Chapter 37
Chloe
I’d already met with Dafydd Chen from the council.
I’d emailed him first thing Monday morning, and he’d had a cancellation for the following day, so I’d taken the bus to the council building and met with him, walking him through my long-term strategy for the farm’s growth.
He’d seemed thrilled, both with the results I’d seen already and the ideas I had for the future.
But then I’d pitched something he wasn’t expecting.
“I’ve loved working at Gwenynen this summer,” I said. “And I’m really proud of what I’ve achieved.”
“Good,” he said. “You should be.”
“But…” I said, my mouth going dry, and I had to take a sip of water in order to continue. Dafydd’s face creased as he tried to puzzle out where I was going with things.
“Yes?”
“I don’t think I was the right person to hire,” I said, and I watched as he reeled back slightly at this admission.
“You don’t?”
I shook my head. “Teddy Cooper, Jen’s niece, has been working at the farm for decades. Since she was a teenager. And she should have had the chance to come on board full time.”
Dafydd sighed and smiled at me. “You know, Jen said the same thing,” he admitted. “We talked about it extensively. But it’s a local development grant, and one of the restrictions is that—”
“All hires must be local,” I finished for him. “I know. But it’s not Teddy’s fault that she isn’t local. She’s been doing everything that she can for years to try to move here permanently. But without the grant money, the farm can’t afford it.”
Dafydd took a sip of his tea and looked down at the table, and I could tell he was trying to formulate the exact right response.
I fought against every instinct to keep talking, to tell him exactly why he should make an exception, but I liked Dafydd.
And from the way he was looking at me – not condescendingly or dismissively, but like he really respected me – I trusted him. So, I waited.
“I get it,” he said. “I really do. Gwenynen being a family business is part of why we chose it for the grant. Jen’s ethos is incredibly strong and aligned with what we want for the town, too.”
I could already sense the “but” coming before he said it, but it hit like a jab anyway.
“But,” he said, “the problem with family businesses is that growth can be very slow. And a lot of them do rely on grants to help them scale, but they’re then bound to the restrictions of those grants. It’s an awful catch twenty-two, but it’s the hard reality of it.”
“I understand that,” I said. “Really, I do. It’s not the council’s responsibility to make sure the farm has enough revenue to hire someone, and certainly not based on personal attachment.”
“Exactly,” he said, though I could tell from his frown that he didn’t like it any more than I did.
“But you are actually able to change this for them,” I said. “I’m not asking you to give Gwenynen more money than you already are. I’m just asking that Teddy qualify as a local hire.”
“Is Ms Cooper qualified to do the job?” Dafydd asked. “Because it’s not just about locality, it’s also about skill set. And the reason you were hired was because of your vision, and your ability to execute events and marketing strategies in line with the goals of the grant.”
“No,” I admitted. “Teddy can’t do what I can do.
She could probably do an okay job, better than even she thinks, but not like me.
” It felt surprisingly good to admit – to take pride in what I’d achieved.
To voice how important my contribution actually was.
“But what if there was a way for us to have both?”
Dafydd frowned. “I don’t see how that’s possible,” he said, and my heart sank momentarily. “But I’m listening.”
Over the next hour, I ran Dafydd through my proposal – that Teddy be allowed to qualify as a local hire so the farm could sponsor her, and the grant money would be split between her salary and my services.
I would still work for Gwenynen, but not as a full-time employee; as a part-time contractor.
I was nervous – I hadn’t run any of this past Jen, so I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure the numbers would work – but as long as the council agreed to count Teddy as a local hire, we could figure the rest out later.
Together, as a team. Maybe even before Teddy had to leave in a couple of weeks.
As much as I’d hoped Dafydd would be convinced beyond doubt and agree on the spot, I wasn’t surprised when he’d said he would investigate and get back to me. He couldn’t make the decision unilaterally, so I’d need to wait. And I’d never been a very patient person, but this time, I had no choice.
* * *
So, whilst I didn’t have specific plans, I did feel quietly confident that we would be able to work something out. I just needed to resist the urge to get Teddy’s hopes up until I heard back.
It was the only reason I’d let myself be with her tonight – I was hoping it was the start of something rather than the end. For once, I didn’t feel like letting myself get close to her was a doomed pursuit.
