CHAPTER 5
Darby
I do a slow pace up and down the heavily scuffed tile floor in the Department of Agriculture building. I received a surprising and unexpected phone call two days ago that the expansion grant board had a tough time deciding between my application and Colt’s. They asked me to come to Raleigh for a formal interview. While I have not seen or talked to Colt since our first meeting four days ago, I can only assume he received the same request.
I’m not pacing because I’m nervous. It’s just how I’ve always been… unable to sit still for any length of time. I’m not in the slightest bit worried about this grant because Jake doesn’t actually need it. When I boil it all down, the application process is what’s most important to my thesis.
The door to the boardroom where I was instructed to be at ten o’clock this morning opens, and I turn to face whoever may be coming out. I have no clue who’s going to be interviewing me today—whether it’s one person or several. Clasping my hands placidly in front of me, I put a confident smile on my face.
To my surprise, Colt Mancinkus steps out of the boardroom. The minute his eyes land on me, an easy smile comes to his face.
He pulls the door shut behind him and says, “I take it they’re interviewing you next?”
My return smile is just as easy. “And I take it you just had your interview.”
Colt takes a few steps toward me and lowers his voice as if to conspire. “It was a piece of cake.”
I lean in toward him and give a mischievous wink. “Well then, perhaps you’ll share some pointers with me.”
Colt lets out a deep, rich laugh of amusement. It makes his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners as they sparkle with brilliance. Frankly, it amps up his hotness factor. “Not about to give you any help for this grant, Miss McCulhane.”
I didn’t expect him to give me any help, and it’s all in good fun right now. While we’re both chuckling, I take a moment to really look at Colt. He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans and a gray and red plaid flannel shirt. He’s got on cowboy boots and a thick brown leather belt with a large silver belt buckle. The only thing missing that would make him look more cowboy than farmer is a cowboy hat, but it would be a travesty to cover up that thick, wavy hair.
I compare his attire to mine, and I realize I’ve made a very crucial mistake in this interview already. Colt looks every bit like a farmer from North Carolina. I’m wearing a black business pantsuit with four-inch stiletto heels and a cream silk blouse under my jacket. I look like I’m ready to attend a banker’s meeting or something, and I know deep within my heart I’ve put myself at a disadvantage dressing this way.
To my surprise, Colt gives a nod to the boardroom and says, “There are four board members in there. They’re all nice, and my interview took about fifteen minutes. They’re just going to ask you the reason for the application and some more details about how you intend to use it. Nothing you can’t handle.”
My chin pulls in as I blink at Colt’s magnanimous gift of information. “Thank you. That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”
Colt just shrugs and puts one hand in his pocket. “I figure what will be will be. It does no good to worry about it. As my pap told me yesterday, all I can do is try my best.”
“Now that sounds like some great advice,” I tell him. “And I need to get by Chesty’s to meet your grandpa. Laken and Jake have told me a lot about him.”
Colt nods and smiles in a way that makes my belly flutter a little. “Come on by Saturday if you want. I’ll be working and will gladly buy you a beer.”
“You work at Chesty’s?”
“It’s a long story, but the condensed version is I need the money,” Colt tells me without an ounce of bitterness or hardship in his voice. More like steely determination, and that intrigues me. “I’ll fill you in over a beer. Promise.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The boardroom door opens once again, and we turn to look that way. A middle-aged woman with a blonde bob peeks out, her eyes first going to Colt and then to me. “Miss McCulhane?”
“That’s me,” I tell her pleasantly. I grab my purse from the bench where I had set it earlier. Hitching it over my shoulder, I walk toward the woman.
“Knock ’em dead,” Colt calls out. I level a grin back at him over my shoulder, marveling how we have suddenly become friends even though we’re both competing for the same grant and Colt was pretty bent out of shape about it.
I’m a little flustered as I walk into the boardroom, again not because I’m nervous about this interview but because that short conversation with Colt has thrown me off a little. There’s no doubt Colt was being all neighborly just now, but there’s also no doubt we were flirting a little bit. This is confusing to me as flirting is probably the last thing in the world I want to do with the man. And yet, it had just come out of me so naturally.
