Chapter Eleven
Emily
“It’s our goal to give you fair value for your land, and make sure that you’re compensated not just for the land you’re going to be losing, but for the opportunity that land represents,” I said to the Turners, who’d finally agreed to meet with me at their house to talk about the project.
“How are you determining what that value is?” Mr. Turner asked.
That was a question I’d gotten a lot over the past week, and it was one that I had an answer to—sort of, at least. I’d been going from one farm to another, talking to people who owned the land we needed for the project, and while there were a few people in Mustang Ridge who obviously wanted to sell out and see what they could do with some capital, there were others that were a tougher sell.
“Our starting point is the market value for the land itself,” I explained. “And then we have some discretion built into the budget for offering more money based on how important it is to the project our partner is bringing in, as well as the need the people selling the land have, things like that.”
“Sounds like you’re saying that the brokest people will be getting more money,” he said.
I had to think of that one a bit.
“Not exactly,” I said. “It’s a complicated equation, but rest assured that I’m going to make sure that each person gets as much value as we can offer.”
“I don’t expect you to care as much about the community as the people who live here,” Mrs. Turner said, “but I just wanted to ask—do you really think this project is for our benefit?”
“I’m not going to blow sugar up your ass—pardon my French,” I said with a little smile. “The goal for the company we’re partnering with isn’t to benefit the town, it’s to develop their company. That’s the honest truth. But I do think that bringing them here will help the town out. It’ll bring new business here, it’ll bring new people.”
“I appreciate you being honest with us,” Mr. Turner said. “Can you give us a ballpark you’re willing to pay—some kind of base rate we can work with?”
That was kind of against the rules. I was supposed to wait until the people I spoke to named a number, and then negotiate from that point.
“I can tell you what I know about the appraisal value of the property,” I said. “And from there we can talk specifics.”
We chatted for a while longer, and I avoided naming a price that we’d be willing to pay. Eventually the Turners said that they would get in touch to follow up with me.
I left the Turner farm and checked my phone for where I needed to go next. I’d been making the rounds for about a week since my confrontation with Rhett, and I wasn’t sure how much success we were going to have. More than one person had told me that Rhett had beaten me to talking to them—that they owed Rhett for his help in some way, and they believed and trusted in his judgment that it was a bad idea to sell to my dad and me. I’d already told Dad that we might have to sweeten the pot a bit more for some of the people on our list, but he’d countered that we would just have to get creative, and I would have to rely on my sales skills. I had to convince people that it was the best decision to sell.
My next stop was the Moore place; it wasn’t a farm exactly because they raised geese, but they had pretty extensive property, and it was one of the pieces that we would need for the project we wanted to bring to town. I got into my car and checked the address again, making sure I knew where to go. For a small town, it was pretty easy to get lost along the winding roads.
Tracy Moore was sitting on the porch, shucking corn when I arrived. I shut off the engine and got out of the car, squaring my shoulders. I knew from talking to her once before that she wouldn’t be willing to commit to anything without her husband around to agree to it, too. Fortunately, that seemed to go both ways; I didn’t think I would be able to get Greg to commit to anything if Tracy wasn’t present, either.
“Good to see you again, Tracy,” I said, smiling as I approached the porch. “Just wanted to check in on you, and see if there’s anything else you want to talk about regarding the offer we have for you.”
“Well, Greg isn’t around, so I can’t agree to anything one way or another,” Tracy said. “He’s over helping Rhett Baxter at the Nolans’ place.”
“Oh—what’s up with the Nolans?” I’d spoken to them the day before, and the elderly couple was definitely ripe to sell because they didn’t have anyone to pass their farm down to.
“They needed help out in the fields, so Rhett came and asked Greg if he’d come out too,” Tracy said.
“Want some help shucking corn?” It would, at least, give me something to do while I chatted with Tracy, and I could hope that being helpful would work to my advantage, at least a little bit. Getting a decent reputation with the people in Mustang Ridge would make them more likely to trust me. That was something I’d learned from Dad, and while his methods for doing obtaining trust were different, I couldn’t see anything wrong with the overall goal.
“I’ll always take an extra set of hands,” Tracy told me with a smile.
I grabbed an armful of ears of corn and got to work, sitting on the only other chair on the porch and pulling the green, grass-smelling shucks off of the first ear.
“So, how are things going here?” I started pulling silk from the ear of corn in my hands, hoping—in a slightly cringing way—for a negative answer. If the Moores weren’t doing too well with raising geese, they’d be more likely to sell their property to us. Of course, that would mean that they would end up moving, but they could get one of the handful of apartments in town and make a go of some other business. With the new company moving into town, they could do well.
