He looked at me for a long time, and my stomach sank with every breath he took without saying anything. When he finally started talking, I already knew what was going to come out of his mouth.
“I don’t think this is the right time to start something like that. Is it really what we want the Sherman name to be associated with?”
His words were a rejection, but I could feel the way he was trying to soften it.
“I’m not giving up on this,” I told him fiercely.
Because I was convinced it was the right move for us. I had seen the ups and downs of operating the farm, Grandpa had seen even more. It was all he knew and I was aware that he was set in his ways, some of that had to do with not changing anything Grandma touched or was part of.
That’s how deep their love was.
I certainly wasn’t going to push him that day. He listened and he didn’t laugh me off the porch. It might have been a small win, but I was going to count it regardless.
After moving home, it took us time to find our rhythm again, this time with the loss of grandma between us. But we managed it.
And I kept talking to him about my plans. I presented him with data and a business plan. More than once.
It took a long time, but he finally relented and allowed me a small piece of land for what he thought would be more of an experiment than the path into the farm’s future. That’s when I threw myself into making my plan into a reality.
Thankfully, it’s been working. I was able to show him that taking a chance on me was worth something. At least, I hope it’s how he felt.
Things were working and I was bringing in business. I was growing.
Which is why, hopefully, he was proud of me. It would have been nice to hear, but I didn’t get those words from him.
“Rook,” a sweet voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I blink my eyes open.
When did I even close them?
I glance around and realize I’m still here. Still at the gravesite. Where Grandpa has been laid to rest right next to the love of his life. At least they’re together now.
My eyes focus on the woman in front of me, the one gently touching my arm and looking up at me with concern.
Meadow Benson.
She’s been a breath of fresh air since the moment she came into my life. As she was opening Green Mountain High with her best friends, she was on a mission to find a grower who could provide exactly what she wants and needs for her baked goods. My little grow was a perfect fit for her, and her business was ideal for me.
Meadow doesn’t need a large quantity of product and is far more interested in quality and the right strains to go with her ever changing menu. She’s an amazing client and working with her has given me hope for my business; hope that I can make my vision into a reality.
At least, I had hope. Now? I’m not so sure.
Meadow is gorgeous, kind, funny, and out of my fucking league.
It’s a shame that she came into my life the way she did and when she did. As much as I’ve thought about asking her out, I wasn’t sure about blurring the line between professional and personal. The business has needed all my focus, and I couldn’t let anything, or anyone, get in the way of that.
Even if I desperately wanted Meadow. Even if it was difficult to concentrate every time I’m around her.
Now she’s standing in front of me at my grandfather’s funeral. My shoulders slump as the weight of it all feels like it becomes even heavier.
I miss my grandpa. Even though he was ornery. Even though he held me to standards that felt too lofty sometimes. Even though he wasn’t sure about my business plan and the dreams I have for the farm.
I miss him.
Meadow studies my face, her blue eyes taking me in with far too much concern. I want to sink into the way she’s looking at me, but I can’t. The temptation is almost too much.
“I’m so sorry about your grandfather,” her voice soothes some of the jagged edges of my emotions. I wish I could lean into the feeling.
“Thank you,” my voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. “Thank you for coming. You certainly didn’t have to.”
