Chapter Seventeen
Madison
The ridiculous smile on my face can’t be helped as I drive on Paradise Road. I’ve been pining for George all morning, trying my best to get through my work calls before I head to the farm.
After a lengthy conversation with my boss about the stalled sale, I’ve convinced him the deal isn’t dead and I’m still working hard, hence my decision to stay in Heartsboro.
“Kevin, I just need a few more days. The good news is, I gave Mr. Jamison our offer, and he hasn’t come out and said, ‘No.’ I promise I’ll have an answer by the end of the week.”
He clears his throat, his tone a reminder my job is on the line. “End of the week, and then it’s time to reconvene. I want an in-person update in Savannah.”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you soon.”
I shrug off the underlying pressure building in my chest. If I return to Kevin with a definitive “no,” I might lose my job. But I also know George can’t ever leave the farm and his flowers. It’s his only home. His sanctuary.
His reason for living.
I wrack my brain for a solution that could benefit both parties.
After my call with Kevin, I spend uninterrupted time on my research, looking for a resolution or excuse that makes sense.
There is no way I can waltz into the Savannah headquarters and tell him the farm is too pretty or too prosperous to sell.
Or that removing George Jamison from the property will be harmful to his mental health.
There is no quick fix to my dilemma.
My workaround and explanation to my boss has to be meticulously planned and articulated in such a way that he will trust my findings and give me another project to move on to.
I just need to gather more data regarding the workings of the farm and the community as a whole.
If I can find something beneficial to my case, I might have a chance to tamper Kevin’s robust interest in the final kill.
He’d said it before when I’d struck lucrative deals in the past, how he loved “the kill,” dismantling generations of land owner’s homes and fields, turning their properties into giant industrial factories.
And now, after a weekend in paradise getting to know the gentlest man I’ve ever encountered, I also realize with shame the depth of my skills.
How, in the past, I most definitely hurt a few families who were on the fence about selling.
How I convinced them to cave, all while making my company very rich in the process.
But today isn’t about my culpability or my deep thought process on how to rescue the Jamison family.
No.
Today is about seeing George and finding that feeling again when I’m with him. Of being my true self with no ulterior motive except to see his smile. To have him hold me so closely I can feel his heartbeat.
I glance in the rearview mirror, and the same swoony feeling comes over me when I touch my lips, a buzzing reverberating throughout my body.
When I think of him, heat pools in my center.
His blue eyes. His dark hair. His bulging biceps.
His thumb sweeping over my bottom lip as he grins at me.
Forever, the lavender smell of this man will live in my memory, tucked away with my father’s poems written in cursive across sheets of notebook paper.
Something lovely that will permeate my mind in unexpected moments.
Turning my car onto the dirt road leading to the farm, I look out the window at the lush fields in the distance. I always want this memory of the farm with me. Flowers and fence posts flashing by the windows, the summer sun vibrant and hot in the noonday.
I might never leave Heartsboro.
The thought startles me, and I grip the steering wheel tighter.
I want to stay forever after only ten days?
This doesn’t make any sense. My apartment and my sister are in Atlanta.
And on the rare occasion when my mom visits, she likes to go to Centennial Olympic Park and the Georgia Aquarium.
No one will believe me if I tell them I’ve decided I want to live in the middle of nowhere.
I shake my head and anticipate my handsome cowboy greeting me with his eyes, wide and so blue I wish I could dive right into them. And his endearing smile glowing from under his cowboy hat, making it very hard not to immediately smile back.
But I’m not greeted by George. It’s Kip Johnson who grins at me, his cocky swagger causing me to exhale with dread.
“Well, hello there, Miss High and Mighty,” he says, tipping his hat back as I get out of the car.
“Hey, Kip. How’s it going?”
“I’m good. Stopping by to say hello to your friends?”
I slam the car door and walk past him, not about to give him the time of day. “It’s none of your business why I’m here.”
“Oh, come on, Madison. I think we got off on the wrong foot. And it’s no secret my workers have seen your car parked on the property this week while I was away on business. Can’t we be friends? I mean, if you’re friends with Ralph and that handicapped grandson of his…”
“—stop it,” I snap, standing my ground. “George Jamison is not handicapped, okay? He’s a brilliant farmer, and you know it.”
“Okay, okay.” Kip backs away with his hands held up in surrender. “My bad. George and I are actually friends. I was just kidding around. Geez, you must have genuine feelings for the guy or something.”
My cheeks are on fire as I blow out a long breath. I want to say, “Or something,” but keep my feelings for George a secret.
“Kip? Can you please cut it out? George is a friend of mine too, okay?”
He nods, his steely eyes focused on my face. “A friend, huh? Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Hmmm. Well, he came back from working the stand all morning with his panties all in a wad. Said he had some kind of emergency to tend to.”
Panic bolts through my core. “Oh, no. It’s not Ralph, is it?”
