Page 134 of Always Meant for You
I’ve always seen her strength. But this? This steadiness under pressure is different. She brought that home with her. As much as I hate the city, I have to call it like I see it.
She exhales a slow breath, gives a single, decisive nod, then points toward the road. “Drive, Cal. We need to get to the diner. We’ll figure it out from there.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I buckle up, throw the truck into gear, and press the gas.
She reaches across the seat, her fingers finding mine. No words. Just a squeeze. Whatever’s waiting for us, we’ll face it side by side.
Chapter Twenty-Five
MABEL
I stare into the box at freshly printed pages the size of bingo cards. Each stack is neat, but every sheet stamped with a mistake I can’t ignore.
ASSPORTS.
From a distance, they’re charming. Whimsical font. The Eat Elverna logo in every square. A place to collect stamps—one per vendor—leading to our first summer subscription box giveaway. I pictured families laughing, couples drifting from pickled radishes to honey jars, kids darting between muffins and cheese samples. I saw joy and connection.
Now, we’ve gotassports.
“There’s a chance no one will notice,” Cal says gently.
I turn toward him. “It saysassports, Cal. Bold. All caps.”
I want to laugh. Or cry. Maybe toss the whole box into the pasture and let the goats have their say. But this isn’t about a typo. It’s the way things slip. The way something you’ve worked for can fall apart before it begins.
Bella Mae imploded in a New York City café. One comment. One smirk from Lucce. And everything I built dissolved.
Four years of work destroyed.
But this isn’t about me. The farmers’ market belongs to Elverna, to the farmers who trusted me, to Jamie’s memory, to my father, and to Cal.
Sally’s voice cuts through the quiet. She’s wringing her hands. “Are you angry with me, honey?”
“No,” I say gently. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We’ve had worse,” Cal adds, directing the comment to her. “Remember when I meant to order two bags of alfalfa meal and ended up with twenty pallets of dehydrated chicken manure?”
Sally chuckles. “I remember Elias talking about that.”
Cal puckers up his face. “The smell lingered for weeks.”
“Mabel, your daddy came into the diner swearing he’d torch the barn if the wind shifted again,” Margaret says with a chuckle.
Cal lowers his voice. “There’s no stench here, Sally. Only a missingP.”
The color returns to the woman’s cheeks.
She taps a stack. “I appreciate you being so kind, both of you. I must’ve accidentally deleted thePwhen I went in to edit the design before I sent it to the printer.”
“You edited Mabel’s design?” Cal asks, a crease forming between his brows.
“I thought you were going to forward the email I sent you,” I add, sharing a perplexed look with Cal.
Sally releases a heavy sigh. “You and Cal have been so busy preparing for today. I didn’t want to bother you. And it was an easy edit. I just went down to the library, popped it into the photo editor program, and added another square for our booth,” she finishes with a wave of her hand.
I share another mystified glance with Cal.
