Dream of Me (Harmony Falls, Book 1)

by Gaelen Foley

  Visitors to the festival could pick their own apples and pumpkins for a fee, which would be fun for families, and save Bea and the dudes from having to pick it all themselves. They’d set up a corn maze and sell fresh-popped kettle corn and candied nuts. Then there was Chloe’s jam.

  What a saint, that woman, Harry thought. After leading the charge during the storm cleanup to salvage as much fruit from the Palmers’ orchard as they could while Bea had gone with him to Pittsburgh, Chloe had been busily spending day after day in a steaming-hot kitchen, chopping up said fruit, cooking it, filling tiny jars, and canning them in boiling pots.

  Jars of her jam would soon be ready to sell. They’d have to get on the branding and labeling, posthaste, but selling it first at the festival would serve as an excellent test market for future possibilities.

  Mike volunteered to fast-track any legal permits they’d need to bring the event into compliance, and would schedule one of his deputies to run traffic duty to corral all the visitors they hoped would be streaming into town.

  Reg would set up a first-aid station in case of any injuries at the festival. They all hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, but Harry thought it was a brilliant idea to have a pop-up ER on hand, just in case.

  Then there was Zander, God bless him. His job would be to get in touch with people he knew who played in different bands. He figured they’d likely agree to play for free just to get the exposure, as long as festivalgoers could buy their CDs and t-shirts, or even throw a few bucks into an open guitar case if they liked the bands’ bluegrass or alt-rock music.

  On top of that, the pilot offered to take people on helicopter rides at the event: fifteen-minute flights over the Laurel Mountains. It would be gorgeous with all the fall foliage at its peak. “Charge ’em whatever you want for it and keep the cash,” he said. “I’ll even spring for the fuel.”

  The whole pub applauded his generosity, at which Zander shrugged.

  Finn’s guys, Carlos and the other guides, would haul in a big climbing wall for the event, in addition to the zip line canopy adventure the outfitters would install among some of the huge old trees on the farm.

  Chloe offered to teach yoga classes in the peaceful meadow.

  “You guys, this is going to be the best Autumn Farm Fest ever!” Jules finally exclaimed.

  Hoots and hollers, cheers and applause confirmed that the whole town agreed. But, clearly, they all had their work cut out for them before October arrived.

  # # #

  As the weeks passed and July gave way to August, a construction crew was busy every morning out at the old covered bridge site on Clover Highway, erecting pylons and pouring concrete, under the watchful eye of Harry’s engineer friend.

  Bea was staggered by the feat. She didn’t know quite how Harry had pulled this particular rabbit out of his hat, but by the end of August, a quaint modern replica of the historic landmark bridge was built, scarcely a month after the tornado.

  Now, attendees to the first ever Autumn Farm Fest would be cruising into Harmony Falls over smooth, two-lane blacktop instead of single-lane, rickety old wood.

  A painting crew was due to slap up a shiny new coat of red paint any day now.

  Thank God, Bea thought as she sat at the kitchen table on a sticky Saturday in late September, staring at her computer. It was all coming together.

  Opening weekend was just around the corner, and preparations had gone swiftly and smoothly, between her and Harry plowing ahead full steam, and half the town pitching in.

  Lance and the dudes were now back in school, but had been coming on weekends to help get the farm ready for the big event.

  And when Bea’s agricultural insurance company had finally put the payment through to reimburse her for at least part of her greenhouse, she made the difficult decision to use the money to invest in this new track for the Palmer Family Farm, rather than immediately taking steps to replace it. After all, she had made do with hoop houses when she’d first started out, and could do that for a couple years again.

  Instead, she used a few thousand dollars to spruce the place up a bit and make the farm more visitor-friendly, put her own particular stamp on it. Her artsy background came in handy as she took steps to play up the picturesque landscape, enhancing the rural experience for city and suburban visitors with sheer visual appeal. Flowers, cornstalks, tidied-up fences, benches here and there where people could sit and just enjoy the views.

