She bites her lip, running the hem of her sweater between the thumb and forefinger of her free hand, and then she fixes me with her gaze. Full on, big brown eyes staring me down like a challenge I didn’t know I needed. “I’m upset because when I was little, there was a little part of me that thought maybe, if I ever took over the farm by myself, I would have already gone to college and gotten a degree and been smart enough to make this place really thrive again.” She swallows, taking another quick sip of her wine. “And I thought that once I made this place into the bustling farm it used to be, I would buy one of the cabins up there and turn it into my own tiny little castle that overlooks everything I made.” She purses her lips. “And if you buy out those cabins, that dream dies for good.” She shakes her head. “Honestly, it’s silly anyway. This place is never going to be anything but a constant grind so it doesn’t make sense for me to hold onto that dream. I guess there’s just something very real about it not just being improbable but now impossible.”
I nod, digesting this information.
Something tells me that absolutely anything I do with the property next door will make Eve Harper upset.
She wants things to stay exactly the same forever, and while I understand that dealing with this change probably makes her feel like she’s losing control, she’s going to have to compromise onsomething.
Then again, I’m here, sipping wine with her in her bungalow while we go over plans for the property next door.
Perhaps she’s compromised enough for the time being.
Before I realize what I’m doing, my mouth goes on without me.
“You know what? I won’t.”
She pauses, wine glass halfway to her mouth.
And I swear, there’s a little spark that jumps back into those warm brown eyes of hers.
“What?”
I shake my head. “Thank you for sharing your concerns with me.” I take a desperate sip of wine because I know I’m agreeing to things that are going to be exceptionally hard to follow through on, but something in me senses that she needs this. A gesture—however small—that shows her she’ll be listened to throughout this project.
That’s all I’ve been trying to do, after all, and while I can’t promise her that nothing will change, this feels like a way to prove that working together gets us both what we want.
“I won’t buy up that land,” I tell her. “We’ll find another way to make the village work.”
Her eyes narrow, her gaze traveling all across my face. Her voice is soft when she speaks. “What is it that you want from me?”
I know that I’m supposed to ask her for the easement right now.Sheknows there’s something I want from her, because why else would I be so willing to get a neighbor’s feedback on building plans?
But it doesn’t feel like the right time. The easement is not going to have a significant impact on her land, and she’s still feeling defensive about the project in the first place. If I were to ask her right now, I could just see the way her eyes would light up, delighted by the opportunity to throw a wrench in my plans.
I don’t want her immediate answer to be ‘no’ without a thought. I don’t want to give her the opportunity to dig her heels into something for the sake of feeling like she’s in control when the outcome of thatcouldbe buying out thosecabins for the sake of fitting the driveway on my land, and only my land.
“All I want is for you to keep an open mind.”
She takes another sip of her wine, her eyes locked on mine.
And Iwantto just say it. Beg her to agree to the tiny little easement for the sake of this project going through with as few issues as possible.
I suppose I’ve really only givenmyselfthe opportunity to dig my heels in. Because something tells me that she’sthis closeto trusting me. That if I asked her right now, shemightconsider it.
But maybe that’s the white wine going to my head.
When I watched Eve Harper fly into that very first town council meeting, I told myself I’d get her on my side. I would make this a project that she wouldn’t just tolerate, but one that she supports. It was never my goal to put up ugly apartments—as she calls them—looming over her sunflower fields.
I never set out to hurt anyone, whether they deserve it or they’re just in my way. Though this project isn’t typical by any means, I vowed to think of it in the same way I think of all of my projects—that it’s only successful if I make money, sure, but it’s onlyworth itif no one is sacrificed for that end goal.
She blinks, letting out a long breath before she takes another sip of her wine. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”
“Well, there’s no reason to go all defeatist about it. It’s an opportunity. Ask me stuff. Make me question everything I thought I knew about the land next door.”
She takes another sip of her wine and rests it on thecoffee table in front of us. “Tell me about your grandmother’s apple pie.”
My brain trips over itself trying to catch up to the swift change in topic. “My grandmother’s apple pie?”
She nods. “Yeah. The reason I ended up in the damn stream.”