“We’re looking for some new markets for the geese,” Tracy said. “Beyond restaurants, which is who we’ve been selling to for most of the time we’ve been raising the birds.” She went on for a little while, explaining how the business went, and I nodded along, being a good listener. It was actually interesting to see how the different people in Mustang Ridge made ends meet, especially as farming became less of an option. I could only hope—and I really did believe—that bringing new business into the town would help everyone.
“Obviously things are going pretty well,” I observed.
Tracy shrugged, reaching for another ear of corn. “The price to keep the birds is going up—and geese aren’t always an easy sell, since they’re a premium meat.”
“Then, what do you think about maybe selling some of the land to us, get a new boost in capital?”
Tracy looked at me for a moment. “You know there are some folks in town who don’t think it’s a great idea,” she told me. “Rhett Baxter among them.”
“I do know that,” I admitted.
“Rhett seems to think that if there’s a big company in town, it’ll push a lot of the smaller businesses out,” Tracy said, and her voice was as level as the top of a master carpenter’s table.
“That’s a possibility, but another possibility is that it’ll bring new people, new business into the town,” I countered, keeping my voice just as neutral. “I really think that in the long run, having a big-name business will bring a lot more to Mustang Ridge than it takes away.”
“That’s what some other folks are saying, too,” Tracy said. “And I have to admit the money would be handy while Greg and I look for new markets. But I don’t know. Rhett’s sort of special to us here—you know why, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Local boy who made good, right?”
“It’s more than that,” she said with a smile. “He’s always been ready to lend a hand to anyone—whether it was helping the Kings with their barn last summer, or what he’s doing over at the Nolans’ right now. He just sort of jumps in whenever it’s needed, you know?”
“Why isn’t he mayor of the town, then?” I tried to keep the venom out of my voice but I wasn’t sure how much I succeeded.
“Not his style,” Tracy said, grinning. “He’s one of those who likes to help folks—not one of those who wants to lead, necessarily. He believes in the community.”
“That’s a good guy to have around,” I agreed. “I can see why he’s so well-loved.”
“Ask anyone in town,” Tracy said. “He’s always been that way—even as a kid.”
I said that I would think about it, and stayed to shuck a few more ears of corn before making my exit.
I was supposed to go and see the Nolans. Part of me wanted to dodge them, knowing that Rhett was there, but another part of me wanted to see him again, even if it was just in passing. I called my dad to tell him about the talk I’d had with Tracy, leaving out what she’d told me about Rhett being a town hero not just because of his prestige but because of who he was.
“I’m going to the Nolans’ now, but I’m going to have to tread carefully,” I said, as I stopped near the big farmstead.
“Why?” I could picture my Dad, sitting at his desk with lunch in front of him, confused.
“Rhett’s helping them, apparently, along with Greg Moore,” I explained.
“Probably just trying to take every chance he can to talk them out of selling,” Dad said dismissively.
I didn’t think a guy like Rhett could have the reputation he did if it were a new thing, helping people. But I didn’t say anything like that.
“I’m going to just have to be a bit careful about the topic,” I said. “Last thing I want to do is set up an insiders-versus-outsiders situation, you know?”
“That does make sense,” Dad agreed. “I trust your judgment.”
I finished the call and drove onto the Nolans’ driveway, taking a deep breath to push any sense of nervousness I felt about seeing Rhett again out of my mind. I saw Rhett’s truck and figured he must have been Greg’s ride to the older couple’s farm.
I got out and looked around, trying to think of how I could either talk to Violet Nolan or John Nolan. John, I thought, would be out in the fields with Rhett and Greg and whoever else was with them, but Violet was probably in the house.
I walked up to the house and took another quick, deep breath before knocking on the front door. There was no reason to be nervous, was there? I heard some movement from inside of the house, and farther away the roar of machinery, downwind of where I stood. For a moment I thought about the half-day I’d spent with Rhett on his farm, working at his side. I could see—in a certain respect—the beauty of such a simple kind of life.
“Oh, hello,” Violet said, opening the door. “I wasn’t expecting you, hon.”
“I’m just doing the rounds, and thought I’d come and say hi,” I said, smiling at her.
She was maybe two inches taller than me, and stout, with graying hair that she hadn’t bothered to try and cover and the kind of heavy breasts that looked like a big wave under her shapeless dress and apron. She’d started getting smile wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. It was easy for me to see that she was overall a good kind of person.
