43. Hacked
Chapter forty-three
Hacked
Paul
The next day, my Farmer Paul social media page got hacked. I couldn’t log in, couldn’t access the account, and couldn’t figure out what to do. In a panic, I rushed to Rob for help.
“Your password is ‘1234’?” he asked incredulously. “You have to be kidding me.”
“It was supposed to be temporary while I was getting started, but I got wrapped up in things and forgot to change it,” I said, knowing it was Maggie that distracted me. “What can I do?”
Rob clicked around, found a few things to try, but it involved getting customer service involved, different verifications, and would take days to fix.
“So, that’s it?” I asked after he sent the information. “Nothing else I can do?”
“I didn’t say that. There are three things you should do now.
Keep creating content on your blog, checking to make sure you have a strong password there.
Then, start a social media account on other platforms, too.
Diversifying could be helpful anyway. It’ll take some work to get the accounts started with strong passwords, but you already have the files of pictures and things saved.
Once you’re up and running, then post strategically, about three videos a day, to get up and running on another platform,” he explained.
I nodded. This was huge. I just lost a pretty big following, and now I was starting from scratch again. How could this be happening? This was the path I needed take to be with Maggie, and I’d just let it slip away by being careless.
No, I couldn’t let that happen. I picked three other social media sites and made accounts with very strong passwords that I wrote in a notebook.
After getting my profiles written, I uploaded one introductory video I’d made in the past, then made a new one talking about how I was hacked.
Spacing them an hour apart, I made sure to work on following others I already knew to get my follower count high enough to use the helpful features.
It took most of the day, but once I had them up and running, I paid for the verifications on all of them to make sure that if anyone hacked me again, it would be easier to get it back up and running.
For hours, I poured all of my time and energy into learning how to increase my follower count, and it worked. The first day, I made it up into the thousands on two different apps. And, the more I posted, the more followers I had who checked out my blog.
It was late in the afternoon by the time I had the situation in hand, meaning I didn’t see much of Maggie.
I texted her to see if she wanted to meet out by the pond, but she had to go meet with the pastor to go over funeral arrangements.
When I asked the next day if she wanted to meet for a cup of coffee, she had to go to the florist. I understood.
When a person’s died, the family had a lot to do.
So, even though it hurt to be away from her, I stayed away so I didn’t rile up her daddy or interfere.
In the meantime, I worked on writing blog entries about things at farm that were dangerous and created a lead magnet of how-to’s on farm maintenance and making repairs.
Over the few days until Mrs. Roth’s wake and funeral, I ended up writing about thirty short articles and got the idea for a larger manual on making repairs to certain farm implements I knew like the back of my hand.
Saving them on a folder in my laptop, I thought it seemed like a good start.
Having something I could sell that was an actual product was another good way to make money.
I was always researching other lead magnets to get people to subscribe to my blog and newsletter.
Without needing to focus on farmwork and Maggie too busy to share a meal, I used the time to build my business stronger than ever. Rob helped me format one of my stories into a farming guide to draw in subscribers.
Despite all that I was posting and tools I was creating, the follower count on my socials increasing did not convert into turning a profit.
My blog had some followers, but not enough to bring in much income.
Getting subscribers to support the store I created to sell digital products for farmers seemed harder than herding barn cats.
At dinner, Dad told us the wake was tomorrow, which made my chest tighten.
Why hadn’t Maggie texted me herself? I’d checked in with her every day, but she’d stopped replying and hadn’t sent me the date and time of the funeral.
Thinking she was just busy with the details, I tried not to take it personally.
The next day, despite the July heat, we all wore black suits. I’d had one in the back of my closet for a few years, but it fit well enough. I even shined my shoes and kept off my cap.
My whole family piled into Dad’s pickup to drive to Rasthmussen’s Funeral Home on Main Street.
Even though we went early, the street was packed.
Dad had to park a few blocks down, so we sweat on the walk back to the funeral home.
Everyone’s handkerchief came out to mop our brows while we waited in line.
While some air pumped through the old ducts, it wasn’t nearly cold enough for these temperatures.
Giving courteous nods to the other townsfolk, we slowly made our way down the long hallway to a large room where Mrs. Roth was put on display.
The first thing I noticed, though, wasn’t Mrs. Roth.
It was the man standing next to Maggie in the receiving line.
My chest tightened when I was close enough to recognize the sniffer from Chicago.
It was the man I saw her pull down the street in delight and dance with at the bar.
My chest heaved with too many emotions: jealousy, anger, frustration, disappointment maybe, too, or maybe I was just feeling like an idiot.
Josh came up beside me. “Those two are her aunt and uncle, right? But who’s that guy?”
