Chapter 22
Charlotte awoke to the sound of Papa Roland…was that laughter? Or yelling?
She’d never heard Papa Roland laugh before. It must be yelling. Tossing off the covers, she scooted out of bed onto the cold floor and out the door as quickly as possible, hugging her pajamas around her. She didn’t see Jules at all. She wished she had more answers.
More noise came from the kitchen as she neared the foot of the spiral staircase. Definitely laughter. Celebrating the victory of the election, no doubt.
“Yes! I flew in early this morning.” His French-Canadian accented voice boomed from the kitchen. “Thankfully, we have the helipad. Traffic was a mess.”
Charlotte crossed the salon. Scents of pumpkin and ginger filled her nose along with baked goods before she even reached the kitchen.
“I had to get here as soon as possible.” Papa Roland again.
“We haven’t been apart for that long.” Deb’s voice seemed lighter, happier.
“Two weeks is a long time.”
She entered the kitchen.
Papa Roland curled Deb into his chest near the farmhouse sink nestled into the middle of the white kitchen island.
Charlotte nearly fainted. Papa Roland was never affectionate. He was always stern and authoritarian. Instead of a firm brow, his expression was soft, almost teasing.
Who was this man before her?
She hadn’t really seen Papa Roland since the wedding.
He caught sight of her over Deb’s head. “And there’s my Charlotte.” Letting go of Deb, who went back to manning the double waffle iron, he held out his arms, a wide smile on his face.
Charlotte didn’t need a second offer. Warmth flooded her as she embraced her grandfather. Although he claimed not to have favorites, she was sure she was his favorite granddaughter. He smelled of spicy aftershave and peppermint.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered to Charlotte, squeezing her even harder.
Tears pricked her eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.” Especially after the emotionally draining day yesterday; his embrace energized her.
He released her. “Come. Deb has made a special breakfast.” He held out a plate with stacks of pumpkin and gingerbread waffles. He loaded two up onto a plate and handed it to her.
“What are we celebrating?” She took the plate, bewildered.
“The passing of Proposition 11.” Deb slathered her caramel sauce over the waffles.
The memory of last night—the news announcement and Eric—crashed on Charlotte, filling her stomach with bile. Her appetite, even for special fall-flavored waffles, dissipated.
She dropped the plate to the white countertop and slumped into a seat, staring at the caramel syrup soak into her waffles.
Coco pointed a fork toward her. “And we owe it all to Charlotte. Charlotte organized all the Sugar Mamas and helped persuade the citizens of Sugar Creek that annexing this southern land would benefit them.”
“Hooray for Charlotte!” Deb raised her glass of orange juice.
“Hooray for her talent for persuasion!” Papa Roland saluted his glass toward her.
“That’s my sister!” Preston winked at her.
Charlotte’s stomach churned and roiled.
“What’s the matter, ma cherie? You don’t look happy. In fact, you look quite ill.” Papa Roland settled his glass back onto the island.
Charlotte heaved a sigh. “We might be able to keep the house, but the Sweet Milk Dairy next door will have to sell.”
The tone of the room shifted.
Deb stared at her. “The Bentons will lose the farm? I didn’t realize their business wasn’t doing well. They sponsor everything in town. Laurie should’ve said something to me.”
“It’s a long story as to why it’s failing.” She glanced to her grandfather. “Would it be possible to redraw your will so that Preston can access his money to the trust fund now?”
All the hardness in Papa Roland’s expression returned. “Absolutelement pas.”
Charlotte could usually talk her grandfather into anything. “But then we wouldn’t need Proposition 11 to fund the mansion.”
“The proposition already passed.” Preston cocked his eyebrow. “I don’t understand why you’ve changed your mind, Charlotte. I thought you wanted us to keep the house, too.”
Charlotte looked at her now soggy waffles, her eyes filling with tears. “I do. It’s just…”
Coco leaned against the countertop. “I think this regret has something to do with the company she’s been keeping.”
“Who?” Deb looked between Coco and Charlotte.
Coco crossed her hands over her chest. “I saw her yesterday with Eric Benton, handing out fliers telling people to vote against the proposition.” Her voice cast an accusation.
Coco’s tone stung Charlotte. Her heart twisted, and she raised her head to openly challenge her.
Preston’s expression fell. She’d hurt him by his own betrayal. She had done the right thing, hadn’t she? Eric needed the farm to support his mother. The Laurents were rich. If Papa Roland wasn’t so stubborn, they could’ve solved this problem without having to take political action. Why was life so hard? And so unfair?
The whole room turned sweltering. All the eyes fixated on her. The scent of pumpkin made her want to toss her cookies.
She stood and jumped from the upholstered barstools. “I need some air.”
Still in her pajamas, she ran from the kitchen, through the salon to the front room. She opened the door to whirling wind, blowing leaves into the front room. She didn’t stop to pick them up. Slamming the door behind her, she dashed down the brick front walk into the garden to her favorite stone bench hidden by the shrubbery.
From her seat she could see the Bentons’ Sweet Milk Dairy. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, wiping her tears with the sleeve of her pajamas. “It’s all my fault.”
Eric woke in the morning to an aching body. The tractor pull had been nearly five days ago, but his body was still sore until he got going. He stared up at the ceiling. Was using all his strength to win the event even worth it?
After dressing, he shakily descended the stairs to attend to his chores.
James, Angie, and Laurie sat at the kitchen table.
“We need to have a family meeting.” Laurie drank from her favorite mug with the dairy’s logo.
