Chapter 18 Eve
EVE
While my to-do list only manages to get longer each day, I’m not one to turn away free money.
So when an elderly woman named Nora Livingston—her maiden name, I presume—called the gift shop requesting a private tour with me personally and offered to pay whatever pretty penny we desire, I didn’t hesitate to work with her.
I’m not in the business of taking advantage of customers, so I charged her the normal rate for a private tour and prepared to put my best guest face on—if she decides to give a generous donation after a tour she enjoyed, I won't refuse it.
Of course, that was my plan until I see Nora Livingston walk up on the arm of Ryder Blackwell.
It takes me half a second to put the pieces together in my head.
The grandmother who lives in the senior community across the street.
The disability she mentioned over the phone that must have been her recent hip replacement.
The somewhat out-of-the-blue and overenthusiastic insistence that her grandson is such a kind-hearted, good-intentioned man who wants nothing more than for her to be happy and healthy.
It struck me as odd, but given how busy the farm has been over the past few days, I promptly forgot about it.
And now Ryder Blackwell is carting his still-recovering grandmother around my farm for the sake of trying to get on my good side. I have no doubt he put her up to this, assuming he could win my favor by showing me how much he cares about his grandmother, just like I cared so much about mine.
I let out a quick breath through my nose, holding the sunflower out for Nora.
“Welcome gift for you,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even.
“Since you said you weren’t up for field activities, I thought I’d pick a sunflower for you, but if you think you can manage the path along the edge of the fields, we can still do the pick-your-own-bouquet activity at the end.
You let me know what you’re up for and we’ll adjust accordingly. ”
“Thank you, sweetie,” she says, taking the sunflower and arranging it with the stem in her purse, the bloom adorning one side. She looks up at Ryder, quickly patting him on the arm. “Want to say hello to your friend?”
He clears his throat, doing his best to put on a smile. “Give me a second to catch up, Gam. You kind of sprung this on me,” he says, pressing his lips together as he turns to me and nods quickly. “Eve.”
She waits for a moment to see if he’ll say anything else, then snorts. “He’s a talker, this one.”
“Gam,” he scolds.
I eye him, suddenly wondering just how much of this he did set up. And how much does Nora know? I find it hard to believe she one day decided she must visit the sunflower farm, especially considering she’s still recovering. But based purely on a first impression, she seems like a nice woman.
Which—and I’m sure this is exactly what Ryder intended—does warm me to him a little bit. Maybe he talked about me and she decided she wanted to come for a visit because she’s just interested in her grandson’s life.
Not that I want him to talk about me.
We shared one kiss in the sunflowers that I’ve been obsessing over every moment since.
But he’s everything I can’t get involved with. The developer next door who claims he just wants to get his grandmother walking to the park again.
Anyone with two brain cells to rub together can see he’s just telling me what I want to hear in order to get me to agree to that stupid easement.
And while my lonely, untouched and unheard heart longs to continue that kiss we started in the sunflowers, my brain knows that no one is looking out for the sunflower farm except for me.
I’ve already given up everything for this farm. My grandmother, who worked herself to an early grave to keep this place running. The degree I never finished and the lack of education that now chains me to this place, for better or for worse.
This place is my home. My livelihood. My everything. And if it’s in his best interest to destroy it, I’m going to do everything in my power to stop him.
Even if that means giving up a connection that—as much as I don’t want to admit it—feels a little bit like home, too.
Ryder shakes his head. “I apologize in advance for my grandmother.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Something tells me she’s not the problematic one here.”
“Says the woman who took a few grand of electrical work and then ran away without a word.”
“I think we all know there’s a little more to that story,” I say, doing my best to keep my smile plastered to my face.
Gam waves her arms in front of her. “Alright, lovebirds. Save the bickering for after the tour, okay? You two have all night.”
Ryder visibly swallows, his eyes wide.
So Gam knows about our kiss. Ryder must, in fact, be quite the talker.
She grins as she steps toward me, hooking her free arm in my elbow and abandoning Ryder behind us. “Shall we?”
I nod, falling into step with her and directing us toward the sunflower fields. “We shall.”
Giving my spiel is like slipping into an old pair of boots.
