Someone let out an embarrassing “Woot!”
“But she has trouble taking risks that don’t make much sense on paper.”
Beth nodded. “And Fairwind Farm makes no sense on paper.”
A murmur made its way through the crowd.
“Maybe not,” Molly continued. “But it makes sense in here.” She put her hand on her heart. “I don’t have to tell you all how much Fairwind Farm meant to Willow Grove for so many years. For most of us, it was one of the best parts of our childhood. How many of us walked the orchard with our bushel basket and filled it up with the very best apples we’d eat all year? How many nights did we spend out around that bonfire singing songs and roasting marshmallows? How many of us chopped down the perfect Christmas tree right out in that field?”
Beth noticed the sweet expressions on everyone’s faces as they nodded and reminisced along with her sister.
“We want to bring that back. The simple joys that kept our families strong. I’ve done my share of traveling . . .”
She had. Beth envied her that. Beth had lived a confined life while Molly saw the world. It had changed her sister, certainly, but deep down, she was, and always had been, Molly. It was like she never questioned herself. While that sometimes got Molly into trouble, Beth was often paralyzed by all her own second-guessing.
Not her best trait.
Molly went on. “I really believe there’s no place in the world like Willow Grove, and we want to be a part of this community in a memorable and important way. And we will be, for as long as you’ll have us.”
The crowd applauded again as Beth tried not to think about the ramifications of another professional misstep.
“So, why don’t we talk through the way today is going to work?” Molly sounded like she was leading a pep rally, and the people in the barn responded with a cheer.
Beth wondered if they’d all be this excited after they got their work assignments for the day.
She took a step back as Molly started outlining some of the jobs that needed to be done. Only then did she dare a glance in the direction of the good-looking stranger. She was surprised to find his eyes focused squarely on her. This time, instead of pulling her eyes away, she challenged his look with one of her own, locking onto his gaze and wondering if it would set him off balance the way it did her.
She doubted it, but when she detected the slightest lift in his eyebrows, she almost lost her resolve.
Was she flirting?
How ridiculous. She pulled her eyes away and focused on Molly, who was explaining what needed to be done. They’d consulted with Ben on this part too, just to get a list going, but secretly Beth hoped someone would take charge of the whole day and instruct all these people in the tasks that were most pressing.
“There’s weeding, yard work, sweeping out the barns. The barns will need some serious attention, and we haven’t even started talking about the orchard or the trees.”
Already Beth felt overwhelmed. Ben had warned them not to expect anything to look much different at the end of their work day, and she knew he’d never leave his business to give them the kind of help they probably needed. He just couldn’t—he’d worked too hard.
Still, she wished someone with some know-how would come forward and take a bit of the guesswork out of this whole project. Beth felt like a child who’d just been thrown into the deep end of the pool without a life preserver.
“We have to clear out the old before we can bring in anything new,” Molly told the group of willing workers after assigning them to various tasks. “And don’t forget to head back here for lunch at noon. We’ll be grilling hot dogs and burgers, and several of the ladies from Willow Grove Community Church brought dishes to pass. We promise they all have clean kitchens.”
The crowd laughed, and once Molly was finished, they dispersed to their respective jobs. Mr. Handsome sat for a long moment as the others shuffled out around him. He took what seemed to be the last drink of his coffee, stood and walked straight toward her. Beth stiffened—like a junior high girl at her first dance. What if he talks to me?
Her mouth went dry.
He met her eyes as he threw his coffee cup in the trash can right beside her, then quietly strolled out of the barn. Holy smokes. She needed to get ahold of herself. Beth Whitaker was not one of those girls who went weak in the knees over a guy. No matter how good-looking and mysterious he was.
She felt foolish that she’d half expected him to talk to her, when really he was just looking for the garbage can.
Get a grip.
She turned and found Molly and Callie staring at her. “What?”
“What was that?” Callie’s eyes were wide.
“What?”
“Whatever that long, sexy gaze was between you and Drew the handsome cowboy,” Callie said.
“He’s a cowboy?” Beth didn’t date cowboys. She’d always gone for guys in suits and ties. Guys like Michael. Of course, look where that had gotten her.
Molly shrugged. “Looks like a cowboy to me. A cowboy in a baseball cap.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re smitten with him, aren’t you?” Molly waggled her eyebrows, looking every bit the little sister she was.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I think the feeling is mutual,” Callie said.
“What feeling?”
Ben. Thank God.
Callie snapped her jaw shut at the sound of his voice. She’d had this thing for Beth’s oldest brother ever since they were kids, and he seemed either uninterested or unwilling to notice. Beth had barely touched on the subject with Ben, whose own heartbreak had taken him out of the dating game years ago. They’d only spoken in generalities, but he clearly wasn’t ready for romance. Not yet.
Her thoughts briefly turned to Michael. Had their relationship put Beth’s whole life on hold the way Ben’s heartbreak had done for him?
God, I don’t want to be as closed off as my brother. Please help me get past this.
