Adam practically slammed the sheet tray on the stovetop. “Sure. Help yourself. I don’t feel like eating anyway.”
Drew’s eyebrows rose at the same time his heart pounded. “Bad day?”
“Bad week,” Adam practically growled. His jaw worked, and Drew knew it was just a matter of time before the whole story would pour from his mouth. So he got down two plates and served them both a few slices of pizza.
Adam sat at the bar, glaring at his dinner like it had done him a personal wrong. Drew joined him and ate a slice. “Okay, so I’ll talk. Did you know Mom and Joel bought the farm next door hoping I’d take it over?”
Adam swung his head toward him. “They did?”
Drew swallowed and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Do I look like a lavender farmer to you? Be honest.”
“I think you can do whatever you want,” Adam said, and the words slammed into Drew’s chest. It was something their father would’ve said, and looking at Adam’s long nose and light hazel eyes, all Drew could see was their dad.
Emotion surged up his throat, where he barely managed to contain it. He nodded and said, “Thanks, Adam.” He lifted another bite of pizza to his mouth. “I’m ready for the Lavender Festival. In just a couple of weeks, you’re going to have to start addressing me as ‘your majesty’.”
Adam snorted, a slight laugh coming from his mouth. He picked up a piece of pizza, finally. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
Drew chuckled with his brother and finished eating. When Adam did too and still hadn’t said anything, Drew asked, “So why the bad week? I haven’t heard anything around the hospital.” And though the police department was housed in another building, the EMTs, firefighters, and policemen often knew each other’s business.
“Anita broke up with me.” Adam sounded positively discouraged. Drew should’ve known there was something seriously wrong—more than just job problems—when he’d first seen his brother making food from a box.
“Oh, wow. I’m sorry.” Drew wasn’t sure if he should touch Adam. Give him a brotherly pat or something. He’d never really discussed his romantic relationships before. Adam hadn’t dated a whole lot, and it was usually Drew drowning himself in ice cream recipes and rhetorical questions when things went south with a woman.
“What happened?” he asked.
“She said she ‘wasn’t feeling it’. Whatever that means.” Adam stood and put their plates in the sink. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“All right.” Drew respected his brother’s privacy. “But I’m here if you want to talk.”
“Nothing to talk about. Back to the job.” Adam stepped over to the living room, where he sat in the middle of the couch and flicked on the TV. “I took an extra night shift tonight, so I have to go back in a little bit.” He obviously wasn’t focused on the television, as it blared an infomercial for a copper brownie pan that Adam already owned.
“See you later, then. Be careful.” Drew let himself out, wondering what he could do to help his brother. He stopped by Andy’s Anchor on his way home, an idea growing in his mind.
“Hey, Drew.” Andy Parker finished wiping a table and grinned at him. “What can I get you?”
“You close at eight, right?”
“Right.”
“My brother loves your giant chocolate chip cookies, and he’s on the late shift tonight.” Drew pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “How much for whatever you’ve got left to be delivered to the station on your way home?”
The following day, Gretchen drove herself and her van full of flowers—a healthy amount of lavender included—into town as it was Drew’s day off. He’d promised her he’d bring Dixie for lunch, and he busied himself around the farm with the girl’s help.
They fed all the animals, went out to the wishing well, and then spent hours in the fields, harvesting and pruning lavender. Gretchen had been out in the fields next door all week, clipping the wild lavender blooms and making them into beautiful arrangements for the upcoming festival. It seemed the whole town was abuzz with lavender love as the days until the town’s biggest event dwindled.
And Loveland Lavender Farm was going to be ready.
“Why don’t we do all the rows in the front?” Dixie asked as Drew bypassed them after bringing in their first harvest.
“Because the tourists will come next week and want to harvest their own,” he said. “We save those rows for them.”
“And that’s when Donna and Joel will sell all that stuff they’ve made.”
“Exactly.” His mother had been making oils, soaps, and lotions for months. Joel had been in the kitchen, perfecting his lavender peanut brittle. Drew knew how to make the lavender into oils, of course, but all he did was provide the flowers for his mother. Dixie had been labeling bottles and keeping his mother company. “Joel puts up a wooden roof for her booth,” he added as he saw his stepfather wrestling the structure from the storage barn. “See?”
Dixie waved, though Joel couldn’t return the gesture, and Drew chuckled. “Let’s get another load in, then we’ll bundle everything and get it hung. Then it will be time to get over to the flower shop.”
“Right. Lunch.” The girl skipped up to him and put her hand in his. “Drew, do you like my mom?”
Drew swallowed and looked at Dixie. “Of course I do, Dix.”
“Are you going to ask her to marry you?”
“I don’t know.”
Her face scrunched up. “Well, I think you should. Then we can all move into that other house.” She pointed to the farmhouse next door.
“Is that what your mom says?” Drew arrived at the row of lavender where he’d left off and pulled out his shears. The already pruned lavender left little clumps of eight-inch high greenery. He thought it was as beautiful as the plants with tall lavender flowers shooting from them.
“She keeps saying she’s going to ask Joel about the house, but she never does.”
