Page 8 of Love and Lattes at Pumpkin Hollow
I sighed. He didn’t really know about running a family business then. I looked away from him. ‘Dad, this is pointless; we don’t want to sell and what about the pumpkin-patch idea? We’re wasting time having this meeting.’
‘But I thought you were interested in selling?’ Dylan frowned. ‘Mr Connor?—’
‘Adam, please,’ my dad said as he took a sip of his tea. I hadn’t bothered to have any of mine; I was too keyed up to drink. ‘We are struggling with the farm, and that’s why?—’
‘But I have an idea to turn things around,’ I interrupted. ‘And neither of us want to sell, do we, Dad?’
‘This would be a great opportunity for you both,’ Dylan said quickly.
I eyed him. ‘And for you. As you said, this would be really popular for people; Birchbrook is sought after and hardly any new houses come onto the market. Our farm is really the only big patch of land around here that you could develop into your… homes,’ I said, wrinkling my nose at the word ‘homes’ because the ones they had built, which Dad had shown me online, looked so uninspiring, I knew I wouldn’t personally be able to enjoy living in one. I loved our old, chaotic, run-down house. ‘This would make you a lot of profit, wouldn’t it?’
‘We would be able to ease all your money worries,’ Dylan replied smoothly, like he’d practised this speech a hundred times. ‘It would be a good opportunity for all of us. Why don’t I put together a proposal so you can see exactly how much we could offer you for this land, and I think you’ll be keen then?—’
‘Dad?’ I broke in. ‘Let me create this pumpkin patch. We could give it a go; give me a few weeks and I’ll make it work. There isn’t a deadline on your offer, right?’ I demanded of Dylan. ‘You want this place; you’d wait for us to decide whether to accept or not, wouldn’t you?’
‘Well, uh, if we weren’t going to get this land, I’d have to find somewhere else for my brother…’ Dylan shifted in his seat. Was it my imagination or did he seem a bit nervous suddenly?
‘How long would you need for your pumpkin patch?’ Dad asked me, leaning back in his chair to study me.
‘It would need to open in October, and would be open for the whole month so we’d know by the end if it’s going to be something that could generate enough income for us to be okay until the spring/summer season,’ I said eagerly.
‘Wait, you haven’t even heard our offer…’ Dylan hastily punched at his phone. ‘I think my brother would offer something in this region, once we had all the surveys done, etc…’ He showed his phone screen to my dad. ‘Surely, that would be something that would interest you, Mr Connor?’
‘Adam,’ Dad reminded him as he looked at the number Dylan had written down.
I craned my neck but Dylan turned the phone so I couldn’t see it, as if I wasn’t allowed to know the details. I shook my head.
‘It would clear all our debts and allow us to start somewhere new,’ Dad told me as Dylan took the phone away. ‘But, Dylan, my daughter is right – we really don’t want to leave. Willow, would six weeks from now be long enough to know if the pumpkin patch could get us through the winter months? To make the money we need to get out of the hole we’re currently in?’
‘Maybe I should leave the room,’ Dylan said. ‘This is most unorthodox,’ he added under his breath. He seemed alarmed by how this meeting was going. I wondered if he’d ever dealt with homeowners like us before. Judging by his wide eyes, the way he was pulling at his shirt collar and shifting in his seat, he hadn’t. He probably thought we would bite his hand off to accept, and was now befuddled.
‘Six weeks?’ I checked with Dad, who nodded. ‘If I can create and make enough of a success of the patch in six weeks, and prove that we could turn the farm’s fortunes around, you won’t sell?’
‘But if not, then I’ll accept this young man’s offer,’ Dad agreed with a nod.
‘Hang on…’ Dylan began.
I smiled. ‘Six weeks. It’s a deal.’
8
‘Maybe you should show Dylan around the farm, tell him your idea; he might then understand why we want to hold off on responding to his offer.’
‘Why me?’ I asked, flashing a pleading look at my father. I really didn’t want to spend any alone time with Mr Suit Man.
‘My legs and feet are tired. I’m tired. Willow, show Dylan the farm then I’m sure he will be willing to wait six weeks for a final decision on this offer. You can send it over in writing, can’t you?’ Dad said in a tone that I knew meant I couldn’t object. I wasn’t sure Dylan would be able to either.
‘Um…’ Dylan looked thoroughly confused at what had just happened. ‘Well, I can send the offer over but six weeks is quite a long time…’
‘You’ll understand,’ Dad said simply.
I wasn’t sure my father was right about that. This farm was clearly a million miles outside of Dylan Henderson’s comfort zone but resigned, I stood up with a sigh. I supposed after my behaviour earlier, I couldn’t refuse my dad this. ‘Let’s go then.’ I nodded at Dylan and whistled for Maple, heading out before anyone could stop me. I felt relieved. Dad was letting me try at least. He didn’t want to sell and he seemed to think maybe there was a chance I could do this. I really didn’t want to let him down again. I wanted to make this work. And I needed to start by getting rid of Dylan Henderson as fast as I possibly could.
Outside, I looked behind me to see Dylan had followed and was hurrying to catch up. I took him around the side of the farmhouse to see the crop fields.
‘You might get muddy,’ I warned as Maple ran ahead of us. ‘You aren’t really dressed to tour the farm.’ His suit and shiny shoes couldn’t have been more inappropriate for our farm as we approached the autumn season. I pointed to the empty field. ‘That’s where I want to create the pumpkin patch. That field isn’t doing anything for us right now so it’s a great spot.’ I folded my arms as he looked over at it, pausing beside me.
‘What even is a pumpkin patch?’ Dylan asked as he groaned, looking down at his feet, his shoes sliding into a muddy hole.