She’d prayed this so many times over the years. It never seemed to stick. But then, maybe she hadn’t meant it before. Something about seeing Ben unknowingly standing next to someone who would love him unconditionally pulled a sadness through her soul—not only for her brother, but for herself.
Neither of them needed to keep living in the past.
She pushed the thoughts aside. “It’s nothing. What’d you do, sneak in the back?”
Ben pulled his tattered baseball cap down even lower. “I think I was undetected, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “You could’ve helped with our sales pitch, you know. Having a baseball celebrity on our little stage would’ve given us some street cred.”
“Former baseball celebrity,” Ben said.
“Around here, you’ll always be a celebrity.” The words seemed to have escaped Callie’s lips without her permission. She stared at Ben with that faraway look in her eyes. And he seemed as oblivious as he always did.
“Cal, how about you get started prepping lunch, and we can go pick Ben’s brain for a while.” Beth had gotten used to keeping her friend from making a fool of herself. She considered it her duty.
Callie sprang into action without a word, and the three Whitakers headed outside.
“Can’t believe how many people showed up,” Ben said. “That’s a good sign, I guess.”
“You guess?” Molly didn’t hide her annoyance. “Five years from now when this place is back on the map, producing apples and pumpkins and landing on the cover of Country Living magazine, you’re both going to have me to thank for it.” She stomped off toward Bishop, who looked about as awkward holding a hammer as Molly would’ve in a power suit. Beth had gotten used to seeing him in his police uniform, but today he sported old jeans and a gray T-shirt, covered by an open flannel. His freshly cut sandy-colored hair had darkened a bit over the winter, and he wore an eager expression.
“She’s spunky, we hav
e to give her that,” Beth said.
“Don’t get so swept up in this that you forget why you’re here.” Ben crossed his arms. “You’re the brains. Be the brains.”
“I could use another brain, you know. And some of your millions.”
Ben laughed and started toward the house. “I don’t have millions.”
“But you have lots.”
“So do you, Beth. Don’t pretend you haven’t been squirreling money away for the past ten years.”
He didn’t know the truth. No one did. They would be so disappointed in her. The smart one. The sensible one.
Hardly.
“It’s not that simple,” she said. “Molly’s broke. I’m looking for a couple of investors. Of course, my first thought was you. I’m sure you agree we don’t want to bring Mom into this.”
Ben shook his head. “You’re right about that.”
“Even though she’ll never use everything Dad left her,” Beth muttered.
“No, we aren’t dragging her into this. We don’t even know if she’s healthy yet.”
“I know. And I agree.” Beth frowned. “So it looks like we’re on our own.”
Her older brother looked the part of a rugged outdoorsmen, like he’d just stepped off the pages of an Eddie Bauer catalog. In fact, he fit so well in the great outdoors, Beth couldn’t understand how or why he’d chosen to make a life in the city. He didn’t care as much as she did what people thought of him, so what was it? Why was he so intent on staying away from Willow Grove?
“I’ll look around and let you know what I think.”
“And you’ll help me come up with a plan?”
Ben met her gaze. “Isn’t that what I just said?”
She frowned. “No. That’s not at all what you said.”
“I’ll let you know. Just give me some space, you nutball.” He walked away, pretending to be annoyed. At least Beth thought he was pretending.
As he disappeared behind the old barn, she did a slow turn around the property. What if this was another bad investment? What if this time, instead of being purposely swindled by a slick-talking salesman, she was accidentally swindled by a well-intentioned sister?
Beth had managed to save back up a little—enough to match Molly’s investment, but not much more. What would she tell her siblings when they asked why she couldn’t put more toward their new pet project? She certainly couldn’t tell them the truth.
People bustled around the yard, hauling branches and piling garbage into the dumpster, all working diligently for the promise of something none of them could really deliver—pockets of peace in the middle of a much too busy life.
And it was all Beth could do not to wonder if she’d just sunk the last of her little nest egg into a project doomed before it started.
Chapter Ten
Outside, Drew watched as people gathered rakes and hoes and trash cans from their cars, each moving purposefully toward whatever task they’d been assigned.
He’d slipped out without a job, not quite ready to sign on to anything until he saw the old place for himself.
Fairwind had changed. Twenty years, what did he expect? Behind the main barn, he could see the roofs of the outbuildings, outlined by trees whose leaves had filled out nicely for spring. He walked the same path he’d walked so many times as a boy, only this time he walked it alone.
All those years ago, Jess had been right on his heels.
“Keep an eye on her, Drew,” his dad had called after them. Drew had waved to let them know he’d heard. Of course he’d keep an eye on her; they weren’t interested in anyone else on the farm—and he needed Jess to remind him where the best fishing spots were.
That’s how they’d spent their days. Fishing in the lake. Catching grasshoppers. Hide-and-seek. Bonfires. Everything had seemed so simple back then, like something straight out of a fifties television show.
Drew’s family stayed in the guest rooms inside the farmhouse, which didn’t look so old and worn back then. For him, it was a treat—their own little getaway. And while his parents and Jess’s parents did boring grown-up things during the day, he and Jess had played the summer days away in the fields and outbuildings—basking in the sun, fishing, hiding in the corn, dreaming in the rafters.
