Harper turned a slow circle, lips quirking. “This is cute. Super charming.”
My eyebrows flew up. “It…is?”
She laughed and set her notepad on the kitchen island. “Definitely. It feels cozy. Lived-in.”
“That’s all Willa,” Lincoln said, grinning at me. “She’s made this place home.”
My breath caught, that one simple word hitting harder than I expected.Home.
Harper slid onto the extra stool Lincoln had dragged over for her, her pen clicking as she raised a brow. “Shall we?”
We sat across from her at the island. As soon as I settled on my stool, I reached for Lincoln’s hand, holding it like a lifeline. Thank god he didn’t flinch at my death grip. Just smiled and laced our fingers together like this interview was no big deal.
“Let’s start with the farm,” Harper said. “Tell me about your current operation.”
“We’re a multiseason organic farm focused on community experiences,” I said, repeating the pitch I’d rehearsed a dozen times. “We host pick-your-own berry events, harvest honey, run a fall pumpkin patch and a chop-your-own tree farm starting around Thanksgiving.”
Harper nodded. “Sounds like a full plate.”
Lincoln squeezed my knee under the table. “You should see the color-coded spreadsheet Willa uses to keep the place running. It’s pretty terrifying.”
“I imagine running this place without a spreadsheet would be pretty terrifying too,” she said.
“It is a lot,” I agreed, my heart rate slowing a bit. “Especially since we’ve started selling at the Main Street Market on weekends. He”—I nodded toward Lincoln—“encouraged me tolaunch a line of small-batch jams. And the mini honey sticks that we can’t keep in stock were also all him.”
“I just had the ideas,” he said, squeezing my hand. “My wife makes all the delicious content.”
Harper smiled. “And the grant? How do you see that being used?”
“Upgrades,” I said. “Some of our irrigation lines are older than I am. I’d also love to add a small commercial kitchen, so we can expand our products and sell them year-round.”
Lincoln chimed in, a grin curving his lips. “And maybe some fancy labels with her brand on them. Just so people know they’re about to taste the best jam in New England.”
“The best, huh?” Harper said. “That’s a big promise.”
“I only speak the truth.”
When he looked at me like he was now, all soft and tender, like I already was the success I was too terrified to even believe in, my heart always tripped over itself before going all soft and gooey.
Harper wrote something down in her notepad before flipping to a new page. “What’s your long-term vision?”
I froze, a wave of heat rushing through me at the question. I thought I’d prepared for this interview, but I hadn’t thought about this. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. This wasn’t a question I’d let myself think about in months… Something I’dneverallowed myself to speak about at all.
Because vision was just another word for dream, and I’d learned a long time ago that dreams had a way of never coming true.
But, as if he knew I needed the reassurance, Lincoln curled his fingers tighter around mine, silently encouraging me.
I cleared my throat. “I’d, um…I’d like to rebrand. I want to be more than another farm driven by production. I want something more intentional and community-focused. Thingslike partnering with local restaurants for tasting menus and curated pairings, offering seasonal flavor releases of limited-edition jams… Beekeeping workshops. Farm tours. Make this a place families come back to every year. Not just for produce but for memories.”
The words hung in the air, a little too honest, a little too big. My heart was racing like I’d said too much. But before I could freak out, Lincoln brushed his thumb over my hand, grounding me.
“You remember when your dad made us haul berry crates till our arms gave out?” he asked with a smile.
I nodded, a tight laugh escaping. “Every summer.”
“He was all hustle. Always focused on increasing production.” Lincoln’s gaze was soft and tender as he looked at me. “But this? What you want to do here? It’s all heart. It’s allyou, wife.”
My throat went tight, his words landing deep in my chest. Leave it to Lincoln to say the one thing I didn’t know I needed to hear. The one thing that made me believe, just for a second, that maybe this dream wasn’t foolish after all.
