Chapter 7
7
Think in the morning.
Act in the noon.
Eat in the evening.
Sleep in the night.
William Blake
A fter sending Teddy to the barn, Baylin took a quick shower and returned to the parlor. By the light of her laptop, she surveyed the items remaining on the day’s checklist. Baylin checked and answered emails, reconciled the farm accounts and paid bills, printed packing slips for orders from the farm’s online store, noted which items to restock, and reviewed Monday’s to-do list. With those chores done, she checked doors, adjusted the thermostat, and headed to her room. At 11 o’clock sharp, Baylin turned back the covers and quilts on her bed, climbed in, and closed her eyes.
But sleep evaded her.
Instead of the dark oblivion she typically enjoyed after a long Sunday of early morning chores followed by church and lunch in town, an afternoon of making up for the morning off, and an evening of preparing for the week ahead, Teddy appeared in her mind.
He was easy on the eyes, no denying that.
At five foot seven, Baylin didn’t consider herself short, but also not tall. Teddy towered over her; he had to be at least six foot two. But not lanky. No, he filled out his faded blue jeans and soft cotton t-shirt quite nicely.
His well-worn boots, muscular build, natural tan, and aw-shucks approach to life led her to believe he worked with his hands, not behind a desk where he’d wear a suit and tie and sit in a quiet cubicle day after day. Baylin understood people who worked outdoors, doing physical labor… Those were her people.
Once upon a time, Baylin had considered a sophisticated, fancy-dressing corporate type life in a city. She’d applied to colleges all over the country and accepted a scholarship to attend the business school at Southern Methodist University. Dallas wasn’t too far of a drive from Green Hills and living in Big D had sounded glitzy and glamorous. SMU’s campus and the buzz of energy she felt when she visited for her admissions interview sold her on the adventure. She’d even dreamed of staying there for law school after earning her undergraduate degree. Excited for the future and eager for the unknown, Baylin had been open to wherever the path led.
But a week before her high school graduation, tragedy struck.
Papa Joe died in a freak farming accident. One minute he’d been strong and healthy; the next minute he’d been gone.
Grandma, who’d been showing early signs of dementia, couldn’t handle the farm by herself, wouldn’t have known what farm work to do daily even without the memory challenges. The house and garden had always been her domain, the crops and animals had been Papa Joe’s.
And Baylin’s.
Since she’d been big enough to sit on a pony and carry a feed bucket, Baylin had been Papa Joe’s constant companion on the farm. She’d lived in town with her parents, but she’d spent every available second, every weekend, and every school break on the O’Casey Farm.
After Papa Joe’s sudden death, Baylin canceled her plan to attend SMU so she could help her family. When her parents announced plans to sell the farm and find an assisted living community for Grandma, Baylin gave up on going away to college. Instead, she completed her studies online and at a different school, one known for the new degree she sought: agricultural business and farm management.
The business degree had come in handy since she’d bought out her parents’ financial interest in the farm. In the five and a half years she’d been running it, they’d expanded the operation. She’d worked alongside the Sharp family, who owned the most successful ranching enterprise in the area, if not the entire state of Oklahoma. Hudson Sharp and his aunt Juniper had advised and mentored Baylin. They’d been a surrogate family since her mom and dad moved to Florida. Between her dad’s inheritance and the funds they received from selling to Baylin, her parents had the means to retire from her dad’s job as a local insurance agent and her mom’s job as the elementary school secretary.
Besides the icky feeling that Papa Joe’s death had made it possible, Baylin had no qualms with her parents’ decision to leave. The farm had never been their thing, and they’d only stayed in Green Hills so long for Baylin to grow up there, in a safe community and surrounded by friends and loved ones. They loved their life in Florida, and Baylin loved that for them.
Meanwhile, Baylin’s life revolved around the O’Casey farm.
She oversaw every aspect, worked in the business, not just on it. Her hands got dirty every single day. That’s why she understood a farmer’s tan, thread-bare blue jeans, and scuffed boots.
On the other hand, those boots had cost a pretty penny; Baylin could tell that by the quality of the leather and the stitching on them.
And that car! Boxy .
Somewhere amidst Teddy’s constant stream of chatter and singing and humming and chuckling, it became obvious that Teddy was very well-spoken…like someone not only educated but trained in public speaking.
On top of that, Teddy seemed drawn to her library; he’d been so reverent with each book he touched. Working long days outdoors left little time to read; Baylin could attest to that… Her to be read list rivaled Santa’s book of names.
