Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
OLIVE
“ I cannot believe he asked you out.”
Phoebe’s disgusted expression is expected, warranted even, because she was there, years ago, picking up the pieces Travis left behind. She was there when I found out the truth about his extracurricular activities .
And she’s been there when every single relationship I’ve had since has gone south—fast.
She doesn’t say this often, but I know she blames my commitment issues on Travis, too.
It’s pretty hard to trust anyone after what he did.
Yeah, more fish, other options, not everyone’s the same and all of that.
Still.
I don’t want my experience with Travis to have that kind of hold on me.
I’m over all of this. Or at least I was. Then Travis sleazed back into my orbit, reconstituting all the things I’d burned years ago.
Now new tree fort revelations make it all feel so much worse .
Phoebe and I are walking around downtown Pleasant Valley, hanging up posters for the Christmas Market, which will be held two Saturdays before Christmas. Yesterday, the newspaper printed a small article about Jo and Brant’s intention to sell Pine Creek. The hope is that this will lead to more foot traffic at the farm than usual, that everyone who loves Pine Creek will, as Jo said, come out to say goodbye.
“Honestly, Travis is the same as always. No surprise there. He’s actually trying to sell Pine Creek to some big developer.” I roll my eyes and motion for her to hand me a piece of tape. “I think I’m more upset about Liam. I mean, I know we weren’t really friends in college, but shouldn’t he have told me? Warned me? Told me what kind of guy his friend was when Travis asked for my number?”
Phoebe hands me the tape, squinting at me like she has a thought. But if she does, she doesn’t say it. Instead, she looks away, focusing on the stores across the street. “Let’s go into The Beanery and hang one on the community board. It’s warm in there.”
“And they have coffee.”
“ Ooh . Yes. Some of that, please.”
We cross the street, and Phoebe opens the door of Pleasant Valley’s local coffee shop, where I happen to be a part-time employee. Thankfully, once I told my boss, Baker, about Pine Creek, he was gracious enough to give me time off to help them over the holidays.
“But you’re coming back, right?” he’d asked. “You’re my best barista.”
“Of course, I’m coming back,” I’d said. “Where else would I go?”
We walk inside, instantly struck by the sound of “Winter Wonderland” playing on the speakers, the cozy warmth of The Beanery, and the quiet hum of conversation .
I spot Baker behind the counter, wearing a black Beanery T-shirt and a baseball cap. He waves at me, and I notice that his eyes quickly drift to Phoebe who doesn’t seem to notice. “Baker, you’ve already got the Christmas music playing,” I call out. “I’m impressed.”
He grins. “Your Christmas spirit is infectious,” he says and goes back to steaming milk.
It’s barely December, but it feels like Christmas. I look at Phoebe. “You hang, I’ll order?” I hold out the posters, which she takes with a firm nod before heading off in the direction of the bulletin board near the back.
I walk up to the counter and find Jackson, the barista who may or may not graduate high school this spring, grinning at me. “Olive! You’re alive!”
“Alive and well.”
“When are you coming back? We miss you.” He leans across the counter toward me. Jackson is a shameless flirt, which would be flattering if he wasn’t thirteen years younger than me. “ I miss you.”
“Okay, okay, calm down, Casanova. Are you going to take my order or what?” It’s our dynamic, him flirtatiously teasing, me smacking his hand like it’s in the cookie jar. He’s harmless. Clueless, but harmless.
“Oh, I already know what my lady wants. White chocolate mocha. Extra whip.” He taps his temple. “I keep space up here for all things Olive.”
I shake my head. “You should find someone your own age to make brain space for.”
“Nah, I’m good. I need a woman, not a girl.”
“Good grief, Jackson.”
“I’ve got a whole mental catalog,” he says, not stopping to listen to what I’m saying. “It’s how I know that sunflowers are your favorite flower, Christmas is your favorite holiday, you always smell like you just baked a fresh batch of cookies, and . . . you’ve secretly got a thing for younger men.”
I groan, just as Phoebe returns from the back of the coffee shop.
“Jackson, leave my friend alone and get us our coffee.” Phoebe gives him a good-natured eye roll.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Can’t I just appreciate a woman’s beauty?”
“Well, this woman is too old for you,” I say.
He winks at me. “Age is just a number, O. W.”
I shake my head. “You are such a cheeseball.”
Phoebe laughs. “Caramel macchiato. Hot. Big. Double caffeine.” She makes a shooing motion, and Jackson finally relents and punches our order into the register.
