Page 32 of Hometown Girl

Beth glared at her. “Focus.”

They’d been up almost the entire night attempting to make the barn presentable and solidifying their plan, but their work was only a reminder of what Beth had known all along. They couldn’t do this on their own. Hiring out all the help would be too expensive, and while she and Molly were willing to get their own hands dirty, she knew they lacked the sheer strength it would take to do what needed to be done.

And, for the first time in her life, Beth felt like she needed someone to tell her what to do. She hated that feeling. She hated knowing that she didn’t know something. She liked being in charge, and she liked feeling competent.

At Fairwind Farm, she was neither of those things.

In her panic, she’d called Ben, not realizing it was the middle of the night. He wasn’t exactly happy about that, but he did agree to come out for the Community Work Day. Ben’s business kept him busy most of the time, but Beth knew he could at least get them on the right track. As a landscape architect, his expertise would be invaluable. The only question was how involved he would be.

Agreeing to come at all was a big deal for her brother. He didn’t like the attention he got when he was home. Probably why he hadn’t shown up yet. He’d make a late entrance and slip out unnoticed—or try to, anyway.

He wasn’t the kind of guy who often went unnoticed.

Beth took a deep breath and reminded herself she was a professional. It didn’t matter that the barn was filled with people who had watched her grow up. If they had any hope of restoring Fairwind, they needed these people. And these people were obviously excited about the idea. All she had to do was tap into their nostalgia, inspire them to get on board. That would be her focus.

She said a silent prayer, cleared her voice and reminded herself not to meet the gaze of the handsome stranger in the back row.

“Hi, everyone.” She waited for people to quiet down. Across each row, familiar faces turned toward her and smiled, excitement dancing behind their eyes.

Beth smiled back. “For those of you who don’t know us, my name is Beth Whitaker, and this is my sister, Molly.”

Molly waved at the crowd, wearing a smile that made her look younger than her twenty-seven years.

“You’ve probably heard that we are the new owners of Fairwind Farm.”

The crowd erupted in applause, the kind she’d heard at Little League games every summer when she was growing up—celebratory, if a little rowdy.

Beth glanced at Molly, who grinned, reached for Beth’s hand and squeezed. Maybe it was lack of sleep or caffeine (or both), but the whole scene stirred something inside Beth, and she worked to swallow the lump that had formed at the back of her throat.

Molly leaned toward her. “I told you people would love this.”

Beth blinked several times in quick succession, willing away the unwanted emotion.

Obviously Molly understood something about these people that Beth didn’t. They’d gotten up at dawn to spend the day doing manual labor for edible payment and they were cheering? For them?

Something like a laugh rose inside her, and she gestured to the crowd that their applause wasn’t necessary. Finally, they quieted down.

“Wow,” she said. “You guys made me forget what I was going to say.”

Laughter scurried through the group, giving Beth a chance to pause.

“Here’s the truth,” she said. “When Molly came to me with this idea, I thought she’d officially lost her mind.”

More laughter.

“I have no idea if we can pull this off. We’re working on a business plan, and Molly has a notebook full of big, crazy dreams, but we’ve never done anything like this before.” She tried to make eye contact with as many people as she could. “One thing is certain. Without your support, we’ll never make any of those dreams come true. But with your support, with your excitement about Fairwind, I feel like we—all of us—just might see Fairwind flourishing again.” She glanced at her feet, then back to the happy faces in front of her.

Molly inched closer and wrapped an arm around Beth’s shoulder. “My sister is a brilliant businesswoman, as most of you probably know.”

Someone let out an embarrassing “Woot!”

“But she has trouble taking risks that don’t make much sense on paper.”

Beth nodded. “And Fairwind Farm makes no sense on paper.”

A murmur made its way through the crowd.

“Maybe not,” Molly continued. “But it makes sense in here.” She put her hand on her heart. “I don’t have to tell you all how much Fairwind Farm meant to Willow Grove for so many years. For most of us, it was one of the best parts of our childhood. How many of us walked the orchard with our bushel basket and filled it up with the very best apples we’d eat all year? How many nights did we spend out around that bonfire singing songs and roasting marshmallows? How many of us chopped down the perfect Christmas tree right out in that field?”

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