I’ve been giving these tours since I was in high school, wandering easily around the farm and pointing out the different varieties of sunflowers we grow, the wildflowers along the driveway up to the farm, the native plants that are preserved on this land.
I give the story of the old footbridge at the edge of the property, noting that there’s a picture of it in its prime in the gift shop, my grandparents standing in front of it with proud smiles on their faces.
I tell the story of the old chicken coop and add in a new anecdote that it’s gone unused for a good decade until recently, when it housed a fugitive rooster whose only crime was doing what it naturally does.
As we finish up the portion of the tour where I word-vomit on everyone because there are too many words to say about the sunflower farm and not enough time to say them, Gam takes control of the conversation.
We walked a little slower than I normally would on a tour, so we’re still on our way back to the backdrop for an end-of-tour photo and pick-your-own-bouquet.
“You know, the last time I was here, I was visiting your grandmother,” she says, nudging me lightly with her elbow. “We were friends in high school, and let me tell you, when I saw that photo of you on Ryder’s phone, I could have sworn it was her, fifty years ago.”
I glance over my shoulder at Ryder, who’s been following a few feet behind us with his hands in his pockets for most of the tour.
He only shrugs.
“Instagram, I presume?” I ask, remembering our conversation when he told me she caught him creeping.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t look at my Instagram too,” he interjects.
An Instagram of nothing. While I would have loved some embarrassing high school pictures or at least some indication of his character, I got nothing but a few nondescript city buildings and a graduation photo in which he looked disappointingly handsome.
I decide to just ignore him for now.
“So you knew my grandmother?”
She nods. “We drifted apart over the years, unfortunately. I always meant to get in touch with her again, but I guess I’ll just have to wait a few more years for that.”
“Gam, can you please stop making that joke?” Ryder interjects
She laughs, brushing him off. “One day, I will.”
I can’t help laughing along with her, and when I turn to look at him, Ryder is only shaking his head, his hands still stuffed into his pockets.
She squeezes my elbow. “You know, I was there when she met your grandfather.”
I nearly stop in my tracks. “Were you?”
She nods, that grin returning to her face. “We were out to lunch with the girls. A lovely little place called Finnegan’s which is unfortunately a pile of rubble now—you know that abandoned building next to the tea shop?”
I nod. “Tabby’s Teas. She’s one of my best friends."
“So you know the place I’m talking about,” she says.
“It was the summer before we all left for college, and in walked a man in a suit. He just wanted a pint, and he sat at the bar by himself. Very obviously having a rough day. I can’t remember why but it had something to do with the family business.
” She waves off the lost memory. “Anyway, he heard us laughing and carrying on and decided to buy our lunches. I think your grandmother was having a rough time too—she was the only one of us who wasn’t leaving for college—and she just decided that she was going to go over and thank him on behalf of the rest of us.
” Nora laughs. “We ended up leaving without her. The two of them were talking and talking and talking. Non-stop.”
I smile at the thought. I never got to know my grandfather, but that certainly sounds like my grandmother.
“That’s such a nice story. I remember her telling me they met at a restaurant, but I never got the details. I think she took his death pretty hard.”
Nora nods. “I’m sure she did. Theirs was truly a love story. Warring families, secret bribes.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Bribes?”
Nora nods. “Your grandfather came from a rich family. They didn’t want him marrying a farm girl, and her family didn’t trust his kind of money one bit.”
I snort, glancing over my shoulder at Ryder. “The women in my family must have a type.”
It isn’t until a few seconds of silence pass between us that I realize what I said. I had become so invested in Nora’s recounting of my grandparents’ love story that I totally forgot that Ryder and I aren’t a thing.
That I’m mad at him, dammit.
My breath leaves my body as I face forward, struggling to remember how to put one foot in front of the other.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“So, um, bribes,” I prompt, because I remember bribery had been mentioned but I’m suddenly wholly incapable of remembering why.
Nora squeezes my elbow again. “Your grandfather’s family tried to bribe her not to marry him. She was so torn up about it. Felt like she was choosing between her legacy and her potential future.” Nora pauses to smile at me. “Want to know how she got out of that?”
I nod.