“I can’t believe you took me to the town vet!” I punched Dan in the arm after we’d stepped onto Main Street.
“I didn’t!” He laughed, rubbing his bicep. “Sheisthe town doctor. In case it’s escaped your notice, this is a very small town.” He waved his arm to encompass the entirety of Main Street. He was making a very valid point. The street, both ends of which were visible, was lined with small shops, and none of the buildings were more than three stories. It also explained why everyone seemed to know exactly who I was, which brought to mind my conversation with Erica’s daughter.
“Why does everyone in town hate me?” I asked in a low whisper. Working in PR for so many years had meant learning all the choreography to the very precarious dance of making tough decisions while managing to stay in everyone’s good graces, mastering the art of compromise while making sure I—and my client—came out on top. At the root of it was a very deep—like, Mariana Trench deep—sense of insecurity. Every level of success comes with its requisite number of haters, but in every situation, I was in control.
If someone didn’t like me, I knew exactly why. So this instance of being kept in the dark was driving me nuts. My therapist might have said that my people-pleasing tendencies stemmed from my strained relationship with my mother, but it’s those insecurities that had made me so good at my job that I could afford to pay her exorbitant fees with top-notch health insurance and a fifty-dollar co-pay. Still, this out-of-control feeling was eating me alive. Since Dan and I seemed to have formed an uneasy rapport between the time he found me bleeding and Frisbee’s annual physical, I took a chance.
“Emma.” He stopped midstride and turned to face me, making me stop, too. “No one hates you.”
“Melissa, the diner owner’s daughter, said everyone in town is talking about me and how I would ruin the town if I sold the farm.”
Dan’s eyes widened in shock. He certainly hadn’t expected me to know this. His fingers dragged through his beard before he reached up and ran his palm over the silky black hair covering his scalp, which had grown significantly in only two days.
“Well…” He let out a sigh. “That’s not far off.”
“How would me selling the farm ruin the town?”
Another long pause. This time, he rubbed his palm over the back of his neck.
“This town is a very special place,” he began cautiously. “And the farm is a very big part of what makes it special. Everyone here is connected like a family, and we depend on each other. Change is a scary prospect in most instances, but in this one, it’s a matter of life and…” He stopped himself and my brow furrowed in confusion. Was he about to say death? “A lot depends on the farm. Everyone’s just nervous because you hold a lot of people’s futures in your hands, and we know almost nothing about you.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I conceded. “But I still have no idea whether or not I want to sell, and my main reason for coming here was to learn more about this place, my grandparents, my past…”
“Well, maybe we can solve two problems at once.” Dan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me down the street.
“I’m listening…”
Dan guided me two blocks away to a bakery called Four and Twenty Blackbirds. For a small town, it was bustling with peoplestrolling in and out of the small businesses lining the main street. There were people of all ethnicities and families of all sizes. They were so different, but there was something that seemed to connect them, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. One thing that stood out to me, from a PR standpoint, was that every storefront featured wide entrances and ramps. Perhaps the accessibility was what made it such a draw? I was pulled out of my thoughts by a voice once we entered the bakery.
“Hey! Dan the Man!” a man warmly greeted him before coming around the counter. They clasped hands and pulled each other into a one-armed hug, the man clapping Dan’s back a few times. He did a double take when he noticed me and shot Dan a knowing grin. “What brings you in today?”
“Rufus”—Dan placed a possessive hand on the small of my back, which made me shiver in a good way—“this is Emma Walters—”
“Harriet and George’s granddaughter!” He grinned. “We all know who you are.”
“Emma, this is Rufus, Mavis’s grandson. Mavis opened this bakery not long after your grandparents began their farm.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He reached out and shook my good hand.
“I was hoping for one… or two”—he tipped his head at me—“of your gran’s blueberry muffins.”
“Is that Dan?” a woman’s voice called from behind the closed kitchen door.
“Yeah, Gramma,” Rufus called back. “And apparently, it’s a two-muffin day.” He looked at me again, his face still beaming. I felt like an awkward junior high schooler on a date.
“Hmm.” Mavis emerged from the kitchen, dusting off an apron covered in flour. “Georgie and Harry’s granddaughter is that bad, huh?” Not yet looking over at us, she raised an eyebrow in the universal expression of mothers that signifies,Don’t try to tell me what I already know. I’ve been on the receiving end of that eyebrow for as long as I can remember. Then she picked her head up and noticed me standing next to Dan. The look of shock on her face was so cartoonish, I had to stifle a laugh.
“Mavis, this is Emma, George and Harriet’s granddaughter. Emma, this is Mavis, the best baker in town,” Dan blurted out. Rufus and Mavis exchanged a look.
I pasted on my best Atlanta debutante smile and stepped forward with my hand outstretched. Smoothing over awkward situations was one of my specialties.
“Mavis, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too, dear. I’m so sorry about what I said, I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, no worries, ma’am.” I let out a small chuckle. “That’s actually why we’re here. I want to learn more about my grandparents and their life here. Dan”—I placed a hand on his bicep and felt the muscles tense under my palm, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Mavis—“thought I would benefit from meeting some of the people in town and showing them that I’m notthat bad.”
Mavis laughed and pulled two blueberry muffins out of the display case. “You remind me so much of your mother. You even look like her, too. Everybody is just on edge is all, with the Kings leaving us so suddenly. We’re still recovering from that, and things are so uncertain, especially when it concernsthe farm.” She put aspecial emphasis on the last words. “So how are you doin’, sweetheart? What do you think your plans are?”
