“Um, no. I saw they’re—you’re, whoever runs Hunnie’s—is looking for a social media intern, and I was curious about the position. Do you know the owner, or who I should speak to?”
“I certainly do. It’s me. I’m Hunnie. Well, my real name’s Margaret, but I never was a Maggie or a Margo or a Margaret. My grandma nicknamed me Hunnie, and it stuck. Granted, my family’s run a honey farm for more generations than I can count, so it wasn’t all that creative.”
Inside, I wanted to shrivel up and die a very quick death—she was the owner. My age, successful, cute, peppy, and content. All the things I wasn’t but should be.
No matter how broken I felt, I kept a smile on my face. “Oh, wow. Well, nice to meet you, Hunnie. I’m Murphy, and obviously not from here, but I bring a good amount of social media experience, and I’d like to share it with you.” I couldn’t help but wonder why she needed an intern for her farm stand.
“Pardon me for saying,” Hunnie said kindly, “but I’ve been known to blurt out whatever is on my mind. Why would you want to be an intern? It doesn’t pay much. In fact, I call it an intern but it’s more a glorified helper. If you have experience, you’d do better in a full-time gig. We’re just trying to tap into social media, widen our reach, sell more online, get in touch with ... what do you call them? Role models? No, influencers, that’s it. We’re expanding our shipping.”
“I hear you,” I said. “It’s just, I’m looking to get involved here in Vermont. I’m not in New York anymore, and I need some experience here. I need to get my feet wet in this world. Like the thing with the white shorts. I don’t understand small town rules or whatever.”
Scanning the crowd, she said, “Hold that thought for one second.”
Still mentally cursing myself, I shut my mouth. Not entirely sure why I had to fully expose myself, I turned to see what Hunnie was doing.
“Hey.” Hunnie rounded the table, her short legs carrying her as fast as they possibly could. “Hey, Ben! Wait up.”
The person she was chasing turned around, proving that today was obviously my very, very unlucky day. Standing there in jeans and a white T-shirt, his muscular arms making him look more like a professional football player rather than a physician, was Ben Rooney.
Hunnie hurried up to him, talking a mile a minute. “Ben, did you have a chance to talk with your dad about the land? Don’t forget I called you, and you said you would. You promised. I’m still very interested, and if your dad wanted, we could go into it together. You know, the petting zoo would bring a lot of traffic to both places in the summer months. Local families looking for something to do on the weekend and tourists. It would be an awesome destination, and they could leave with syrup and cheese, and of course, honey.”
Ben shook his head. “Sorry, Hunnie. I haven’t seen him. I’ve been busy with work and Branson, but I’m supposed to have dinner with my parents next week.”
I hadn’t realized I’d been inching further to hear their conversation, until Ben looked up and I was standing right next to him.
“Oh, this is Murphy.” Hunnie grabbed my hand and pulled me next to her. “She’s here about being my intern. See? We’d have an intern too for the petting zoo. Think Instagram. And sales. Posts and likes or loves on Facebook.” She looked at me, her eyes begging me to agree. “You could help with all this, right? You said you know what you’re doing.”
Before I could even respond, she turned back to Ben. “Murphy’s from the big city but lives here now.”
“Is that right?” He cocked an eyebrow and stared me down. “Actually, I know Murphy from the Bean. Are you sure she’s not trying to steal trade secrets?”
Hunnie scoffed. “For who, Zara? Never. Audrey uses my honey to drizzle on her cinnamon monkey bread. We support each other. Stop trying to make trouble, Ben. Always up to no good when it comes to regular life in Vermont. We can’t all be fancy doctors.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I said, tugging my hand back as I turned to face Hunnie. “I’d never share secrets. I don’t even get involved in the baking other than what I eat. That’s Roderick’s area. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. I was just going to tell you I’d wander around and be back when you were finished.”
“Sounds good,” she said, believing me.
I chalked up her carefree attitude to Vermont exuberance. It’s as if the water had happy pills in it ... except when it came to Ben. He was chipper, and then not so nice, and then happy again before becoming all-out cunning.
What was it with him? He never used to be this way. Yeah, at Pressman he labeled himself as an outsider and everyone treated him as such, but he was back home now in his beloved Vermont.
“That’s a good idea. Let’s wander.” Ben grabbed my elbow and led me away from Hunnie to walk next to him. Lowering his voice, he said sharply, “What in the world are you doing, walking around the farmers’ market like you belong here? Shopping for ... what are you shopping for?” He stopped in his tracks and stared me down.
“What areyoudoing?” I hissed out the words but yet forced a smile, never one to make a scene.
“Tell me something. What areyoudoing?” He tossed my question back at me. “Working as a barista, then moonlighting as an intern for Hunnie? You graduated from an Ivy League college in Manhattan and your family has more connections than God. Are you mocking our small-town life here? Is that what you’re doing, making fun of us? Getting some sick revenge?”
His mouth tightened as he spoke, and he looked like he was gasping for air. He faced me, his feet planted and his eyes staring me down, daring me to cop to his accusation.
I pulled in a calming breath. “No, I’m not mocking a thing. I meant it when I told you how you spoke so highly of it here, I decided to give it a try. I needed a fresh perspective. I swear. My family wasn’t happy with that choice either, so they’re keeping their distance from my life,” I said, giving him the same story I’d been telling anyone who asked.
“That’s stupid. They’re disappointed over you being in Vermont? No one would ever feel that way. That’s not even normal. Then again, I forgot how abnormal the world was that you grew up in. So abnormal, I was barely allowed to participate in it.”
Swallowing my pride, I shoved one hand in my pocket and stood my ground, which wasn’t easy with an angry, smoking-hot Ben looming over me.
“Is that what this is about?” I said. “Pressman? And you and me? Seriously, we’re all grown up now.” How I’d treated him still haunted me, so he had to remember what a little bitch I’d been.
“That has to be a joke.” He glared at me. “Who cares about Pressman? This is about you being here, now. Vermont is a modern-day state, I’ll have you know. Right here, where I’m standing, is an everyday city. It may not have the glitz and glamour of New York City, but it’s home. We even have running water.”
