Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set

by Patricia Johns

  Becca’s mouth relaxed, and then stretched into a full-fledged grin as she and her friend watched milk dribble from the sides of the calf’s mouth as he suckled.

  “He’s so cute!” Charlotte gushed.

  “He sure is. How was day camp today?”

  “Fun. We hiked around the lake,” Charlotte told him.

  “Did you have fun, too, Becks?”

  His sister only nodded, but she looked happy. Maybe he could pry some words from her at home, later.

  Maggie returned, accompanied by Charlotte’s mother, Jessie. “So, this is the adorable baby moose I’ve been hearing about.”

  Maggie shut the door behind her. “Mama moose is still out, but she’s showing signs of waking soon.”

  “What’s the baby’s name?” Charlotte asked.

  “We don’t name animals we’re not keeping,” Becca told her. “Because they’re not pets, they’re wild.”

  A surge of pride filled Zack. Becca had been paying attention. And he liked the way she said “we.” He’d been working hard to show her she had a place here with him. When his father was dying, Zack had promised him he’d care for Becca. The fact that Dad had been unconscious at the time made the promise no less important. The moose emptied the bottle and turned to bat long eyelashes at the girls. They cooed at him.

  “You know,” Maggie said slowly, giving Zack a little smirk, “a ‘name the baby moose’ contest could generate some extra buzz.”

  “I love it!” Jessie said. “I could set it up on the website, right next to a big donations button.”

  Zack quirked an eyebrow. “Really? After what Becca just said?”

  Jessie laughed. “It’s just for the website. You wouldn’t have to tell the moose his name. As far as you’re concerned, it can be a ‘name the picture of the moose’ contest.”

  Maggie rubbed her thumb and fingers together, reminding him of their funding shortage.

  “Fine.” Zack looked pointedly at Maggie. “But you have to explain it to the reporter.”

  “No prob.”

  “What reporter?” Jessie asked.

  “My friend Tom Hackman said he’d do a story about WildER,” Maggie told her. “He’s coming out to film late this afternoon.”

  “That’s fantastic. In that case, I’d better get the contest up on the website right away. I’ll get a picture to post.” Jessie pulled out her phone and snapped a couple.

  “Be sure to crop me out of it,” Zack said.

  “I know, I know.” Jessie took another from a different angle and pocketed her phone. “Girls, we’d better let Zack and Maggie get back to work.”

  Zack glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I need to get this guy to his mother before she misses him, and then I have a date with a pug with blocked anal glands.” Which would still be more fun to deal with than the interview. He walked everyone outside. Ripley waited beside the door and Zack ruffled his ears. “Becca, I’ll pick you up at five thirty-five at Charlotte’s.” He’d learned that if he wasn’t there specifically when he said he’d be, Becca worried.

  She nodded, her eyes serious. “Bye, Zack.”

  “Bye, Becks. Thanks, Jessie. Oh, and could you drop Ripley in his yard on your way?”

  “Sure. Come on, boy.”

  Once the girls and Jessie were out of sight, Zack carried the moose calf to the holding pen where his mother rested. Zack had used long poles to separate the calf from his mother so he wouldn’t pester her to nurse. The moose’s eyes twitched, and one of her legs moved. Zack and Maggie stepped upwind to wait. Soon the mother moose raised her head, looked around in confusion and pulled herself to her feet. Her first decision was to limp closer to the barrier and reach across to lick her calf.

  Only when she’d reassured herself the calf was safe did she turn to sniff the rows of sutures that closed the wounds on her back leg. To Zack’s relief, she didn’t seem inclined to start tearing them out immediately. She went back to the baby and nuzzled him.

  Zack smiled. “She looks good. Give her a few hours, and we can remove the poles and let the calf nurse. In a couple weeks, they should be good to go.”

  “Great. I’ll call Tom and confirm that he still plans to bring out a crew to film you and the moose this evening.” She looked him over. “You might want to change your shirt.”

