Chapter Three
The following day, Beth arrived at work promptly at 8:00 a.m., same as always.
She’d worked at Whitaker Mowers throughout high school, but she’d never expected to stay around Willow Grove after college. After she’d been passed over for a job in the city, she’d graduated and come back home to get her bearings. Then she’d found out about Michael.
Her dad had reluctantly made room for her at Whitaker—to proofread ad copy, get coffee and restock the office supplies. By all accounts, she was a glorified secretary.
He’d been against the idea from the start.
“She needs to move past this or it’s going to define her,” she’d overheard him telling her mother. “She should move into the city and find a job there. Willow Grove is too small for someone like Beth.”
He’d wanted so much more for her. More than struggling as a starving artist. More than a small, simple life. Never mind that he’d chosen this life after years of working in downtown Chicago himself. Somehow, he’d convinced her she needed the big-city experience to really learn what she needed to know.
But she was twenty-nine, and so far none of that had happened. What was she waiting for?
Still, she wasn’t miserable. Whitaker Mowers had been good to her. She’d moved her way up quickly. Little by little, her dad had begun to accept she could be part of the next generation at Whitaker—not Ben, and certainly not Seth. Her brothers had no interest.
Beth had a knack for running an office. With her dad’s help, she’d learned all she needed to know about this world—a world he’d all but conquered well before his death. Almost daily for the first two years, he’d asked if she was sure this was where she wanted to be.
“I think I could help, Dad,” Beth had said. “I think I’ll be great for Whitaker. I’m smart. I’m capable. I have a degree in business.”
“I just pictured you doing something different,” he’d said. “Something, I don’t know—bigger?”
“Maybe someday,” she’d told him. “But this is good experience for me for now.”
He let it drop—for a little while, anyway. Months later, he asked again. “You think any more about applying for a job in the city?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He laughed her off, but she could see the disappointment behind his eyes. “Just never thought you’d stick around Willow Grove. You couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
“Things change.”
She’d tried not to think about how much they’d changed or how she’d all but abandoned her self-confident, dream-seeking courage, leaving it sitting on a roadside somewhere between here and Chicago.
Months later, he checked in with her again, but by that time, she’d made herself indispensable to the company. She’d had a hand in rebranding their line of riding mowers. She’d even made several improvements to the machines over the years. Added a line of snowblowers and launched a successful ad campaign. Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped thinking about moving out of Willow Grove and fallen into a comfortable pattern of working and living in the town she’d always known.
And yes, she often felt like a failure for it. After all, it had never been her dream to go into the family business and live in a small tourist town in Illinois, even if it was home.
Yet somehow she’d grown content with the monotony of it all. And now, as her Keurig spit to life and her assistant pulled into the parking lot, she prepared for another day that was nearly indistinguishable from the last.
She arrived at work early on purpose—she liked to start the day with a little peace and quiet. But as she sat down to enjoy her cup of coffee, her cell phone buzzed in her purse.
She pulled it out and saw Molly’s name on the screen. It shocked her that her sister was even up before nine o’clock. Beth’s stomach dropped—had something happened to Mom?
“Hello?”
“Hey. Are you busy right now?”
“I’m working.”
“So that’s a no?”
Molly probably wanted her to go junking again. Or to go to the animal shelter or some estate sale hundreds of miles away. No matter how many times Beth refused, her little sister seemed to believe Beth could leave work whenever she wanted. After all, it was the family business, which apparently meant Beth could throw all the rules out the window.
But then, that was the difference between the two of them, wasn’t it? Beth stayed in her office and ran the business while Molly booked trips to Europe, started dog-walking businesses and ordered a car off the Internet.
“I’ve got a meeting this afternoon, and I need to look over my notes.”
“But right now in this moment, you’re not busy, right?”
“Molly, I’ve got work.”
“It’ll be there when you get back.”
“Back from where?”
“I need you to meet me somewhere.”
Beth stifled a groan. Molly’s excursions didn’t always go as she planned. Beth’s impulsive little sister rarely thought things through. Beth pictured her stranded on the side of the road outside the Superman Statue in Metropolis or at the top of the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier.
“Come on, Beth, it’s something really cool.”
“I have a lot to do today.” She glanced down at the planner on her desk. In fact, the whole day was wide open with the exception of one meeting, which Beth knew would take maybe thirty minutes. She’d all but delegated herself out of a job. Most business owners would love the freedom she now found in her schedule, but a part of her felt unchallenged. Maybe even a little bored.
Still, this was her career, whether she’d intended it to be or not.
