Love in Bloom

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

I must have made it back to the farmhouse purely on rage because I barely remembered the journey. The house was still dark when I stormed through the kitchen, making a beeline for Dan’s apartment. In a brief moment of clarity, I realized that I was going to confront a criminal who was almost twice my size and strong—very strong, with big hands that he definitely knew how to use.

Dammit; focus, Emma.

I quickly searched the kitchen for a suitable weapon to defend myself in case things got dicey during our confrontation. Unfortunately, Dan kept the kitchen so neat that my options weren’t plentiful. There was a small saucepan in the dish-drying rack. It wasn’t very big, but I was sure it would do the job. I stalked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, passing my grandfather’s study, making me feel a little pang of guilt thinking about our nightly chess game, which I quickly doused once I reached the stairs.

I searched the hallway for the entrance to the attic, but there were no obvious choices. A pull string connected to a panel in the ceiling is what I’d expected to find, but no luck. There was a slight breeze coming from a section of the wall next to a closet door. If I hadn’t been inspecting the hall so carefully, I might have missed it. I pressed my palm to the panel, and to my surprise, it gave a little before springing open toward me. Beyond it was a dark, narrow passageway that led to a staircase.

I crept up the stairs as softly as I could. Apart from a few faint squeaks, my ascent was completely noiseless. When I finally reached the end of the staircase, after what felt like years, I found myself standing in the coziest one-bedroom apartment, enveloped by Dan’s intoxicating smell. The only light source was a moonbeam streaming in through the window. There was a tiny kitchen, which of course had a teapot on the stovetop. In the living room was a small couch and a pile of cushions on the floor next to a stack of books about plants. My curiosity about Dan’s inner sanctum momentarily eclipsed my anger as I continued to explore his apartment. There were pictures of his family. Dan looked almost exactly like his father, but he definitely inherited his mother’s smile. I smoothed my fingertips over the frame housing a photo of an elderly dark-skinned woman sitting next to a rosebush and guessed that must be Alice, the neighbor that taught him all about roses. The next photo made my heart stop. It was in a slim gold frame atop a small table. It was accompanied by the remnants of a stick of incense and a small bundle of what looked like wildflowers. In the photo, Dan was standing between my grandparents, somewhere on the farm by the looks of it, and all three of them were laughing. I stared at the photo, transfixed, realizing that I would never have a moment like that with my grandparents. I noticed how much my mother and grandmother favored each other, and I suddenly missed all the moments we could have had together. A tear slid down my face a split second before a deep voice made me jump.

“That was taken two weeks before they left for the resort,” Dan murmured behind me with a wistful sigh.

“Jesus Christ!” I jumped and spun around, swinging the tiny saucepan.

“Whoa!” Dan lifted his arms and jumped back, narrowly missing getting nailed in the ribs by my would-be weapon. “What the hell are you playing at, Emma? Have you gone mad?”

“No,” I gritted, holding the saucepan up, ready to strike again. “But I did go to the greenhouse.” I raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, I know.” His confused eyes darted from the saucepan to my face. “I was with you.”

“No, I mean I just came back from the greenhouse.” I tightened my grip on the handle. “Did you think I wouldn’t be able to figure out the code was my own sister’s birthday?” This last sentence came out with a lot more confidence than I felt because it was pure luck that had caused me to guess it was Annie’s birthday.

Dan’s face went through so many different expressions in a matter of milliseconds that it would have been funny if the situation weren’t so dire. This was not a well-thought-out plan. I was alone in a secret attic apartment with a man who was almost twice my size and strong enough to carry a whining twenty-nine-year-old woman with a bleeding hand across a field. Also, since I was listing all the reasons why confronting Dan in the middle of the night was a terrible idea, Dr. Westlake’s pain pill was wearing off, and my hand was starting to throb. Still, I raised my eyebrows at Dan, waiting for an explanation.

“Emma, I planned to tell you.”

“Tell me what, Dan? I need to hear you say it.”

