“Why would I? I only oversaw the sale of the property.” Despite his loss of appetite, he threw the last bite of sandwich in his mouth. He didn’t want to disappoint his mother.
“Sure. Did you know they’re living in two separate residences? Married sixty-four years, and you come along and split them up. Unbelievable.”
Pushing back his chair, Alex stood. His father was never going to stop. “Thanks, Mom. Lunch was great.” He crossed to the counter where his mother stood with a coffeepot filled with water. He put his arms around her. “I love you, Mom.” Pulling away from her grip, he left the room.
His mother’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “Wait. There’s pie. And your cookies.”
Grabbing his coat as he passed through the hallway, he made his escape to the front porch as quickly as possible. His father would never forgive him for not staying in Shadow Falls and joining his firm. How could he know? No one could thrive in the shadow of the great Maximillian Kimmel. He couldn’t wait to get back home. Back to New York.
CHAPTER SIX
SHE SAT IN the den, the room at the front of the house where her father’s grand piano occupied the space in the corner between two windows. Her mother’s big desk occupied the space in the opposite corner. A bookcase behind the desk was filled with gardening manuals and notebooks with her research. Sera sat there and rummaged through the files, looking for the companion planting schedule. Jill Callahan had insisted on using natural pest repellants rather than chemicals.
Even after ten years, Sera still relied on her mother’s notes. Bending over the bottom drawer, searching for the file, she couldn’t help but think of Cy and his cousin. The lawyer from New York. Somehow she had hoped by not giving Cy a straight answer, she could put the decision off indefinitely, that maybe something would happen to solve their money issues. She shared Hope’s wish for receiving Century Farm designation. But she was no better off now than she had been after the accident. She looked up at the sound of a knock. As if her thoughts had summoned him, Cy’s burly body filled the narrow doorway from the den into the hall. Rocky stood at his side, like a furry butler announcing a guest.
Clutching his Penn State ball cap, he favored her with a small smile. “Hey, neighbor. Still mad at me?”
She looked down at the pile of papers on her desk. Her mind on the reason for his visit, the words and figures on the lined tablets became a blur. “I thought we were friends, Cy.”
“Does that mean I can come in and you won’t throw a paperweight at me?”
She glanced at the object on the corner of the desk. “I wouldn’t want to break it.” She picked up the novelty, a miniature Statue of Liberty. “I bought this on my first trip to New York.” She took a breath, remembering the excitement of visiting the big city, when just riding the subway was an adventure. She gestured toward the cushioned chair next to the window. “Sit.”
He strode across the wood floor, his boots going silent as he reached the carpet. He settled into the chair with a heavy sigh. “We are friends.” Rocky settled at his feet with a grunt.
“I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”
“I’m sorry.” He leaned forward, waiting until she met his gaze to speak. “We talked about this back in January. I’ve been waiting for an answer. The year’s almost half over. I need to make a move as soon as possible. For financial reasons.” He leaned back in the chair. Crossing his legs, he grew silent.
Folding her hands together over the mess on the desk, she held his gaze. “So that’s why you sneaked your cousin into my home. To do recon.”
“As you’ve already figured out, Alex works for a firm in New York. He’ll be back and forth all summer because, like I explained before, the company that’s hired his firm is appraising properties in the area for some sort of combination theater and shopping malls. I apologize if you felt I was being duplicitous. I didn’t plan on him spending the night here...”
“Serendipity. For you.” She picked up a pencil and turned it end to end, tapping the point on the papers. “Aunt Hope doesn’t want me to sell.”
“Of course not. She’s lived here all her life.” He leaned forward again, his wind-chapped face serious. “But times change, Sera.”
Eraser. Point. Eraser. Point. “She wants us to apply for Century Farm designation.”
Cy’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t realize your family lived on this property that long.”
“My great-grandfather Murdoch won the farm when he picked the winner in a horse race. Almost one hundred years ago. Great-grandmother Moira named the place Last Chance Farm. For obvious reasons. Apparently Gramps had a gambling problem.”
“That’s quite a story.” He lifted his gaze from the floor to hers again. “But it doesn’t change the fact you need to make a decision. I hate to be blunt, but you’re running this farm into the ground. And the farm is doing the same to you. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t tell you what I see plain as day? You deserve better.”
“What am I supposed to do, Cy? I was a year away from earning my degree, but the fact remains I have no degree and few skills. Mom’s business is all I have. Not to mention the fact I have two, really three, people to take care of.”
“You could go back to school. Somewhere around home this time. I never could understand why you wanted to go all the way to New York City.”
“New Jersey, actually. Right across the river from the city.” She dropped the pencil and covered her face with her hands. Planning for the future always left her light-headed and queasy. “I’m just taking things one day at a time.”
Cy’s voice usually matched his physique, big and booming. But this time, his response was soft. “I’m sorry how things turned out for you. But you’ve got to think about the future.”
She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated with her inability to give Cy a response. “I know.”
“Listen, how about if Alex organizes things for you?” Cy’s gaze slid from the mess on the desk to the pile of papers on the floor. “I know that legal team from Nashville your father’s band sent up here left things in a mess. Alex is good at organization.”
