Hometown Girl

by Courtney Walsh

  “Molly, the case went cold. If the police and detectives and her own father couldn’t figure it out, what chance do we have twenty years later?”

  “No one ever found her, Beth. What if she’s still alive? Can you imagine your only child being taken right out from under your nose and never knowing by who or why?”

  Beth shook her head. “No. I can’t. But this is a job for someone else. Someone who doesn’t have an entire farm to restore.”

  “I just want to look at the case. I want to know what happened on our property all those years ago. Tell me you’re not curious.”

  “Molly. Let it go.” But one look at Molly, and Beth knew her sister had already decided exactly what she was going to do. Beth sighed. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind on this, am I?”

  “Nope. I’ll check the public record, but Bishop might have access to the case that we don’t.”

  “This is a bad idea.”

  “Your position has been duly noted.” Molly started for the door. “Oh, and Beth?”

  Beth glanced up.

  “We got a dog.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Monday morning, the beginning of their fourth week of work, Beth sat in her car in the parking lot of Willow Grove Community Bank, replaying the meeting she’d just had with Linda Dorset, the loan officer she’d been working with for years.

  A loan officer who knew her personally as well as professionally—Whitaker Mowers did a lot of business with the bank. Why, then, had Linda chosen now as the time to get stingy?

  While a loan was just about the last thing in the world Beth wanted, she’d owed it to herself to at least explore the possibility—only she’d discovered it wasn’t one at all.

  Drew had been working at the farm for two full weeks, and he’d done just about everything he could on his own. They’d had a steady stream of volunteers, but he’d politely asked for skilled help. She’d agreed, and as with everything else he did, Drew wasted no time assembling a crew of possible workers, many of whom she knew.

  But she had no idea how she would pay them. And no idea how to break it to Molly that while Jerry had given her a loan, Beth couldn’t get another one for the same project. “Too risky,” Linda had said. “We just don’t see it as a good investment.”

  Beth’s heart had plummeted as Linda spoke her greatest fears aloud.

  To make everything worse, Beth seemed to have been bitten by the frivolous-dreamer bug. (Too much time spent with Molly, perhaps?) Instead of coming up with easier and quicker ways to raise money, she’d become obsessed with the idea of bringing back the Fairwind Market.

  She drove to the farm and knocked on the kitchen door, the same way she had every day since Drew had moved in, but when she pushed it open, she found him standing at the refrigerator wearing nothing but a pair of jeans frayed at the bottom.

  “Morning.” He pulled a carton of orange juice out and shut the door.

  She tried not to notice that his hair was still damp and he smelled clean, like soap. Nothing fussy about this man. He hadn’t even shaved. Probably in a couple of days.

  It suited him.

  “Morning.” She handed him the coffee. It had become a ritual.

  “You know you don’t have to bring me coffee every day.” He set it on the counter. “But thanks.” He picked up a soft gray T-shirt that was draped over one of the kitchen chairs and pulled it over his head, covering his muscular torso and tanned skin.

  She was relieved—seeing him shirtless was incredibly distracting.

  She set her slouch bag down on one of the kitchen chairs and found her idea notebook lying open on the table. Somehow in the last two weeks, her portfolio had been replaced by an old sketch pad. Somehow in the last two weeks, her usual thoughts had been replaced by daydreams. She’d tried to deny it, but her mother wouldn’t let her.

  “I never thought I’d live to see the day when you were researching how to build a chicken coop,” she’d said, reading Beth’s computer screen over her shoulder.

  “I don’t seem like a chicken kind of person?”

  Her mom had laughed and made her way to an armchair on the other side of the living room. Beth half watched until she was settled, content that her mom didn’t need her, and went back to browsing about coops.

  “It’s nice to see you passionate about something again,” her mom had said, as if it were just a simple observation.

  “I’m not passionate about chicken coops, Mom.”

  “That notebook begs to differ.”