  She wanted folks to start getting accustomed to the idea of coming here for fun occasions, rather than her previous aim of it being just another working farm.

  If all went well—and that was a big if—the Autumn Farm Festival could become an annual event. The math looked good. By Harry’s calculations, as long as the weather behaved, she should make ten to fifteen grand on each of the four weekends on admission ticket sales alone.

  Which meant that by Halloween, she should have enough money to go to the bank, get her loan processed, and become the official owner of the Palmer Family Farm.

  Even Pap had begun believing this might work.

  Just today, he had gone with Gram to visit the RV lot to check out some motor homes and travel trailers worthy of a long retirement tour.

  Admittedly, the old man still seemed bemused by the thought of a bunch of strangers actually lining up and paying money to visit their farm. But the signs of progress were everywhere, from the cleaned-up driveway entrance to the fresh coat of paint on the barn—to say nothing of the field of pumpkins growing where the lettuce crop had gotten washed out by the rain that had come with the twister.

  Bea crossed her fingers and prayed it would all go off without a hitch. Ultimately, she had decided on a blend of her plan together with Harry’s. He had loved Vanessa’s suggestion about the ten-acre lots, as long as Bea didn’t mind giving up the acreage. For her part, she had to admit that two hundred acres was plenty to keep her busy, plus it dropped her purchase price down from six hundred to four hundred thousand dollars. All the easier to meet her goal.

  But the main thing Bea loved about this new strategy was that at the end of the day, between her purchase of the farm and the sale of the lots, her grandparents would still end up with about a million dollars—without Curt Culpeper’s money.

  And so, she had made the difficult phone call to Tammy to get the ball rolling. First, she had smoothed things over, then explained their rejiggered plans for the farm, with her keeping two hundred acres and the rest being divided up into ten lots of ten acres each, to be sold at around sixty thousand dollars apiece.

  Bea had worried that the real estate lady might balk, but Tammy had been thrilled with the plan. She eagerly agreed to run the project of selling the lots, and promised to get right on it.

  By the time she hung up the phone, Bea had been shocked at how well they had gotten along.

  The debacle in Curt’s office seemed to have brought them together. There was something about having a common enemy, Bea guessed, and she was glad when Tammy confided she had dumped the old goat.

  In short, the woman was so gracious and upbeat about it all that Bea felt bad for having misjudged her. The very next day, Tammy dove in with both feet, as she was wont to do, determined to Get It Sold Fast!

  Maybe Tammy was worried that Bea would change her mind again, Bea mused as she sat daydreaming at the table.

  Tammy’s goal was to have the lots surveyed and ready to show by the time the farm filled up with visitors for the festival. “You never know where you might find a future customer,” she had said, chipper as ever.

  For Bea, she was just relieved not to have to think about it anymore.

  This allowed her to turn her attention to her autumn planting, festival preparations, and, most of all, Harry. She had been enjoying her front-row seat to his bigshot management prowess.

  There was no end to his dedication. He was organized and analytical, conscientious of the tiniest details, yet kept the big picture in mind at all times. He was prepared for anything, and he ge
ntly, respectfully maintained authority as the reliable go-to guy, while staying open to everybody’s input.

  With Harry on her side, she looked forward to the festival with only slightly nervous enthusiasm, rather than the terror she would’ve felt attempting this alone. He always filled her with burgeoning confidence and the sense that anything was possible.

  The two of them were still getting along beautifully, too, their relationship deepening. By now, Bea knew she was very much in love with the man, though neither of them had used the L-word out loud yet.

  Actually, the only thing that really worried her at this point was his job situation. Positions at his level did not grow on trees, and the three different companies courting him so far were in Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles, and the thought of him having to move away made her nauseated.

  I can’t lose him now. If all else failed, he said he’d start his own venture to avoid being pulled away from her, but she could tell he’d rather not. As she knew all too well, having one’s own business was a huge commitment, and given the hours required, they’d probably never see each other. He might as well move to Chicago.

