He chuckled. “My aunt Lois sent me an email the other day that said something very similar. She’s still hoping I’ll move back down here. Are you two working together?”
“I’m not...” She stopped herself before she spoke a lie. Was she not trying to convince him that Durham had changed? Even more worrying, was she trying to convince him to move down here? That seemed like a definite no. When he came to Durham, they shared a bed. She enjoyed his company and the decisive way he approached life. She liked how he could walk around her farm in a suit and not get a speck of dirt on him. But their entire relationship was based on his selling her the farm and severing all ties to his North Carolina past.
“Don’t be silly, Trey. Our relationship is temporary—that’s one of its pluses. Besides,” she said, “convincing you to move back to Durham would be self-defeating after I worked so hard to convince you to sell me the farm.”
This time he laughed out loud. “Don’t worry about that. Even if moving to Durham entered my mind, I would never move back to the farm.”
Well, that settles that. “You should still come to a farmers’ market. At least see the money-making side of this enterprise we’re trying to fund.” She put a light tone in her voice to cover up her irrational disappointment.
A knock on the kitchen door announced the arrival of Sidney and Norma Jean. She gestured at the two interns to sit at the table, smiling and pretending like nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. She had fresh bread, local cheese and her own vegetables to nosh on. Company she enjoyed was seating themselves around a table in a farmhouse that would be hers in December, barring disaster. And they were going to plan a fund-raising campaign so she could fix up the second barn and have two live-in interns through the winter. She’d be able to run a winter CSA and sell at the winter market. Everything was rosy.
“Where are Kelly and Sean?” Sidney asked.
Max checked the watch on her belt loop. “Um. Trey said that Sean needed a nap and Kelly went with him. So I’m not sure if they’re coming back.”
Trey cleared his throat. “That’s right, but I have their notes and ideas here.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and smoothed it out on the table. There were both creases from the folds and creases from where it looked like the paper had been balled up.
She sat at the table next to Trey, trying not to notice the tingle that ran down her spine when his leg brushed against hers, or that their hands grazed against each other when they reached for carrots at the same time. Instead, she got out her pen and concentrated on making sure her notes would be readable later, when she had to turn the brainstorming into something tangible.
Trey repeated what they’d learned from the butcher and the ice cream store owners, both for the interns’ benefit and as a refresher for him and Max. Then he leaned back in his chair and let the interns speak.
Sidney and Norma Jean looked at each other and offered a couple of their ideas for which CSA members might be interested in doing a video. Max took notes and offered her own ideas, but eventually she stopped actively participating and just started watching Trey interact with her two interns.
Despite Sidney being a young woman and Norma Jean being an older one, Max acted as teacher to both of them. Their interaction with Trey was completely different. They’d been hesitant at first, but it didn’t take long for Trey to get them talking. He asked questions, encouraged, poked and challenged and they responded. Max learned more about her interns’ skills outside of farming listening to them talk to Trey than she had in a month of working closely with them.
Norma Jean liked to make woven bracelets on the side and offered some as a gift for donors, which Max thought was a great idea. And Trey pushed Norma Jean even further until she grabbed the notepad from Max and was sketching out how the weaves would reflect the seasons of the farm.
She drew out a pattern inspired by what their squash and melon field would look like in the summer, the vines twining together and little bits of the fruit peeking out from under the large leaves. There was one of the tomato field, with the bright yellows and reds of the tomatoes and purple of the eggplants. And there was one of the fallow field, the crimson clover brilliant in the spring sun. Each bracelet would come with a picture of the farm and a story of the inspiration for the pattern.
The bracelets had been Norma Jean’s idea, but the push for it had come from Trey. Trey had given her intern the encouragement to think bigger and more creatively. To say he was letting the interns shine wasn’t accurate, because it wasn’t about them seeking permission—it was about Trey creating the opportunity for success. And he looked pleased with himself, as well.
His shoulders and jaw were relaxed. There was a slight smile on his face that made his eyes bright. He looked like how she felt when she saw the first sprouts of spring, full of the pleasure she experienced knowing that she had created the environment that let the plant do what it did best.
This was not the bitter man of this morning. This is a man I could love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
MAX KNOCKED ON the barn door late Monday morning. Kelly’s car was gone, so Sean wasn’t enjoying a cozy sleep-in with his lover. Sidney and Norma Jean had headed out to the fields over an hour ago. If she had to guess, Sean was hungover. She balled her hand into a fist and pounded on the wooden door before a sense of kindness could convince her to knock softly. She was his boss. Kindness didn’t enter into the equation.
Sean’s appearance shocked her into saying, “You look like shit,” as soon as he opened the door.
He leaned against the doorway, a slow smile on his normally handsome face. “Good morning to you, too.”
Then he scrubbed his face with his hands and the smell of stale booze and cigarettes hit her. She sniffed again. Was that pot? If he was growing pot on her farm... No, she didn’t want to think about that now. She had steeled herself for one difficult conversation and she wasn’t yet ready to have another.