“Emma, it’s not what you’re thinking.” His expression was soft and kind, reminding me of the Dan I thought I’d been getting to know these last few days, the man whose kisses tasted like blueberry muffins and whose warm, calloused hands had roamed my body mere hours ago. I realized Dan was still speaking. “—just put the saucepan down. You’re not gonna be able to do much damage with that thing anyway. I’ll make you a pot of tea, and we’ll talk.”

He almost had me convinced until he took a step forward. He was right; this saucepan wasn’t going to do anything if Dan was really intent on hurting me. I cast my eyes around the room quickly for a more formidable weapon, and I found just the thing.

“Emma,” Dan cautioned, “please be careful with that…” He put his hands up in surrender again and took two steps back, giving us plenty of distance. “That is irreplaceable. If you’re intent on beating the shit out of me with something, I’d prefer if you found something else.” There was real fear in his face as I held his beloved cricket bat over my head. “There’s a perfectly good two-by-four in the corner by the toilet.” He pointed to a small plank of wood resting against the wall next to his bathroom. “Just please, put that down.”

“You are in no position to make demands here,” I screeched. “I knew you were keeping something from me, but I had no idea you were using my grandparents’ farm—which I now own—as a headquarters for some kind of drug operation. How dare you take advantage of the kindness of two people who clearly loved you to—”

“Emma, they knew.”

“—make yourself a—what did you just say?” Dan’s utterance made every thought in my brain come to a grinding halt. He had to be lying. Maybe I misheard him.

“They knew because they began it. This all started long before I got here.” He put his hands down but didn’t take a step forward, sneaking occasional glances at the cricket bat in my hands. “It was the reason I was hired. Your grandparents needed a horticulturist, and I kind of appeared.” He shrugged. “It was like fate, really.”

“No.” I shook my head. One of the reasons I’d come to this farm was to learn about my grandparents. Discovering that their life was less Little House on the Prairie and more Breaking Bad was too much to handle. I’m a smart person. I’m not just gonna take Dan’s word. “This is a lie. You’re lying.”

“Emma.” He raised an eyebrow. “You said so yourself: The code to the grow room is your sister’s birthday. How would I know that?”

I opened my mouth. Then I closed it and lowered the bat a few inches. Oh my God. He was right. I really didn’t want him to be right. My eyes met Dan’s and they were filled with concern.

That was the moment I knew he was telling me the truth. The last explanation I’d been expecting was now the only one that made sense. It explained how the farm was doing so well financially when, according to Preston Smith, it should’ve been bankrupt. It also explained the town’s odd devotion to my grandparents. Maybe it explained the rift in my family. My mother was so straitlaced that I’d never seen her eat a grape in the supermarket. I couldn’t imagine her being okay with her parents running an illegal drug operation. It also explained Dan’s close relationship with my grandparents. It would involve a lot of trust to put someone in a position like his.

Dan chose that moment to step forward and gently pry the cricket bat out of my clenched fists. I barely resisted as I watched him replace the treasured memento on the two hooks that held it mounted to the wall. He gently wrapped his palm around one of my elbows and guided me to the small couch in his living room.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked in a gentle whisper. My entire body felt numb, but I managed to nod. My mind was racing with questions, and I wasn’t sure I wanted all of them answered. Within a few minutes, my reluctant host returned with a steaming mug and handed it to me.

“Oh, I need—”

“A splash of milk and three sugars?” He raised an eyebrow. “Already done, love.” When Dan wasn’t wielding that word like a dagger, it felt like a warm hug. Lord knows I needed one of those now. He lowered himself onto the other side of the couch and turned to face me. After a few moments, he spoke.

“All right, Emma?” His voice was gentle.

“No.” I shook my head and took a sip of my tea. It was perfect. It annoyed me just how perfect it was because how was I supposed to stay mad at Dan for lying to me when I now knew he was helping my grandparents, was an amazing kisser, and he’d also made me fall in love with tea?

“I know this must be a big shock to you.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” I glared at him.