Drew chewed on this information as he gathered a fistful of lavender and snip-snipped it, leaving him with the perfectly pruned undergrowth and a handful of the prized plant that was bringing thousands of people to Hawthorn Harbor.
“My mom tells me stories about my dad every night,” Dixie said.
Drew startled, his clippers almost slipping from his grip. “That’s great.”
Dixie went on, working on the plant next to him with a simple pair of scissors, the way he’d learned how. He could do three plants for every one she did, but he didn’t mind. They filled their baskets and went back to the barn to bunch the plants by length, rubber band them, and hang them by paperclips in the root cellar.
“Go wash up,” he told her. “And then we’ll go into town.”
He stepped around the side of the house to help Joel get the rooftop in place. With open sides so people could approach the lavender from any direction, the wooden legs supported the pitched roof easily.
Joel was slathering on a fresh coat of white paint, after which he’d staple fresh and dried lavender stems to decorate.
“Joel?” Drew approached slowly, his hands tucked in his back pockets.
“Yeah?” He kept the paintbrush going up and down, up and down.
“I’ve been thinking…” He cast a look over his shoulder to the farm next door. “I think I’d like to give lavender farming a try.”
Joel froze, the brush falling to his side as he brought his eyes to Drew’s. The air between them held plenty of July heat, but it was as if everything had stilled.
“All right.”
Drew wasn’t sure what he would do with his EMT job. He helped around the family farm, but he knew Joel worked ten-hour days even with everything Drew did. And the farm next door was wild, uncared for these past five years.
“It’ll need a lot of work,” Joel said. “You’ll probably need help.” He dipped the brush in the bucket of white paint and went back to work. “But I can have the lawyer draw up the paperwork to make it yours.”
“How much do you w
ant for it?”
“Oh, come on.” Joel kept working without a single beat of hesitation.
“You bought it.”
“We bought it for you.” Joel gave him a knowing look. “It’s a gift.”
No mortgage. No debt. It was a huge gift, and gratitude swelled within Drew. “Thank you, Joel,” he said with as much sincerity as he felt rushing through him.
He wandered over to the fence separating the properties. He’d always loved living out here, and this way, he’d be closer to his mom and Joel as they aged. He could carry on the Loveland Lavender Farm traditions.
And he couldn’t help thinking about what Dixie had said—that he should ask Gretchen to marry him so they could all live in the farmhouse together.
Behind him, Joel’s phone rang, and Drew started toward the house, realizing how late it had gotten. He paused when Joel said, “Oh, hello Gretchen.”
He met Drew’s eye with obvious surprise in his. His mouth dropped open a little, and he stammered something unintelligible. Drew edged closer, concern coursing within him.
“What’s she saying?” he asked.
Joel moved the phone away from his mouth. “She just asked if I’d sell her the farm next door.”
Chapter Nineteen
Gretchen tried not to slam her very shatterable vases around the shop. She barely contained her anger, and she didn’t want Drew or Dixie to see it. If they’d ever show up. Her stomach growled, and fury flashed through her again.
They were late. And Drew was never late.
“You should be worried, not angry,” she muttered to herself. But she couldn’t rid herself of this river of frustration. Joel had told her the farm wasn’t for sale. No elaboration, not even when she’d asked.
“Honestly, what’s he going to do with it?” She paid a pittance for the three-acre flower gardens she tended to meticulously. He obviously didn’t need the money. And she didn’t have the funds to buy the farm—but she was willing to do almost anything to secure them.
The need seethed within her, making her hands shake so she couldn’t work. She sat on the stool in the front of the shop, watching the sidewalk as a couple walked past. In just a few days, the streets would be flooded with people, and she’d already put her lavender arrangements front and center in her window displays. She’d done well in the past few years during the festival, as The Painted Daisy was adjacent to the downtown park where the activities were.
Maybe she should call her granddad right now, in this window of time where Drew still hadn’t shown up. But she wasn’t sure what she’d say to him after all these years. It felt like the chasm she’d created by moving away and not keeping the relationship going was too wide for her to cross.
She felt a scream rising through her, and tears pricked the back of her eyes. In the next moment, her beautiful blonde daughter skipped in front of the window displays and the chime on the door rang as Dixie entered. “Mom!” Her enthusiasm was infectious and Gretchen swiped at her eyes.
“What, baby?”
“Wait ‘till you see the size of the cookies Drew bought!” She turned back to the door, but Drew still hadn’t made an appearance. Gretchen watched for him as well, relaxing further when he appeared wearing his handsome smile, his trademark blue jeans, and a gray t-shirt. He slowed when he caught her staring at him through the glass and stopped when he filled the doorway.
“You spoiled the surprise, didn’t you?” He gave Dixie a mock frown while she giggled, and Gretchen’s heart tumbled over itself to see their interactions so playful.
“I didn’t tell her what kind of cookies.”
“Oh, so she can guess.” He entered the shop and closed the door behind him, sealing out the warm summer breeze.
Gretchen couldn’t get herself to speak. Her voice was lodged somewhere beneath the teeming ball of emotions that had risen through her throat and stalled at the base of her tongue.
“Go on, Mom. Guess what kind.”