Those thoughts of books she wanted to read and the Dickens novel Teddy’d chosen, of the piano piece she needed to perfect for the festival’s pageant and the way Teddy seemed to have an endless song on his lips, of the bubble bath she eschewed for a quick shower to save time because she’d spent too much time with Teddy that night, of the way his jeans moved with his easy gait, of the way he hustled to carry the potato crates so she wouldn’t have to heft the heavy load, of the way Teddy?—
Grrrr! Teddy, Teddy, Teddy .
He’d consumed her thoughts all night, when she should’ve been sleeping.
When the alarm chimed bright and early at 5:30 a.m., Baylin didn’t greet the day with a smile.
When Teddy knocked on the side door entrance to the kitchen at 7:00 a.m., Baylin still wasn’t smiling.
But Teddy was.
His glass-half-full, permanent-good-mood aura accomplished the dual effects of irritating Baylin while lifting her spirits at the same time.
Grrrr, again.
“Good morning,” he offered, taking his grin up a notch. “Mind if I share a cup of coffee with you?”
“Help yourself; burner’s still on.” Baylin gestured toward the pot.
“Can I pour a mug for you?”
“No, I don’t have time,” she answered. Despite her protest, he poured two cups.
She frowned when he set them both on the table and pulled out a chair for her.
“I don’t—” she began, but he cut her off.
“I heard you,” he admitted. They both knew good and well he’d heard her. “But the day’s gonna fly by quick enough; we might as well take a few minutes to enjoy it before it’s gone.”
“Humph,” she grunted indelicately, prompting him to giggle.
Giggle!
Did adult men giggle? Ever?
Someone should outlaw giggling first thing in the morning!
Resigned to drink the cup of coffee he’d made for her — just so it wouldn’t go to waste — Baylin grabbed the creamer from the refrigerator and joined Teddy at the table.
She ignored him as she added sugar and cream and stirred her drink, aware he watched her every move.
She lifted the cup to inhale the aroma, closed her eyes, and sipped the hot brew. Baylin couldn’t stop the satisfied sigh that escaped after her first taste.
Like clockwork, Baylin made a pot of coffee every morning, just in case she’d hired farm hands for the day and one stopped by with questions. Baylin rarely poured herself a cup. And she never sat down to drink it. Doing so used up precious minutes she needed to tackle other tasks.
She’d been missing out.
Teddy had the wisdom not to say I told you so , but his gleeful smile said it for him.
“Did you eat?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you. Someone left yogurt and fruit and these amazing muffins. They were delicious.”
“And the barn is adequate for your stay?”
“More than,” he confirmed. “Again, someone set it up just right.”
He paused, and Baylin nodded, feeling obligated to acknowledge his compliment but adamantly refusing to let him know she was the one who’d made the muffins the day before, she’d decorated the barndominium when they added it to the barn a few years earlier, and she’d taken a few minutes to get it ready for Teddy while he’d called Jax about his car.
He’s nothing but grief.
By the end of their afternoon in the garden the previous day, Baylin had considered letting him rent the condo. Then she’d reprimanded herself for even thinking such a thing. But then she’d softened during dinner and run upstairs to be sure he had some food and necessities to make his stay enjoyable. She’d wanted the space to be warm and inviting for him, just in case he didn’t find a hotel room. The moment that thought ran through her head, she had promptly scolded herself for being weak and had mentally put her foot down: Teddy Gwenn needs to go .
That he hadn’t even tried to find a hotel room proved it!
But she’d caved a third time when she’d been sitting in her truck as he gathered his bags. Watching him talk to his ridiculous car while he handled it with kid gloves tugged at her heartstrings.
All that wishy-washy emotional stuff gave Baylin a headache. She’d take the fact that Teddy consumed so much — or any — of her thoughts to the grave. There was no telling what he’d have done with the information.
“Want me to pay you each morning?” He reached for his back pocket. “$500 per day, I believe.” She smirked at the teasing twinkle in his eyes.
“One check at the end will be fine.” Baylin pushed back from the table and stood, slid in her chair, and stepped to the sink. She finished her coffee, savoring the last drop. She rinsed the mug and set it in the dishwasher. Then she walked to the coat rack by the door, selected a sherpa-lined work jacket, and opened the door. Just before she headed to the chicken coop to collect eggs, she glanced back over her shoulder to meet Teddy’s gaze. “And yes, $500 per day will suffice,” she added with a little shoulder shake of snootiness.
By golly, two can play that game!