Sera followed Cy’s gaze from the strewn documents to the disorganized bookshelves and wondered if it were a good idea for the young attorney and her to be in close quarters. The last time she got close to him she had kissed him, like a love-starved spinster. Which, come to think of it, she was.
* * *
“HEY, WAKE UP. Do you want to go or not?”
He had been staring at the label of the bottle in his hands, absorbed in the memory. The same drink he had shared with Sera at the airport bar. “What?”
Carrie Oliver sat across from Alex in the dark wooden booth, her hands also wrapped around a bottle. She twirled a curly strand of blond hair around her finger. She always twirled her hair when she was serious about something. “I haven’t seen you all week. What does Dad have you working on?”
“The theater shopping complexes.” He took a long drink of the hard cider and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sorry. I’m worn out from traveling. Do I want to go where?”
She shook her head, her shoulder-length hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders. “I asked if you wanted to go to California in my place next Thursday.”
“I’ll go.” Will Hansen slid into the booth next to Carrie and bumped her with his hip. Friends in first year law school, Will had dropped out to travel and never looked back.
She laughed and elbowed him. “You gave up law school to run a cider bar on the Lower East Side. I’m afraid you don’t qualify to interview new associates.”
Will shrugged. “I know enough to tell them what they’re getting into and to run while they still can.” He caught Alex’s eye. “Did you and your cousin have a good visit?”
“He was too busy to pick me
up. The car rental didn’t have any cars left, and I had to catch a ride in a pickup truck held together with baling twine and duct tape.” He ran a finger down the condensation on the glass bottle. It reminded him of rain on the windshield, the patter of rain on the leaves and Sera Callahan’s impromptu kiss. When his friends remained silent, he realized they were waiting for more of the story, which he had no intention of sharing. “Do you want me to go?”
“I thought maybe you needed a break.” She shared a look with Will. “Dad thought you deserved a little break because of the eminent domain fiasco and since, well...”
He lifted the bottle to his lips and let the spicy fermented beverage attack his senses. He returned the bottle to the table with a bang. “Go to California, Carrie. I can handle my end of the deal.”
* * *
SHE KNELT IN the damp soil and pressed the dirt around the delicate stem of a tomato plant. The sooner the plants were in the ground, the sooner she would have fresh tomatoes for sale at the stand.
Rocky and Lucky lay sprawled in the grass nearby, taking a nap in the warm sun. Overhead a wren warbled. She squinted up at the little brown bird perched at the top of the light pole. “Welcome home, Jenny Wren.” She sat back on her heels and straightened her shoulders.
“Think the frost is over?”
Sera started, unaware company stood at the end of the row.
“Good morning, Shawn. I hope so.” Smiling, she stood and walked carefully in the area between rows, careful not to tread on the soil around the young plants. “The wren’s back.”
The hired farmer had lived in the cabin by the apple orchard as long as Sera could remember. She was relieved to see he was up and around, fearful she was asking too much of the older man. Shawn’s gaze followed hers to the little birdhouse fastened to the pole just as the brown wren emerged and flew away. “Springtime.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fair to middlin’.” Hands stuffed in the pockets of faded jeans, the small man rocked back and forth in scuffed work boots as he studied the results of her last hour’s labor. “The sweet corn’s looking good.”
“You shouldn’t have planted that field, Shawn. The doctor told you to rest. I could’ve rented the field out.”
“Doctor didn’t know what he was talking about. All I did was sit on top of the tractor and drive. Besides, the profit margin’s greater if we plant. And speaking of cash...”
“I told you I appreciate the offer of a loan, but we’re just fine. You hold on to your money. You might need it someday.” She felt a twinge of guilt at the thought the man could soon be losing his home, too.
“I consider this farm my home, Sera. If you need help, you ask me. Ya hear?”
“You’re as stubborn as Aunt Hope, you know that, Shawn?”
His green eyes twinkled. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Looks like you have company, Sera.” With a crooked finger to the brim of his faded green cap, he continued on his walk.
Sera watched a large black SUV pull slowly down the drive and park at the trellis. “Who in the world...” She took off her gardening gloves and brushed the dirt from the knees of her jeans. Lucky and Rocky bounced up and ambled in the direction of their company. “Oh, well. What you see is what you get.” She walked toward the strange vehicle.
She didn’t recognize the visitors until the couple got out of the back seat. Wendy Valentine, black hair as smooth and sleek as ever, waved. “Hi, Sera. I hope you don’t mind our just dropping in. We were driving by and I was telling Mom and Dad about your barn.”
Only then did Sera recognize the Valentines, the neighbors who had given Aunt Hope a ride home from church.
“Sera, we haven’t seen you in a long time.” Bernie Valentine strode toward her and clasped her hand warmly. The rotund man with the shock of white hair greeted her as if she were his best friend.
His wife was as small as he was large. Babs Valentine clasped her other hand. “Your great-aunt is such a nice lady. We love spending time with her.”
Sera could see where Wendy got her diminutive stature from. She tried to regain her hands, but the Valentines pulled her toward them. Enthusiasm seemed to ooze from their pores.
