“With the horses.” Meagan leaned into the counter and turned to Audra. “You should’ve seen this girl jump. She couldmake a horse go over anything, no matter what was on the other side, no matter how high.”
The way Meagan told it, Farrah had solved the problem of deforestation or global warming. “It was just horse jumping,” she said. But everyone in Island Park seemed to remember it differently.
“Always modest.” Meagan grinned. “What was your other show career?”
“I tried acting,” Farrah said, not wanting to get into it. “Didn’t work out, so I came back here.”
“To the bowling alley.”
Farrah and Meagan had been in 4H together, and the town wasn’t that big, so they’d shared a lot of classes too. But they weren’t exactly best friends. Farrah wasn’t quite sure what to do with Meagan’s non-question and look of interest. What was her angle?
“You never struck me as an indoor person,” Meagan said.
Audra elbowed her, and the two seemed to have a conversation without saying a word. Meagan really zeroed in on her now. “Didn’t you go to college for a little bit?”
“Yes,” Farrah said, not quite sure where this line of questioning would lead. She hated with the heat of the sun how much this conversation reminded her of another one she’d had just before leaving LA.
“What did you study?”
“Agribusiness.”
Meagan beamed again, practically blinding Farrah with the whiteness of her teeth. “About as far from a bowling alley as you can get.”
Farrah finally turned fully, the stitch in her back annoying her almost as much as the redhead still grinning at her like the fool Cheshire Cat. “So what?” She didn’t care that she sounded rude.
Meagan’s eyes sparked, daring Farrah to get in her face again. “You don’t belong in here, Farrah. What if I offered you a job at my family’s organic farm?”
Whatever Farrah had been expecting from Meagan, a job offer wasn’t it. She blinked, trying to catch up enough to formulate a response.
“We raise tilapia,” Audra said. “Year-round. Along with strawberries, ten varieties of lettuce, microgreens, mushrooms, and herbs. It’s amazing.” She spoke of lettuce as if it were spun from gold.
“Year-round?” Farrah asked. “Even in the middle of the icy Vermont winter?”
“Have you heard of aquaponics?” Meagan didn’t wait for her to respond. “We expanded to that five years ago. Audra is a botanist, and she runs our vegetable side. We have an aquaculture guy, and I help bridge the gap between the two.”
Farrah had to acknowledge her interest in such a venture. She had heard of aquaponics, and frankly, it would be better than spraying disinfectant in used shoes and handing out pretzels to five-year-olds.
“I didn’t finish my degree,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Meagan said. “I remember you from 4H. You had great ideas, and you weren’t afraid to try and fail.” She glanced at Audra. “She’s what we need at the farm.”
Farrah’s fingers clenched.You weren’t afraid to try and fail.
That might have been true once. But now—now Farrah didn’t want to fail again. It seemed like everything she tried ended up in disaster, from horse jumping, to college, to acting, to dating.
“Come out to the farm when you finish here,” Meagan said. “I’ll show you around.” She glanced around. “You got a paper and a pen? I’ll give you my number.”
Numb, and not quite sure how she located the pen and slip of paper, Farrah watched as Meagan wrote Bybee’s Botanicals anda phone number on the paper. Then she walked away, her head held high and her laughter floating through the empty building, going into Guy’s office and leaving Farrah all alone again.
She stared at the number, at a complete loss for what to do. She recalled Meagan Bybee’s family owning an organic farm. A pretty big one too, if she remembered right. Meagan had always been outdoorsy, always interested in how to grow better food for Vermont.
A spark flared to life inside Farrah. She’d once been passionate about things too. Passionate about horse care while competing. Passionate about film and television and acting.
Her fist closed around the paper, crumpling it as the anger she kept thinly veiled rose and broke through her defenses.
She wasn’t passionate about anything anymore. She couldn’t afford to be.
chapter