Kip shakes his head. “Nope. I just saw Ralph poking around the barn a few minutes ago. He’s fine.
George didn’t say what got him riled up.
” There’s a flash of frustration in his eyes.
“He sprinted through the fields toward Pine Mountain Ridge saying he had to take care of something.” He points in the distance toward the hills covered in dark clouds, the low rumble of thunder a sign of an approaching pop-up storm.
A streak of worry shoots through my heart. “And you have no idea where he might’ve gone?”
We’re interrupted by Ralph’s voice. “Hey, Madison. How are ya?”
I turn to greet him, my relieved smile immediate. “Hi, Ralph. I’m… good. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fair to middling,” he chuckles.
“Hey, Ralph. She was just asking me about George. I told her I saw him run off through the fields,” Kip says.
I reach out and touch Ralph’s shoulder. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Ralph scratches at the stubble on his chin. “Well, he’s probably out there tending the flowers in the back fields. I know we have a big order that came in for Home Foods. But then again, it’s pretty late in the day for him to be harvesting anything, especially with the storm rolling in.”
“You know, sometimes George runs off like this when he’s upset,” Kip suggests. “I’d check out the pond or the old fort. Maybe he’s letting off a little steam?”
“You’re right,” Ralph says. “Come on, Madison. I’ll walk with you.”
“No. It’s too hot and it’s too far for you. And I can hear the thunder.”
“I’m good.” He turns toward Kip. “There’s rain in the forecast. You best be getting those pallets back in the barn.”
“Yes, sir.” He grins at me and tips his hat. “See ya later, pretty lady.”
I grimace, thankful when he turns and walks away.
Ralph notices and shakes his head. “He’s harmless, I swear. Come on.”
I raise my eyebrows and keep my mouth shut for now.
We follow the gardenia-lined path past the barn and stop at the slope, which reveals the picturesque landscape. The rows of lavender dance in the humid breeze, the deep violet and pastel purple colors gorgeous from underneath the darkening sky.
Strands of hair whip across my face as I stand and scope the fields, hoping to catch sight of George in the distance. Ralph is doing the same.
“Kip is right. If George isn’t in the fields, he’s probably at the pond or the old fort and broken treehouse.”
“Why would he go there?” I ask.
“It’s a safe haven for him. You know, a place to think. He’s had a lot on his mind trying to deal with my prognosis.”
My heart falls to my feet when I think of another possible reason.
“Did you tell him the real reason why I’m here? Not that it matters anymore, because I know you’re not selling.”
Ralph immediately shakes his head. “No. He doesn’t know. But we do need to have a conversation about it. I need to give him that option.”
“He’ll never leave this place.” I look out over the achingly beautiful landscape. “This is his home. He’ll never give it up. And he shouldn’t have to.”
Ralph kicks at a rock with the pointy tip of his boot, his head bowing with uncertainty. “But what if he has no other choice? He can’t run this place on his own without me.”
I turn and grip the old man’s arms with gentleness.
“Ralph, I’m going to help y’all. I swear.
I don’t know what it looks like, but I’ll devise a plan.
I’m already working on how to let my boss know you’re not interested in selling.
I just need something convincing to tell him, something more than your change of heart, if that makes any sense. ”
“It does,” he replies. “I’m grateful for your honesty in trying.”
“I’ll continue to do my best. I promise.”
“Well… I have an idea that’s been percolating in my noggin.” He pauses before the words exit his mouth. “You could always marry George.”
Dumbstruck, I step back from him as another rumble of thunder reverberates through the valley. “Pardon me?”
“You and George. You could get married. I’ve seen the way you two have gotten closer this last week.
George is totally smitten with you. Y’all are a good match, too, just like me and my Rosie were back in the day.
And if you did get married, you’d have direct access to the land deed and legally be a part of any decisions concerning the farm. ”
I hold my breath for a beat, my eyes locked on Ralph’s face. Was he serious?
His forced laugh startles me, the lines around his kind eyes crinkling with humor. “I’m just wishful thinkin’. But truth be told, having you for a daughter-in-law would be mighty fine. Even if I was only around for a short amount of time to enjoy you.”
My mind reels; the thought of Ralph dying and me being married to George and living on a farm a foreign concept.
“You’re very sweet to say that.”
Ralph changes the subject and points in the distance. “See that strip of uncultivated land by the fence?”
I follow his finger to the fencerow and nod. “Yes?”
“If you turn right and go straight into that cluster of tall pines, you’ll stumble upon the fort. My guess is he’s in there stewing over something. If he’s not there, keep going, and you’ll run straight into the pond.”
The wind gusts, and Ralph looks up into the moody sky.
“Some say heavy storms can be a good time to fish because the changing air pressure makes them more active. It’d be just like George to go fishing right about now.
He loves to catch bluegill. But I think it’s best for you to wait out the storm on the front porch before you investigate.
Wouldn’t want you to ruin your nice boots. ”
The last thing on my mind is my footwear.