  Zack looked down at the milk and moose drool staining his gray T-shirt. “I’ll do that. Leave the feed bill with the receptionist at the clinic and I’ll send in the check later.”

  “Thanks. And thank you for agreeing to the news segment, Zack. I know how much you hate the limelight.”

  She was thanking him? Without Maggie’s untold hours of volunteer work, WildER couldn’t exist. Zack grinned at her. “I wouldn’t do it for anyone but you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “LET’S GET A shot here with the mountain in the background.” Tom Hackman pointed to where he wanted the cameraman to stand while an assistant pinned a microphone to Zack’s shirt.

  Zack swallowed, mentally preparing for the interview. He’d worked with Tom before and knew he could count on Maggie’s friend to make the experience as painless as possible, but he still dreaded the moment when the camera began rolling and he was expected to be articulate—or at least coherent—while he begged for money.

  “We’ll establish background for the rehab center, then we’ll talk about the moose’s story and what will happen to her. At the end, I’ll ask how people can help support the center. Sound good?” Tom asked Zack.

  “Yeah, thanks. We need to make it clear, though, that it’s not a zoo. We’re rehabilitating wild animals, and we can’t have people wandering around.”

  “Of course.”

  “Maggie, where did we land on that name thing?” Zack asked.

  “We’re having a ‘name the baby moose’ contest on our website,” Maggie told Tom. “It’s all set up.”

  “Maggie can explain it better than I can. Maybe she should just do the whole interview,” Zack suggested.

  Tom grinned. “Nice try. Stand here. I want to get the interviews in the can, and then we’ll get some video of the moose calf and some of the other animals. Yes, we’ll use a long lens,” he added when Zack started to object.

  “Zack?” Becca’s voice called from the direction of the clinic. Jessie had volunteered to drop Becca off at the wildlife center. “Where are you?”

  “Over here, by Yeil’s enclosure,” he answered.

  Upon hearing his name, the raven gave a loud “hello.” Maybe this wasn’t the best place for the interview.

  “Jessie’s coming in a minute, but Charlotte had to go to the bathroom—” Becca came trotting around the corner, but she jerked to a stop when she spotted the camera and strangers.

  “Hello.” Tom gave her a welcoming smile. “I’m Tom Hackman.”

  Becca circled around to stand close to Zack. Zack put an arm around her shoulders. “This is my sister, Becca. Becks, Tom and the camera people are going to take some pictures of the animals and show them on television.”

  “Cool.” Her eyes grew wide.

  “She’s a cutie,” Tom said and turned to Maggie. “Why don’t we—”

  “Becca won’t be on camera,” Zack stated. Immediately both Becca and Maggie turned to him, frowning.

  “She’s very knowledgeable about the animals,” Maggie said. “She could show them Puddin and give her story.”

  Becca’s expression turned pleading. “I could give Puddin a carrot and talk about how porcupines don’t really shoot barbs and stuff.”

  “It’s not a good idea.” When it came to parenting, Zack was still getting his feet wet. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes, especially public ones. If it came down to a custody battle, he couldn’t have Becca’s mother, Clarissa, saying he was exploiting Becca to further his own interests.

  “Pleeeeease?”


  “I’m sorry, but no.”

  Becca’s lip trembled and he braced himself for tears. He hated when Becca cried. It made him want to bribe her with ice cream or ponies or whatever it took to put a smile on her face, but he knew he had to stand strong on this.

  Maggie stepped in before the dam broke. “We can still help, Becca. You can give Puddin a carrot and get her set up for her shot. Like an animal trainer.”

  “Okay.” Becca looked pleased at the idea. Zack flashed Maggie a thank-you.

  “All right, then.” Tom clapped his hands together. “Let’s get this interview started.”

  * * *

  “I LOVE THAT you chose traditional barn-red for all the new buildings,” Rowan told Lauren as they walked toward the tasting room. “It really captures the pastoral feel you’re going for. Very on-brand.”

  Lauren laughed. “I don’t know much about brands. I just like red.”

