Page 36 of Horn of Plenty
Mabel
“It wouldn’t kill you to smile, Cal. We’re only driving up to Chicago. We’ll be back tonight, and you’ll have plenty of time to analyze your farming stats and stare at your whiteboard. Maybe you’ll finally tell me what that pink number means.”
1493.
That’s what it was when she checked it today. Here’s what she knew. Every day it increased by one, and despite her cajoling and pestering, he wouldn’t divulge its meaning.
He liked to pretend that he wasn’t a superstitious farmer, but this number sure seemed important. She just couldn’t figure out the reason.
She glanced at her broody farmer, but her attempt—well, more like her many attempts over the last one hundred and twenty minutes to lift his mood had crashed and burned. They’d been on the road for two hours, and he’d barely spoken two words. He was wary of city life. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. But over the last two and a half weeks, she’d barely seen him without a smile on his face—and for a good reason. There was so much to celebrate in Elverna.
They now had three Saturday farmers’ markets under their belts, and each one surpassed the other in profits. They’d added thousands of followers to their social media accounts. Their healthy casserole food swoon posts were getting likes and comments from all over the globe. People everywhere were searching for Eat Elverna. They tagged her in posts as #FarmToMabel, and Cal had become farm porn for the minivan moms worldwide, who couldn’t get enough of him online.
But their success wasn’t just on the internet.
The Eat Elverna co-op had signed continuing contracts with businesses in the area. They were ramping up to distribute seasonal fruits, vegetables, grains, and dairy products to residential customers. They were in talks to revamp the old factory to produce Eat Elverna promotional items like hats and shirts, as well as utilizing the warehouse portion as a central hub to assemble the weekly deliveries. In a few short weeks, the trajectory of Elverna had skyrocketed, and the Eat Elverna brand had exploded with possibilities. She was literally running to stand still to produce a steady stream of content on their social media while fielding the bevy of offers coming their way.
She’d taken over part of Cal’s office, and the cottage had become a sort of home base for the Eat Elverna venture. She and Cal spent their days either working on the farm, visiting others in the co-op, or strategizing their next moves.
And what happened after the workday ended?
A delicious tingle ran down her spine at the thought of what she and Cal did once the sun went down. She’d spent so many nights alone—so many hours wondering what it would be like to fall asleep in Cal’s embrace. And now, she knew. And real life had exceeded her dreams by a landslide.
Each night this man made her body tremble with pleasure and had her calling out his name. But what happened next was what she’d never expected. Her once quiet, brooding farmer talked—a lot. In the wee early hours, with their bodies loose and sated from making love, they planned out the next moves for the co-op. Of course, they wanted to maximize profits, but they’d also agreed that Eat Elverna should give back and incorporate a philanthropic mandate. A true partnership bonded them together, which is why it seemed entirely unreasonable for him to be moping over another incredible opportunity.
She’d contacted Logan and Preston, and despite Cal’s deranged first impression, the men invited them to the city to tour the food pantry and visit one of their restaurants. She and Cal had borrowed a refrigerated truck from the Sperry Dairy and had packed it with fresh produce and baked goods to donate. They’d already began giving to rural food banks, so it wasn’t like she was asking him to shun the farming communities that bordered Elverna. No, she wanted to expand their reach and help as many people as they could.
She sat back as the city came into view, and Cal remained silent.
“I loved this part of the drive when I was a girl,” she said, taking in the skyline. “We only came here a few times, but I could never forget what it was like when the fields gave way to towering buildings and so many people.”
“Could you check the directions? I don’t want to take a wrong turn,” Cal said, his voice flat and lifeless.
She had to figure out a way to get him past his city prejudice.
“This place won’t gobble you up, Cal.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he replied with his gaze locked on the road.
She blew out a tight breath and glanced at her phone’s GPS. They were almost there. “Take the next exit, then veer right. The food bank is located next to a community center.”
It wasn’t long before the building came into view, but Cal wasn’t focused on it. Instead, he stared at the neighborhood as if he were looking for something. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he pulled over onto the side of the road a block away from the community center and shifted the truck into park. The color drained from his face as he stared at the rundown homes that lined the street. Her gaze bounced between him and a row of attached houses.
“What are you looking at?” she asked as a phone chimed. She glanced down at her cell. “It’s Preston. They can see the truck. He wants us to park in the back so the volunteers can unload it.” She touched Cal’s arm, but he’d become transfixed on the old homes.
Perhaps he needed a moment before they met with the chefs. But something inside her knew that there was something else—something about those weather-beaten homes that had triggered him. She caressed his cheek, and he finally looked her way. “This is a good thing, Cal. Even if all we do is donate this one truckload of food, it’ll still help a lot of people—like the people who live in these houses.”
There was so much pain in his eyes, she was ready to tell him they should call it off. Kenny and Abe could make the delivery later in the week. But, with one last look, Cal shifted the truck into drive.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said, and she would have sworn she’d heard a minute shake to his voice.
She pointed down the block toward the men. “They’re right there. Can I trust you to keep an open mind?” she asked, pinning him with her gaze.
He swallowed hard as they pulled up to the loading dock.
This was not like him. Even on his broodiest of days, he’d never seemed anxious.
She glanced back at the row of houses. They might have been painted blue once upon a time. But now, sun-bleached with pieces of the siding torn off and a few of the doors hanging crooked, they’d been neglected for quite some time.
