Chapter 3
Ariana
“In four hundred feet, turn right on Shipwreck Drive,” my phone’s navigation app says. I’ve named him Norris, and right now, we are heading for divorce.
“There’s no road there, Norris!” I yell angrily as I motion to the lack of a place to turn.
“Make a U-turn in three hundred feet,” he replies.
I want to cry. This drive should have been short. Katia said it would take less than two hours to get here. It’s been three. Three hours of turning around, making U-turns, and recalculating.
I turn around. I ignore Norris, deciding to read a road sign instead.
“Storyview Falls – 2 miles”
OK, so I can’t be that lost. I continue straight, and in exactly two miles, I’m greeted by a cute little wooden sign that indeed says, Storyview Falls.
“Finally!” I squeal. Up ahead, I see the old houses getting closer together and then they give way to a main street with little shops. They seem vaguely familiar but still no memories come to mind. I had secretly checked Dad’s files for his property here. He still owns it. A penthouse condo on some beach nearby. Aside from a cleaning and management company charge, it didn’t appear Dad had been out here in a while. I know several other billionaire families that have property here, but I’ve only seen them at social gatherings in the city.
“Holy crap! This does look just like a movie set,” I say to myself as I slow down and park along a cute little park that has an actual gazebo. “Katia is going to shit her pants.”
I get out and walk up to the first store I find. It’s a pharmacy. But not a chain one, like a little one from television. I read the name as I walk inside. “Clyde’s Pharmacy.”
There’s a small checkout counter that also appears to be the pharmacy counter.
“Hello?” I say as I look for any sign of humans.
“Just a second,” a voice calls out from somewhere behind shelves of medicine.
A second later, a woman maybe ten years older than me, pops her head out from behind a shelf of antibiotics. “Hey there. What can I do for you?”
“Are you Clyde?” I ask because she doesn’t look like a Clyde.
She laughs as she walks over to me. “No. Clyde would be my grandfather. But he’s retired now. I’m Sylvie. What can I do for you?” she asks as she leans on the counter.
“Oh, uh, I’m sort of lost and my navi is not being helpful. Do you happen to know how to get to Windsor Family Farm from here?” I ask.
“Yeah. Of course. Hold on, this will be easier,” she says as she grabs a sheet of paper and draws me a map. “So, go down Main Street, hook a right on Tower Road, then follow that past the big purple Victorian house, make a left onto Clearview Drive. Now, that forks, so stay to the left, and then about, maybe a mile down that road, you should see a small road, the sign’s down, but it’s Farm Lane and you turn right on that. There’s, like, this massive oak tree right there. And the farm is about a half mile down on the right. There’s a sign. And you’ll see the big red barn where they have the little farmstand shop. Just park there. Are you shopping at the farmstand? Because this time of year I don’t think Kingsley opens it until noon.” She pauses and looks at me.
“No. I, uh, I’m going to see Eric Windsor about a job,” I say as I take the sheet of paper.
She frowns as she looks at me. “To…work on the farm?” she questions as she looks me up and down in confusion. Yeah, I don’t exactly scream farm worker.
I shake my head. “No, no. He’s hiring a social media marketing manager,” I explain.
“Right. Well, good luck,” Sylvie says.
“Thanks,” I reply but my attention is drawn to some awesome postcards.
“These are great. Are these all Storyview Falls?” I ask as I pick up a few.
“Yep. I made them myself. Not that we get tons of tourists, but I think they’re good,” Sylvie says proudly.
“They are very good. You took these photos?” I turn the card over and find her name just as she answers me.
“Yep. Me and my trusty Nikon,” she replies. “Take one. On the house.”
“You sure?” I ask. Because in the city, nothing is for free.
“Yeah. Consider it a good luck postcard.”
I laugh. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”
She nods as I take a postcard of some fishing boats along a cliffy shoreline.