  “The picnic pavilion out front is a great idea, too. Alaskans love to be outside in the summer.”

  “I just thought they’d want to see the goats.”

  Rowan smiled to herself. Lauren didn’t need an advanced degree in marketing to sell her cheese. She loved her goats and loved making cheese, and her choices reflected her passion. She was exactly where she belonged.

  Rowan wished she could find the same fulfillment in her own life. She’d studied international business because her parents had steered her in that direction, and their connections had led to her current job. She’d even met Sutton at a diplomatic function her parents had hosted. And there was nothing wrong, exactly, with any of those decisions. It was just when she saw how much Lauren loved the farm, or even how much Patrick enjoyed his job as an electrician on the North Slope, that she wondered why she didn’t feel that same passion.

  As they passed the corner of the tasting room, Rowan saw a dozen or so people milling around the pavilion. She checked her watch. “Looks like you already have some customers, and you don’t even open for another fifteen minutes. I knew the tasting room would be a hit. Have many people signed up for goat yoga yet?”

  “Both sessions filled within four days. We’re still in kidding season, but I have a dozen or so early babies that are big enough to play with the yoga crowd.” Lauren stopped in front of a side door and pulled out her keys.

  Beside the entryway, a few daffodils were starting to open their yellow blooms, while the green tops of tulips and perennial flowers pushed their way through the mulch. Swelling buds on the rugosa roses and lilacs planted along a wire-lined split rail fence promised a lavish floral display in another month or so.

  Snow still clung stubbornly in a few shady spots, but abundant sunshine had already coaxed the green from the grass in the open pasture nearby. Four goats pushed against the fence where the customers waited. One woman reached over to scratch a goat’s forehead, and the goat closed her eyes in bliss.

  Rowan followed Lauren inside, to find two women already in the kitchen area, slicing cheese and fruit. One, an athletic-looking blonde, appeared to be around college age, while the other woman was closer to Gran’s.

  “Everybody, this is Rowan. She’s offered to fill in today.”

  “Hi,” the older woman said. “I’m Violet Olson, and this is my granddaughter Amber. We usually work with Amber’s mom, Gina, but her allergies are acting up this weekend, and nobody wants a sneezing waitress.”

  “I suppose not,” Rowan agreed. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “You can wash up there.” Violet nodded toward a sink. “And then get the dining area ready.”

  “Call me if you need me,” Lauren said as she pushed through a door into the main cheese kitchen.

  “Will do,” Violet assured her. “Rowan, honey, can you make coffee? The supplies are under the counter in the dining room.”

  “Sure,” Rowan pushed through the swinging doors into a dining room with wide-plank wooden floors, round tables and large windows overlooking the pavilion garden and the pasture beyond. A row of round stools lined a bar that separated the main area from a pass-through window.

  As Rowan measured coffee into a filter, she could hear Amber whispering to her grandmother. “Rowan? Isn’t she one of the bosses? Her name’s on the business cards.”

  “She’s Patrick’s sister,” Violet whispered back. “The one who lives in Japan. I heard she was coming to take care of Bonnie after her surgery.”

  “Isn’t she, like, an ambassador or something?”

  “No, that’s her father, but Bonnie says she has an important job. ‘Facilitating international business relations’ or something like that.”

  Rowan smiled to herself as she filled a thermal pot with boiling water and set it beside a basket of tea bags. Dad did work at the embassy, although he wasn’t an ambassador, and her job was far from important, but if she said anything, Violet and Amber might be embarrassed. It was easier just to go along. “Coffee’s made,” she called. “What else?”

  Violet set a plate of sliced oranges on the shelf of the pass-through. “These go in the water dispenser.”

  “Thanks.” Rowan lined the clear glass dispenser with orange slices and then filled it with ice and filtered glacial water from the tap behind the counter. Using the corner of her apron, she wiped a tiny smudge from the glass deli case displaying wheels of cheese to sell by the pound. Near the door, shelves of prepacked gift baskets and boxes filled the area around a cash register.

  “It’s time,” Violet called. “You can open the doors.”

