Mercy introduces us again.
“I’m thrilled to have some help,” Luna says.
“I’m not sure how much help I can be with a three-year-old,” I say, trying to set that clear expectation. “But as long as I can take frequent breaks to look at bugs that she finds, I’ll do my best.”
Luna beams at Bellamy. “Do you want to come see my worms?”
“Worms?” My daughter’s eyes light up. “Froggie loves worms.”
For a little girl who has been isolated for most of her life, she’s sure being social as heck here.
I can’t make her stay in the car any longer.
“We want to be careful in the greenhouse,” I warn as I unbuckle her from her carseat. “There are rules.”
We follow Luna into the first of three indoor growing structures. In the middle is a wide raised bed filled with fruit trees, and around the outside are narrower stepped gardens with lettuce greens and flowers.
I push my sunglasses onto my head as I gaze around in wonder.
“This is my experiment zone,” Luna explains. “We have a little wood burning stove in here, so we can keep it almost tropical in the winter. And if Bellamy doesn’t mind spending time with me, it’s a safe place for her to play as well. Lots of worms. Lots of bugs. And it’s not a crop space.”
My breath rushes out of me, like I’d been holding it. Because I hadn’t known what to expect,and this is so much better than I’d feared. “This is so nice.”
“Doesn’t look like much from outside, I know.”
“I—” I clear my throat and start again. “It’s not what I expected.”
And then I can’t continue because tears are threatening, and I’ve cried in front of Mercy already, I don’t need to cry in front of any more strangers. Especially not someone this kind, on such a nice farm.
Luna squats next to Bellamy and digs in the dirt with her bare fingers. “Let’s find a worm, shall we?”
Chapter 5
Zane
I’m pacing in the barn with my phone wedged against my ear, jotting updated feed prices in my notebook as I wait for the guy at the feed store to come back on the line, when I hear a vehicle come up the drive.
I ditch my notebook in the tack room and head out to the paddock to see who’s arrived.
Mercy’s SUV is parked in front of the greenhouse.
Must be an urgent meeting of the International Order of Kale Enthusiasts.
Since I just dropped off a produce order yesterday, I don’t think The Friendly Table is out of vegetables. But sometimes she likes to just stop in and say hi to my mom. Chat with Luna, keep an eye out for Ridge. Maybe have a little barbed quarrel, just for fun.
Optimism, thy name is Mercy Lane. Nobody else on this planet would have half as much patience—or endless amounts of snappy comebacks—for my brother as that one does.
“All right, Zane, I’ve checked with the boss and we can give you a ten percent discount on that chicken feed if you buy two hundred pounds or more,” the feed store clerk says in my ear, pulling my attention back to the call.
That’s about what we need for a month, give or take what we supplement with from scraps. “Can you do better if I double that order?”
“Fifteen percent?”
“I’ll take it. I’ll come by in an hour and pick it—” I cut myself off as the greenhouse door swings open, and Mercy steps outside, but beyond her, I catch a glimpse of someone else.
Someone tall, with strawberry blonde hair and tinted sunglasses.
There’s probably a fuzzy green frog being waved around in the greenhouse, too.