“Like I said”—he placed a tentative hand on my knee and relaxed his palm when I didn’t move to brush it off—“I was going to tell you… when I thought you’d be ready.”

“And when was that?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But definitely not at three o’clock in the morning when you’re still injured and most likely caned on pain pills.”

“Caned?” I asked with a skeptical eyebrow.

“High, sweetheart.” His beard twitched slightly. “How is your cut, by the way? I didn’t like the way you were gripping that saucepan.” He took my hand in his and gently stroked the bandages wrapped around my palm. My original intention was to use that saucepan to beat Dan into a pulp, and the whole time he’d been worried about my stitches. How could I have ever thought for a moment that this man was some kind of ruthless kingpin?

“My hand is starting to hurt a little bit,” I confessed. “I could use a good caning.”

Dan’s beard twitch turned into a full-blown chuckle. “Not quite the same thing, but I know what you mean. I should probably take a look at it.” He placed my hand in my lap and left the couch.

“Did you know about the farm when you agreed to work for my grandparents?” I called to his retreating figure. He returned with his first aid kit and sat next to me before placing my hand on his lap, palm up. He was so close that our knees were touching.

“George sat me down and told me everything before he would let me agree to take the job. I’d already made up my mind to say yes before he told me, but after our conversation, I knew it was something I had to do.”

“You had to do?” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion before wincing as he unwrapped the bandages.

“This farm doesn’t produce recreational marijuana—well, I guess that depends on if you really believe Leonard has glaucoma.” His beard twitched again, and I smiled. “It’s medical marijuana. Your grandparents had been studying the effects of cannabis on all types of illnesses and began to grow different strains on the farm. They wanted to sell it to families looking for an alternative to standard medicine. Word began to spread, and people started coming from all over the country to stay in town. Some even came from all over the world.” My head was spinning. That explained why this town was so diverse and growing as a tourist attraction. Preston Smith wanted this farm for the hospitality potential but had no idea why it was such a hot commodity.

“How have I never heard about this?”

“Well, we don’t exactly advertise.” He chuckled and focused his attention on my hand. “There’s a little bleeding, but it looks like your stitches are all intact. I’ll just clean and rewrap it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “So how are you here?”

“Here in my flat?” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

“No.” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, how did you end up here… in this country?”

“I needed to get away from home for a bit.” I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes in suspicion, which caused him to add, “Not for legal reasons. I just needed a break, a holiday. I honestly don’t know why I ended up in Georgia. I found myself at Heathrow, booking the next plane bound to America. It just so happened to be headed to Atlanta. If I’d shown up twenty minutes later, I would have ended up in New York. Maybe it was fate. I was only planning to stay for a few weeks, but then I met George and Harriet. You know the rest. They sponsored a work visa for me, and I’ve been here for the last couple of years.”

“Wow,” I breathed. At the Laramie Firm, we’d had to secure work visas for some of our clients. They aren’t easy to come by—or inexpensive.

“When I met George and Harriet, I wasn’t in a good place. I needed an escape. They took me in and gave my life purpose again.”

“What were you escaping from?”

At my question, he smoothed his fingertips over my freshly bandaged palm but didn’t meet my eye. “A life that wasn’t really mine.”

“What?” I spluttered, not satisfied with his cryptic response, especially after the embarrassing, painkiller-sponsored, rambling confession I’d made in the greenhouse.

“It’s a story for another day.” He shot me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I think you’ve had enough excitement for the last twenty-four hours.”

He definitely had a point. Between slicing my hand open, sharing a physician with a goat, passionate kissing in the greenhouse, twilight investigations, and discovering that my grandparents were a cross between Patch Adams and Nino Brown, I definitely needed some time to process everything. A few years would have been nice, but I didn’t have a few years. I’d have to make a decision about the farm eventually. Despite feeling as though I’d been given more information than a person should be able to handle in a lifetime, I knew I didn’t have nearly enough to make an informed decision. There were still so many questions.