“It won’t take long, I promise.”
Beth groaned. Maybe mixing up her day was a good thing. “Fine. Where?”
“Fairwind Farm.”
Images from childhood turned through her mind like a slideshow of her favorite memories. Fairwind had been a weekly event for the Whitaker family—and for many families in Willow Grove.
In the fall, they’d fill bushel baskets with handpicked apples, play family-style games in the meadow and, on occasion, spend an evening around the magical bonfire. Beth had sworn there was pixie dust on the falling embers of those flames.
It was as if Fairwind had been frozen in time. There, everything was perfect. No cheating boyfriends. No sick parents. No panicky guilt.
In the winter, they’d trudge through the snow out behind the barns to locate the perfect Christmas tree. Every spring and summer, they joined their neighbors for picnics and a countywide flea market that had put Willow Grove on the map.
But that was years ago. The farm had closed and, last she heard, was now in complete disarray.
“Why do you want me to meet you there? You know we can’t trespass on Old Man Pendergast’s property.”
“Trust me, it’s fine.”
Wes Simpson walked by Beth’s office. The awkward thirtysomething had a knack for hanging around outside her door, just waiting for a chance to come in and make small talk with her. She knew he was working up the courage to ask her out, and judging by his nervous pacing, she thought today might be his day.
“Okay, when do you want me to meet you?” she asked, turning her attention back to her sister.
“Now. I’ll be waiting.” Molly hung up.
Beth glanced up and met Wes’s gaze. His eyebrows popped up, and he smoothed a hand over his balding head.
As much as she didn’t want to get pulled into another of Molly’s ridiculous schemes, she didn’t want Wes to ask her out even more.
She stood, phone still pressed to her ear. “I suppose I can make that work.” Nodding, she pretended to listen to a nonexistent person on the other end. Then she picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder and walked out into the hallway, closing her door as she mouthed an “I’m sorry” to Wes.
He held up a hand to excuse her, and she mumbled a quiet “mm-hmm” as if still talking to someone on the phone.
Outside, she drew in the crisp spring air and stuffed her cell back into her purse. Several employees were just making their way to work, many of whom she barely recognized. She spent more time in her office staring at the wall than socializing with the rest of the Whitaker team.
“Love your people, Beth. That’s rule number one.” Her dad had been so good at that. Why hadn’t he passed that on to her?
Beth drove out to the edge of town, then down a string of country roads that would lead her to Fairwind Farm and Orchard. Gravel kicked up underneath her tires, and a trail of dust followed her to what used to be the old farm’s parking lot.
Her memories of Fairwind had deceived her. In her mind, the farm was something grand, teeming with excitement and joy, but what she saw before her was a lonely spot of land that had long been forgotten.
A huge white barn sat at the front of the property. Back in the day, it had been a store, a place to buy apple pie, apple cider or any one of ten different kinds of fresh-picked apples, among other things. And one glorious day in late spring, there had been tents set up outside where locals hosted the county-famous barn sale, the Fairwind Farm Market. Artisans and farmers and vintage collectors sat under white pop-up tents selling their goods and greeting the droves of tourists that spent the day exploring Willow Grove and the farm. People would drive hours to visit Fairwind—made it an annual ritual.
When had that changed?
Outbuildings dotted the land, and behind them, rows and rows of trees. The apple trees. The evergreens. How had they fared all these years? She drove along the perimeter, where weeds had grown up into the parking lot. She could almost see the families flocking toward the main entrance, excited to spend their day picking their own apples, the smell of sweet apple-cider donuts filling the air. Children would squeal as goats and sheep and llamas ate from their hands.
She remembered being one of those children.
Up ahead, she saw the main house—set apart from the orchard, barns and public grounds. She remembered thinking how lucky the Pendergast family was to live in a place everyone wanted to visit. How quickly that blessing had turned into a curse.
In the driveway, Molly’s green VW Bug sat, her sister not far away. Never had she known a car to suit someone so well.
Beth parked and got out, still not sure what she was doing there but certain that romanticizing this old orchard was just about the last thing she needed to do right now. She should be sitting at her desk, working.
“Isn’t it spectacular?” Molly was at her side before she even emerged from her car.
“You can’t be serious.” Beth looked around, saddened by what had become of this place. It had been such an important part of their lives growing up. Now, weeds pushed their way through the earth, overtaking what might have been nice landscaping. The main barn and two visible outbuildings needed paint and some obvious repair. The big white farmhouse off to the left still boasted a grand wraparound porch, but Beth could tell, even from a distance, the old house had been all but forgotten.