Drew held up a bag from Andy’s Anchor and Submarine Shop, and her choices were narrowed to two: chocolate chip or snickerdoodle. The sandwich shop only made two varieties of cookies, and if Drew had seriously thought a cookie without chocolate was worth eating, Gretchen would doubt a lot of things about him.
She finally got the ball of emotions to settle back into her stomach, where they writhed. “It better be chocolate chip.”
“Yep!” Dixie danced around a display table with three huge vases on it, and it took all of Gretchen’s willpower to keep herself from snapping at the child.
“Let’s eat in the back,” she said instead, hoping to minimize the damage. Dixie’s never broken anything, she chided herself. You’re just in a bad mood.
Drew passed out the food, giving Dixie her chocolate chip cookie first. “Don’t eat it all,” he said. “Half. Then you’ll have to eat your sandwich. And don’t tell my mother I let you eat your dessert first.”
A memory struck Gretchen at the same time Dixie said, “Once, my dad said we could eat all our desserts first. Mom didn’t even make dinner. She just put out cookies and marshmallow treats and these caramel nut things.” She turned to Gretchen, who was reliving the same, sweet memory. “What were those, Mom?”
“Macadamia nut clusters,” she managed to push through her throat.
“They were soo good. All we ate for dinner that night was dessert.”
Drew met Gretchen eyes as Dixie ripped off a piece of her cookie. Something stormed in his expression, but when he said, “Sounds fun, Dix,” his voice was as even as always.
Gretchen picked up her sandwich, the number eleven staring back at her. The Hawthorn harvest club. Her favorite. She wasn’t sure why, but those pesky tears appeared again.
She sniffed and tried to turn away, but Drew saw.
“Dix,” he said. “Run out front and get those paper towels your mom keeps under the desk.”
She skipped away without an argument, and Drew closed the door behind her. “What’s wrong?” He stayed by the door, pocketing his hands as he watched her.
She shrugged, which dislodged a tear, which put Drew in motion. He closed the distance between them in two strides and gathered her into his arms. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”
Gretchen wanted to believe him, because when he spoke with so much kindness and so much love in his voice, it was almost impossible not to.
“There aren’t any paper towels out there,” Dixie said as she opened the door.
“I’ll grab some from the bathroom closet.” Gretchen sidestepped Drew and kept her face turned away from Dixie. She made it to the back of the shop and into the bathroom, wondering what in the world was wrong with her.
She had a roll of paper towels in her hand when Drew said, “It’s about the farm, isn’t it?”
Spinning to face him, Gretchen’s heart beat wildly in her chest. “Did Joel say something to you?”
Something like anguish colored his expression. “About a month ago, he told me he bought the farm for me, and I’ve been thinking about giving up my job as an EMT and becoming a lavender farmer.” His feet shuffled and he sighed. “I wasn’t sure if that was what I wanted, but today, I told him I wanted it.”
Gretchen had never felt so trapped. “Oh.” Or so foolish. She wanted to disappear through the floor.
“You called a few minutes later.” He dropped his head as if he was ashamed. “I was standing right there.”
Her stomach warred against itself and she hadn’t eaten anything yet. “I—I don’t know what to say.”
“Neither do I.”
She gripped the paper towels until her fingers ached. “So when are you going to move in?”
“Joel said he’d go through the house with me. Fix up anything that needs to be repaired before I make the move.” He scrubbed the back of his head in that tale-tell sign of his frustration. “I don’t know what to do about my current job.”
“Can you do both?” He was such a great paramedic, though she knew he’d struggled to fin
d purpose in the job.
“Maybe for a little bit, as we head into fall,” he said, inching forward. “Joel suggested I’d need a lot of help around the farm.” His pinky hooked hers and he finally lifted his eyes to hers. “I was thinking you might want the job.”
Her eyebrows went up. Was that a proposal? A job offer? It felt as though wild horses were thundering through her entire being.
“I’d need help with getting the lavender back into shape, and of course, you’d have to stop paying the rent on the flower garden.”
“Why would I have to stop doing that?” The words barely ghosted from her mouth, because she still didn’t know what “the job” was.
“Because.” He chuckled. “I’m not taking rent from my girlfriend.” His other hand slid around her back and he swayed with her. “Once I get the farm and house fixed up, maybe you and Dixie could move in too.”
She bolted out of his arms, needing to know what he meant by everything. Her back met the wall and panic doused her insides with icy waves. “Drew,” she said. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“It was Dixie’s idea.”
Gretchen felt the blood drain from her face, and Drew obviously saw it, because the softness in his face turned hard.
“I mean—”
“Excuse me.” She pushed past him and turned left, exploding through the door and into the alley behind the shop. She couldn’t breathe behind walls, not right now.
“Gretchen,” he said, pleading in both syllables.
She held up her hand. “Don’t, Drew,” she said. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen this coming from a mile away. He loved Dixie more than her. She shook her head as an unhappy laugh came out of her mouth. “I’m so naïve.”
“No, you’re not.” He closed the door behind him, locking them out though he probably didn’t know that. “I’m not saying anything right today.”
She faced him, her fingers balling themselves into fists. With her chin lifted, she nonverbally dared him to try again.