While Phoebe razzes him, my eyes drift to the back of the coffee shop where I see Lacey working at one of the tables. I pull my credit card out of my bag and hand it to Jackson. “Pheebs, I’ll be right back.”
I walk toward Lacey, who is so engrossed in whatever she’s doing that she doesn’t see me walk up.
“Hey,” I say.
“Holy heck, Olive, you scared me to death.” She slams the laptop shut, shakes her head slightly, and then her whole demeanor shifts. “Hey! I saw the posters. They look amazing. And Manny said he thinks the lake will be ready for ice skating next week.” Her smile is sweet. Too sweet.
I narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she says, but her eyes are too wide to be innocent.
I raise my eyebrows.
She sighs. “It’s dumb.”
I sit down across from her as she opens her laptop and spins it around to face me. I scan the screen, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing, but it’s a little like walking into the middle of a conversation that’s already in progress. “What is it? ”
“It’s a letter to the bank,” she says, shaking her head like she’s in over it. “I’m trying to get a loan.”
“Oh. For the farm.” Understanding washes over me.
“Yeah.”
Phoebe slips into the seat next to me and hands me my drink. “Are we all friends now?”
Lacey laughs. “I would’ve killed to be friends with you guys when I was in middle school.”
“Well, that makes me feel old.” She takes a drink. “What are we talking about?”
“Nothing,” Lacey says. “It’s dumb.”
“It’s not dumb,” I say. “And Phoebe is a whiz with numbers. Maybe she can help.”
Lacey’s eyes widen in surprise. “You are?”
“I know I don’t look the part, but yes.” Phoebe points at herself. “Accountant.”
“Seriously?” Lacey doesn’t hide her surprise.
I’d be surprised too if I didn’t already know that my best friend is a mathematical genius. She never liked being grouped with all the smart kids, though, almost like she was embarrassed by her brain. Which is why she’s done everything she can to craft a persona that’s the exact opposite of what people would expect.
Today she’s wearing a tight black button down, top two buttons unbuttoned, with a cropped black leather jacket and jeans. The red heels match her red lipstick, and the words “I don’t look the part” are the biggest understatement of the century.
“So, you want to ask for a loan to buy the farm.” Phoebe scans Lacey’s document.
“Yes,” she says. “I have some money saved?—”
Phoebe’s eyes go wide. “Uh, yeah you do. Why the heck do you want to run a farm when you’re making this kind of money? ”
Lacey shrugs. “It’s my home,” she explains. “When I’m out on the road, Pine Creek is the place I think about. It’s the place I’m going to go to rest and recharge. When I’m there, it’s like, instant peace—” She brushes her hands in a downward motion, like she’s wiping away the stress.
“I get that,” I say. “I wish I had money, I’d invest in it too.”
“Wait,” Phoebe says. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?” I ask, turning my coffee cup around in my hands.
“You might not have money to invest—” she looks at Lacey— “but other people might. You could form like a sort of . . .” she searches the air until she plucks the word “collective” right out of it.
“A collective,” I repeat.
“Yes,” Phoebe says. “Like the Packers. It’s not one guy who owns the team, fans can own a piece of the franchise as well. It’s a non-profit, and like five hundred thousand people own the Packers.” She stops and thinks. “I mean, it’s a publicly traded company, so not exactly the same structure, but the same concept. Lots of people invest. It’d be a group of people who don’t want Pine Creek to go to some big developer. People who care about it like you do.”
“You think my parents will sell it to a big developer?” Lacey’s brow is knit with concern.
Phoebe’s eyes dart to me, and I sigh. “I think that’s what the Realtor has in mind.”
A worry line deepens across Lacey’s forehead. “So . . . the community owns the farm.”
“I think you could structure it so you own the majority. For instance, if you own fifty-one percent, and four other people each own ten percent and one person owns nine percent, or whatever, then the majority is still yours.”
“Could I do that?” Hope washes over Lacey’s face.
“Definitely worth looking into.” Phoebe narrows her eyes. “ But couldn’t you bypass all of this and just tell your parents you want the farm? You wouldn’t need a loan if you bought it from them. You could set up the payment structure so?—”
“No,” Lacey says. “Liam said they need the money from the sale.” Her face falls. “They sunk everything they had into the farm, and they haven’t come right out and said it to me, but I think it’s been struggling.”
The thought weighs heavy—on Lacey, of course—but on me too.