It was weatherworn and uncared for, and it showed. Maybe the rumors were true—Harold Pendergast had gone mad and given up completely.
“Look around, Beth, don’t you remember this place?” Molly sounded like a kid, all wonder and excitement. Did she really not see how run-down Fairwind had gotten? Beth walked toward the main barn and stopped, taking it all in with a wide smile and a deep breath.
“I do remember this place,” Beth said. “That’s what makes it so sad to be here now.” Really, truly sad. This was somewhere they’d all come as a family—before her mom’s stroke, before her dad died, before Seth became the black sheep and moved away. It broke her heart to think about her youngest brother—out there on his own, still holding on to old grudges as if he needed them to live. All attempts to reach him had gone unanswered, and while Beth and her siblings had found a way to get on with life, she knew it devastated their mother.
“It just needs some TLC,” Molly said, turning back toward the main barn and pulling Beth out of the past.
“It needs a lot more than that,” Beth scoffed.
“Think about how great it could be. I mean, really, just picture it for a minute—I can practically hear the folk band playing. I can smell that glorious scent of apple-cider donuts filling the air. I can see the rows and rows of pumpkins out back—kids trudging through the fields to pick the perfect one.” Molly squinted toward her, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “We were those kids.”
“That was a long time ago.” Beth followed her sister toward the barn.
“What if this place could be restored?” Molly turned and faced her, walking backward. “How great would that be?”
“It would be a lot of work. A lot of time. A lot of money.” Beth crossed her arms as she plodded through the unmown grass.
“But it would be great. Admit it.” Molly stopped walking, so Beth followed suit.
She said nothing.
“Admit it, Beth. It would be great.”
Beth shrugged. “I guess it would be great.”
“Ha. I knew you’d agree.” Molly practically jumped when she said it, like a lawyer who’d just made a critical point for her case.
“We’re talking hypotheticals here, right?”
“Think about it for a minute. Everything moves so fast nowadays. Even the tourists here—they’re all so busy. It wasn’t like that at Fairwind. Things were slow and relaxed. It was the perfect escape.” She shoved the barn door open, and they both stared at what had once been a gathering place for all of their friends and family.
This space had been a little shop filled with homemade jellies and jams. They’d sold easy lunches and bags of freshly picked apples. There’d been a homemade-fudge counter off to the side and a whole separate space for the bakery. The smell of apples and cinnamon had always lingered in the air.
How full of life that old barn had been.
But now, the empty space was just a shell of its past glory. Tables and chairs caked with dust had lost their rustic charm. The shelves along the walls stood dull and lifeless, and the counter where friendly cashiers had handed out the occasional free piece of candy had all but fallen apart.
“I don’t think anyone would see this as an escape.”
Molly crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you’re wrong. You have to see the potential here.”
“It was a different world back then. People are too busy to come to a place like Fairwind.” A stray cat ran into the barn and darted through the half-opened door of a storage room. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, Old Man Pendergast is not interested in selling Fairwind. If he catches us out here—”
“He’s dead.”
Beth frowned. “He is?”
“Yes, and he didn’t have any family and he didn’t have a will.”
Beth stared at her sister, recognizing that gleam in her eye. “No way. Molly, this is a bad investment.”
“Beth, listen, you’re a businesswoman. This is what you’re trained for—to walk into a business and figure out how to make a go of it. You must be able to recognize a gold mine when you see it.”
“This is not what I was trained for. This is—” A mouse scurried across the floor and Beth recoiled. “This is something else entirely.” She turned and walked out of the barn.
“Look around. Breathe in that fresh country air. Picture what this place could be again if the right people got their hands on it.”
Beth had been here before—carefully balancing Molly’s sensitivity with the need to speak the truth. This was not a good idea. Anyone could see that.
Anyone, that is, except Molly.
“You trust me, right?” Beth asked. “You know I wouldn’t steer you wrong?”
“Of course, but you’re kind of closed-minded.”
“No, I’m pragmatic. And that’s why I can tell you in no uncertain terms that this farm is a money pit. Everywhere I look, I see things falling apart.”
“I bought it.”
Beth spun around to face her sister. “You did what?”
“There was an auction this morning, and I was the only bidder. I got it for a steal.” Molly beamed.
Beth shook her head, starting back up the hill toward her car, Molly close on her heels.
“Would you stop with that look? I brought you out here because I want us to do this together.”
Beth didn’t slow her pace. “This is crazy, Molly. I know you’re impulsive, but this! Buying a farm?”