Except, then she’d gone and disintegrated, and as I watched her wipe tears from her eyes, I knew I was too late.
Against all odds, she’d loved D&D, and she loved Nashala. She’d poured so much of herself – her own hurt and hope and passion – into the character and the campaign. For her to throw that away … I could see it in her eyes – she’d decided to give up trying to stay.
“You’re leaving,” I said. It wasn’t a question. She pressed her mouth into a thin line and nodded.
“On Monday,” she said, and it was like a punch to the gut. She must have moved up her flight. And she must have known, as she had her fingers inside me just hours ago, that she was getting ready to leave me.
“Oh, shit,” Jack said, standing up to move around the table and hug Teddy. “I’m glad we got through that fight, then.”
“Me, too,” Teddy said, hugging Jack back. “Who would have thought four months ago that I’d be crying over D&D?”
They both laughed, and when they pulled apart, the others were there, lining up to hug Teddy, too. They said their goodbyes in turn whilst I watched. Fatima didn’t look quite as surprised as the others – I imagined she’d known to kill off Nashala – but clearly even she hadn’t known what it meant.
“So,” Teddy said, looking over at me, but I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place.
“I told you not to lose hope,” I said, my voice shaking with anger and desperation. “I told you to hang tight.”
Teddy shook her head. “Don’t do this, Chloe. We had a good night. We’ll just leave it there.”
“No!” I yelled, bringing my hand down on the table, my dice jumping and clattering back down. I felt my lip begin to tremble. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
I looked down at the table, at the D20 which had re-rolled itself in my outburst. The D20 I’d used in the combat to keep things fair, knowing Teddy had weighted the one she’d given me. A one stared up at me, mocking me. A critical failure.
“Come on,” Teddy said. “I didn’t mean to make tonight about this. Can we just have a good evening?”
I shook my head exaggeratedly, trying to loosen the coiling I felt inside me. “I think you should just go now, actually. Since you have one foot out the door anyway.”
“Chloe,” Fatima said, “that’s not fair.” I shot daggers up at her.
“Isn’t it?” I asked, looking back at Teddy. “Because why else would she move up her flight?”
“It’s okay,” Teddy said, pushing back from the table and standing. “I didn’t mean to make this about me. I’ll just go.”
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat, watching her pack up her dice into her backpack.
“Here,” I said, reaching down into my own bag and chucking the T-shirt at her. “Take this with you. I don’t want it.”
It landed momentarily against her chest, then flopped down onto the table. But Teddy didn’t even acknowledge that I’d thrown it. She just smiled sadly down at me, even as I maintained my stony expression. Then she waved to the others and left, the front door clicking shut behind her.
The others all turned to look at me, stunned. I felt tears building behind my eyes.
“Amy,” I said quietly, and I heard the jangle of her keys before I had to say anything else.
“Of course,” she said. “Come on.”
I gathered my things slowly, debating leaving the die and the T-shirt on the table, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave them behind. Even if Teddy had decided she could do it, I wasn’t ready to let go yet. Not entirely. So I stuffed them into my bag without saying a word, then left into the night.
I looked around when I got outside, scanning for Teddy’s Subaru, or maybe Jen’s van. But I didn’t see either. There was no trace of Teddy anywhere. She was already gone.
* * *
Three days later, I was wallowing at home, surrounded by takeaway containers and romancing my favourite red muscle mommy for the dozenth time.
My friends had barely left my side for the first two days after the party – Amy had even slept on my sofa both nights in a row – but now I was alone, telling myself this was how it would be.
I’d tried to figure out how to fix the situation, but I couldn’t get to the farm – the bus wasn’t running all the way there over the weekend, and the rain was too heavy to walk from the station safely.
I thought about it constantly, picturing myself running up the gravel drive in the storm to profess my love again, but my good sense won out, figuring it wasn’t worth it if I got run over by a car because of poor visibility before I could even get there.
I knew one of my friends would have driven me, or I could have rung Jen, but she was running workshops over the weekend, and honestly, I was embarrassed about how I’d handled things when Teddy had left.
I didn’t want to admit that I’d made a mistake. Not just yet.
I also had no idea what I’d say to convince her to stay. If me telling her I loved her hadn’t done the trick, then until I heard back from Dafydd, I had nothing more to offer her.