Chapter 37
Jasper
Sleeping in my room in the farmhouse was the worst kind of torture. I should have been snuggled up with Evie. I should have been prepared to get up to change Vincent’s diapers and rock him back to sleep.
Instead, I tossed and turned, cursing myself and the universe. Hours ago, I’d had everything I’d ever wanted, but I’d managed to lose it all in the blink of an eye.
My only solace was knowing how rational Evie was. It gave me hope that once she cooled down, we could talk through this. But between the encounter with her dad and then her boss’s arrest, she’d been strung tight lately.
All my life, I’d calmly navigated chaos, making thoughtful choices and avoiding danger. I’d seen enough flames to know when a situation was out of control. I’d been slowly building a foundation with Evie, and somehow, I’d dumped a whole bucket of gasoline on it and struck a match.
But Josh’s words echoed in my mind. I was Vincent’s father. I had rights, and sometimes the best thing for a child was establishing clear expectations.
But Evie hadn’t let me explain.
The following morning, I drove into town to pick up Vincent, desperately hoping Evie would be willing to talk.
But I found her frazzled and rushing, stressed about getting to the office to deal with the fallout of this weekend.
So far, we hadn’t heard anything about Louisa’s arrest, and I could only imagine how messy things were.
Evie didn’t usually leave this early, but I couldn’t blame her today.
She thrust the cooler of breast milk into my chest, barely looking at me as I assured her that Vincent could hang with me for as long as she needed. She didn’t look angry anymore, just tired and resigned.
My stomach clenched. I’d rather have her yelling at me than looking so defeated.
My little guy was dressed in a green onesie and matching shorts today, gumming on that damn giraffe. At least he could lift my spirits a little. I’d soak up every minute with him I could.
“We’ll be at the farm for a bit,” I explained. “Josh has set up a meeting to discuss…” I trailed off. She knew what I meant. The Sugar Moon mess. It was getting more complex every day.
In the car, I adjusted the vents to blow cold air in my face, needing something sharp and real to cut through the noise in my head.
Louisa’s arrest had hit Maplewood like a thunderclap.
The town Facebook group had been flooded with questions and rumors, and every wannabe TikTok true crime expert had a theory.
They varied between corporate embezzlement, contamination, and sabotage.
But all I could think about was Evie’s face last night, pale and hurt as she held the papers in her shaking hands.
Gabe and Brian had pushed them on me for protection. A safety net. Not a threat or a weapon against Evie. They meant well, but I hadn’t even read them. All I wanted was to be with Vincent, this small, astonishing person who had changed my life.
But now Evie regarded me as the enemy.
I had pushed too hard. I’d wanted too much too fast. But I didn’t want to be a visitor in my child’s life.
I wanted to be the kind of father my dad had been.
Steady, available, helpful. The kind who showed up and had a secret candy stash specifically for the bad days.
The kind who would sit for hours helping me master long division.
I wanted Evie to see me as a partner, not a mistake that kept showing up with good intentions.
Evie. I was in love with her, but now she was doubting that.
Over the past few months, she’s slowly revealed parts of herself she kept hidden from the rest of the world.
She laughed without censoring herself, and she shared her most vulnerable parts with me.
After her encounter with her dad, I had a new appreciation for her strength.
She’d built a life for herself and had been surviving alone.
But then she’d let me in, and that meant rewriting the story she’d used to keep herself safe.
Every time I looked at the two of them, I felt like a man standing inside a house I hadn’t built but wanted to protect anyway. They were my people. Now I needed to find a way to make her understand that.
The driveway was full of vehicles by the time we arrived. Thank God Josh had upgraded the HVAC and installed central air. The humidity was already crushing, and my shirt was already stuck to my chest.
With one arm hooked under the handle of Vincent’s bucket seat and his diaper bag slung over my other shoulder, I marched toward the kitchen. With any luck, someone inside had details about what had gone down at the festival. Whatever was happening, it was better to know.
Inside, the low murmur of voices hit me first. Then the sharp smell of coffee. Wayne appeared, tail wagging, and I bent to scratch his ears.
In the kitchen, Josh sat at the head of the table, shoulders squared, jaw clenched. Gabe was seated next to him with a dozen or so documents spread out between them. From here, it looked like delivery logs, order forms, and invoices.
Brian and Jess were on the other side of the table, Brian typing furiously on his laptop.
Jenn hovered by the sink, drying a mug absentmindedly. Her curls were piled on top of her head and she had an apron on, like she’d come here straight from the café.
I eased Vincent’s car seat onto the island and freed him from it. With him propped on my hip, I leaned against the counter and took in the scene in front of me.
“We need to steer clear of Sugar Moon,” Brian advised. “Their counsel has already called me twice this morning, insisting the arrest of Louisa Meyer was a misunderstanding. He seems convinced that we have evidence of some kind—”
“The feds are sniffing around,” Gabe added. “They asked for a meeting at city hall this week. And rumor is that the Department of Agriculture is showing up for farm inspections early.”
Josh stiffened, his already hard face going stony. My brother was not a big fan of regulators. They’d given him the runaround when he’d taken over and combined the farms. If they showed up for a surprise inspection? It would not be pretty.
