Hart's Hollow Farm

by Janet Dailey

  Sniffing, Emmy turned her head and looked up at Mitch, her eyes welling. “My Mitch has a plan. A great one.”

  Mitch’s lungs stalled. Oh, man. If this plan failed—if he failed—to save Hart’s Hollow Farm, Emmy’s heart would break, and every reason she had for getting out of bed each morning would be lost. Every ounce of hope she had would leave her, and there would be nothing left to hold on to. There would be only the slow decline of her health in a strange place. And that was all any place other than Hart’s Hollow could be for her now.

  A hand slipped inside his and squeezed. “Mitch has spent hours reviewing the needs and wants all of you expressed at the previous meeting and in subsequent surveys, and I think you’ll be pleased with what he’s proposing, if you’ll allow us to proceed.”

  Mitch looked to his right. There was Kristen, holding his hand and smiling at him, as though he was the only man in the world, and in that moment, that was exactly how he felt. Us had sounded as good on her lips as he’d imagined.

  “Please go ahead,” said one of the men seated by the wall. “We’d like to hear you out.”

  Kristen squeezed Mitch’s hand once more and gave him an encouraging smile. Not much was different at this meeting compared to the last one, except for the three project managers, who watched them from afar with polite but otherwise blank expressions.

  It was nerve-racking, to say the least, but Mitch had created a solid plan that posed a good chance of persuading them all.

  “Mitch?” Kristen prompted, nudging him with her elbow. “You want me to grab the plans?”

  He straightened his tie and smiled. “Please.”

  Kristen bent, sifted through one of the bags they’d set beside the table, then withdrew a plastic tube housing a rolled canvas. Mitch took one end of it, and they placed it on the table.

  “I took the liberty of contacting Mrs. Markham over a week ago and asked her to send me as much data as she could release regarding the plans proposed for the bypass.” Mitch pulled several packets from another bag at their feet, then passed them around the table. “In these handouts, you’ll see the Department of Transportation’s plan laid out in detail, with the relevant data supporting each potential change notated in the margins,” he continued. “The most prevalent concerns center around congestion and noise in downtown Peach Grove, the safety of pedestrians and the impacts any proposed change might have on our environment, businesses, and community.”

  Mitch placed a hand on Emmy’s shoulder and leveled his blue eyes at the group in front of him. “At our last meeting, Emmy brought up the point that dismantling Adams County farms will break the backbone of our families and community.” He glanced at Kristen, and the appreciation and admiration in his expression warmed her chest. “The new plan that Kristen and I are proposing directly addresses all the aforementioned concerns—and integrates elements that are specifically designed to strengthen our families, businesses, and communities—while staying within the budget allotted for a potential bypass.”

  He lifted his chin at Kristen, and hands trembling, she unsealed the plastic tube, slid out the rolled canvas, then peeled off the small piece of tape that held it together. The canvas loosened, and Mitch’s big hand joined hers in unrolling it across the table.

  Audible gasps escaped Iris and Elena as the canvas settled into a flat position, revealing an appealing mix of color. One of the aerial photos Dana had provided had been enlarged and enhanced for detail, and it formed the foundation of the plan. A printout of the final draft of one of Mitch’s architectural sketches overlaid it, and the amenities, streetlighting, and landscaping in each individual section had been hand-painted by Kristen.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Iris said, leaning closer for a better look.

  “And functional.” Mitch smiled and tapped the far right and left sections of the plan. “This plan incorporates a third lane into downtown Peach Grove, which will be designated for turning, and the two roundabouts Mrs. Markham mentioned at our last meeting—one at each end of the city.”

  Stephanie stood up, put on a pair of reading glasses, and bent closer. “Is that a fountain in the middle there?”

  “Yes,” Kristen said. “There would be one in the center of each roundabout, and it could be dedicated to anyone we, as a community, choose—such as veterans or current service members. And there’d be no limit to the landscaping designs we could create around them. And if you look here”—she directed their attention to the large green areas framing the roads connecting to the circular roundabout—“you’ll see we’ve integrated additional landscaping areas. Those are big enough to plant trees in a loved one’s memory. It would be an excellent way to involve lifelong members of the community and make them feel as though they are an essential part of Peach Grove and Adams County.”