Trying to slow my breathing, I blew out a breath. “Don’t know.”
Sawyer stood on my other side. “Do we like him or not?”
I wished I knew.
“Don’t know. Just be respectful,” I whispered.
Dad led us up to the family, as was tradition, and we gave our condolences first to her aunt and uncle. “So sorry about Mrs. Roth. She was a good egg.”
Her uncle gave Dad a hearty handshake, then nodded to the rest of us.
As I passed them, her aunt stuck out her hand to stop me. “Are you Paul?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, nodding to her. “Sorry for your loss.”
She eyed me carefully as I continued onto where Maggie stood.
“Mighty sorry to hear about your mom, Maggie,” Dad said. “She was a great lady.”
Maggie pressed her hands to Dad’s as she forced a smile through shimmering tears. “Thank you, Mr. Stratton. That’s so nice of you to say. Thank you for coming.”
She was so polite, perfectly mannered, and perfectly styled in a smart black dress that fell below her knees with a simple collar that was tasteful and sleeves that came down to her elbows.
It was fitted, showing off her gorgeous curves, but in a proper way to meet her daddy’s approval.
The accessory she had that I didn’t like was that man’s arm wrapped around her waist.
While I knew there were a lot of people here, by the time I got to Maggie, I thought she would jump out of line and into my arms in a proper hug. But the hand on her hip didn’t move as I approached.
I scowled. Nervously, Maggie clasped her hands over her stomach as I took the few steps to stand in front of her.
“How’re you holding up?” I asked, jamming my hands in my pants pockets to keep from decking the sniffer or reaching out to her.
She lowered her eyes. “Every time I think I’m out of tears, more come.”
I gave her a little nod. “Well, I’m here for you. If there’s anything I can do …”
“I’m here to attend to her every need, so you needn’t worry,” the sniffer interrupted.
My eyes narrowed. “And you are?”
We were officially holding up the line now. My brothers pushed on my back, trying to urge me along but I resisted.
He smirked. “Easton, her boyfriend from Chicago.”
Maggie’s gaze was focused on Rob, who had leaned in to give her a big hug. She was right there when he’d said it. Surely, she’d heard, but she didn’t correct him.
The shock struck me dumb. It was only after Maggie released Rob that my brothers succeeded in pushing me forward until I was directly in front of Mr. Roth.
With my gaze still on Maggie, I held out my hand to him. “So sorry, sir.”
He cleared his throat, getting my attention. After he shook my hand, he glanced over at Maggie. “Still want me to accept all of her choices?”
Before I could say a word, my brothers propelled me to the back of the room where there were five open seats.
Dad went in first, oblivious to my distress.
When I couldn’t catch my breath, Josh tugged me in behind him, sat me down, and Sawyer pushed my head between my knees.
While they were usually asshats, today they kept me from losing my damn mind.
I wasn’t used to my brothers supporting me. Usually, I was their rock and the voice of common sense. In this reversal of roles, I was proud of the men they’d become and glad to have them with me.
Josh leaned closer. “You’ve got this. Just keep breathing.” When I glanced up at him, his expression was hard. “I never thought she’d do this. I’m so sorry.”
“Does anyone else know?” I whispered.
“Jo Ellen’s flapping her gums about it,” Rob said. “I get what you were saying now. So far, it’s about Maggie, not you. She’s never liked her probably because she has her eye on you.”
An inappropriate chuckle escaped my lips that I tried to play off as a cough when Dad gave me the eye and the couple in front of us turned around with a sour expression.
Shifting my gaze over to Rob, I hissed. “You have to be kidding me.”
Sawyer sat forward. “I wish. That woman asks about you all the time. I started going over to Vicky’s Deli for lunch the last few months for a sandwich since I got so tired of her asking about you.”
I sat up, running my hand through my hair in utter shock. “I didn’t know.”
Josh nudged me. “Course not. Your eye has only ever been on one particular girl. Now, she’s got another man’s arm around her and you can’t see straight. You’ve got it bad for her, don’t you?”
Swallowing down the bile that rose every time the sniffer leaned down to whisper something to Maggie, I couldn’t tear my eyes off them.
Josh was right; I felt possessive of her.
I didn’t know what would happen if I asserted myself as the one who should be with Maggie, but this wasn’t the right time to do it.
She was grieving the loss of her mom. The whole damn town was here.
As I sat in the back, watching everything unfold that afternoon, I wondered how much longer Maggie would stay in town. Maybe I couldn’t talk to her about that guy right now, but I couldn’t wait too long, neither. I had to talk to her about us before she went back to Chicago.