I give a small shake of my head, and walk down to the end of a long conference room table where the blonde woman points. After I take a seat, they introduce themselves. I nod with a polite smile to each of them.
Then the questions begin. They spend a few minutes going over some of the details in my application, focusing in on the fact I intend to split the orchard into three parts and use different applications of micronutrients, so I can figure out the best method to increase the yield and quality. I can tell my scientific approach is intriguing to them.
“And what exactly is your experience with farming?” one of the board members asks me; a tall, thin man with slicked-back gray hair and a tan, weathered face. I imagine he farmed for many years before becoming a board member at the Department of Agriculture.
I give a little cough to clear my throat, putting my hands on the conference room table where I clasp them loosely. “I grew up on a large farm in Iowa. We mostly produced corn but also some wheat and soybeans. My bachelor and master’s degrees are in agronomy, and I’m in the process of completing my PhD in the same field.”
The board members nod and jot down some notes.
The blonde woman, who introduced herself as Belinda Caldwell, gives me a challenging look. “Does this grant, and the planned peach orchard, have anything to do with you getting your PhD?”
I’m nodding in full disclosure before she even finishes her question. “I’m focusing part of my thesis on the orchard. The grant application will also be a part of it.”
Miss Caldwell nods, jots something down, and looks back to me. “And what are your plans after you get your degree? Or after you get the orchard planted?”
“I intend to stay at Farrington Farms for several months after the planting. But I’m also going to apply to some companies that specialize in crop sciences. There are several good ones right here in Research Triangle Park, but I would be applying to some in other states as well.”
They asked this question because they want to get an idea of my commitment to the project, so I add on, “Before I leave, though, I would oversee hiring an operations manager to take my place in managing the orchard. It is a long-term project for Farrington Farms that we do not intend to give up.”
One of the other board members gives a slight cough to grab my attention. When I cut my eyes his way, he asks, “Why is your project for the peach orchard more important to the community than Mr. Mancinkus’ project to open a vineyard on Mainer Farms?”
This question does catch me by surprise because it has nothing to do with how the grant should be awarded. And I cannot even think to lie, but give them the most honest answer I can. “I don’t believe the peach orchard is more important to the community than the vineyard. If you are going strictly by community standards, I believe the Mainer Farms’ grant application should be given a higher consideration than mine. I understand they’ve been farming the land for eight generations, and I’ve been living in Whynot, North Carolina for all of two weeks. I have no standing in this community. My commitment is only but words I can give you. Mainer Farms has real history, and I expect it has a direct impact on the economy in the area.”
Miss Caldwell blinks at me in surprise. She tilts her head and says, “I have to tell you, Miss McCulhane, you were actually our top contender coming into this interview process. You sure you want to stick to that answer?”
I don’t even spare a moment to consider the consequences. “I’m going to stick to my answer.”
All the board members start furiously jotting down notes. And I realize I’ve thrown them for a loop as they truly were more interested in my orchard project than the vineyard. And I also realize this isn’t just about the importance to Colt and his family, but perhaps to the community as a whole. I may not have been living here long, but what little bit I’ve come to know I really respect.
“In fact,” I say carefully as all sets of eyes come to me. “Is it possible for me to withdraw my application?”
It feels like the air is sucked out of the room and the board members look at me in bewilderment. Miss Caldwell gives me a tight smile. “That is your choice, of course, though I’m not sure I would recommend it.”
I push up from my chair and place the palms of my hands on the tabletop. Glancing around the room, I give each board member an appreciative smile. “I really, really appreciate all of you taking the time to consider my request. But it suddenly occurred to me there could be other factors that are more important than my needs for that grant. I know of no industry that has such an important sense of community than farming, and your question prompted me to consider that. I’m going to formally withdraw my application, and it is my sincere hope you will have no qualms in giving the grant to Mainer Farms.”
Miss Caldwell throws her pen down onto her notepad with a huff, but the other board members smile at me with respect.
All I know is that when I pull away from the Department of Agriculture building, I’m feeling very good about my decision.