I nodded and rose to my feet with Dan’s help.

“I should go to bed… in my own room.” I wasn’t sure why I added the last part, but the mischievous smirk that Dan was trying to suppress told me that he had a clue. I turned and quickly hustled toward the staircase leading to the main part of the house.

“Hey, Emma,” Dan called to me. I turned to face him. “When you weren’t trying to kill me, it was nice having you visit. I’d be happy to have you again.”

I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth to bite back a chuckle as my heart pounded in my chest.

“Well, thank you for being such a gracious host.”

He answered me with a tiny bow. I took two steps toward the staircase before turning around to face him.

“You’re still not off the hook for lying to me.” He opened his mouth to protest. “You told me the door had fertilizer and equipment behind it.” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Technically, that was true. I simply left out the other contents of the room.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie,” I said.

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m sorry, but I hope one day you’ll understand why.”

“We’ll see.” I turned and slowly made my way out of Dan’s apartment. Though I couldn’t see them, I could feel his eyes following me as I left.

The bane of my existence, whom I’d named King Richard, woke me up again, letting out earsplitting screeches outside my window. I sat up and glanced outside in the direction of the chicken coop to see him standing on top of the henhouse, singing the song of his people whether anyone wanted to hear it or not. I could just make out his multicolored body with a shock of red on the top of his head. He had to be at least fifty yards away, but he sounded like he was in my bedroom. With the thousands of dollars I’d spent on farming equipment at the Feed ’n’ Farm, the idea of purchasing earplugs hadn’t even crossed my mind.

I stayed in bed long after he’d quieted down, wondering what my next move was. My life had become an out-of-control roller coaster, and I had no idea how to stop it. How was I so adept at solving other people’s issues but completely hopeless when it came to my own? Even if I wanted to ask for help—which I didn’t, despite the voices of Max, Becks, and now Dan warning me about the dangers of trying to do everything myself—who would I even ask?

Hi, I just inherited an illegal marijuana farm that provides potentially lifesaving treatments for people all over the world but could also send a lot of good people to prison—possibly including me—for a really long time. What do you think I should do?

The scream of frustration I let out could’ve rivaled King Richard’s fiercest crows if I hadn’t covered my face with a pillow to muffle the sound. This was a complete disaster, but I wasn’t going to solve any of my problems by staying in bed all day.

Dan wasn’t in the kitchen when I went downstairs, but there was a white piece of paper stuck to coffee machine covered in Dan’s handwriting.

Good morning, Batgirl,

I told Ernesto that you’re taking the day off.

No arguments!!

I left some things that you might find helpful in George’s study. If you want coffee, all you have to do is push the button. If you want tea, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I get home. I’ll have my phone on all day if you need me.

Please try to relax and get some rest.

X

Dan

PS: When you’re in the study, please don’t take my knight. His name is Fred, and he has a wife and three kids.

A laugh that sounded like a snort erupted from my chest and I read the note for a second time. The smell of brown, bubbling salvation filled the kitchen as the mug that Dan thoughtfully placed under the spout of the machine filled with coffee.

With my mood lifted by Dan’s note and helped by the expertly prepared coffee—how is this man so good at everything?—I made my way to my grandfather’s study. My eyes immediately traveled to the chessboard on the desk. Dan was correct about his knight being in prime position to be taken by my rook, but I also noticed his queen was vulnerable. It was possible he’d left the note to try to distract me from making such a devastating move. Without his queen, I could end the game in three moves; but the thought of the game ending so soon made me sad for some reason. I could still beat him easily if I took his knight, but it would take a little longer. I stared at the board for a few moments before I made a decision.

Sorry, Freddy. You fought the good fight.

After making my move, I turned my attention to the rest of the study, looking for the helpful things Dan described in his note. My eyes fell upon a leather-bound journal that I was sure wasn’t on the desk the last time I was in the study. I settled myself in my grandfather’s chair and opened to the first page.

It was dated the spring of 1997. I would have been two years old. Annie would have still been alive. The first thing I got from the entry was confirmation that Dan was telling the truth.