  Beth glanced down at the pad, full of plans and ideas. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, but these days, instead of spending her evenings poring over market research, she was tearing photos out of Country Living magazine and stapling them into her sketch pad.

  The notebook was more than a place to record facts and figures about their renovation—it was a place to dream about Fairwind. And she’d carelessly left it here over the weekend.

  She’d mostly saved magazine cutouts and Pinterest links of things she eventually wanted to do at the farm. The picnic area she wanted to create underneath the old oak tree, with white lights dangling in the soft spring air. The quirky hand-painted wooden signs to direct their visitors around the property. The garden she dreamed of tending in the large open space behind the house.

  A few of the articles she’d torn out were spread out across the table—“What to Plant and When.” “Raising Backyard Chickens.” “How to Build Raised Garden Beds.” She picked them up and tucked them back inside the book, wrapping the attached elastic around it to hold everything in place, feeling a bit exposed knowing that he’d likely leafed through her ideas.

  Even admitting she wanted to learn about something so far out of her comfort zone was hard for her. All it did was take her further away from her life plan. And yet, she couldn’t help herself.

  “I was looking for this notebook yesterday. It’s not like me to leave something like this behind. Sorry about the mess.”

  “If you call a notebook with a stack of magazine articles in it a mess.” He leaned against the counter and took another drink.

  “Well, it’s nice of you to let me work in here. I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness.”

  He raised a brow. “You own the place, and I stay here for free. You can leave a notebook on the table.” He pushed himself away from the counter. “Hey, can I show you something?”

  “Of course.” She followed him out the side door, across the patio and into the yard. It still amazed her that all this land was partly hers. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever expected to be part owner of a farm.

  He led her out toward the huge old oak tree, the one practically begging to be strung with white lights. On the other side of it, next to the shed where they kept the mowers and other small lawn tools, he stopped.

  She followed his gaze downward and saw three good-sized raised garden beds, filled with fresh soil. Raised beds that looked exactly like the ones in the article she’d saved.

  “Eventually, I think we could clear this whole area for a garden. If you like it, I mean.” Drew waved a hand across a section of grass tucked behind the farmhouse and directly in the sun. “But I thought it might be good to start with these. Fewer weeds to deal with in a raised bed, but we’ll have to water them like crazy.”

  Beth stared at the scene in front of her. “When did you have time to do this?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Sunday.”

  “Yesterday was Sunday.” He smirked at her.

  “This was a lot of work. I read the article. I got overwhelmed about three sentences in.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. His feet were still bare, his hair still damp. His eyes were bright blue in the morning sunshine. And he looked perfectly at ease. She knew he wasn’t—no one who worked this much could be—but in that moment, he almost looked peaceful.

  “Are they okay?” He looked across the beds, as if double-checking his work. “I didn’t m
ean to snoop through your stuff—I just saw the article and thought they’d be great out here.”

  He’d turned one of her wishes into a reality. But why?

  She wasn’t sure anyone had ever done something so thoughtful for her. The realization of it hit her all at once, but she swallowed it and forced herself to smile. “You know there’s a really good chance I’m going to kill every plant we put in these.”

  He smiled back—a real one—with his eyes. “I know. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said with a laugh.

  “You’ll be fine. I’ve got more soil in the barn. We just need to decide what you want to plant, and we can get started.”

  She waited until he met her gaze. “Thank you for this.”

  He waved her off. “It was nothing.”

  But it wasn’t nothing. It was the first indication she had that Drew might actually be paying attention to more than just his job. Why did her stomach somersault at the thought?

  She chewed the inside of her lip, suddenly nervous. He probably expected her to have some idea of what she wanted to plant. She didn’t. Not yet, anyway.

  Hadn’t she read something about what to plant in raised beds? “I was thinking maybe some tomatoes? And peppers?” She tried to keep the sound of not knowing what she was talking about out of her voice.

  “That’d be a good start,” he said.