“I could ignore that you’re an hour late, but you aren’t in any condition to work right now.” The wrinkles in his face from whatever piece of fabric he’d slept on would need a belt sander to get out. Then there were the bloodshot eyes, and the way he couldn’t focus on her face for longer than a couple seconds before he had to look away. “I can’t see how you could be out in the fields in less than an hour without vomiting all over my plants.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed once. Twice. Then a third time. “Bad dreams, that’s all.”
“Play the wounded-vet card on Kelly. He seems to eat it up. I’m not interested. I hired you to have a strong back and tender hands—and I wanted those for my tomato plants, not for me.” Before she said her next words, Max took a steadying breath. “You have a week to find yourself a rehab program to attend. I’ll give you time off for meetings. I won’t even tell Vets to Farms that you’re drinking. But if you don’t find a program, or you slip and miss a meeting before the season is up, I will fire you without blinking. You’ll be out of a job and you’ll be out of housing.”
Sean was either eyeing her for seriousness or trying to focus on something that would help him stay upright. “Kelly will take me in.”
“Will he?” She looked directly into his eyes as she asked the question; Sean looked away first. “That’s what I thought. If you need today off, you can have it, but not again. I have too much work on the farm to accommodate drunkards.”
Before she lost her nerve, Max turned on the heel of her boot and marched off the porch, Ashes at her side. Once they were behind the house and out of sight of the barn, she collapsed cross-legged on the dirt. Hank had been a misogynist and would probably have made a terrible boss, but he had also happily taken care of the discipline problems among her employees. Not that she’d had very many, but there had been a couple. Hank had enjoyed laying down the law—Max didn’t. The division of labor had happened so
naturally that she hadn’t noticed how much she’d relied on the old man until he wasn’t here to be her enforcer.
Her moment of self-indulgence over, Max stood, wiped the dirt off her clothes and headed back to the fields. She’d take the .22 out after the farmwork was over and shoot cans. Of course, since Hank was dead, she wouldn’t have an endless supply of targets. Hank had been an asshole, but his death had left a hole in her life that wouldn’t be easily filled.
* * *
MAX HAD BEEN so lost in her thoughts while hoeing weeds in the carrot fields that Sean’s cough startled her. She looked at the watch on her belt loop, then up at her intern. He was presentable—mostly. He either actually smelled better, or the fresh scent of dirt and spring vegetables covered up the stink of alcohol. In any case, if he had come to the fields like this on time, she might not have laid down her ultimatum. “Can you work?”
He started to nod, then turned a pale green. After taking a deep breath, he nodded again, this time with more confidence. “I’ve had two bottles of V8 and half a bottle of aspirin. If I keep drinking water, I should be fine.”
“You’re lucky it’s only the beginning of May. If this were July, I’d ban you from the fields for the day out of fear that heat exhaustion would kill you. As it is, I’m going to keep a close eye on you. If you start to wobble, you’re done for the day.”
Sean nodded again, apparently chastened by his weakness.
“I expect to hear about a rehab group by next Monday.”
“I’ll have it to you by Friday.” He said this with a force she didn’t fully believe could be sloshing around under all the alcohol.
“Oh?”
“Kelly’s deadline before he left was Friday.”
Knowing Kelly was also on her side—and on Sean’s—gave her more courage. “And the pot?”
Sean had the grace to blush, making his skin match the blood she suspected was shooting through the whites of his eyes. He had on dark sunglasses, but the tightness around his mouth was a dead giveaway that he was one loud noise or bright flash away from barfing on her plants. “It won’t happen again.”
“Are you growing it here?”
“No.”
She lifted her sunglasses up off her head and looked at him. When he didn’t meet her eyes, she reached out, pulled his glasses off his face and stared until he met her gaze. “There’s some growing in the woods, near the creek, but I didn’t plant it. There’s a good crop of it. Probably been there for years.”
Just as she was mourning Hank’s death... “After we’re done for the day, you’ll show me where it is and I’ll make sure it disappears. I can’t have a drunk—” he winced at the words “—working on my farm, and I definitely can’t have pot growing wild on my property.” God knows what would have happened if it had been discovered during an inspection. The very thought made her heart pound and her breath shorten.
She wondered how long Sean had known, and if he’d ever planned to tell her. The trouble with drunks was that they are hard to trust. The trouble with this particular drunk was Max had kept her blinders on for too long. Fear of getting through the summer season short a worker. Hope that Sean would pull his shit together and be the farmer he wanted to be.
Ugh. Well, this is one more lesson I’ll have learned this summer.
“Pot goes in the same category as drinking. Go to meetings. If I catch you, you’re gone.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tensed like there was a salute coming, but his hands stayed by his sides. Or maybe that twitch was a precursor to an upset stomach. Either way, she wanted to be far away from him until she reined in her urge to beat him senseless.