  “We’ve also included additional streetscaping that holds great aesthetic appeal,” Mitch said. “One of the things I believe we all feel passionately about is providing a safe, welcoming downtown for everyone. It was with that in mind that we included a bike lane, pedestrian walkways, and attractive lighting. We also made room for HAWK lights at regular intervals.”

  “What are those?” Jenny asked.

  “They’re devices used to control traffic lights and allow pedestrians to cross more safely and conveniently. When you push a button, the traffic light will change, and you’ll be able to cross the road with ease.”

  “That would help our students in the mornings and afternoons.” Elena smiled. “And I wouldn’t mind having a bike lane.” She laughed. “It’s been years since I’ve dusted off my ten-speed and taken a ride. If this plan looks as good in real life, I think I’d be tempted to do it more often.”

  “Which is part of the reason why we feel it’s so important to include as many aesthetically pleasing elements as possible.” Kristen looked at Terrance. “The more people we can entice out of their homes and cars to mill about downtown and socialize, the more—”

  “Customers we’ll have,” Terrance said, finishing for her, flashing a smile. “Now I can go for that right there. The more feet on the street, the more change in my pocket.”

  “But the trucks,” Bud said, standing. “What will this do to help with the speed of those semis, the congestion, and the noise?”

  “Roundabouts are designed to slow through traffic without forcing vehicles to stop. They should take care of the speed and congestion issues,” Kristen said. “The noise, I’m afraid, will still be there, which is why we’re proposing one more significant change.”

  She stepped back and glanced at Mitch. He retrieved another rolled canvas from the bag at his feet, placed it on the table, and unrolled it.

  A small cry escaped Emmy, and bracing her hands on the table, she pushed to a standing position. Her frail arms shook slightly as she leaned over the canvas.

  In the center of this second hand-painted architectural plan, two large oaks with low, thick branches framed a white house, complete with two red brick chimneys, a front porch with Gothic trim, and a stained-glass window, which glinted beneath the bright flashes of fireworks above in a starry night sky. Wide fields full of lush green soybean plants, strawberry patches, and cornstalks surrounded the house, and a red dirt driveway wound through the picturesque landscape, with brightly painted gourds hanging from racks on both sides. Cars, trucks, and SUVs were parked head to tail all the way to the road, and the aerial depiction showed dozens and dozens of groups of people sitting on blankets or on the lowered tailgates of pick-up trucks, admiring the pyrotechnic display above.

  “It’s my house,” Emmy said. Her eyes brightened and a pleased look appeared on her face as she pointed at the line of cars. “What’s happening here?”

  “Look at the end of the driveway.” Grinning, Mitch pointed at a rustic white sign with red lettering. “What does it say?”

  Emmy peered closer, clucked her tongue, and shook her head. “Lord, have mercy. Ain’t nothing more aggravating than a pair of tired eyes.”


  “Here, Emmy.” Laughing, Stephanie took off her reading glasses and held them out.

  “Thanks.” Emmy took them, put them on, then looked again and read out loud, “Hart’s Hollow Farm. Family owned and operated. All welcome!” Her smile grew as she touched the small, elegant script with her forefinger and traced the delicate vine and strawberries surrounding the wording. She turned to Kristen, tears spilling over her lashes. “You did this?”

  Kristen swallowed hard past the thick lump in her throat, the grateful adoration in Emmy’s gaze flooding her own eyes with tears. “Yes. The new sign is finished and in the shed, ready to hang.”

  “But the fireworks . . .” Emmy spread her hands. “And the cars?”

