I narrow my eyes, waiting for Bray to tell me he’s joking, but he doesn’t. I’m not used to compliments from my brother. “You think we can afford to get someone in?”
“I think we can’t afford not to if we want to level up.” He looks me dead in the eye. “But is that what you want? Do you want to be supervising a freezing operation? Putting it all in place, while I travel to other farms to see if we can invest in them and make them part of the Wilde’s Farm brand?”
“I think it’s a great idea,” I say, not able to get my words out fast enough. He doesn’t need to doubt me.
“But really?” he asks. “Jack is based in New York. I’ve been trying to come up with a solution to losing you to the Big Apple. It’s easiernow, when everything is how it’s been for years. If we’re going to try something new, I have to know you’re in. That we’re in this together.”
“New York?” I let out a half laugh. “I’ve never left Colorado.” Bray’s smart. I’ve always known that about him. But I’ve never given him credit for how astute he is. He takes in a lot that he never talks about. I’ve been a fool to underestimate him. “I’m in,” I look him in the eye. “I mean it. I’m not going anywhere.”
Yeah, Jack is the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time, but this last weekend in New York has brought into sharp focus how we’re from two completely different worlds. The space that Jack and I occupy is being squeezed. There’s no way we can survive in the long run. What can survive, whathasto survive, is our family and Wilde’s Farm.
“But just because I’m on board doesn’t mean everything’s good. In case you hadn’t noticed, Dad still owns this farm. And he’s not interested in a freezing operation.”
“Yeah,” Bray says. “He likes the status quo.”
“The problem is, the status quo has us on the downslide. If we keep going the way we’re going, I don’t know if Dad will have a business to retire from. Everything’s getting more difficult. And even if we do get paid by Oxburg, buying new cherry pickers isn’t going to help us with margins.”
“We should talk to him,” Bray says. “We don’t need new cherry pickers, despite what he might think.”
“You know what he’s like—stubborn as a mule.”
“We have to find a way to get through to him,” Bray says. “But in the meantime, we can start preparing—researching the fruits, finding farms that produce. Do financial stuff… whatever it is you do.”
“Right,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Financial stuff.”
Bray smiles. “I’m serious. You’re good at that side of things. Then we can go to Dad with more information. More facts. Then if we can get everything prepared before the Oxburg invoices are paid, then maybe we can change his mind before he spends all the money on new cherry pickers.”
Bray’s right. We need to plan. Prepare. Focus on the future. A future here on Wilde’s Farm.
A future without Jack.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Jack
Star Falls feels like safer ground than Manhattan. Pizza Meet Ya, even more so. New York wasn’t a complete disaster, but I hadn’t expected to feel as uncomfortable as I did. It’s not that Iris doesn’t fit in New York, but I’m not used to having her in my world there.
I thought we could recreate that first night we met, when it felt like the two of us were alone in the theater watching the ballet, or we were sharing our souls as we walked around Central Park. But it wasn’t like that. Real life came roaring toward us—first my mother and then seeing everyone at my hotel.
Iris handled everything beautifully. But I didn’t want her tohandlethings. I wanted to whisk her back to Star Falls, where she’d be comfortable and everyone loves her for who she is.
“You seem deep in thought,” she says, as we take our seats opposite each other at our now regular table for two at Pizza Meet Ya. The mountain stretches up behind us out the window, so high we can’t see the peak from where we’re sitting. Just trees and the sparkle of lights.
I smile at her. “What am I thinking?” Iris seems to be able to read my mind at times. But really, I want to read hers. What’sshethinking? How was New York for her? I know I’ve said that we should continue to date and we’ll figure out how to get to where we want to go, but since coming back from New York last night, all I can think about is the obstacles.
She reaches for my hand across the table and links her fingers through mine. “I had a really good time in New York. It was so kind of you to arrange it. You don’t need to worry.”
I smile, but I know it’s half-hearted. “It didn’t go quite as I had planned.”
“I know, but that’s life, isn’t it? Sometimes we have a bumper crop of strawberries and sometimes we can’t get them off the plants before they rot. There’s only so much you can control.”
I nod. She’s right. Of course she is. But it doesn’t make it better. “Being with you in New York… it made me see my life there in a different way.”
Iris laughs. “You’ve decided you like farm life? An existence of early mornings and stained fingers, away from brunches and ballet?”
The thought hits me like a bullet. Our worlds are so incredibly different. But worst of all—she doesn’t see me here. With her. She can’t picture it.
The realization sends panic slithering up my spine. Not because she’s wrong. But because maybe she’s right. Maybe I’ve been kidding myself that a solution is just going to land. She’s tied to Star Falls. I’m tied to New York—waiting to take over the Alden family legacy. There’s no middle ground here. We’re not going to both move to Ohio.