  She drew a shaky breath and pushed the threat of separation out of her mind once again. Gaining the farm and losing Harry did not seem like a victory worth having. But she was keeping her mouth absolutely shut about the matter.

  God knew, the last time her problems had intersected with his career, it had brought about disaster. She was staying out of it. It was his life. His decision. All she could do was pray that a solution materialized soon, one that wouldn’t rip him out of her arms and send him to the other side of America.

  Just then, the man in question came barreling down the stairs from the bedroom that had been designated his ever since the Sweetwater Inn had closed for repairs. “Bea! You’re not going to believe this!”

  “What?” she said as he rushed into the kitchen, his face flushed, his eyes sparkling.

  He grinned. “I just persuaded a couple of those Steelers from my building in the city to come and sign autographs on Saturday.”

  “What? You’re kidding me! How?” she yelled in amazement.

  He laughed. “When are you going to stop asking that silly question, my dear, and just accept the fruits of my magic?”

  “Oh my God, Harry! That’ll pack the sports fans in here, too.”

  “Tell me about it.” He caught her as she launched herself joyously into his arms. She clung to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the smell of it. And knowing she would die if he had to move away.

  She lifted her head to capture his lips.

  “No time for kisses,” he scolded her. “Well—maybe one. Okay, two.” He gave her several, then thrust her firmly away. “Back, temptress! We need to update the radio spots, pronto!”

  “Just tell me how you did it,” she said as he strode back in the same direction from which he’d come.

  He spun around, flashing his heart-stealing smile. “Hey, they’re young guys. I simply told them this town is crawling with hot babes. I know I found one.”

  “Flatterer,” she said, shaking her head at him in fond amazement.

  Then his phone beeped. “Oh, I gotta take this.”

  “Go for it,” she said with a smile as he blew her a kiss. He tapped his phone and answered as he strode off to handle the next point of business, whatever it was this time.

  Staring down the empty hallway after him, Bea ached at the thought of losing him, but she’d made up her mind that no matter what happened, she would not hold him back the way she had held back her grandparents. Not after all he’d done for her. The man had saved her life, for crying out loud. He was helping save her farm, not to mention the whole town. He deserved to follow his dreams, wherever they might lead.

  But if it came to that, then she, too, would have to face an impossible decision: should she pull up stakes and go with him?

  The agonizing question left her feeling so torn that perhaps a small part of her heart was still holding back from him just a little. Simple self-preservation.

  If she were forced to decide, though, she already knew deep down what her choice would be. This newfound love mattered more to her than any piece of real estate, even her beloved family farm.

  She swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around herself, praying it wouldn’t come to that. Please, God, if anyone deserves a good break, it’s Harry.

  CHAPTER 20

  Under a blue October sky, giddy teenagers got lost in secret passageways of a high-walled corn maze. Wide-eyed preschoolers teetered on the bed of a hay-stacked pickup as it bumbled through the pumpkin patch.

  A rocking crowd at the amphitheater set up in a field clapped and sang along with the band playing covers of Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson hits.

  Harry peeled off his fleece jacket and tucked it into his backpack, sweating under the late afternoon sun despite the cool air, energized by the bustling crowds. Trees that ringed the horizon around the farm seemed to sparkle when the breeze shook their leaves, rich with hints of autumn golds and oranges.

  Kettle corn roasted in a giant silver vat, sending a plume of sweet, salty heaven over the fairgrounds. Old farmer Ed, wearing his signature I Kicked Cancer’s Ass t-shirt, scooped buttery popcorn into paper cones for an excited family of four. He nodded, stoic as ever, as Harry sped by with a thumbs-up.

  “Lookin’ good here, Pap,” Harry hollered from behind the crowd.

  “Business is going real good,” Ed assured him.

  Harry checked on his mom, who was manning the Baseball Challenge booth. In between customers, she was chatting up a storm with Sharon from the Sweetwater Inn. Meanwhile, Typhoon Williams checked his watch, standing outside the bouncy house, waiting for his grandkid, little Michael, and his two perpetual-motion pals to be done with their turn.