  “You have so much to offer, Emmy.” Kristen returned her gaze to the table and gestured toward different areas of the hand-painted architectural plan. “The farm would become the hub of community events. Corn mazes, apple bobbing, and hayrides could be offered in the fall. A tour of Christmas lights, caroling, and your homemade treats in the winter. Spring would be a perfect time for strawberry picking, eating contests, and pie walks. And summer—”

  Her throat tightened at the surge of pleasant memories that flooded her: driving the tractor and planting the fields with Mitch, renovating the porch and laughing as Dylan and Zach played makeshift hockey across the floor, running through cornfields with Sadie and making strawberry shortcakes with Emmy and Ruth Ann.

  All wonderful things she’d soon leave behind.

  Kristen collected herself and tried again. “Summer would be a time for fishing, stargazing, and fireworks in July. We’ve already planned Hart’s Hollow Farm’s first event.” She faced the committee members. “We’d like to invite all of you to Emmy’s first Fourth of July celebration this Friday. She’ll have food, games, and fireworks.”

  “We ask only that you hold off on making a decision regarding the bypass until you’ve attended the event,” Mitch added. “I’ll pass around details in a moment, and you’re welcome to contribute in whatever way you’d like—be it a booth to promote your business, a stand to display your crafts, or a table to share your own homemade dishes for others to enjoy. We want you to see the sense of community and collaboration this type of operation can bring. How a small local farm can attract local residents and tourists, while strengthening our community and downtown businesses.”

  “Like the day we picked strawberries,” Elena said softly. “That was a lovely afternoon, Emmy. Your home is beautiful, and you made us all feel so valued and welcome.”

  Emmy ducked her head, her mouth trembling around a smile.

  “Friday. Don’t forget,” Mitch reminded them, glancing at the project managers. “We look forward to having you all as our guests for the day. After that, we’ll accept whatever decision is made.”

  Soon after, Dana adjourned the meeting. There was a bustle of movement as everyone took a last look at each of the plans, asked questions about Friday’s event, said their good-byes, then left.

  Kristen stood to the side with Sadie and Dylan as Mitch answered questions from Charles and Iris. Emmy, drying her eyes with a tissue Al had offered her, walked over and opened her arms.

  “Kristen.” Her voice shook, and happiness shined in her eyes. “You dear girl.”

  Before she knew it, Kristen was gathered up in a hug so strong, it stole her breath. Emmy’s arms were warm and comforting, and her whispered bittersweet words coaxed Kristen into sinking deeper into Emmy’s embrace and broke her heart all at once.

  “I couldn’t be more proud of you if you were my own daughter.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Kristen cut the stem of a white hydrangea bloom and placed it in a red vase on a picnic table. She had finally finished decorating each of the twenty tables Mitch had arranged on Hart’s Hollow Farm’s front lawn with red, white, and blue vases filled with hydrangea blooms.

  Essie Templeton, owner of Essie’s Odds and Ends, had been extremely generous in renting the picnic tables, chairs, and vases for Hart’s Hollow Farm’s July Fourth event at a very low rate. Her only stipulation had been that customized signage advertising her party supply service be affixed to each table for the duration of the event.

  “I found the big one,” Sadie shouted from the front porch steps, holding up a large white vase with red and blue stars on it. “Want me to put it on one of those tables?”

  “No, that one’s extra special. We’re going to make a much bigger setting for the front porch. That way Emmy will have something beautiful to admire when she gets tired and needs to rest on the porch swing.” Smiling, Kristen grabbed a bag of supplies, weaved her way through the picnic tables, and motioned for Sadie to join her at one of them. “What do you say we both put that one together?”

  “Yeah,” Sadie piped, joining her on the bench.

  Kristen dug around in the plastic bag for a pair of scissors, bows, and packets of flower food. “There’s a white basket on the front porch with more flowers. Would you mind grabbing that for me and bringing it down here?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sadie spun around on the bench, hopped down, then ran toward the porch. Her long brown braids bounced across her back with every step.

  Ever since Kristen and Mitch had rolled out the new plans for downtown Peach Grove and Hart’s Hollow Farm’s first July Fourth celebration at the county meeting three days ago, Sadie and Dylan had been balls of energy. Dylan had even taken it upon himself to borrow an alarm clock from Emmy and had gotten up early each morning to wake Sadie. While Mitch and Kristen had tended to the crops, Sadie and Dylan had stayed at the house with Emmy, making plans, collecting decorations, and hanging streamers and banners in places Emmy couldn’t quite reach on her own. And they’d done a dang good job of it.