April 22, 1997

Damn, that girl is as stubborn as a mule. After months of trying to convince her to try to use cannabis to treat Annie, I’m at my breaking point. I raised her to be strong and believe in her convictions, but I can’t understand why she just won’t try it. My grandbaby is suffering, and there is something that could help. Hell, we’re all suffering.

I would have thought showing her all of the articles and studies I found would have convinced her, but she didn’t budge. For months, she argued that there wasn’t enough “science” to support my claims. I went out and found some damn science and it still wasn’t good enough for her.

I told Harry that I was gonna get through to our daughter. We all see the toll it’s taking on her and the toll it’s taking on Annie and Emmaline.

I’m not gonna give up on my girls. I can’t give up.

I closed the journal after reading a few pages. It was a lot to take in. Could my grandfather’s obsession with using cannabis to treat Annie be the cause of the rift between him and my mother?

There was only one person I could ask, but, again, I wasn’t sure that I was ready for the answer.

The air seemed to grow thicker with each trill of the phone ringing from the speaker of my cell phone. I let out a long exhale when a familiar voice answered.

“Baby girl,” my dad crooned, sounding genuinely happy to hear from me.

“Hey, Daddy.” I felt a little guilty about how relieved I was that he’d picked up the phone instead of my mother.

“How ya been?” Those three innocent words were heavy with all the unanswered questions about the events of the last two weeks of my life. My God, was the will reading really only two weeks ago? It felt like a lifetime.

“I’ve been okay,” I began cautiously. “Hanging in there.”

“Well, you didn’t have to tell me that.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “My baby is tough and smart. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” A smile tugged at my lips, and I glanced at my left hand to realize that I was absentmindedly toying with Dan’s captured knight, making it dance atop the closed journal. My smile faded and I let out a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” I pictured one of his mischievous smirks with his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Ha ha,” I deadpanned. “Well, I’m sure Mom has told you that Grandma and Grandpa King left me the farm…”

“She has…” he answered with a sigh, waiting for me to continue.

“Well, since everything that happened at Laramie and with Teddy—”

“What happened with Teddy?”

“We hit a little bit of a rough patch,” I answered quickly.

“Hmm” was his only response.

“—well, since everything, I’ve been staying at the farm, trying to decide whether I should sell it or keep it…” I hesitated, “trying to learn more about my grandparents…”

There was a long pause before my father spoke again.

“George and Harriet were good people. They treated me like a son, and they loved you…” he paused again, and I wondered if he was thinking about Annie, “very much.”

“So what happened? Why don’t I know them? Why haven’t you and Mom spoken to them for almost twenty-five years?” I was tempted to tell him about the farm and what I’d read in the journal, but I had to think about Dan and all of the other people in town whose lives now depended on my next decision.

“Emma…” He let out another heavy sigh. “That’s… that’s a conversation for you to have with your mother. They’re her parents, and it’s… it’s a lot to talk about.”

“I’ve tried to talk to her.”

“Baby, I don’t know what to tell you.”

You could start with the truth , I thought angrily.

“There’s so much I don’t know. I grew up with three giant pieces of my life missing, and I’m just trying to complete the puzzle.”

The other end of the line was completely silent. There wasn’t even the sound of my father’s deep, even breaths, and I immediately knew it was because I’d alluded to the three we don’t speak of: my grandmother, my grandfather, and Annie.

“Dad?” I whispered into the phone. My eyes were starting to sting at the thought of causing my dad the slightest amount of pain. My childhood was spent walking on eggshells around the subject of my sister. While I grew up essentially an only child, Annie’s presence hung like a heavy weight that pressed on all of our hearts. My mother would become angry and evasive if Annie was ever brought up, but my father would always get quiet and turn inward. I don’t know why I would have thought the years would have had some effect on my father’s reaction. Her absence was a wound that, after over twenty years, was still in no danger of healing and hid a mystery that I might never be able to solve.