When I get back to my car, I place the paper on the dashboard and begin following the map. Eight minutes later, I’m pulling up to the red barn just as Sylvie described it. “Wow! A farm and a gazebo. This place is unreal,” I mutter as I get out. I realize then that I’ve not exactly worn the best shoes. My boots have heels, and they keep sinking in the mud. The barn door is closed, which means that…what did Sylvie say the person’s name was…Kingsley isn’t here yet. I don’t see an office. So I start around the back side of the barn. There’s another smaller barn-looking building around the back and a fenced-in area.
There are some stepping stones inside the fenced-in area. I can hear something inside. Maybe it’s a person? I open the gate and walk carefully on the round cement stones.
“Hello?” I call out as I approach. I start to peek inside the barn when all of a sudden a snort comes from behind me. I turn just in time to see a giant pig barreling toward me. Can pigs even run? I don’t have time to contemplate that as it whips past me and I go tumbling straight into the mud.
“Oh my God!” I cry as I try to stand, only to start sliding again. This time when I lose my balance, I reach out to brace myself, squeezing my eyes shut. But I never hit the ground. Instead, I’m pulled back against something…or someone.
“I got you,” a deep voice says in my ear.
I jump and the arms let go slowly.
“I…uh…I…” I’m at a loss for words as I spin around and come face-to-face with Eric Windsor. I recognize him immediately from his photo on the website. I swallow because all I see is his handsome face. My eyes go from his eyes to his arms where his biceps bulge under his long-sleeved shirt. Then, I look down at myself and I’m overcome with horror.
I’m covered in mud. And I don’t mean some streaks here and there, I mean full-on doused in earth like I’ve been rolling around with that monster pig.
“Oh my God!” I whisper. I’m completely mortified. Are these boots salvageable? I loved these boots. What do I do? Do I run away and never look back? I’ve come all this way. I can’t believe this happened. Tears threaten and I take a deep breath trying to keep them from pouring over my eyelids. I can’t cry. Not like this.
“Are you alright?” he asks as his eyes survey my body.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, quickly looking away from him again.
“I’m Eric Windsor. This is my farm. Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” he offers.
Swallowing, I look to the door where he’s pointing. “My office is just over there. There’s a bathroom and a laundry room. I’m sure we have some Windsor Farm gear you can borrow.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” I mutter as I glance back at the door. It’s on a wing of a house that sticks off the back of the home. There’s a path of pebbles and stepping stones leading up to a dark red door. It has a window in the top half. There’s not anyone around us and I suddenly question if I should go inside a house with a man I don’t know.
As if sensing my concern, he pulls out his phone and dials a number. “Joy, we have a guest who slipped in the pigpen. Mind bringing us out a towel?”
“Sure thing,” a woman’s voice responds.
Eric places the phone back in his pocket as an older woman opens the red door and walks out toward us holding a towel.
“Oh my. You poor child. Why don’t you come inside? It’s a bit chilly today. I think we have some Windsor Farm T-shirts and sweatpants. We can get you changed and warmed up and I’ll clean your clothes,” she says as she hands me a towel. I wipe my face and stare at the mud on the towel. How dirty am I?
“There’s a shower in the bathroom, just by the office. It’s all yours,” she urges as she gently takes my arm and guides me inside.
I follow her. I feel Eric walking behind us. His big looming presence feels more like a security detail than anything threatening.
“Let’s see here. Well, we don’t have anything in your size,” Joy says as she looks me up and down. “I’m Joy, by the way. Joy Crushner. Let’s see…well, it’ll have to do for now. The shower is in here and the washer and dryer are just here,” she adds, pointing to the two rooms that are side by side in a hallway that looks like it leads into the house, seemingly connecting what appears to be an office space to what looks like a lived-in home beyond a glass-plated French door.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I accept the clothes and walk into the bathroom. I shut the door and stare at the absolute disaster that is me. I’m completely coated in mud like I went to some day spa. At least I think it’s mud. Ewww! I smell myself. Gross.