“Can it wait until after chores?” Eric didn’t want to talk about anything right now, least of all the farm’s closing.
Laurie shook her head and settled the mug onto a quilted placemat. “We need to discuss the future of this farm.”
Eric shook his head, stuffing his hands into his jeans. “Here’s the future: the bank and the tax collectors will fight over who gets what. The end.” He turned and grabbed a protein bar from the cupboard.
Laurie tapped the table. “Someone must tell the workers we have to let them go.”
Eric spun. Angie, James, and Laurie all stared at him.
Holding onto the cupboard nob, he shook his head. “Oh, no. I can’t do that. I can’t tell them that because we invested in stupid, far-fetched, unresearched—” here he cast a side-eye at James—“fancies that they will be out of work. I refuse.” He slammed the cupboard shut, punctuating his words.
Laurie braced herself between the table and the chair, holding onto each. “But you know them the best. You’ve worked alongside them. They trust you.”
“And because we’ve broken that trust, I can’t do that. Please”—a sob tightened his throat—“don’t ask me to do it.”
“You’re the only one who can.”
Eric opened the bar wrapper and tossed it into the kitchen trash by the pantry. He couldn’t do it. Emotionally. He’d be a wreck.
“You only have to give them notice. Let them know we can’t keep it open, and we’ll be laying off workers around Christmas. We’ll start with the ones who haven’t been here as long and end with Keaten.”
Her words stung.
James thrust out his chest. “We have to be honest with them, so they can look for other work.”
Huffing, Eric glared. “You? Speaking of honesty? That’s rich.” He stuffed a bite of protein bar into his mouth. It tasted of sawdust, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the ingredients or the situation.
James bowed his head and glanced to Laurie.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “Just let them know that we still have a few months. They can start looking for other work. That’s the kindest thing you can do for them.”
Laurie was right. Warning them to start looking for new work in the coming months was the kindest thing he could do. Although he dreaded it, someone had to do it.
He nodded, his mouth still dry. Opening the fridge, he saw the milk bottles with the logo for Sweet Milk Dairy on them. His heart twinged as he poured himself a glass. His family legacy wouldn’t last another generation.
Out in the cow shed, Eric talked to Keaten as he disinfected teats with iodine.
Shaking his head, he brushed the rough hair of each brown Swiss. “Goodbye, girl,” he whispered into twitching ears. “I hope the new owners will take care of you as much as we have.”
When he latched his ladies, pumped them for the requisite time, he set them free into the rolling green pasture. After the morning ritual, he talked to the dairy hands, one by one, letting them know of the situation. His heart throbbed at each admission that they couldn’t keep the dairy open. He had known this day would come. He just didn’t know it would hurt so much.
Each one bowed their head and nodded. A few expressed their condolences. It was a sort of loss. Like his father dying all over again.
Brad was the last person Eric had to talk to that morning.
When Brad came in to pick up milk to deliver, Eric nearly broke. The kid was going to college and loved the off hours of milk delivery.
Brad parked his car and crossed to where the refrigerated Sweet Milk Dairy truck, white with the logo painted on the sides, waited for him to deliver milk today.
Eric dipped his head, crossing the yard. “Hey, Brad, can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure.” Brad turned.
He put his arm around the kid. They were practically brothers. “Your family doing well? How’s school going this fall?”
“Great. But I’m super suspicious as to why you’re asking me.”
Eric kicked the grass under his feet. “I have bad news.” He glanced back to the milking shed he loved so much. “Since Proposition 11m passed, we’ll have to let people go.”
Brad stopped and stared. “I’ll keep working for free.”
Tears swelled behind Eric’s eyes. You couldn’t buy loyalty like Brad’s. Although Eric suspected there was another reason for his loyalty. “I appreciate that Brad, but we won’t be in business much longer. We’ll have to sell the operation to pay back some debts to the bank. We just wanted to give you a heads-up to look for another job.”
Brad gulped. His cheeks reddened, matching his reddish-blonde hair. “I don’t understand. You run the best business in town. It’s not fair. You work hard. You did everything right.”
Now tears stung Eric’s nose and eyes. “I don’t know that I did everything right.”
“You can’t close. Where will you go? What will…you do?”
“That’s an excellent question.” Eric turned away before large droplets fell from his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”
Once inside the house for lunch, Eric paced. He couldn’t relax. Exhausted energy ran through him like a current. Food held little interest for him. He went into the front room and plopped down on the front room couch. It was newer than the one in the den with the TV. Laurie never let them stretch out on it. It was supposed to be the “company” couch nestled between two bookshelves.
Eric took off his hat and placed it over his eyes, leaning against the arm of the couch. Everything in his body ached. If only he could relax. He heard a plop.
The hairs on his arms stood on end.
Removing the hat, he sat up and looked around. Sun shone in the windows above the bookshelves. No one was in the room.
But a book was open on the carpet.
How odd. He knew it hadn’t been there when he’d walked in. Laurie was an immaculate housekeeper. With seven kids, she had to be on top of things.
Crossing the carpet, he picked it up and read the spine, keeping his finger in the open page.
It was an old journal that had been typed up and bound as part of the history of the dairy. Creaking it back open, he read the open pages.
His great-grandfather ran the dairy before he bought it from Jules Laurent’s widow. He supplied the mansion with fresh milk. This was an account from during that time period.
Eric settled into the couch. What an odd coincidence that he found a book that talked about Jules. He skimmed a few pages of his great-grandfather Percy.
Energy surged into his body. He needed to find Charlotte. Taking the book with him, he headed out the door and over to the mansion next door.