Wendy, followed by Josh Hunter, approached at a slower pace. “You’re probably wondering why we’re here.” She and Josh looked at each other and smiled that deeply personal smile of young love. Wendy took a deep breath. “We have a request.”
Looking at the excited faces of the four, Sera couldn’t begin to imagine how she could help the family. “Why don’t we go sit on the back porch?”
Wendy held up a hand. Her engagement ring glittered in the morning sun. “Actually, I’d like to walk up to the barn.”
“The barn?” Sera still didn’t know where the reporter was going with this. Maybe she wanted to do a story on the bank barn. She had asked how old the structure was. “Okay.” They walked up the slight incline to the upper story, and Sera slid open the big barn doors. Pieces of loose hay blew in the sudden breeze entering the cavernous space. “At one time, my grandfather stored loose hay in here. Then, when balers became more common, we stored it in square bales.”
“And now?” Josh ducked as a sparrow flew by on its way outside.
“The barn stays empty. I rent out my fields, and the farmer gives me enough hay to feed my two horses plus a little rent.”
Making themselves at home, Bernie and Babs were already at the far end of the barn examining the square holes in the floor. “How interesting.”
Sera raised her voice so they could hear. “That’s where they used to drop hay down to animals below.”
“So the barn just sits here.” Wendy looked up at the thick hundred-year-old beams. “It’s so beautiful.”
Sera followed her gaze and tried to see the barn as she did. As beautiful. All she saw were bird droppings and moldy hay. “Yep. Just sits here.”
Wendy looked at Josh as if for help.
Josh cleared his throat. “We wondered if you wanted to rent out your barn.”
Sera leaned forward, sure she hadn’t heard Josh. “Do I want to what?”
Josh nervously shifted his gaze from Sera to Wendy and back again. “Would you rent us your barn?”
Sera pulled back. She had heard the man correctly. But what the well-to-do Valentines and the globe-trotting young couple wanted with her barn, she had no clue. “For what? Like a year? I do put the horses in for the winter. Depends what you want to do with it.” She didn’t bother to mention she wasn’t sure she would still own the place come December.
“Just for a weekend.” Wendy’s brown eyes grew wide as did her smile. Her teeth were perfect. She had a smile that was great for being on television.
“A weekend.” Sera surveyed the big barn that had stood for almost a hundred years. The stone foundation was strong, but the white paint on the exterior was fading, and already weeds sprouted around the base. She focused now on the members of the well-dressed group who all seemed to be holding their collective breath while smiling at the same time. “For what, may I ask?”
Josh put his arm around Wendy’s waist, prompting, if possible, an even wider smile. “We want a barn wedding.”
“A barn wedding.” Sera didn’t know how to respond. “First of all, congratulations. I’m excited for you.” She bit her lower lip. “But aren’t there facilities not quite so—” she scuffed her toe through the moldy hay on the floor “—antiquated?”
“We’ve seen lots of places, but none match this location,” said Wendy, her voice full of enthusiasm. “You’re right down the road from my parents’ house. Josh and I will be on the road all summer. My sister, Katie, is going to handle things.”
“With our help, of course.” Bernie laid his big paw on her shoulder. “I’ve met a lot of people through the years. I could have your barn painted and
the interior pressure washed in a jiffy.”
At the thought of the expense involved in preparing the barn for a wedding, Sera grew alarmed. “Hold on, Mr. Valentine, I can’t afford to hire people.”
“I’m not asking you to pay. That would be part of the deal. Plus, a little extra.”
Wendy pressed the palms of her hands together and touched her fingertips to her chin. “Please, Sera. A harvest moon wedding. In September. In your barn.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SERA PARKED IN front of Vera Hershberger’s small ranch house, and then, with the help of a step stool, assisted Aunt Hope down from the truck and to the front door. Though the day was warm, the woman still carried a sweater in case she got a chill. She had barely said two words to her since Sera’s announcement about selling. As was typical with most Callahan disagreements, the subject would only be discussed when matters came to a head. In other words, when Sera signed the papers.
Other than church on Sunday morning, this was the only time Aunt Hope left the house. The women at Vera’s always tried to get Sera to quilt with them, lamenting the skill was a fading art, but Sera took advantage of the opportunity to spend some time relaxing. So, she went to Paris. Pretend Paris.
Meaning, The Wildflower on a Friday afternoon.
Fortunately, she was able to find an empty spot and parked the truck in front of the coffee shop. Across the street someone had planted blue and yellow pansies at the base of the flagpole in the bank parking lot. She walked up the steps and looked up and down the length of the boardwalk. Rocking chairs and potted plants lined the strip. Sue Campbell’s no-nonsense black-and-white sign for The Cookie Jar had been painted over with a pastel confection spelling out K&R’s Candy Jar.
Pushing open the door of The Wildflower, she heard the now-familiar sounds of French classical music. She glanced at the arrangement of comfy overstuffed chairs at the front window. Empty. Good. She was in no mood for company.
Holly Hoffman McAndrews stood behind the counter, pouring beans into the top of the espresso machine. “Aunt Hope quilting with the church ladies? And you managed to escape?”
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