“Go take over from Sidney in the greenhouse. Work as long as you can. If you have to quit for the day, I’d rather you tell me than I find out tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”
He nodded. After she turned her concentration back down to the carrots, he started to walk away. Walk was a polite term. Sean shuffled like a man both deathly ill and chastened. Hopefully he could give her enough work to help her get through this season. She needed a full staff and perfect weather if she was going to feel comfortable writing Trey and the bank a check at the end of the year.
She pushed at the hoe too hard. The tool slipped and she nearly cut the top off a carrot. A good summer required her concentration—the more energy she spent being stressed out about all the changes in her life, the more carrots she’d behead.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Max walked into the house to a voice mail from Trey. “I’m thinking I’ll come down this weekend. See how the Kickstarter planning is going. Take you to dinner. I’d like to stay at the farm, if that’s all right with you. Though we could take a vacation to Kelly’s apartment, which I understand is still empty most nights.”
The last bit made her chuckle. Trey hadn’t been able to hide his dislike of Sean. He’d tried not to be the big, older brother upset with who his younger sibling had gotten messed up with, but he was only fooling himself. More amusing, Trey was obviously torn between trying to warn Kelly off a man he considered bad news and respecting that Kelly was a grown man who could make his own decisions. Playing the role of older brother for the first time in years was probably hard enough. Trying to do so when you weren’t sure what the rules were for warning your brother away from a man was going to tax all of Trey’s charm and energy.
Thinking about Trey’s predicament was easier than addressing her mixed feelings about the man. The more time she spent with him, the more time she wanted to spend with him. She respected his advice about her business. She looked forward to seeing him, even if the way he challenged her wasn’t always relaxing. She loved seeing his smile. And she definitely wanted another go at sex with him.
But the more time she spent with him, the clearer it was to her how foolish expecting anything other than a fling would be. He was angry at his father and he hated the farm. He lived in D.C. and wasn’t moving back. He’d never expressed any interest in this lasting longer than the time it took for her to buy the property.
He is a man I could love.
She could tell him that she wanted their relationship to last beyond their business dealings—just open her mouth and blurt out all the feelings milling about in her heart. But what would be the purpose? She wasn’t moving to D.C. for him; why should she expect him to move south for her?
He is a man I could love.
It wasn’t fair for her not to tell Trey how she felt, but Max didn’t think she had enough energy right now to risk being fair....
She returned his call. “No minivacation at Kelly’s, but I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“Great. I’m sorry I couldn’t come down last weekend. I had a bunch of work I’d been putting off, plus some events that I had to attend.”
“Must be nice to attend events as part of your job,” she said with a smile.
“It’s better now that I can escape to the farm for a break from everything.”
Did he realize he’d referred to the farm as a break? She wished she could see his face and all the meaning in his eyes. She also wished she could shake her head and get rid of the “is all I am a country vacation to you” thoughts from her head. They weren’t fair to him. As long as she wasn’t willing to risk asking him for more, she shouldn’t be hurt by feelings he might not have.
“Just so you know, I have to work the farmers’ market on Saturday morning.”
“Besides seeing you, the market is one of the things I’m most looking forward to. I want to see the farming revolution you’re a part of and that my family’s land will be connected to.”
Max tucked the phone in the crook of her neck and gestured to Ashes to follow her into the living room. “Not that long ago you were ready to sell this land to a developer and only decided to sell it to me under duress. This is quite a change of opinion.�
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There was only silence on the other end of the line for a long time. “You’re right. One of the first rules you learn as a professional convincer is not to fall prey to your own marketing, and I’ve fallen prey to everything we’re going to tell people in your Kickstarter. I believe in Max’s Vegetable Patch.”
She fell into Hank’s old recliner—it was much more comfortable than the kitchen chairs. “Thank you.”
The words weren’t adequate—especially considering the week she was having. Sean seemed to be making the most of his last week of drunkenness. She hoped he took to sobriety with the same enthusiasm. “Really, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
“Is something wrong on the Patch?”
It was Max’s turn to be silent.
“I don’t believe in Max’s Vegetable Patch so much as I believe in you, Max.”
Should she heed Trey’s warning and be careful falling prey to her own marketing, even if the positive press was out of Trey’s own mouth? He was a sympathetic ear and gave good advice. In the long run, she needed him to sell her the property—not be a believer. A good listener was more important. “I’ve had to give Sean an ultimatum.” Then she told him the rest. Like that first week when Trey had asked for a tour, her insecurities poured out of her until no pile of sandbags existed that could stop them. “I’m not sure Sean’s relationship with Kelly or me will survive his last week of alcohol.”
“This is harder on both you and Kelly because you let yourself develop a relationship with him.”
“I’m his boss,” she said, deliberately misunderstanding what he was saying. “Of course I’m going to develop a relationship with him.”
Trey ignored her. “And he disappointed you, as drunks always do.”
“I’d rather risk disappointment than keep myself closed off from someone with wonderful potential. And, drunk or not, Sean still has the potential to be a great farmer—even a great partner for Kelly.”
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