Page 24 of Hometown Girl

Oddly, when she got in the car, she found herself driving a familiar road—one that led to an old, worn-down farm that seemed to beg for a second chance.

Chapter Six

When Drew had wandered into Butler’s Bake Shop, he’d hoped for a quiet breakfast to collect his thoughts. He quickly realized he’d picked the wrong place for that.

According to the town gossips, Fairwind had already been sold.

Worse, it had been sold to two nostalgic sisters who wanted to restore the old place and “give the town back their farm.” For a minute, he’d almost felt like he’d been at a Save Our Farm rally, the way they were carrying on.

But all he could see was the potential for danger. The idea of Fairwind reopening, bringing in busloads of unsupervised children, set something off inside him. Panic? Everyone seemed intent on remembering Fairwind before tragedy had hit. Had they all blocked out the reason the farm eventually went under?

He found Roxie patiently waiting for him in the passenger seat of his truck.

“You wanna walk, girl?” He hooked a leash onto her collar, much to her dismay. “Sorry, Rox. City rules are different than country rules.”

As if he could call Willow Grove a city.

The fifteen-hour drive from Colorado to Illinois had taken Drew, well, a lot less than fifteen hours. It helped that he didn’t require many stops, he’d packed a cooler and he routinely drove twenty miles over the speed limit. He’d been so amped up when he arrived, he’d checked into a landmark hotel downtown and headed straight for the diner.

Now, the tiredness he’d been ignoring landed right behind his eyes, but Roxie needed some outdoor time. He owed her that much for ripping her away from home and forcing her to put up with an impromptu road trip.

Drew crossed the street, heading toward what looked like open grass for Roxie to run. He hadn’t been back here since he was what, nine? Ten? And yet, something about this place was exactly as he’d left it, as if the town had been frozen in time. He supposed that’s why the locals wanted Fairwind back. Everyone wanted that little piece of Mayberry.

Which meant this place was completely unprotected.

The downtown looked like an old postcard with red brick buildings on either side of the road. Each doorway was adorned with an overhead sign that jutted out perpendicular from the side of the building, giving a name to whatever occupied each space. An ice cream parlor. A jewelry store. A bank. A general store. Antiques and vintage markets. Restaurants and coffee shops. They all coexisted right there downtown.

Old-fashioned lampposts dotted the street, and on the corner sat a horse-drawn carriage. It wasn’t quite tourist season yet, but there were plenty of people out enjoying the spring sunshine.

Then there was the historical side of this place. Once the home of two different US presidents, Willow Grove had all kinds of stories to tell. And tell them, it did. There were museums and house tours and reenactments—a school field-trip destination for elementary kids within a two-hour drive in any direction.

As Drew reached the other side of the street, someone shoved a piece of paper at him.

“Community Work Day out at Fairwind Farm this weekend. Hope to see you there.” The young woman handed a flyer to another passerby and repeated the same words.

He watched as she handed out another flyer, then another, each time saying the same thing. He stared at the paper. Even the image of the old farm stirred something inside him.

The girl—tall, thin, brunette, probably mid-twenties—smiled at him. “You’re not a local, are you? Sorry.” She snatched the flyer out of his hand, then glanced at Roxie. “What a beautiful dog.”

“Thanks.” He felt out of sorts after his night of no sleep. Or maybe it was hearing the whole town cheer over the thought of reopening Fairwind Farm. Or maybe it was the photo on that flyer.

The girl squatted in front of Roxie and let the big dog sniff her face. “What a sweetheart,” she said. “What’s her name?”

“Roxie.”

“I love it.”

Drew shook his head as he watched Roxie revel in the attention. “She seems to like you.” He motioned to the flyer in the girl’s hand. “Do you mind?”

She gave Roxie one more head pat and stood. “Not at all.”

He scanned the flyer. “So, are you the new owner of Fairwind Farm?”

She grinned proudly. “I am.” She thrust her hand at him, and he shook it. “Molly Whitaker.”

“Drew Barlow.”

Molly continued to hand out flyers to passersby.

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