“Besides, if they thought I could handle it, they would’ve asked me.” She gives a soft shrug. “I want to prove to them I’m not a flake.” A pause. “I also got to have a great life because of what my parents sacrificed. I have what I have because of them. It makes sense to pass it on so they can have the retirement they deserve.”
That makes Lacey’s plan even more appealing. She wants to help her parents—it’s a noble cause.
“And Liam?” Phoebe asks. “Are you sure he doesn’t want to do this with you?”
I huff out a breath at the mention of his name. Phoebe shoots me a look and Lacey frowns. “Sorry.”
Lacey shakes her head. “I don’t think any amount of convincing is going to be enough to rope Liam into this. I’ve tried.”
I hate to say it, but I think she’s right.
“He could at least take a look at your plan,” I offer. “Before you make it public?”
She shakes her head. “No way. If I’m going to do this, I need to be strategic about how and when I pitch the whole idea to my family.” She levels my gaze. “I don’t want Liam to know, Olive. Promise you won’t say anything.”
My adrenaline spikes at that. Because while I’m annoyed with Liam at the moment, I don’t like keeping secrets.
At my hesitation Lacey says, “I’ll put a whole proposal together with graphics and charts and graphs, and when I’m finished, they’ll realize I’m totally capable—more than capable.”
It feels like she’s trying to convince herself.
Phoebe takes a drink, then says, “The beauty of a plan like this is that if you get enough people, anyone who invests could still keep their job. They could be silent partners. You hire out most of the labor already, right?” Phoebe asks.
“We do, yeah,” Lacey says.
“So you could keep most of them on staff.” Phoebe has shifted into business mode.
“Right.” Lacey picks up her mug and takes a drink. “But I wouldn’t want to just keep doing what we’ve always done. I’d want to, you know, expand.”
My Spidey senses tingle, and, as if drawn by an invisible force, my hand moves over to the bag in my lap. My iPad is tucked inside, but I hesitate. Maybe this isn’t the time to pull it out and dump a ton of ideas on Lacey.
“Listening,” Phoebe says. She frowns at me, and I try to neutralize the expression on my face.
“A long time ago, Liam and I had this whole pitch that we gave to our parents about expanding the farm. I think we suggested things like a petting zoo and an arts and crafts barn.” She gets lost in the memory for a moment. “We were kids. We had no idea what we were talking about or what things might cost. They were decent ideas, but now that I’m older, I think I can do better.” She looks at me. “Plus, our dad shot them all down, so—” She chews on the inside of her lip for a second. “I think that’s when they lost Liam. For the farm, I mean. I sometimes wonder if he just wanted his ideas to be heard.”
Even though I’m committed to holding this grudge against Liam, the comment softens something inside of me. He is so smart—a unique combination of creative and practical. It’s easy to imagine him coming up with clever ways to be more efficient .
Is Lacey right? Did he simply want someone to realize it? And when they didn’t, did he just channel it into something else?
“Well,” Phoebe says, drawing the conversation back to the present, “let’s concentrate on buying it first, then we can talk about expanding.”
Good idea, I think. Because expansion is going to be a whole different beast.
“Okay, so what should I do?” Lacey asks.
“Do you know anyone who might want to get in on this with you?” Phoebe asks. “You can make sure everyone knows they’d be a silent partner. The last thing you need is ten people trying to tell you how to run the place.”
Lacey thinks for a minute. “What if I go to the next city council meeting? Would you help me work up a presentation? Help me make my case. I bet we could get people on board.”
“I’m game,” Phoebe says.
“And it’s the perfect place to present it to my parents and Liam too.” Lacey starts cleaning up her space, almost like she’s been giving marching orders and now it’s time to march.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Why?” Lacey stops moving.
“You realize they could sell tomorrow, right? I think you need to tell them, like, yesterday.”
Lacey thinks on it for a three count, then shakes her head. “No. It’s better if they find out at the meeting. I’ll get on the schedule and you guys will help me put a presentation together.” She grins. “And nobody will tell my family.” She holds up a finger, as if she needs to emphasize the stern reminder. “Right?”
Phoebe and I exchange a look. “Right,” we say in unison. A knot twists in my stomach.
“Great!” Lacey stuffs her laptop into her bag and slings it over her shoulder, but before she walks away, she stops and looks at me. “It is a bummer about Liam though. I mean, I know I can do this without him. I just don’t want to.” She gives me a sad smile and walks away.
Strangely, I feel the same way.
Sure, I could go on with life without Liam.
I just don’t think I want to.