“Listen, sweetheart. I have to let you go.”

“No, Dad. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, baby girl. I was on my way out the door when you called anyway.”

“Golf game?” I attempted to change the subject to at least end our call on a lighter note than the one I’d inadvertently played.

“You know it.”

“Tiger Woods better watch out.”

“Not with my knees.” Dad chuckled, and a tear that was equal parts relief and sadness rolled down my cheek. “Do you have enough money, Em?”

“Yes, Dad. You always taught me, Save money …”

“… and money will save you ,” we finished in unison.

“Plus, I own an entire farm.”

“Yes, you do, sweetie; and you’re gonna be just fine.”

There was another pause.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, too, baby girl.”

My conversation with my dad, though short, completely drained me emotionally. I’d need at least another forty-eight hours before I could even think about handling a conversation with my mother. The thought of reading more of my grandfather’s journal didn’t appeal to me, even though I was still curious. Most of all, I was hungry.

I found myself back at Greenie’s, mostly because of the waffles, but also because I was hoping for more information about my past from Erica. Once again, Melissa, the tiny hostess with the mostest, seated me in my favorite booth, but this time her mother was cordial when she took my order.

“How’s your hand?” she asked after taking my order.

“It’s getting better.” I picked up my bandaged hand and wiggled my fingers at her. “It doesn’t throb as much, and I only needed a couple of Advil to—wait. How did you know about my hand?” I tilted my head at her in confusion.

Erica let out a laugh and said, “In this town, news travels fast. We probably knew you cut your hand before you did.” She gave me a smirk and I snorted a laugh. I glanced around the diner and noticed a few of the patrons quickly avoiding meeting my eye but stifling smiles. Erica tossed a quick look over her shoulder and turned back to me, her lips still curled at the edges. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it…” Her smile faded. “That is, if you decide to stay.”

The diner got suddenly quieter, and Erica’s last sentence felt like a fifty-pound weight dropped in my lap. She was waiting for a response, and apparently so was everyone else in the diner. I swallowed the small lump in my throat before I could answer her.

“I haven’t decided yet.” I cleared my throat. “The farm is a special place, and it meant a lot to my grandparents, so I want to give it a lot of consideration.”

An elderly man sitting across from his wife at the next table nodded, seemingly pleased with my answer, and it gave me an odd measure of relief, though he was rudely eavesdropping on my conversation.

“Yeah, I don’t envy you there.” Erica smiled again. “I’ll go put your order in and send Melissa over with your water and coffee.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and placed it on the table while I waited for my food. I was simultaneously hoping for and dreading a call from my mother. I jumped in my seat when the phone buzzed. It was a text.

By the message, I knew exactly who it was.

My heart thumped as I stared at the three words that illuminated my phone screen.

Unknown: All right, Emma?

I saved his number while I thought of a response.

Me: I’m fine. I’ll be better when my waffles get here.

BBG: Good on you! Tell Erica I said hello.

Me: I will.

Me: Did you know everyone knows about my hand?

BBG: Yeah, no surprise there. It was a full six months before I could last a day without someone telling me not to nail my hand to a door.

I let out a loud chuckle, which drew a few stares, but I couldn’t suppress the smile that had spread on my face.

BBG: How is your hand anyway?

Me: It’s feeling a lot better.

BBG: I’m glad to hear that, love.

My smile grew wider, which I didn’t think was possible.

Me: Thanks for the coffee and the note.

BBG: I was glad to see the kitchen in one piece when I came back from the greenhouse and I saw you found what I left for you in the study.

BBG: And took a loving father away from his family…

Another laugh and even more stares.

Me: Fred knew what he was signing up for when he took his oath. Do knights take oaths? How does one become a knight anyway?

BBG: I don’t know how they used to do it, but today you just need to make a load of money and kneel in front of an elderly bloke with a sharp sword.

Me: Sounds dangerous.

BBG: I wouldn’t try it.

Me: Were you thinking about Fred’s family when you sacrificed him to protect your queen?

