Chapter 24
Mia got up bright and early and stepped outside, inhaling the fresh morning air. The sky was just starting to lighten, the farm quiet in that peaceful, before-the-world-wakes-up way.
Today was the party at her client’s house. Everything was done. All she had to do was a final check and load the van.
She crossed to the barn, pushed the door open and flicked on the lights.
Nothing.
She flicked them on and off.
Still nothing.
Her stomach tightened. The barn felt wrong. Too quiet, still, like it was holding its breath.
She stood there a second longer, listening, processing, then hurried inside. “No,” she whispered. Dread settled in her heart. No. Not today.
She tried the switches she knew—the overhead lights, the outlets along the prep wall—but nothing changed. Whatever fed the barn itself was dead.
She rushed over to the refrigerator. Dark. She yanked open the door, and lukewarm air spilled out. The shelves were slick with condensation. The yogurt parfaits slumped in their cups, berries bleeding into the cream.
She opened the freezer next.
A wave of damp, sour air hit her. Melted ice. Soft packages. Ice crystals pooling at the bottom.
“Aargh!” Mia screamed into the darkness, pressing her forehead against the door. Not today. Please, not today.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. What could she salvage? Not the parfaits. Certainly not the salmon.
She reached for the salad, lifted the lid, and stared at soggy, sad, pathetic lettuce.
“What can I save?” she muttered.
How long had the power been out? Overnight? Hours? Too long.
Mia pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled. Sabrina.
She hit call. It rang once, twice. “Come on. Come on,” she muttered.
Third time. “Hey,” Sabrina answered.
“Sabrina, I know this is last minute,” Mia said the moment she answered. “My power went out overnight. I lost most of my prep. Do you have anything ready? Salads, proteins, anything I could buy off you for today?”
Sabrina exhaled. “I wish I could help, but I’m tapped. I’ve got my own event this afternoon. Sorry.”
Mia inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Okay. Thanks for answering.”
She ended the call and stared into space for a moment.
Next name.
Dana.
She answered after the first ring. “Morning.”
“My power’s out,” Mia said quickly. “I lost a good chunk of food for an event. I need replacements. Proteins, salads, sides. Anything you got ready?”
Silence. Then, “For today?”
“Yes.”
Dana hesitated just long enough for Mia to worry. “Yeah. I might be able to pull something together,” she said finally. “But it won’t be cheap.”
Mia closed her eyes. “Name it.”
Dana did.
Mia stopped pacing. Her grip tightened on the phone. It was way more than Mia anticipated making from the event.
Her stomach clenched, but she didn’t hesitate. Lost client. Lost reputation. Worse.
“That’s fine,” she said. “When can I pick it up?”
“An hour?” Dana replied. “Payment up front.”
“Send me an invoice,” Mia said, already moving.
The call ended.
Mia let out a small sigh of relief. She had a plan. Now all she had to do was call the client and hope it would be enough.
She dialed. “I wanted to give you a quick update,” Mia said, keeping her voice even. “I had a power issue overnight, but I have backup food coming. Everything will be fresh and on time.”
The client paused, then said, “As long as it’s handled.”
“It is,” Mia said. “Given the early morning scramble, I’ll be adjusting the final invoice. I want you to feel comfortable with how today goes.”
She hung up and let out the breath she was holding.
This was going to hurt financially.
But she’d make it work. She always did.
Midmorning the next day found Mia standing by the breaker box while the electrician crouched in front of the panel. After a couple of calls, she’d managed to get a local firm to come out on an emergency basis for a small extra fee. That part almost made her laugh.
After paying Dana an exorbitant price—though she had saved Mia’s butt—discounting the client and now this electrical issue, she was officially in the red.
Mia leaned against the wall of the small room that housed the electrical and water heater, arms crossed, trying not to calculate the numbers again.
“This subpanel feeds your entire barn,” he said, tapping the breaker with two fingers. “Lights, outlets, refrigeration. The breaker was tripped.”
Mia frowned. “From what?”
He shrugged. “Could’ve been a surge. Compressors cycling at the same time. Old wiring like this? Doesn’t take much.”
She hesitated. “Could someone have turned it off?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t tell you that. All I know is that it wasn’t damaged. Just … off.”
He flipped the breaker back into place. The lights snapped on overhead, followed by the familiar hum of the refrigerator kicking in.
Mia stared at the panel. No labels. No warnings. Just a metal door she’d never had reason to open before.
“You’ll want to upgrade sooner rather than later,” he added, packing up his tools. “But there’s no sign of tampering.”
She thanked him and walked back into the kitchen. With the lights on, everything looked normal. Ordinary.
Still, she felt unsettled.
The kitchen looked the same as it always had. Clean counters. Quiet corners. Nothing to suggest how close the day had come to falling apart.
The hum of the refrigerator filled the space, reassuring and yet somehow not enough.
The event went well. Guests lingered. The plates came back clean. The client was happy.
Mia should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt watchful.
She glanced back at the utility room, then looked away.
Work was coming in. Plans were taking shape.
She let out a slow breath.
She was on a roll.