“Rosie.” Emily's voice was gentle. “You look like you're about to pass out.”
I sucked in a breath, realizing I'd been holding it. “I don't know what to think.”
“That's okay.” She shifted, angling toward me. “It's a big offer.”
“It's everything I thought I wanted.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “A month ago, I would've said yes immediately. Dream job, creative work, everything I wanted before...”
“Before you moved to Alder Creek,” Emily finished quietly.
I nodded, my throat tight. “Before I realized I could be happy here.” I buried my face in my hands. “This is so messed up. A few weeks ago, I was panicking about property taxes and whether I could keep the goats fed. Now someone's offering me my dream job, and all I can think about is...”
“What?”
“Leaving.” The word came out barely above a whisper. “Leaving the chickens and the garden and the farmers market. Leaving the soap business I'm just getting started. Leaving?—”
“Cal.”
“Cal.” I looked up at Emily, feeling lost. “I can't even imagine it. Three weeks ago, I barely knew him. Now the idea of packing up and moving back to Seattle makes me feel sick.”
Emily was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. “But you were good at that work, weren't you? The festival stuff?”
“I was.” The admission came easily. “I wasreallygood at it. Lauren used to say I had an eye for what worked—could take a musician's vision and turn it into something people would remember. The posters I designed, some of them are still hanging in record shops around Seattle.”
“That's not nothing.”
“No, it's not.” I picked at a loose thread on my jeans. “And Lauren wouldn't have called if she didn't think I could handle it. She's not the type to offer charity jobs.”
“What would it mean? Practically?”
“Art Director is what I always wanted when I was starting out. Before I got scared and took the corporate job.” I could picture it clearly—the festival office with its cluttered walls of band posters, the controlled chaos of deadlines and creative briefs. “I'd oversee all the visual branding. Work with artists directly. Design everything from stage backdrops to merchandise.”
“Sounds like your thing.”
“It was. Itis.” I rubbed my temples. “God, Emily, what if I'm just playing house here? What if the farm is some kind of quarter-life crisis and I'm supposed to go back to real work?”
“Hey.” Emily's voice sharpened. “Running a farmisreal work. You've been busting your ass for weeks.”
“But Lauren knows what I'm capable of professionally. She believes I could step right back into that world and succeed.” My voice got smaller. “What if this is my chance to stop struggling? To have a steady paycheck and health insurance and a career that actually makes sense?”
Emily reached over and squeezed my hand. “Those are good reasons to consider it.”
“Are they?”
“Rosie.” She waited until I looked at her. “Whatever you decide, we've got your back. If you stay, we'll help you figure out the farm stuff. If you go...” She shrugged. “We'll miss you like crazy, but we'll understand.”
The kindness in her voice made my chest tight. “How am I supposed to choose between everything I thought I wanted and everything I never knew I needed?”
Emily was quiet for a moment, then squeezed my hand tighter. “You clearly have a lot of thinking to do.”
“Yeah.” I let out a shaky breath. “I do.”
“And that's okay. Big decisions shouldn't be rushed.” She released my hand and leaned back. “Though if you want my advice? Call Abby.”
“Abby?”
“She's the queen of pros and cons lists. Seriously, the woman makes charts foreverything.” Emily's mouth quirked up.
Despite everything, I laughed. “Of course she does.”