  She gave a nod that was much more confident than she felt.

  “And maybe some cucumbers and squash?” he said. “If there’s room, we could do green beans too.”

  “Sure.”

  “All right. I’ve got some seeds in the barn. I’ll go get what we need. I think there are some gardening tools and gloves in the house.”

  “I’ll go get them.”

  When she returned, he was standing beside the beds. He’d put his work boots on, along with a ball cap he pulled down low over his eyes, the sun growing warmer as the day wore on. “Have you planted anything before?”

  Her grimace gave her away.

  “I’ll take that as a no.” He motioned for her to join him at the edge of the soil. “We’re just going to create rows, like this.” Using his hands, he dug a little trench in the dirt, dropped the seeds in and then covered it back up. “Wanna try?”

  As she leaned in to clear away a spot for more seeds, he didn’t move, forcing her to stretch across him to scoop the dirt out and to drop the seeds in. He reached down to help her, his hand brushing hers and sending a warm tingle down her spine.

  She smoothed the dirt over the seeds and patted it down.

  “Good. Once you’re done, you’ll want to water them all.” He stood, hands on hips and nodded. “You can do this. I’ll come back and check on you.”

  She pulled on a pair of gardening gloves she’d found in the house, along with a floppy gardening hat. Sonya’s, most likely. Then she did exactly what Drew had shown her. She arranged her seeds in rows, not too close together, and covered them with the soil.

  By the middle of the morning, the new crew had arrived. She watched as they met Drew in the main barn, where he gave them a rundown of their jobs. He’d hired them all last week after placing an ad in the Willow Grove Sentinel and putting up a sign at Butler’s advertising exactly what they needed: able-bodied, skilled workers.

  As Beth watched them filter in, she resisted the urge to tell him the best way to motivate these men. The truth was, she didn’t know if her methods would work with such a different group of people. She found her confidence lacking as she went back to planting her seeds.

  After a few minutes, the men were out in the yard, working. That was fast. She stood and did a quick glance around the farm, impressed that everyone seemed to know exactly where they were going and what they were doing. While up, she stretched her aching muscles, then took a moment to admire the whole first bed, completely planted.

  “You taking a break?” Drew called out to her from several yards away.

  “Just stretching,”

  “You look proud of yourself.” He smiled at her. He had a nice smile.

  “Well, proud of us. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  “That doesn’t suit you, you know.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “Doubting yourself.”

  Hard to be sure of herself in such unknown territory. Before she could respond, an unfamiliar car—a silver Lexus—pulled into the parking lot.

  Beth shielded her eyes from the sun.

  “Expecting company?” Drew asked.

  “No. You?”

  The door of the Lexus opened, and the driver emerged. Beth’s heart sank. “Oh no.”

  Dina Larson, with her long, wavy blond hair, got out of the car. She wore a pair of jeans, a cream-colored button-down shirt and a camel-colored suede jacket. Her heeled booties and checkered scarf made her look out of place at Fairwind Farm. She could’ve been a supermodel.

  Beth wiped the sweat from her brow, spreading dirt across her forehead. She glanced down at her ripped jeans and old Cubs T-shirt. She was still wearing the floppy garden hat, and she looked—she was sure—like an absolute mess.

  Dina waved as soon as she spotted them, then veered in their direction. She stumbled slightly as her heel sank into the grass.

  “You know her?” Drew moved to Beth’s side.

  “Unfortunately,” Beth said dryly.

  That wasn’t quite fair. Dina Larson had been one of Beth’s friends—on the surface, anyway. They’d had so much in common and were in the same circle, and yet, there had always been a wide gap between them. That gap had only widened as they’d gone their separate ways.

  Beth did her best to put herself back together, but she knew it was hopeless. She’d been working in the sun for hours, and under her hat, her sweaty hair had matted to her head in ways nothing but a shower could fix.

  Dina stumbled again.

  “She’s going to break her ankle wearing those shoes out here,” Drew said.

