. But in the end, she came around. She admitted that maybe her clinging to me had more to do with herself than with me. Her identity for so many years has been wrapped up in being an overprotective mother. Once that’s gone, she fears feeling lost. She doesn’t know what the next phase of her life is supposed to look like.”

  He was silent a moment. “I can relate to that.”

  “My dad told her it can look like anything she wants it to. He said maybe they should stop talking about traveling more and do it. Enjoy the years they’ve got left while they still feel young enough.”

  “What did she say?”

  I laughed. “She said three things. One, she’d love to travel more, especially to see her grandchildren. Two, she said it only works if he agrees to step back from work a bit, so he should really get a plan in place for his retirement. And three, she said she wants more grandchildren in her life. Then she gave me a look.”

  “A look? What kind of look?”

  “A look that says, Is there any hope of you giving me a grandchild in the future?”

  He coughed. “You’ve got three other sisters. How come the pressure’s all on you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she figures April would have started a family if she’d wanted one by now? Or that Meg is too much of a career woman? Or that Chloe can’t be trusted to raise kids that aren’t little hellions like she was?”

  “Do you even want kids?”

  “Oh, definitely,” I said. “I’ve always wanted them. And I’ve asked the doctor if there’s any reason I might have a difficult time because of my heart, and he said no. I can absolutely have kids.”

  “That’s … that’s good.”

  I smiled, because I could hear the anxiety in his voice. “Don’t worry. I’m not in a rush.”

  He laughed. “That’s even better.”

  I filled him in on the details of my conversation with Maxima, and told him that I was waiting on her to get back to me about meeting Natalie Haas, owner of Coffee Darling.

  “Oh yeah, I know that place. I think she was a Nixon. Sylvia and I graduated with her older sister, Jillian.”

  “Really? Cool, I’ll mention that when I meet her.” I took a deep breath and wiggled my toes beneath the covers. “I don’t want to jinx myself, but I have such a good feeling about this.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m going to go check out the space as soon as I can.”

  “I’m really happy for you, Frannie.”

  “Thanks. I’m happy for myself.”

  “Oh, shit. Hold on a sec.” There were muffled voices in the background, and then he came back. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Winnie is up. She heard something under her bed, so I have to go check for monsters.”

  “That’s okay. Give her a hug from me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “See you tomorrow.”

  I set my alarm and put my phone back on the nightstand, switched off my lamp and buried myself in the covers. It was probably way too premature to feel so positive about things, but I couldn’t help it.

  My own business, more independence, Mack … all the things I wanted most in life were right within my grasp.

  Mack

  I got Winnie back to sleep pretty quickly and returned to my bedroom, leaving the door open in case she called out again. I undressed, brushed my teeth, and got into bed, where I lay awake with my eyes closed, hands behind my head.

  But I felt weird about something, and I couldn’t relax.

  She wanted kids. Of course she did. Look how awesome she was with mine, why wouldn’t she want her own? But it was out of the question for me. There was no way in hell I was having any more kids. Jesus fucking Christ, I’d go insane. Talk about sleepless nights—I’d have eye-rolling, rule-bucking teenagers on one end of the spectrum, dirty-diapered screaming infants and tantrum-throwing toddlers on the other, not to mention the kids needing attention in between. I couldn’t do it. There wasn’t enough of me to go around. Did I have to make sure she knew that that kind of future with me was not a possibility?

  Or was that fucking stupid? Just because she wanted a family somewhere down the line didn’t mean she was thinking about a family with me, did it? She said she wasn’t in a rush. Christ, we’d only been fooling around for a couple weeks.

  Flopping over onto my stomach, I shoved the pillow over my head and forced myself to stop thinking about it and go to sleep.

  She came over Thursday to watch the girls, and I was late getting home because a meeting ran long. When I arrived, the house smelled delicious and they were all in the living room. Felicity and Winnie were sorting valentines on the couch, and Frannie and Millie were doing something on the living room floor with white T-shirts, glue, and glitter. I recognized one of the shirts as mine.

  “Is that fucking glitter?” I demanded, watching in horror as Millie tossed handfuls of pink and red sparkly shit over glue lines on my shirt.

