Page 27 of Hometown Girl

She made her way to the porch of the old white farmhouse and surveyed the acres that had once brought in kids by the busload. She’d picked apples right off those trees. She’d worked up the courage to feed a goat at the petting zoo and got lost in the corn maze, only to have the wits scared out of her by her hidden brothers.

Something inside her longed for those days again.

But the amount of work it would take to host even one visitor? Not to mention the money. What was Molly thinking?

But then, who was she to criticize? She’d just been asked to resign from her own father’s company.

Dina’s words tumbled around in her mind.Brilliant, she’d said. She wished she’d thought of it herself. And the rest of the locals in the diner—they were all on board. It seemed everyone loved this idea. Everyone except Beth.

She hadn’t even considered—not for a second—that it could work. She’d dismissed her sister out of hand. Written off the whole idea before Molly could even finish telling her what she was thinking.

Beth couldn’t deny the excitement she’d felt listening to Marion and Verna reminisce about the old place. This little town had supported Fairwind loyally back in the day. Was it possible that could happen again? Did it matter that everyone’s lives were so different now, so busy and high tech?

Molly’s car came into view in the distance, and Beth sighed. She’d wanted to be alone with her humiliation, but she couldn’t overlook the fact that she—not Molly—was trespassing.

Beth met her sister in the yard near the worn-down parking lot and tried not to calculate the cost of repaving the entire thing.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” Molly said, a lousy smirk on her face. She got out of the car.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Beth warned, heading back toward the farmhouse. “I just wanted some peace and quiet.”

“Which you could have every day if you do this with me.” Molly followed her back to the house.

Beth sat on the rickety old porch steps and inhaled the smell of late midwestern spring. Grass and dirt mixed with the quiet, still-cool breeze, the sound of cicadas humming in the trees.

“It’s bonkers, what you’re doing. You know that, right?” Beth shook her head. “There are a million reasons why this is not a good idea.”

“But Daddy always said ‘go with your gut.’” Molly sat down beside her. “My gut has never spoken this loudly, Beth.”

Their father had been a brilliant businessman. He’d taught Beth everything she knew. Most of what she’d learned about leadership was a direct result of working for her father. And Molly was right, his business had been governed not by logic or common sense—not entirely, at least—but by this crazy gut feeling he’d never quite been able to explain.

Why couldn’t he be here now to tell her what to do? Why couldn’t he give her permission to do something out of character just because she was curious what might become of it? Molly hadn’t gotten Daddy’s business sense. She’d gotten his sense of adventure.

Envy rose up inside her. She tried to ignore the feeling, but she was jealous—of Molly’s ability to take risks, of her lack of concern for what anyone else thought of her.

Beth had none of those things. And now, thanks to her own poor judgment, she didn’t have a job either. If only she’d listened to her father, she wouldn’t be in this mess at all.

“You know, Beth, this could be your next great conquest,” Molly said.

Beth laughed. “Why do you think I need a conquest?”

Molly tilted her head and studied her. “Because you’ve always needed to prove something. You’ve spent your whole life climbing a ladder, collecting newspaper cutouts of your accomplishments. Everyone knew you were going to amount to something.” She held up her hands and affected a deep, announcer-type voice: “Big things were in store for Beth Whitaker.” Molly stopped. “And that’s great. Why can’t Fairwind be the next big thing? I mean, what else are you doing, really? You can’t tell me it’s really what you want.”

It didn’t matter anymore, did it? Her job wasn’t an option now that Darren had uncovered the truth.

“Is it what you want, Beth?”

She didn’t know what she wanted. She only knew her life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this.

But life didn’t dwell in supposed tos. And things didn’t often go as planned. As emotionally detached as she appeared to be, something was still broken deep down inside her. And that made her feel weak.

Beth started off toward the main barn. A barn once filled with hundreds of people every weekend had become a mere skeleton of what it once was.

She and that barn had a lot in common. Somewhere along the way, Beth had lost her drive, her ambition. She’d lost her resolve. Or maybe she was starting to realize there was more to life. It seemed selfish to ask for more, but here she was, asking.

“You think I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I probably know you better than anyone.” Molly was close on her heels. “And these last ten months since Mom’s stroke, I’ve spent more time with you than anyone.”

Beth pulled open the oversized barn doors and let the light penetrate the darkness.

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