  The high-spirited trio could be heard belly-laughing all down the row of carnival games as they jumped their hearts out.

  Over at the beer garden, Harry helped Jack tap a fresh keg of Jack’s specially brewed Harmony Harvest Ale. The marine was distracted talking to a brown-haired, preppy-dressed guy that Harry gathered was a friend he hadn’t seen in a while.

  Jack shook hands with him, but the preppy guy refused his offer of a beer. “Can’t, buddy, got the kids with me.”

  “Well, stop by the Knickpoint while you’re in town. Leave the kids with your parents. I’ll call Mike. The three of us gotta catch up.”

  “Tell me about it. Whew.” The stranger grinned. “Life was a whole simpler back then, wasn’t it?”

  Jack laughed. “Yeah, we were the shit back in high school, eh?”

  “Well, Mike was,” the guy answered with a chuckle. “The All-American.”

  “Star quarterback,” Jack drawled.

  “How is our old prom king these days, anyway?”

  “Oh, he’s good. Got his hands full at the police station as usual. Man!” Jack suddenly exclaimed, punching the guy lightly in the chest. “What are you still doing out there in Maryland? You need to move your ass back home.”

  “I’m thinking about it. Believe me. The hospital gets crazier every day. It would probably be better for the kids here.”

  “Close to Grandma. That’s what I’m talking about,” Jack said encouragingly. “Hey, Harry, this is Gordon Blake—pardon me—Dr. Gordon Blake. He grew up here with me and Mike and Zander. Doc, this is Harry. New guy.”

  “Good to meet you,” Harry said, wondering with amusement how many years it would take before he was no longer the designated new guy, if ever.

  Gordon Blake turned and greeted him with a quick smile, but as Harry shook the doc’s hand, he was privately taken aback. With his salesman’s skill in reading people, he immediately noticed that Gordon Blake had just about the saddest eyes he’d ever seen.

  The doctor quickly looked away, homing in on two blond little kids over at the petting zoo. “Jeremy! Help your sister before she panics over that sheep!”

  Harry foll
owed his gaze and spotted a little girl about kindergarten age backing away from a curious sheep that kept following her and nibbling on the edge of her pink sleeve. “Daddy!” she cried, sounding on the verge of panic.

  “Gotta go, man,” Gordon said to Jack, nodding to Harry as he strode away. “Coming, Heidi! It’s okay, don’t cry.”

  “Yikes,” Harry murmured to Jack as Gordon jogged over to the petting zoo to rescue his daughter, while his wiry son, who looked about nine, followed hot on his heels. “He’s on dad duty, eh?”

  “Yeah, permanently,” Jack said. “Poor bastard. Wife dropped dead a couple years ago of an aneurism.”

  “You’re kidding me,” Harry said.

  Jack shook his head. “She was only in her thirties. Candice. Nice lady. I didn’t know her very well. She wasn’t from here.”

  “Damn, and they had young children?”

  “Yeah, a boy and girl. It’s rough. We always do our best to cheer him up whenever he brings the kids home to see his folks.” Jack sighed. “Poor Gordy.”

  Then they both got back to work, Jack pouring the foaming, tawny-colored brew into plastic cups for the relaxed happy-hour crowd, while Harry moved on to replenish Jules’s cash box at the ticket booth.

  The bubbly redhead was even more cheerful than usual, and the reason for that soon became clear. “Hey, Harry.” She tapped him on the shoulder and beckoned him down so she could discreetly give him the preliminary sum they’d collected for the day so far. “We’re nearly up to six thousand dollars, and the day isn’t half over,” she whispered in his ear.

  Harry pulled back and stared at her. “Oh my God. Bea is gonna flip.”

  “I know. Yay! Right? And your Steeler guys aren’t even here yet to sign autographs. Plus, we’ve still got the concert at sunset. That’ll keep the concession stands busy selling drinks and food.”