  “Yes, but don’t worry. When we shake it off, there won’t be so much.”

  At that, Frannie burst out laughing so hard she rocked onto her back and stayed there, cracking up.

  “And what are you laughing at, huh?” I gave Frannie’s leg a nudge with my foot. “Maybe I will take you up on that offer to be in this show instead of me.”

  “No way,” she said. “You made a promise.”

  “That’s right.” Millie picked up the bottle of glue and gave me a smug look. “And it was your idea.”

  “I need a beer,” I said.

  “I made dinner for you,” Frannie said, getting to her feet. “It’s in the oven keeping warm.”

  “Is that what smells so good? You didn’t have to do that.”

  She smiled. “It’s just a casserole. Not a big deal.”

  “It is. And I appreciate it. Have the girls eaten?”

  “Yes, so I’ll get going. Bye, girls. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day!” they shouted.

  Fuck, I’d forgotten. All day long I kept telling myself not to forget to stop and pick up a little something for her, but it had gotten hectic at work and then I was running late … God, I was shitty at this.

  I followed her to the kitchen. Glancing behind me to make sure the girls weren’t watching, I tugged her into the back hall, opened the closet door, and pulled her in there with me. She giggled as I shut the door, closing us in pitch black dark.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice muffled by all the coats.

  “I’m stealing thirty seconds alone with you for Valentine’s Day.” I wound my arms around her. “This is what it’s like to be my valentine. Isn’t it romantic?”

  She giggled. “Totally.”

  “I wish we had some time alone. And I should have gotten something for you. Flowers or chocolate or something.”

  “I don’t want gifts, Mack. I just want you.”

  “But I can’t even give you that. Not the way I want to, anyway.”

  She put her hands on my chest. “Shut up and kiss me.”

  I tried, but it was so dark in there I missed her lips the first time and ended up licking her chin. We were laughing and kissing when the door swung open and Winifred stood there staring at us.

  “What are you doing in there?” she asked.

  “I was … changing a lightbulb,” I blurted, reaching up and pulling the string
hanging from the bare bulb. The light clicked on. “Oh good. It works now.”

  “What was Frannie doing?” Winnie asked, eyeballing us both as we came out of the closet.

  “I was helping,” Frannie said, grabbing her jacket off a hook and trying not to laugh.

  “Can you help him make dessert?” Winnie wondered hopefully.

  “No, she’s got things to do, Winn.” I grabbed my youngest and got her in a loving chokehold. “We’ll see her tomorrow.”

  “Bye.” Frannie zipped up and opened the door. Her cheeks were scarlet and she couldn’t stop grinning. “See you tomorrow.”

  The next morning, I still felt guilty that I hadn’t gotten her even a small gift for Valentine’s Day after she’d stayed late at the house and even made dinner. I could pay her more, and I would, but I also still wanted to do something nice for her. Could I bring something to work for her? Coffee? A muffin? A card? On a whim, I turned into the parking lot of a drugstore and ran inside.

  In the greeting card aisle, I found the picked-over remains of the Valentine options. It was a fucking mess. Overwhelmed, I moved over to the I’m Sorry section and looked for one that might be appropriate.

  There were cards with roses and fancy cursive apologies, cards with kittens and cutesy script, cards with illustrations and funny quotes and inspirational sayings and promises to do better. I read about a thousand of them, getting more agitated with each passing second. Part of me sort of felt like buying the whole rack—I’d probably need them all sooner or later.

  In the end, I grabbed one with a drawing of a lollipop on it that said I SUCK. (SORRY.)

  I paid for it and ran back to my car, where I quickly scribbled a note on the blank inside.

  Sorry yesterday wasn’t more romantic. I’ll make it up to you.

  Mack

  I shoved it in the envelope, wrote Frannie on the front, and tucked it into my jacket.

  My next stop was the florist, where I bought a dozen red roses. Back in the car, I tucked the card between the stems and drove to work. I realized that if anyone else was at the desk, it would probably be pretty fucking obvious what was going on, but I decided I didn’t care.