“Would you at least hear me out?”
“No, I don’t need to hear anything, because there is no way I am going to be a part of something so ridiculous.” Beth pulled open her car door. “You always do the stupidest things!”
Molly’s face fell. She stood, unmoving, just a few feet away from the car.
Beth dropped her gaze to the ground and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. I know what you think of me. What all of you think of me. I know Dad never thought I could do anything big and important—he saved all those dreams for you.”
Yeah, and look at me now.
“You’re right,” Molly said. “I’ve done some stupid things. I went to cosmetology school, and I don’t like to touch other people’s heads. I bought that car last year that didn’t have an engine in it. I make decisions based on how I feel.”
Beth glanced at Molly. All this time, she’d assumed her sister didn’t know those things were foolish.
“But you’re the flip side of my coin, Beth. You don’t do anything based on the way you feel. Everything is planned out and calculated, and you never allow yourself to have a single emotion without a checklist of pros and cons.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. That’s why it threw you for such a curveball when your perfectly laid plan fell apart. That was six years ago—and you’re still here, working in Dad’s company, in a job you hate.”
“I don’t hate it.” And I have to stay. I have to make it up to Dad.
“Tell me this is what you always dreamed you would do.”
Beth searched for a reply but came up empty.
Molly softened. “You need a change, and so do I. Fairwind can give it to us.”
Beth shook her head. “I can’t even believe what I’m hearing.”
“Think about it. Remember what it was like here.”
Beth didn’t want to remember. Recalling how it felt to have no worries or no cares—it would make her long for something she’d never have again, and what would be the point of that? She wasn’t a fan of self-imposed torture.
Molly turned away, eyes scanning the forgotten land in front of her.
“I can still remember every time we came here, before we went home, Daddy would make us all head over to that little stand at the edge of the flea market. They had fresh-made kettle corn—”
“And lemon shake-ups,” Beth said. “I remember.”
“What if we could bring that back to Willow Grove? Tourism is still big here. Why shouldn’t we introduce Fairwind to a new generation?”
Beth shut the car door and leaned back against it. A part of her wanted that more than anything—to go down an unexpected path, one she’d never considered before.
Molly stared at her. “Every single day of your life has been exactly the same for at least the last five years. Aren’t you bored?”
Thoughts ran around in Beth’s mind like a toddler with scissors. Dangerous. Chaotic. She didn’t like thinking about change when she was stuck where she was.
“I’ve done something amazing here, Beth, and I’m offering you a chance to get on board. Be a part of this—for us, for this town, for this place. Doesn’t it deserve to be restored?”
Beth drew in a deep breath. “Of course it does. But we’re not equipped to do it. We know nothing about apple orchards or farms or pumpkin patches.”
“But we’re smart. And we learn fast. You know business. And I’m great with people. We can do this. Together.”
Beth looked at her sister’s pleading eyes. Molly was desperate to make a go of this plan. But this was the same sister who only last year had been convinced she wanted to drive a food truck. Never mind that Molly wasn’t a chef. She’d never even worked in food service. She’d gotten so far as to test-drive an old, falling-apart food truck, only to decide—at the very last minute—she didn’t like the way she looked driving such a big vehicle. The next day, she’d gone out and bought her VW Bug, and the food-truck idea went to the place all of Molly’s grand plans went: the idea graveyard.
It would be only a matter of time before she lost interest in Fairwind Farm too, and Beth would be left to pick up the pieces.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking,” Molly said.
“Oh, do you?” Beth hoped not.
“Yes, you’re calculating all the reasons this is a bad idea. But just promise me you’ll sleep on it for one night. Isn’t that what Dad taught us to do? Sleep on every big decision?”
“Did you sleep on this one? Did you pray about buying a run-down farm?”
“Yes, actually, I did.” Molly stared off into the distance. “In my own way.”
Beth stuck her hands on her hips and studied her own feet, her sensible pair of shoes.
“It’s different this time, Beth. I promise.” Molly’s eyes begged. “Just spend one night thinking about it, please?”
How could she say no?
“One night. If my answer doesn’t change—and I don’t think it will—then I’ll try to find a way to help you get out of this deal.”
Molly frowned. “I don’t want out, Beth. If you decide not to do this with me, I’m going to do it on my own.”
The words, spoken with such conviction, worried Beth. What if this was the one time Molly stuck with a project so long she didn’t give herself an exit strategy? And worse, what if there was no one there to bail her out this time?
How would their mother respond if Beth didn’t jump in and save her then?