The rain is quick, but because my chores are now done for the day—Thank you, Dad—I’m in a better mood than I’ve been in since I arrived back in Hope Harbor. It only seems to get brighter when Walker stalks past me, heading to his car and grumbling something about having to go out and that he won’t be back ’til late tonight.
I decide now is the perfect time to do some more snooping. While there may not be anything in Walker’s room, there’s got to be something around here that will tell me what’s going on with the farm.
Which is how, twenty minutes later, Penny and I end up army-crawling through the house.
“Are you sure Walker isn’t going to be back anytime soon?” my sister hisses at me.
“No, he said he’ll be gone for the day.”
Penny stops her forward crawl and goes to turn around, shoving her foot into my face as she spins.
“Ow!” I yelp.
Penny sighs in aggravation. “Why were you so close to me?”
“Can you not yell at me? I think you got dirt in my eye.”
“I don’t have dirty feet.”
“You do, too!” I rub at my eye, sure I’ve got something stuck in it, as Penny harrumphs again.
“I’ll go grab a washcloth.” She goes to stand up, andknowing our mother could be just outside the door and then our cover will be blown, I grab her arm and pull her to the ground.
“What are you doing?” she squeals.
“We’re undercover, remember?” I dip my head against my shoulder, rubbing my eye until I feel like I can see again. I blink a few times and then point at the fireplace. “You check in there. I’ll keep a look out for Walker and Mom.”
Penny huffs before dropping down again and scooching her body across the rustic hardwoods. “Lotta good that’ll do us when you can’t see. I think this is dumb, anyway. Do you really think the man would leave a trail of his nefarious plans if he actually is up to something?”
I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know! But he’s so cagey. He refuses to let me do anything to help with the Daffodil Festival or do any real work around the farm. It’s almost like he’s trying to put us out of business. He has freaking blankets covering the tulips, Penny. You know as well as I do that Daddy never did that. And all I have managed to find online is that tulip bulbs are hardy and that covering them can actually destroy a crop. It doesn’t make sense.”
I’m still facing the door, watching for any movement in the fields, when I hear Penny’s loud inhale of breath.
I spin around to see her holding up a piece of paper, her eyes moving quickly as she reads.
“Unless, of course, you were right and he is trying to tank the business!” Penny says loudly.
I give up on crawling and lunge toward her, reaching for the letter. “What does it say?”
“Well, it’s addressed to a Mr. Jesse Walker.” Her eyes cut to mine and she shakes her head. “It’s an offer to buy thefarm. Basically details how this—” She pauses to annunciate the name. “—Frank Seymourlooks forward to hearing if Jesse has discussed this with our mother and that he thinks the offer is fair based on the poor profit margins this year.” Penny’s mouth drops open. “Do you think that was his plan all along? What if he’s been working with this Frank guy to get Mom to believe he could turn around the farm only to destroy everything at the last minute and make her sell it to him?”
Something about that feels …far-fetched. “Kind of sounds like a book, Pen. What would be in it for Walker?”
Penny nibbles on her lips. “Think about it, Tally. If the farm is losing money, Mom would have to sell it, which means Walker could buy the land for so much cheaper. And she trusts him, right?”
I nod. As much as I hate to agree, Penny’s not wrong. My mom seems to believe everything Walker says when it comes to the farm.
“And it was addressed to Walker, not Mom.”
That part is hard to argue. And the damn blankets on the flowers. He refuses to tell me why they’re there. It’s concerning. Very concerning.
“I say we take this to Rosie. Get an outsider’s perspective.” Penny blows her breath up and her bangs fan out, clearing her vision. She holds out a hand to help me stand.
I take it and then dust myself off. “Okay, let’s go.”
—
An hour later, I’m seated at Rosie’s bar, waiting with bated breath for her thoughts on the letter.