A bubble with three dots popped up on my screen indicating that Dan was typing a message, but it kept disappearing and reappearing. Finally, his response appeared.

BBG: Sometimes doing anything to protect your queen is the only way to win the game.

I stared at Dan’s message for a long time, unsure how to interpret it. That was the annoying thing about text messages. It was impossible to read emotion behind the words.

Was he joking? Was he serious? Was he flirting?

Was it a combination of all three?

How should I reply?

Should I reply?

Melissa startled me when she set the tray with my drinks down on the table with a bang that must have sounded a lot louder in my mind. I smiled at her as I added a splash of milk and three packets of sugar to my coffee. Her mother was right behind her with my waffles.

Me: We’ll have to memorialize Fred later. My waffles just got here and my window for even melted butter distribution is closing.

BBG: Butter distribution is very crucial to the waffle experience.

My smile returned.

Me: Will I see you later?

BBG: I have a lot of work to do tonight, so probably not.

My smile faded and my mouth twisted in disappointment.

BBG: Unless you plan on breaking into my flat in the middle of the night again…

I let out a loud snort.

Me: I think my days as a petty criminal are over. I was only asking because I wanted to know if I needed to fend for myself for dinner.

BBG: Hmm. Well, I can’t have you starving to death, can I? I could take a break and come back to the house, if only to make sure you don’t burn the kitchen down trying to feed yourself.

Me: Ha ha. No need. I’ll just grab something to go from Erica and microwave it later. I’m not completely useless.

BBG: Emma, you are the furthest thing from useless.

Well, what the hell did he mean by that? Before I could ask him, he sent another message.

BBG: Well, I’ll let you get on with your waffles. Be careful with that hand. I’ll have my phone on all day if you need anything.

Me: Thanks.

Dan didn’t reply, and I stared at my phone until the screen went dark. I grabbed my knife to cut into my waffles and found that the butter had gotten cold, but for some reason, I didn’t care.

The rest of my breakfast was uneventful until I asked for my check.

“Mr. Dennis paid for your breakfast,” she said cheerfully and pointed to a table near the entrance of the restaurant.

“Mr. Dennis?” I looked across the crowded diner and immediately recognized the elderly man I’d helped use a computer in the library while exploring the town the day before. I didn’t even remember him telling me his name. I didn’t think a few Google searches and PDF downloads warranted a free meal, but I waved and mouthed the words Thank you . As I looked around the diner, I noticed that, though I was still getting stares, they seemed friendlier somehow. When did that happen?

“So how do you like the farm so far?” Melissa’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. She smiled as she slid into the booth across from me and propped her chin up on the heels of her hands with her elbows resting on the table in the universal I’m listening pose.

“Well, it’s definitely different from what I’m used to, but it’s growing on me.” An involuntary smile tugged at my lips.

“Do you like Dan?” Her smile widened and she elongated her pronunciation of his name, almost singing it.

“Yes. He is a very nice person.” I hoped my answer sounded as diplomatic as I’d planned. My feelings for Dan were complicated enough without trying to explain them to a ten-year-old that I barely knew.

“No, I mean, do you like him, like him? Like a—” Melissa’s question was cut off by her mother’s voice.

“Melissa Ann Burgess!” she called across the diner. “Stop minding other people’s business and get over here. It’s time for your brownie.”

Melissa’s smile dropped. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry about.” I reached out and patted her arm. “A brownie sounds really good. I wish I could have one.”

“You can’t,” she said with a sigh. “It’s a special brownie just for me.” She slid out of the booth without further explanation and walked over to the counter where her mother was waiting. After my recent discovery and conversation in Dan’s apartment, I watched again with renewed curiosity as Erica removed a brownie from a cellophane wrapper, cut it into four even pieces, and proceeded to feed it to Melissa between sips of milk. When she was done, she kissed her daughter on the forehead and sent her to the back of the restaurant.