“I was just finishing up a big thing of lemonade for the boys, if you want to come into the kitchen with me,” Violet said.
I followed her into the house. “Oh yeah—I heard from Tracy Moore that Rhett and Greg were over to help you.”
“Is Tracy thinking of selling? I hadn’t heard anything from Greg,” Violet said, going back to making lemonade.
I jumped in to help her, pouring water from a pitcher into the big dispenser-cooler that she was filling up. She squeezed lemons and poured sugar into another pitcher, and dissolved the two together before adding them to the water in the dispenser.
Then there was just the job of adding about a pound or two of ice to the same container, and by the time we were done—to my horror—the men were headed back to the house for a work break. John Nolan was talking to Rhett about something, and Rhett looked over at the house as they approached. As his gaze locked on me, I saw his eyes widen, but he didn’t lose his composure other than that.
“John—Emily’s here to chat with us again,” Violet said, as I set down the dispenser full of lemonade. She put down a big basket of sandwiches. “How’s the day going?”
“Not bad,” John said. “Rhett and I were just talking about Emily here, about how she’s working to buy up about half of Mustang Ridge.” John Nolan—a few years older than his wife, with much grayer hair and a lot more wrinkles on his weathered, tanned face—smiled at me to show he wasn’t offended at my activities. Greg Moore and Ben Kinsman, two men I’d been speaking to as well, kept quiet.
“I figured while I was here I could lend Violet a hand with the lemonade,” I said, keeping my voice cheerful.
The men helped themselves to lemonade, and I had a glass as well, just for the sake of being a good guest. I’d soon take my leave because there wasn’t any point in talking to the Nolans with Rhett here.
As soon as was polite, I said my goodbyes and let myself out.
Rhett followed me out to my car, which surprised me.
“It’s nice of you to help them out, to get other people to help them too,” I said, leaning against the front end.
“Yeah, well, their kids aren’t here to do it so I figure the community should take up the slack,” Rhett said with a shrug.
“Their kids abandoned them? That seems harsh,” I observed.
“No. Their kids both died a couple of years ago,” Rhett said. “Car accident, heading here for Thanksgiving.”
I cringed, looking in the direction of the house. Then a thought occurred to me. “If they can’t hack it on their own anymore, who are you to tell them they shouldn’t sell?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Shouldn’t they be able to live out the rest of their lives in some comfort, instead of back-breaking work?”
“They should be able to work until they don’t want to anymore,” Rhett said. “And then—and only then—they should sell if they want to sell.”
“They’d never be able to get the kind of money they need from an individual buyer,” I countered. “Someone looking to buy their land for farming isn’t going to be able to pay as much as my dad and me.”
“But someone who buys the land for farming isn’t going to destroy the community,” Rhett said. “They aren’t going to bulldoze over the farm and build over it.”
“So what if they build over it? Farming isn’t going to leave completely—you’ve seen to that,” I said tartly.
“Then when the business gets bigger, it pushes more of us out,” Rhett pointed out. “Until I can’t help but get rid of my Dad’s farm—lose everything that I’ve worked so hard to keep, lose the last connection I have to him.”
“I’ve looked at the plans,” I said, a little shaken by his conviction. “The company that’s coming in isn’t going to destroy the town. They’re just going to build things up a bit. They have no interest in expanding.”
That wasn’t technically true—or at least, I couldn’t make guarantees that the company we were bringing into the town was never going to want to expand. But from the plans I’d seen, we didn’t need that many people to sell to us, and there was no point in the company expanding for at least several years—if at all.
“I’ve seen this play out other places,” Rhett said, shaking his head. “And besides, you’ve lied to me before. Why should I trust you now?”
I thought about that question for a long moment.
“Meet with my dad,” I said. “Talk to him. Get to know him a bit. Ask him any questions you want.”
“What’s that going to accomplish?”
“You think you can take people’s measure, I assume,” I pointed out. “Ask my dad what you want to know, and if you still want to fight against this, then you can. But if you want the real deal on what’s going on, he has no reason to lie to you.” That was—as far as I could tell—the actual truth. I wouldn’t for a second trust Jacob with Rhett, but my father could talk to him. My father could convince him that, even if we weren’t altruists, we also weren’t out to destroy the town.
“Fine,” Rhett said. “I’ll talk to him. Set it up.”
He turned and went back toward the house.
I stood up straight, found my keys to unlock my car, and tried to figure out how to set up the meeting that I hoped would smooth the way and make peace between Rhett and my father.