Page 25 of Love and Lattes at Pumpkin Hollow
‘You would definitely make more money growing them yourself,’ he said evenly.
‘How was your meeting?’ I asked.
‘The man I met owns a large piece of land outside the town that could be a possible place for one of our developments. I had a good look around and spoke to him about what he’s looking for if he does sell. I need to do my research and look at the figures to see if it’s a viable option. But it looks like a nice area, doesn’t it?’
‘It reminded me of Birchbrook but bigger,’ I said, hoping that if Dylan thought it was a good option then he might start to think Birch Tree Farm wasn’t his only option in this part of the country. ‘This must be it.’ I saw the sign for the Harvest Moon Inn. It was down a twisty lane and was a large, two-storey building painted black and white with a large, wooden door. We carried our bags inside and I smiled at how cosy the inn felt. The ceiling was low with wooden beams, there was a large, wooden bar and lots of comfortable booths to sit in. At one end was a roaring log fire and around the wall hung paintings of the local area.
Up the twisty, narrow staircase, we were greeted by a woman called April who showed us to our rooms which were next door to each other. I went into mine and dropped my bags onto the floor. It was a quaint room with a sloping roof, a large, four-poster bed and a free-standing bath under the attic-style window. It was decorated in white with lots of floral touches, which, coupled with the beams and wooden floor, made me feel instantly at home.
There was a knock on the door and when I said, ‘Come in’, Dylan stood in the doorway. ‘Is it okay?’
‘It’s lovely,’ I said, smiling at him.
‘Can I take you to dinner?’
‘Excuse me?’ I checked, wondering why he’d phrased it like it was a date. I mean, we were both hungry and in need of dinner and a drink, but I supposed I hadn’t really thought about us eating together.
‘Let me buy you dinner, Willow,’ he said. ‘Please?’
I took a breath but nodded. ‘Sure, okay.’
I followed him of the room, telling myself that the churning in my stomach was just because I needed to eat and not because I suddenly was both nervous and excited.
20
Back down in the inn, we secured one of the booths close to the log fire as the evening had turned chilly. Dylan got me a glass of wine and a beer for himself then we both ordered the steak pie with mash and vegetables. It felt like the most comforting item on the menu – a perfect autumnal meal after a long day, in my opinion. I looked at my phone and the picture Dad had just sent of him and Maple walking through Birchbrook, and it made me smile that they both seemed to be doing okay without me.
‘You and your dad seem so close,’ Dylan said after I had shown him the picture. I sent Dad back the one I took of all the pumpkins and squashes in the farm shop I had visited.
‘We are. Always have been but when my mum became ill, we really leaned on one another. It was such a tough time. And now it’s just us running the farm so we only have each other, you know? It must be the same for you with your brother and dad?’
Dylan took a sip of his beer then shook his head. ‘Honestly, not really. I think losing my mum had the opposite effect. Dad threw himself into his work and my brother set up Henderson Homes. I just kind of drifted, which they didn’t like. I feel like maybe we don’t really understand each other.’
‘But you enjoy working with your brother?’ I asked, thinking it was a shame he wasn’t close with them like I was with my dad.
‘It’s taking some getting used to. He’s always acted like a second father and he’s very bossy, has incredibly big expectations, is a workaholic and really wants this business to succeed. I totally get that but I suppose, if I’m honest, it’s hard to be as committed to it as it’s his business; I’m just not as…’ He trailed off as if struggling with how to describe how he felt.
‘Not as passionate about it?’ I supplied the word without thinking it through. There it was again. The word ‘passion’. I hoped Dylan would blame the log fire for the tint to my cheeks.
‘Like you are,’ Dylan said with a nod. ‘About the farm, I mean,’ he corrected quickly, his own cheeks looking decidedly pinker all of a sudden. ‘Yeah, I’m not loving the job as much as I hoped I would. Or where I’m living. The flat has such an impersonal feeling. I don’t know. It’s like you said earlier: sometimes, I wish I could ask my mum’s advice about life.’
‘That would be nice.’ I tasted my wine. It felt good after such a long day. ‘But as you said, both our mums would probably remind us that we know how we feel deep down. Sometimes, you just want someone to agree with you. If you don’t like working for your brother then maybe you shouldn’t be doing it.’ I shrugged.
‘You like working on the farm? Or was it something that was expected of you?’
‘Hmm.’ I tilted my head to consider that. ‘My parents inherited the farm and I think they were unsure about it at first but they quickly fell in love with it and when I was born, the farm was thriving. It was an idyllic childhood. I was outside all the time, with fresh food to eat, and there were always people around. It was fun, although I learned quickly as I grew up, it was hard work too. But my parents’ love for the place was infectious. I wanted to help as soon as they let me. I wanted to take on more responsibility as I got older. I never really considered doing anything else. I didn’t especially enjoy university as it took me away from the farm, and studying isn’t what I’m drawn to. I’m drawn to nature. I thrive outside and doing hard work; it’s so rewarding growing something from seed and then seeing people take it home to make recipes with, or eating it yourself for dinner.’ I sighed. ‘I just wish I was better at the business side of it all.’
‘You’re doing pretty well with this pumpkin patch,’ Dylan said. ‘It sounded like such a crazy concept to me but you’re going to turn it into a reality, I can see that now.’
I felt a prickle of pride in myself at his praise. He wasn’t the only one to think it was a crazy concept. Even I had my moments wondering if this was a bigger dream than I could make come true. Hearing him say I was going to be able to do it meant a lot. ‘But if I do make it happen then you’ll have to walk away,’ I reminded him. Our food arrived then. I took a bite of pie and mash and moaned. ‘Ooh this is so tasty.’
‘It is,’ Dylan agreed. He looked at me across the table. ‘It’s going to be hard to walk away.’
‘You’ll have to admit to your brother you couldn’t get me to sell,’ I agreed with a small smile.
‘But maybe I’ll convince you to sell in the end. I mean, you can open up your pumpkin patch but it might not do well enough to make a profit, enough to see you guys through a hard winter, and maybe you’ll decide that you want to move on, start somewhere new.’
I shook my head. ‘One minute, you say you want to do all you can to help me; the next, you’re saying I might fail. It’s confusing.’