  As soon as Lauren turned the sign and lock, most of the guests outside surged in to inspect the menu on the chalkboard above the pass-through. “You have to try their cheese and apple plate,” one woman was telling her friends. “Oh, look, they’ve got brie with honey and figs now. Ooh, which do I want?”

  While they decided, Rowan took other orders, grateful for her experience waiting tables during college. “Three number ones, one four, one six,” she called through the window.

  “Are all these cheeses goat cheese?” a mom with two children asked as Rowan passed with a plate. “I thought goat cheese was soft.”

  “Now and Forever Farms does produce a soft goat cheese, but according to how the cheese is prepared and aged, goat milk can be made into most types of cheese. Lauren—she’s the cheese-making genius around here—says goat cheeses tend to be a little softer and creamier than the corresponding cow cheese, so it’s not good for, say, mozzarella, but it makes a wonderful Gouda. Sampler number five has the most different types of cheese.”

  “We’ll share that, then.”

  More people pushed through the door, soon filling every table. Amber came out of the kitchen to help deliver orders to the picnic tables outside. At least half of the tasters stopped to buy bulk cheese to take home. A youngish woman frowned at the cheeses in the deli case.

  “What can I help you with?” Rowan asked.

  “My book club is meeting at my house this month, and they always have these impressive appetizers. I don’t cook, like, at all. Is there something I can serve that’s really easy but looks hard?”

  “Absolutely.” Rowan surveyed the cheeses. “You could do a fruit and cheese board. Or a log of soft cheese rolled in chopped figs, honey and toasted pecans. But if you really want to impress them with minimal work—”

  “I do.”

  “Take one of these wheels of double-cream brie. The rind is edible, but for this recipe, cut the top rind off to expose the cheese underneath. Put it in a pretty baking dish or pie plate and spread a cup of jam on top. Bake it at three fifty for about thirty minutes. Serve it with a basket of crackers.”

  “What kind of jam?”

  “That’s the beauty of this recipe—anything works. If you like spicy, you could go with jalapeño jelly. Anything with berries is good, or you could do an Alaska theme with fireweed or rose hip jelly. We h
ave some locally made jams in the gift section.”

  With Rowan’s help, the customer chose raspberry jam and a box of multigrain crackers. “Can you write down the recipe for me?”

  “Absolutely.” Rowan scribbled down the instructions, added a business card and tucked both pieces of paper into the bag with the purchases. “Our email address is on there. Let us know how your book club likes the cheese.”

  “I will. Thanks!”

  Another customer pressed forward. “I want some of that brie, too.”

  The rest of the afternoon passed with a steady stream of customers. By five o’clock, when Amber turned the sign and locked the door, all the brie wheels and a good portion of the other cheeses in the glass case had sold.

  Rowan wiped down the tables and mopped the dining area while Amber and Violet set the kitchen to rights. Lauren came in from the main operation and asked, “How did it go?”

  “Busy,” Violet told her. “I’d guess almost twice as many people as last week. Rowan was giving recipes for brie, and we sold out.”

  “Good, because we have a big stock, and it’s aging quite nicely. I just started an experimental batch of Caprino Romano.” Lauren grinned. “Of course, I won’t know if it’s a success until it’s aged for a year.”

  “I don’t know where you get the patience,” Rowan answered. “I’m just glad people like you make the cheese, so people like me can use it in recipes.”

  Lauren checked her watch. “Oops, I’d better get to the milking barn. Thanks, everyone. Amber, please tell Gina I hope she feels better soon. See you next week.”

  Once they’d restocked and closed the tasting room, Rowan said goodbye to the Olsons and made her way to the farmhouse. When she checked her phone, she found an email from Mom with the list of wedding dress designers. Rowan sighed. How was she going to handle this?

  She found Gran and Patrick in the living room, surrounded by boxes of photos. Gran moved a box to the coffee table to make room on the couch. “Paddy and I were looking for the pictures from that time we took your mother fishing. You remember?”