A Family For The Farmer. Laurel Blount

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СКАЧАТЬ one of her beloved animals or puttering around in her garden. She’d never known quite what to do with her indoorsy granddaughter, but Sadie had still insisted on the annual visits, rightly guessing that Emily’s mother was far too busy chasing men to supervise her daughter during her school vacation. And while Emily had never particularly enjoyed spending her summers on the farm, she’d grown to love her outspoken grandmother fiercely.

      She could remember exactly where she’d been standing in the coffee shop when Mr. Alvarez relayed the message that her grandmother had died. Emily had dropped the metal tray she’d been sliding into the glass showcase, and muffins had rolled in every direction. Caramel pecan, the Tuesday special. When she got her next paycheck, she’d discovered that Mr. Alvarez had docked her pay to cover the cost of the dropped muffins. Compassion wasn’t her boss’s strongest trait. If she stayed on the farm for the summer, she’d almost certainly lose her job.

      If she stayed. She couldn’t believe she was even considering it. She rummaged in her purse and brought out her cell phone. Forcing herself not to think about the minutes she was squandering, she sank down on the white chenille bedspread and dialed her friend Clary Wright’s number.

      Clary answered on the first ring. “Well,” she said, “you’re using your cell phone, so I already know this is something big. Either your grandmother was secretly a millionaire and left you wads of money, or that rattletrap car of yours conked out and you need your roomie from the big city to drive to the boonies and rescue the three of you. Which is it?”

      Emily felt her lips tilting up at her friend’s familiar voice. Clary was just what she needed right now. “Neither one. Right now I really just need a listening ear.”

      “Uh-oh. You must need one pretty badly to be using those precious minutes of yours. What’s up?”

      Clary listened as Emily filled her in on the terms of the will. “Wow. So, what did the letter say?”

      “I haven’t opened it yet.” Emily glanced at the envelope lying beside her on the bedspread. “I think... I think I’d like to make up my own mind about what I want to do before I read it. That’s why I called. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do here, Clary.”

      “Now that’s a switch.” Clary’s laugh bubbled through the phone. “You’ve never had much trouble knowing your own mind, Em. I’m always the one calling you.”

      “Well, this isn’t exactly an easy choice.” Emily glanced out the window at the tidy barnyard. “On the one hand this could make a real difference for the twins and me. Financially, I mean. There’s over a hundred acres here, not to mention the farmhouse and the barns. I have no idea how much it’d sell for, but...”

      “Whatever it is, it’s a lot more than you’ve got right now,” Clary finished for her. “You’ve been praying for the money to start up your own coffee shop, Em. Maybe this is the answer you’ve been waiting for.”

      Emily had thought of that, too. “It’s possible, I guess. But it seems like a pretty strange way for God to answer. I stink at farming.”

      “You only have to hold things together for the summer. How hard can it be?”

      How hard can it be? Emily wanted to laugh, but it really wasn’t funny. “Harder than you can imagine. You’ve never lived in the country, Clary. You don’t know about farms.”

      “Maybe not, but I know about you. You’re a working single mom of twins, Emily! Farming should be a snap compared to that.”

      “But if I stay here for the whole summer, I’ll lose my job at Café Cup for sure.”

      “True,” Clary admitted after a thoughtful second. “But you know, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Mr. Alvarez takes advantage of you.”

      Emily sighed. Clary, who tended to flit from job to job, had worked at Café Cup herself. Her accident-prone nature and the boss’s skinflinty tendencies hadn’t been a good combination. “You just don’t like him because he fired you.”

      “Not true. I don’t hold grudges. You know that. No, this is all about you. How many of your muffin recipes are on his menu now? Five?”

      “Six.”

      “And aren’t those his best sellers?”

      “Usually.” Emily felt a tiny flush of satisfaction.

      “But he pays you the same as the other waitresses, right? Even though you’re creating these unique recipes and baking half his product? I’m not sure I’d pass up this opportunity just to keep a job like that.”

      “But if I lose my job, how can I pay my half of our rent?” Emily felt panicky just thinking about it.

      “Don’t worry about that. I can stretch my budget a little bit and handle the rent by myself for a while.”

      “I can’t ask you to do that.”

      “You didn’t ask. You never do. And this time I’m not taking no for an answer. Listen.” Clary’s soft voice took on an uncharacteristic firmness. “You can do this, Em. I know you can! And what’s more, I know you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t at least try.”

      Clary had a point. Emily ended the call and set the phone down on the snowy bedspread. Well, she couldn’t put this off forever. She took one steadying breath and tore up the envelope’s flap.

      Her grandmother’s message was written in blue ballpoint pen on a plain sheet of notebook paper. Sadie Elliott had never been one for frills or preambles. She got right to the point.

      I know right now you’re probably pretty hot at me, but you’re just going to have to get over it.

      You’re not much on trusting folks, Emily-girl, and I understand that. But you’re going to have to trust me on this one thing. I had my reasons for leaving things the way I did. Believe it or not, I did it because I love you, and I want what’s best for you. And like all old folks, I think I’ve got a better idea of what that is than you do, so I couldn’t resist taking one last opportunity to meddle a little.

      You’ve got plenty of spunk and grit in you, Emily. I admire that—probably because you got those things from me. You’re also stubborn as a country mule. That part you got from your grandpa. When that man made up his mind about something, he was harder to move than a sack of bees.

      You settled on an opinion about Pine Valley and Goosefeather Farm a long time ago, and I don’t think you gave either of them a fair shake. I always felt like you were made and meant for this old place, but you were too bullheaded to consider its good points and too busy mooning after the likes of Trey Gordon to notice what the good Lord put right under that pretty little nose of yours.

      But there’s no point my going into all that now. Anyhow, it’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself.

      Maybe you’re right, and you never belonged here. Then again maybe you’re wrong. You know well enough what I always thought. Here’s your chance to find out once and for all which one of us is right.

      As usual, I’m banking on me. I’m not much to look at, but I’m smart as a whip.

      Praying God’s blessings on you and those sweet babies.

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