“Let me know if you need anything. There should be fresh towels in the linen closet,” Joy’s voice comes from the other side of the door.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I open a small closet door and find fluffy blue towels. Well, at least they smell clean. I disrobe and shower quickly. Thankful for the hot water. As I’m drying off, I glance in the mirror and shudder. There’s no way this man is going to hire me. I look like a drowned rat and already proved that I can’t be trusted on a farm.
Tears well in my eyes again. I try to blink them away as I towel dry my curly, red hair. I look so bland without makeup on, and these clothes are two sizes too big. I look like a child pretending to be an adult.
Sighing at my ruined boots. I wrap my clothes into the discarded towel and open the door. I slide into the laundry room and stare at the washer. I know what it is. I just only have used one once. And I completely forget the instructions my friends gave me that time. Freshman year, Dad got me a laundry service when I was forced to live in the dorms, and after that, I had an apartment he paid for and a cleaning service.
“You have a college degree. How hard can this be?” I whisper as I open the top lid and plop the soiled clothes and towel into the basin. I close it because that makes sense. Then I stare at the panel in the back. There are so many options.
“Did you find everything alright?” Joy asks as she suddenly appears in the doorframe.
I jump and clutch my heart.
“You are like a scared little rabbit, aren’t you? Well, never mind that. Nothing scary around here. Other than Earl, but he won’t bite. Now, let’s see.” Joy adjusts some glasses on her nose and looks at the panel. “It’s been a hot minute, but I believe this is the setting you need.” She presses some buttons and the machine turns on.
“There, all set. Oh, let’s get you a pair of socks while you wait. It’s cold in the office,” she says. “I’ll be right back. Have a seat on the sofa,” she adds as she walks into the house. I can see a really nice kitchen beyond the door but not much else.
I turn to walk back into the office and instead run smack-dab into Eric.
“Whoa,” he says in that low voice.
“Sorry,” I squeak as I take a step back.
I look up at him. He’s giving me a once-over as if he can’t quite make out what I am.
I take a deep breath and hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Ariana…Harlow,” I say, deciding using my full name with “Titan” on the end would be a bad idea since all my résumés said Harlow. I’ve gone by Ariana Harlow in most professional settings because I hate being labeled by nepotism. And Harlow is my middle name and was my mother’s maiden name, so it’s not a lie.
He frowns in what appears to be confusion as he reaches out to shake my hand. “Did you apply for a job here?” he asks.
I nod and give him my best smile while trying not to enjoy the warmth and abrasiveness of his big hand wrapped around mine. He releases it and I immediately feel a loss but maintain my smile. “I did. I, uh, happened to be in the area and thought I’d stop by in person.” I look down and then smile sheepishly up at him. “I didn’t expect such an unusual first impression.”
His lips twitch, fighting a grin, but then it breaks through anyhow, and fuck me. This man goes from a ten-out-of-ten to a twenty-out-of-ten when he smiles.
“Well, I’m glad you came by. I’m sorry Petunia knocked you down,” he says as he motions toward the pigpen with his head.
“Petunia? Was that the…” I trail off as I now fight a grin. Of course, this man named his pig Petunia.
“Why don’t you have a seat, and we can talk?” he suggests as he steps aside to allow me to walk back into the office.
“Here you go,” Joy says hurrying in with a giant pair of white men’s socks. “I swear they’re clean. And here’s a warm cider for you,” she offers as she sets both down on the table in front of me.
“Thank you,” I say softly as I pull the socks on and hope they don’t fall off because they are huge. I take a sip of the drink and moan.
“That’s from our farm,” Joy says proudly as she takes a seat at a desk.
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow! If this is yours, it is not going to be hard to market it.”
Eric takes a seat in an old leather chair across from me. He raises an eyebrow. “Tell me more.”
His eyes seem to penetrate my soul as he stares at me. But instead of feeling intimidated, I feel at ease as I look between him and Joy. I want this job. I need this job. I swallow and hope I can impress him.