Page 195 of Always Meant for You
Chelsea’s expression is open and patient, with quiet reassurance in her eyes. She’s in her stylish oversized glasses and a flowing silk wrap dress. She gives me the faintest nod.
Lucce stands beside her, pale as dishwater. He glances at Cal, then steps forward. “Um…Mabel.” He shifts his gaze to me.
I arch a brow. “Yes, Lucce?”
“I owe you an apology. I was unkind last we spoke. Thanks to Mr. Horner and your very persuasive father, I now understand the full picture and the richness of country life and farming communities.”
I look from my dad to Cal.
These men.
I turn back to Lucce and lift one shoulder in my best broody farmer shrug. “Well, Lucce, what’s done is done.”
His brow furrows, confusion marring his expression.
My father makes a sound deep in his throat.
Cal’s mouth curves, fighting the urge to laugh.
But I’ve been granted grace today, and I need to extend it. Not to mention, heaven only knows what Cal and my dad did to this man. Surely, they put the fear of God in him.
“Thank you for the apology, Lucce. I hope it wasn’t delivered under threat.”
Lucce adjusts his cuffs. “There may have been light pressure, but I meant it, Mabel. I’d like to make things right.”
Cal gives him a firm pat on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about you finish that final task we discussed?”
Lucce straightens. “Yes, sir. I’m happy to help.”
And then he’s gone, slipping into the crowd with purposeful steps and, no doubt, a pounding heart.
My father shifts his stance. Chelsea exchanges a glance with him. Cal doesn’t stop watching me, his gaze locked on mine, that quiet gleam in his eyes giving everything and nothing away.
I study the three of them. “You’re all looking at me like I missed the plot twist. What’s going on?”
“What’s going on,” Chelsea says, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she steps closer, “is that what you’vebuilt online for your town is spreading faster than wildfire. The Blaine Agency wants to partner with Eat Elverna.”
I press my hand to my heart. “That’s incredible. Thank you.”
Cal remains relaxed beside my father.
Okay, that’s a good sign.
“And,” Chelsea continues, “we want to partner with the fashionable Mabel Muldowney—the woman whose signature vintage French couture meets farm-girl style has redefined how people see rural life. You bottle-feed baby goats and glide through oat fields in Chanel, Chloé, Dior, and Balmain. You, Mabel Muldowney, are mesmerizing.”
“You’ve studied our socials.”
“I have.”
“But what about Bella Mae?” I ask. “I lied, and everyone knows it.”
Chelsea waves me in, a twinkle in her eyes. “People love a second act. They watched Bella Mae fall. But what’s leaving the internet salivating for more is what you did after. You went home. You rebuilt. You helped your town and found yourself. That’s not scandal, Mabel. That’s a story worth telling. And sponsors want to be part of it.”
I glance at Cal. Then back to her. “What sponsors?”
“The Organic Farm Research Association, the USDA, the Organic Farming Association,” she says, ticking them off on her fingers. “That’s before we even get to the eco-friendly fashion brands who’ve reached out.”
“And this is all based on what we’ve been doing in Elverna?” I ask.
