4. Junie #2
Micah was leaning against the wooden support pillar, his folder resting on the flat top of a cider barrel.
He watched her approach, his green eyes steady behind his spectacles.
"We have the certified copies of the nineteen sixty-eight filing," he said, his tone level as he reached for the metal latch of his binder.
"The county registrar needs your signature to authorize the formal deed comparison before we can proceed with the boundary correction. "
"I can't sign anything right now," Junie replied, keeping her voice even as she grabbed a stack of paper bags from beneath the counter and began folding them with precise tucks.
"The weekend rush is our primary source of revenue, and I can't leave the registers untended.
We have dozens of families waiting in the orchard, and the automated terminal is already operating slowly. "
"The signature will take less than two minutes," Micah noted, his mouth twitching with a faint trace of dry amusement.
He didn't pull the documents from his binder, leaving them sheathed in the leather cover while he watched her.
"The paperwork simply acknowledges that you've received the formal notice of the discrepancy.
It's a standard administrative requirement. "
"Standard requirement? We're too busy for standard requirements today," Junie insisted, her chin rising as she met his steady gaze.
She gestured toward the seasonal assistant who was struggling with a credit card receipt near the cider display.
"I need to train our new cashier on the terminal before the afternoon delivery arrives.
The system is delicate, and we can't afford to have the cash register crash during our busiest hour. Paperwork is going to have to wait."
She spent the next ten minutes standing over the assistant's shoulder, her fingers tapping the touch screen as she demonstrated how to manually override the tax calculation.
She explained the process with urgent instructions, her voice carrying a sharp edge of distraction that had nothing to do with the digital transaction.
She kept her posture rigid, her muscles tensing every time she heard Micah shift against the wooden barrel behind her.
When she finally returned to the primary register, Micah hadn't moved. He had crossed his arms over his chest, his folder still resting on the cider barrel beside him. He didn't appear angry or impatient; he simply watched her with an observant focus that made her skin prickle with awareness.
"If you're waiting for a peaceful moment, you'll be standing there until dusk," Junie said, her fingers moving with frantic speed as she began sorting the paper bills in her cash drawer.
She aligned the green faces of the bills with absolute precision, smoothing the creased corners with her thumb.
"I’m afraid the harvest doesn't pause for administrative audits. "
"I've noticed," Micah answered, his voice calm and dry.
He didn't attempt to interrupt her work, nor did he offer any comforting platitudes about her busy schedule.
He simply held his position, his presence a steady weight against her frantic energy, seemingly unbothered.
"You manage the chaos with remarkable efficiency. I don’t mind waiting, but you do realize the paperwork won't disappear just because you're busy? "
"I’ve got it handled," Junie repeated, her throat tightening as she stared at the cash drawer. Her hands flexed unconsciously as her mind spun with a sharp fear of what his documents might reveal. "Everything is fine."
"I'll wait," Micah said, giving her a sympathetic look that both annoyed her and made her heart squeeze. "I'm not in a hurry."
He shifted his weight back slightly, allowing her room to serve the next customer, but he remained near the corner of the farm stand.
Junie kept her head down, her hands moving through the repetitive chores of bagging apples and counting change, but her thoughts were entirely consumed by the man watching her from the shadows.
Junie knew she was only postponing the inevitable, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with it yet.
The county’s questions about that corner of the farm made her uneasy, especially when she thought about Nell’s warnings.
There was something her mother had kept from them, something Nell clearly didn’t want them digging into, and Junie wasn’t sure she wanted to be the one to uncover it.
For now, hiding behind the chaos of the farm was easier than signing papers that might open a door she wasn’t ready to walk through.
The long shadows of the late afternoon stretched across the empty parking lanes, the cooling air carrying the scent of bruised apples and damp grass from the orchard.
Junie wiped her flour-dusted hands against her apron, her shoulders dropping a fraction as the last of the vehicles rolled down the driveway.
She lifted a heavy tray of unwashed doughnut racks from the counter, her fingers gripping the sticky edges.
Her goal was the quiet sanctuary of the cider barn, where the hot water and steam would give her a perfect excuse to avoid the office and the paperwork waiting there.
She turned around, only to find Micah still waiting. He was leaning against the wooden pillar. He was persistent, she would give him that. Micah didn’t say a word at first, his gaze holding hers with a look that made her skin prickle beneath her cardigan.
"The baking pans can wait," he said, his voice calm and unyielding. "The ovens are off, and the business will survive without you for thirty minutes."
Junie tightened her grip on the metal tray as she met his gaze. "The preparation for the morning shift takes hours. If I don't start the cleanup now, we'll be behind before the gates even open."
"It's not a request we can keep postponing," Micah countered, his tone gentle but firm as he reached out to take the heavy tray from her hands and set it down on the pine counter. "The registrar needs this authorized today."
Junie let out a long breath, her fingers tensing against her apron.
She knew she could not use the crowd as a shield anymore.
The busy farm stand had cleared, leaving only the soft rustle of the wind through the maple trees.
Junie led him to her mother’s office in the house.
Micah opened the wooden door of the office, allowing her to enter first, and then shut it behind them, closing out the distant hum of activity as visitors left the farm.
The office was small and smelled of dried ink and old paper, with the faint scent of dried lavender that always seemed to cling to the desk drawers. It was a space she had spent years managing, but with Micah standing on the other side of the desk, the room felt incredibly tight.