Makayla ran downstairs and banged through the screen door, her backpack on, a piece of toast clamped in her mouth.
“I drew a picture of Hope,” Makayla announced around the toast. “She’s got a rainbow over her head.”
“Everybody should have a rainbow over their head.”
“Exactly!” Makayla exclaimed. They smiled at each other in agreement.
Tessa made a mental note to write down what Makayla had said in her farm journal tonight. She’d started one after reading Fern’s and enjoying the memories it brought back.
Each night, she wrote down notable moments that day or things she’d learned about the animals or farm that she didn’t want to forget. Last night her note had been, Darned if I’m not turning into Fern. Caught myself writing my own note in a margin of her book on animal husbandry. I didn’t even know what animal husbandry was two months ago.
Arlo’s truck rumbled past, heading for town. He lifted one finger off the steering wheel as he went by, which she’d learned recently was the Montana version of a wave. Brown Dog was in the passenger seat with his head out the window, ears flapping and a big smile on his face.
“Hi, Brownie!” Makayla yelled, waving both arms. Then she launched herself off the porch toward the school bus stop at the end of the drive running with the boundless energy of a happy kid.
Tessa watched her go. The preppy child Makayla had been a month ago wouldn’t recognize herself today. But then, she was pretty sure the woman she’d been a month ago wouldn’t recognize herself now, either.
She dressed for work and was headed for the door when Charlotte called.
“Don’t scream,” Charlotte said the instant Tessa picked up.
“Oh, good. That’s a comforting way to open a call.”
“They agreed to fifty miles.”
Fifty miles wasn’t a concession from the buyer. It was surrender with a bow on it. Tessa fell into a chair at the kitchen table. “Say that again.”
“We got the fifty-mile exclusivity radius. And they agreed to a sunset clause— they’re the only vendor of our gowns within fifty miles of their store for year one, then we get to put gowns in any store we want. I got the email at six this morning. I’ve been pacing in my bathrobe for an hour trying to let you sleep before I called.”
“Sweetie, I was done feeding the animals by six and back in the house making my own breakfast.”
Charlotte laughed, “Barnyard notwithstanding, you negotiated tough and got exactly what you wanted. I don’t know whether to give you a raise or build you a statue.”
“I already own the company, Charlotte. You can’t give me a raise.”
“Fine. I’ll build you a statue.”
Tessa laughed. “Thanks for the thought, but I’ll pass on seeing myself rendered in stone.”
She pushed back from the table and walked to the window. Outside, Loretta was blowing bubbles in the water trough. Dolly the llama looked on with the appalled superiority of a civilized creature.
“We need the final portfolio by Monday,” Charlotte said. “Can you shoot the last two gowns this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it? Just yes?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte was quiet for a beat. Then, more carefully, “You sound different.”
“I’m drinking a lot of coffee these days.”
“This isn’t about caffeine. You sound less—” Charlotte paused. “—braced.”
Less braced. It was the most accurate description of Tessa’s current state she’d heard from anyone, including herself.
“I watched Dillon deliver a calf last weekend,” Tessa said lamely. “I must still be riding the endorphins.”