After Melissa disappeared through the door leading to the kitchen, I quickly gathered my things and approached the counter. Erica grabbed the cellophane wrapper, tossed it in the trash behind the counter, and swept the crumbs away with her hand.

“How were your waffles?” she asked while wiping away the crumbs on her hand.

“Good,” I mumbled, not meeting her eye. I used the opportunity to snatch the wrapper out of the trash can and read the label.

It was the logo I recognized from Mavis’s bakery, Four and Twenty Blackbirds, and another name I recognized: Annie’s Green Gables.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” she asked after whipping around to catch me rooting through her trash.

“I could ask you the same question,” I hissed while shaking the cellophane wrapper at her. I was completely aware that conversation had hushed in the restaurant at Erica’s outburst. “Are you giving your daughter weed brownies?” I asked in an even lower whisper. Erica eyed me for a long moment before casting her eyes around the diner. Finally, she rolled her eyes, snatched the wrapper out of my hands, grabbed me by the wrist of my good hand, and pulled me toward the back of the restaurant, shouting at a server across the room to watch the counter for her.

“Where are you taking me?” I hissed again as I was dragged through the kitchen and into a small hallway, where we finally stopped in front of a closed door. Erica released my wrist and put a finger over my lips before slowly opening the door to an office. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep, was Melissa. Erica pulled the door closed.

“Is she okay?” I whispered.

“She is now.” Erica sighed. “When Melissa was four, she got an infection. She was sick for a very long time, and we almost lost her. Once she recovered from the infection, she began to have seizures—lots of seizures. She could barely leave the house. The doctors say it was caused by the fever, but we’d been fighting to keep it under control. Four years ago, we were at our lowest point. Our baby was on enough medications to kill an elephant, and most of our time was spent shuffling her around to specialists that we couldn’t afford. My mother suggested that I talk to your grandparents. They offered us a solution, and since we didn’t feel like we had anything to lose except our daughter, we gave it a chance.” She paused and her eyes welled up with tears. “And it worked. I mean, not at first; it took time. George and Harriet helped us find a doctor who was willing to work with us, and after two years her seizures nearly disappeared.

We were able to wean her off her prescriptions, and we had our daughter back. It was like a miracle.”

Erica was quiet for a long moment. Her eyes were scanning my face for a reaction, and I could sense her trepidation.

“I’ve been to the greenhouse,” I told her. “All of it.”

“So you know…” She didn’t sound relieved.

“Yes, I know.” I nodded.

“So”—she sighed—“what do you plan to do about it?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t know what the right thing is. Dan told me about my grandparents, why they hired him, and what the marijuana is used for, but seeing it… seeing Melissa…” I shook my head. “I don’t know. I guess this is why everyone in town is so worried about me owning the farm.”

“Yeah,” she confessed. “There is so much depending on that farm. It’s not just the people it helps—and there are a lot of us—it’s also the glue that holds this town together and keeps us afloat. Not to mention the legal aspect. My husband is the town sheriff. Everyone is involved.”

My head was spinning at this revelation.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught? I mean, the whole town?”

“I worry every day. Some days more than others, but it’s worth the risk.” She turned her head toward the office door. “It’s not just my daughter. People come here from all around, with all kinds of disorders. The town’s economy is thriving…” She crossed her arms across her chest and sighed. “We certainly couldn’t have expected it to last forever, but with the Kings passing so suddenly and you showing up…” She shook her head and looked away. A tear streaked down one cheek.

“Erica”—I placed a hand on her shoulder and she met my eye—“thank you for trusting me with this. I don’t know what the future holds for me, this farm, or this town, but I promise I will never do anything to hurt you or Melissa.” Her tears flowed furiously before she caught me completely off guard by pulling me into a tight hug. Erica never struck me as particularly affectionate, but as we stood outside her office hugging while she gently sobbed on my shoulder, I gained a deeper understanding of her initial reaction to me at the will reading. She reacted out of fear and love for her family. I truly began to understand what a special place this town was, and it made my admiration grow for the grandparents I’d never known and the man I wanted to know.