  Kristen tipped her head back, shaded her eyes from the late morning sun, and admired their handiwork. Thin red, white, and blue bunting had been knotted and draped elegantly along the porch rails. A patriotic-themed wreath adorned the wide front door, and colorful cushions with celebratory designs had been fluffed and placed in each rocking chair and on the porch swing. A flag had been affixed to a pole on the front porch, and now it rippled slowly in the humid breeze.

  “They did a great job, didn’t they?” Big hands settled on Kristen’s shoulders from behind, and warm lips nuzzled her temple. “Never imagined they’d sacrifice TV and lounge time to set up decorations.”

  Before she could talk herself out of it, Kristen eased back, nestling farther into Mitch’s embrace. “They know how excited Emmy is about it.” Oh, he smelled wonderful—like freshly tilled earth, clean air, and man. She inhaled, her eyes closing. “They wanted to please her.”

  “And you,” he murmured, his mouth moving against her skin. “They wanted to make you happy, too.”

  She tensed. “I know.”

  And she did. The kids had done everything she’d asked to help prepare for today’s celebration, and they’d even taken the initiative to tackle things she hadn’t asked of them. Like when Dylan had cut the grass after she’d mentioned she didn’t think she would have time to finish the field work before dark and wouldn’t be able to get to the grass until the next day. And the time Sadie had removed the dirty dinner dishes from the table and washed them on her own when Kristen had limped into the house and over to the dinner table with a sore calf muscle.

  It was amazing how they’d all pulled together to make today a perfect day for Emmy.

  “They’ve been wonderful,” Kristen whispered, opening her eyes and watching Sadie bound back down the front porch steps, flower basket in hand.

  “Uncle Mitch, I’m gonna help Ms. Kristen make an extra-special flower ’rangement for Nana.” She grinned and held up the basket.

  Mitch’s gentle touch trailed away as he straightened, and then he hugged Sadie to his side. “Thank you for helping, sweetheart. I know Emmy will love it.” Releasing Sadie, he glanced up at the sky. “The fireworks are set up, Charles and Zach are putting the finishing touches on the deco
rations along the driveway, Lee’s heating up the grill, and Ruth Ann and Emmy are making hamburger patties. Everything’s set and ready for guests. It’ll be a perfect day if those clouds will just hold off until morning.”

  Kristen followed his line of sight and frowned at the distant dark masses lingering on the horizon and marring the blue sky. “What time are we shooting off the fireworks?”

  “Around nine, after it gets good and dark. Lee and Charles offered to take on that job so I could stay with Emmy.”

  “Then we should be okay.” Kristen studied the lawn, full of picnic tables and games, and the driveway, adorned with festive welcome signs and arrows to direct cars for parking. “The weather report said the worst of it isn’t supposed to blow in until after midnight.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not always right.” Mitch stared back up at the sky. “When it comes to weather, nothing’s ever certain.”

  Kristen looked down and reached for the basket Sadie held, her stomach turning. “No. It never is.”

  Speaking low, he leaned on the table next to her. “Emmy’s had a really great week so far, and today’s gone well, but I’m planning on staying with her most of the night, just to help her stay comfortable if the crowds and unfamiliar noises agitate her. Would you mind taking my place with her once or twice tonight if I need to check on things?”

  “Of course.”

  “I thought we could sit with her on the front porch when Charles and Lee start the fireworks. Just so I can help her inside if she doesn’t like them.”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes focused on the basket.

  “Kristen?” There was a familiar tone in Mitch’s voice. The same one she’d heard several times since the county meeting—heavy, concerned.

  Hesitating, she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes.

  “Are you . . . ?” He stopped, looked at Sadie, then raked a hand through his hair. “If you have time, Emmy wants to speak with you before the guests start getting here. I told her I’d let you know.”