  “Beth!” Dina called out with another overzealous wave. “Hey, stranger!”

  “Dina, what are you doing here?” Beth tried to keep her tone light. Inside, her mind was reeling.

  “I came to see you, of course.” Dina gave Drew a once-over. “Now I see why you’ve taken such a liking to farmwork.”

  Beth glanced at Drew, who looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

  “Drew, this is Dina Larson. We went to high school together,” Beth said, patting her warm face dry with a gloved hand.

  “You make it sound so clinical, Beth. We weren’t just classmates—we were besties.” Dina flashed her perfectly white smile as she reached out to shake Drew’s hand.

  Besties. Beth shuddered at the word. It sounded so juvenile. They were grown women, for Pete’s sake.

  “We’re friends,” Beth said.

  Drew shook Dina’s hand. “Good to meet you.” He turned to Beth. “I’ll let you guys catch up.”

  As he walked away, Dina gave Beth wide eyes while mouthing O-M-G like a teenager.

  “He works for me.” Beth stuck the trowel into the raised bed and clapped her hands together to remove the dirt from her gloves.

  “Uh-huh. Send him my way when you’re done with him,” Dina said, watching Drew walk away. “Just kidding. I’m a married woman. But, good gracious, he is a fine-looking man.”

  “Dina.”

  She peeled her eyes away from Drew and turned to Beth, then burst out laughing. “You look so ridiculous right now.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “Sorry.” She laughed. “It’s just quite the getup. Hold on, let me take a picture.” She took her phone out and snapped a photo so quickly Beth couldn’t have hoped to protest. “Nobody will believe you’re out here digging around in the dirt on your little farm.” She laughed again—loudly.

  Beth pressed her lips together to keep from saying something she’d regret.

  “So, how’s it been going out here? Seeing you lik
e this, I’m starting to wonder just how brilliant this idea actually was. I mean, I was all for it—you know that—but I guess I didn’t realize how run-down this place had gotten.”

  Beth didn’t dare tell her what it had looked like just a few weeks ago.

  “It’s going well, actually. Slow, but we’re making progress.”

  Dina’s smile looked forced. “Isn’t it funny?”

  “Isn’t what funny?”

  “How everything turned out. I’m living downtown with Harrison, running our own ad firm, and you’re . . . doing this. It’s exciting, right?”

  Was it her intention to condescend?

  Beth took off the gloves and laid them on the side of the garden. “Do you want some lemonade?”

  Dina’s face brightened. “Sure.”

  In the kitchen, she poured two glasses of lemonade and handed one to Dina, feeling uneasy about her being there at all. She was embarrassed for Dina to see the farm like this. To see her like this. Dina represented everything Beth had tried—failed—to achieve.

  Beth shook that thought off. She shouldn’t blame Dina for making something of her life.

  She sat down at the table across from Dina, a stunted silence hanging in the air between them. They’d competed all through high school, always under the guise of friends, even if not “besties.” But they hadn’t kept in touch—so why was Dina here now?

  She searched for something to say. Came up empty.

  “I heard you have big plans for this place,” Dina said. “And you want to be open by this fall. That’s quite an undertaking.”

  Beth took a sip of her lemonade, noticing her hands were still dirty despite having washed them before she’d sat down. “We have a good team. A solid plan.”

  It was partly true. They did have a good team. Beth was still working on the plan part.

  “I’m sure. You only surround yourself with the best.” She smiled. Her words were complimentary, yet somehow Beth bristled at them, expecting criticism.

  Dina took another drink. “The ad agency is doing really well.”

  Beth should’ve asked. She didn’t have to, though, because Dina’s grandmother Ginny had already told her—ad nauseam—how well Dina’s business was doing. “That’s what I’ve heard. Congratulations. You’ve done everything you set out to do.” Her lack of enthusiasm resonated in her tone. Beth heard it loud and clear; she could only assume Dina had too.