“The feds are looking at anyone with a connection to Will as well as Sugar Moon,” Gabe said, his focus fixed on his own laptop. “Anything he handled. Anyone he met with. And the shipments.”
Josh’s lips thinned. “The shipments were cleared. The dates match, the quantities—”
“It’s the signatures.” Gabe nodded at Brian. “They’re the problem.”
As Brian turned his computer toward Josh, I rounded the table so I could see the screen.
“We’ve been going through all the records. See this one?” Brian asked. “Signed J. Lawrence. And it’s not the only one.”
Josh shook his head sharply. “That’s not my signature.”
All eyes turned to me next.
“I don’t sign off on anything,” I said, “I’m barely around.”
“I know.” Josh sighed. “That’s the damn point. Someone used our name. Or worse. Are these even legitimate invoices?”
Jenn set her mug down too hard, starling everyone. “Did we do something illegal?”
“Not yet,” Gabe said.
Brian sighed. “The aggressive emails from Sugar Moon’s legal team aren’t helping.”
Josh grunted. “And those fuckers at Evergreen are sniffing around again.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gabe groaned. “They can smell blood in the water.”
Over the years, Evergreen, a big ag company in the area, had made several offers for our land. They seemed to be buying up all the mature maple stands in the region. Why, I had no idea. But our trees were not for sale.
And these corporate fuckers did not like hearing the word no.
“So it’s fraud?” Jess asked.
Gabe shook his head. “We don’t know. Could be simple errors.”
“Simple errors happening again and again? No,” Josh snapped. “We do not make paperwork errors.”
I believed him. My brother was meticulous. A person doesn’t make as much money on Wall Street as he did without superhuman-level attention to detail.
He buried his head in his hands. “Are we being set up?”
I pulled up a chair next to Brian and passed Vincent to Jess. Then I leaned in, studying the documents.
They looked like our standard records, the familiar columns consisting of dates, gallons, IDs, and time stamps. Except the tiny handwritten initials. The unfamiliar “J. Lawrence.”
It made my stomach clench.
Josh dropped his hands and straightened, looking older and more tired than I’d ever seen him. “I should have triple-checked everything. And I shouldn’t have trusted the seasonal help.”
“That isn’t realistic. This isn’t on you,” Jenn insisted. “You’ve been killing yourself keeping this place running. We know what you do for us.”
Josh dipped his chin.
He’d taken all of this on. Continuing the family legacy, caring for our childhood home, integrating Ed and Suzie’s farm.
And he’d made it profitable. He’d made sure each of us was a shareholder, that we all received a portion of the income, and he worked seven days a week to ensure things never got off track.
“Our name is on every barrel. My signature on every paycheck. This is my fuckup.” He admitted.
Outside, a tractor rumbled past, only punctuating the stunned silence in the room.
Vincent fussed in Jess’s arms, so I hopped up and dug out a bag of milk so I could make a bottle for him.
Gabe tapped the papers in front of him. “We don’t have all the information yet.” He took a deep breath. “But keep your mouths shut. No statements, on or off the record. No gossip. We’ll gather our intel, cooperate with authorities, and ignore all the noise.”
“Easy for you to say, Mr. Mayor,” Jenn hissed. “You’re not the one making latte art while the people in line whisper about your murderous family.”
Bottle ready, I frowned at my oldest sister. “Who is saying that?”
She shook her head.
“The town is turning on itself,” Gabe grumbled. “I thought things were improving. The Founder’s Festival brought in a decent number of people, and it seemed like a success.”
Josh huffed. “Until the CEO of the state’s largest maple syrup plant was arrested in the middle of it.”
“Now it’s open season. Bitsy Bramble is probably texting her Maple Street Mafia counterparts about this. That woman can smell scandal like syrup boiling over.”
More than one brief, humorless laugh echoed through the room.
“Let me help.” I took Vincent from Jess and cradled him, offering him the bottle. “I’ll talk to the guys at the firehouse. There has been so much chatter about unmarked trucks, weird anomalies with farms, and that concentrate—””
Gabe stood up. “Stop,” he gritted out. “No off the books heroics. We’ll cooperate in official investigations only.”
“What concentrate?” Jenn asked.
Josh picked up the stack of papers and tapped them against the table, straightening them with a little too much force. “Evergreen’s super product. The green fertilizer. We don’t use it. I told the sales rep to fuck off when he suggested we could increase our yields with his bullshit.”
I’d seen the Evergreen label on a rusted barrel a few weeks ago during a call out to the Jaffrey farm. The product was BGX-9. Not that it mattered, since we didn’t use it.
Josh pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the hardwood. “I’m already behind.”
Brian nodded at Gabe, though he didn’t stop typing. Luckily, he and Jess and the girls were here for a little longer before school started again. His presence would be helpful during this bullshit, and he had a way of using logic to keep people from getting worked up. He wouldn’t lead us astray.
The meeting dissolved. Papers were stacked, chairs scraped across the floor, and half the group took off. Gabe back to the office. Jenn to the café. Josh stomped out toward the barn, whistling for Wayne, who was probably off traumatizing the chickens.
Jess played with Vincent while I drank a cup of coffee, considering the red wooden sign at the end of the drive. The one that had been there all my life.
Lawrence Farm. Established 1948.
And for the first time, I was scared of what that sign might cost us all.