Drew rounded a bend, and a small red barn appeared in a clearing up ahead. He paused for a minute, willing himself to breathe.
He stopped. This was so stupid. What did he think he was going to find? Evidence? Would he just walk in and replay the entire event with stark mental clarity—all the missing parts from his dream neatly filled in and ready for a police report?
There was a reason he hadn’t been back in all these years. The whole idea of it—his even being here—was absurd.
And yet, here he was.
He wanted the nightmares to stop. Wanted to get her face—the sound of her laughter—out of his mind.
Drew pushed the door open and stared inside the dark space. In a flash, he was ten again, hiding in the loft, the smell of hay and earth filling his nostrils. He could almost hear her voice cut through the black.
“Drew, no fair. You know I don’t like this barn.”
He did know. It was why he’d hidden there. She’d always had an unnatural fear of the outbuildings on the property, but especially the small red barn. As if she knew, as if something inside her had warned her to stay away.
And he’d been the one to lead her straight into it.
If he’d just hidden somewhere else—by the lake, up in the giant oak tree, in the bakery cooler—that day wouldn’t have happened.
He closed his eyes. Felt the wet as it ran down his cheeks. It was a mistake, his being here, but he was frozen in place.
The sound of the car door echoed through the hollowness of his memory in the empty barn. The shadow slipped across the darkness. Drew’s heart raced as he called out to her.
“I’m here, Jess! I’m right here.” He stepped down off the ladder and onto the floor of the barn.
Then it all went to black.
It always went to black. Cut off, like his memory had been sliced in two. There had to be more. A smell. A voice. Something.
“Do you remember anything else, son?” They’d asked and asked and asked, but the answer was always the same. For a little while, he’d thought about making something up, just so he’d have something to give them. But even at ten he knew that was a bad idea. He’d disappointed everyone—let everyone down. Let Jess down.
Had he forgotten something important? He’d been reliving that day for twenty years. Where were the missing pieces?
His pulse quickened as he let his eyes refocus, panning the old barn, the remnants of life inside. A shovel hung on a rusted nail. Next to it, a large broom leaned against a weathered wall. Years ago, this barn had housed horses. They’d been out to pasture that day, but their presence was always known.
He picked up the broom and started sweeping the floor, kicking up dirt and pushing down memories. Distraction was the only way to keep himself sane.
Stay busy. Don’t think. Just work.
It was what he’d always done to quiet his mind.
After he swept out the barn, he made his way back to the main parking lot, where Roxie waited for him in the truck. He let her out, commanded her to stay, fished out the toolbox he kept in the back, and then went to work.
For hours, he kept his head down. He cleared away debris, picked up sticks, hauled garbage. He checked off jobs that weren’t even on the list, and he did it all without saying a word to anyone.
Around what had to be lunchtime, the smell of burgers on the grill stirred the emptiness in his belly. He finished repairing the back door on the main barn, then swung it open and closed to make sure the hinges were tight.
When he reopened the door, Beth stood in the doorway, looking at him.
“I don’t think you’ve stopped working since you got here,” she said.
He stuck his hammer back in his tool belt. “I came to work.” And to re
member. One of those things he’d mastered; the other continued to haunt.
She straightened. Something about him made her uneasy, he could tell. As if she hadn’t made up her mind about him—but then, why would she? He was a stranger on a farm full of friends. He remembered the camaraderie of Willow Grove. The community had always been close-knit, bound together by something he hadn’t understood as a child. It was even clearer now that he was older. Businesses that relied on tourism and local support gave them something in common.
But as a child, when he’d spent his summers here, he had always felt like he belonged. They’d been accepting, going out of their way to draw him in.
Exactly the opposite of how he felt now.
“I just wanted to thank you. And tell you to get some food before the vultures come in from the fields.” She motioned to the grill, where a tall guy about their age flipped the burgers.
“Thanks. I can wait till everyone else has eaten,” Drew said.
“Don’t be silly. No one else is working half as hard as you are. I’m paying in food, so please.” She started to walk away but stopped, turned back and regarded him for a few long seconds. “Why are you here?”
He wished he could tell her he was helping out of the goodness of his heart, but he knew better. He didn’t do it to help anyone but himself.
“Guess I just wanted to be of some use,” he lied. He had no real interest in restoring the farm. Not really. If he had his way, they’d bulldoze the thing and start over, burying every memory.
“But you work like a machine. Where are you from?” Beth’s tone interrogated.
“I live in Colorado. Work on a ranch out there. I guess this is just my usual pace.” Not a lie. Whenever his mind had something to work out, he used his hands to do it, and since he’d been working out distant pain for years, he’d become quite adept with his hands. He could fix almost anything. His pace was just a by-product of his desire to forget.
“Well, thank you.”
Roxie edged forward, as if they’d been ignoring her too long.
“Does your dog want some water?” Beth looked at Roxie but didn’t touch her.
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