Page 3 of When I Fall In Love

“She’s only in it for one thing.”

Development. My heart rate slows down before it erupts in wild beats. I am so screwed. My business is screwed. Having lost the loan opportunity suddenly seems like a bad joke. This… this is a crisis.

“How much is it going for?”

“It says price on application.” Derek passes me his phone and I glance through the photos, a fist crunching up my stomach. The barns and the milking parlors, the beautiful rolling fields of pure organic pasture dotted with grazing jersey cows. The woodlands with the same swatches of warm color bursting through the green, promising another spectacular fall. The century-old farmhouse that’s housed generations of Collingwoods, which is now occupied by the farm manager and his family. The cottage.

Her cottage.

I swallow as I take in the photo, which only speaks of neglect. Where everything else appears to be perfectly maintained, the Collingwood family let the cottage fall by the wayside.

“Call Jessie. Find out how much it’s going for.” I hand Derek back his phone.

“Just use my phone,” Derek says as he speed-dials Jessie’s number.

Speed dial? Handy, but then again, Jessie is his babysitter so that would make sense.

“It’s ringing.”

I take the phone from him again and press it to my ear.

“Hi Derek, everything okay?” Jessie says in greeting.

“Hey Jess, this is Hunter, actually, calling from Derek’s phone.”

“Oh.” She laughs but breaks it off abruptly. “Is Derek okay? And Hannah?” The concern in her voice is so sincere, I have to turn away from Derek’s searching eyes. The whole of Ashleigh Lake has been following this dilemma for years now. Jessie too young, Derek too single-parenting with an ex who slithers onto the stage like a viper, making everybody freeze.

“We’re all good,” I reassure her. “I’m calling to enquire after Collingwood Farm. I hear it’s up for sale?”

“God, yes. Give me a second.”

Rushed noises follow, presumably as Jessie scuttles out of her office, the front door’s bell pinging in my ear, followed by the whoosh of a car driving past.

“I’m outside now,” Jessie says. “Brenda is on it as if her ship has sailed in.”

I close my eyes, defeat already breathing down my neck. “How much is it going for?”

“Ah, farm-wise around five million. As a development property you can slap on an extra two million.”

“Shit.” I turn to face Derek again, my gaze sweeping across the factory floor. We’re done. “Seven million.”

Derek shakes his head as his jaw goes slack.

“Have you had any offers?”

“None yet, but you know Brenda, she has her spreadsheet of developers that she nurtures like a baby. I bet those emails went out already. Plus, the size of the farm and the mountain on the west side make it perfect for a ski resort and golf course combo. Offers will be coming in soon. We might have a bidding war, which is Brenda’s private fantasy. Hence the extra two million should developers show up in hordes.”

The blood in my veins drains to who knows where. Bidding wars? I don’t have a million, never mind five. No chance in hell can I enter a bidding war to secure my milk supply.

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and let it seep out of my body. “Keep us posted, will you?”

“Sure thing, Hunter. Sorry it isn’t better news.”

We ring off and I hand Derek back his phone.

Yep. Anybody close to the Brodie and Logan family will know how this will impact everything. Nobody has five million dollars floating around to splurge on an organic dairy farm. This is why farms stay in the family and get handed down generation after generation in most cases. My only hope is to apply for a mortgage and knot myself up in new debt, putting all expansion plans on hold for another two decades, while I make a dent in a farm’s mortgage. A farm I don’t want. I’m a business owner, not a farmer. Business is the thing I know and do best.

With any luck, some bored millionaire from New York or Boston might want a hobby farm in Vermont. Maybe not one that size…

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