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When it was available, I squealed, slapping my feet on the porch planks.
@TheAdventuresOfFarmgirl
And I uploaded my first post, using every hashtag I could think of, including #farmgirl and #BrentFarm. I even tagged and hashtagged the well-known brand of the rain boots in the hopes I’d get more visibility.
The second it posted, I popped off the porch and scooped up the flowers, flying into the kitchen as I called for Kit.
Her head appeared in the doorway of the pantry before she stepped into the room. “What in the world’s the matter? Don’t tell me there really was a spider in your boot—”
“Nope! Where’s the key to Grandma’s shop?”
Kit wasn’t moving, but she somehow stilled. “On the hook, where it always is.” She nodded in that direction. “What’s this all about?”
I deposited the flowers in her arms and snatched the key. “I know how I’m going to save the farm.”
Her mouth gaped like a bass, but before she caught a thought, I was out the door and stomping my feet into my boots. I zoomed down the stairs and toward the little house with ideas zinging around in my skull. The easiest way to get people were attractions, and we had attractions galore. The shop. The farm. We could do tours and hayrides. Pumpkin patches and holiday festivals. Petting zoo. The creamery made goods for local stores, but we could add our fare to the shop. Maybe expand our distribution and start delivering milk, use the website to make it convenient and accessible, use social media to—
“What are you doing?”
Jake’s voice scared the bejesus out of me, and I jumped, whirling around.
“God, Jake. You sure have light feet for an ogre.”
He frowned and folded his arms. “What are you doing?” he asked again, this time with authority.
So I frowned right back. “None of your business.”
“Everything that happens on this farm is my business. What do you want with Janet’s shop?”
For a second, I assessed him, considering what to tell him and how many words to use to do it. But there was no keeping it from him.
“Well,” I started, an unbidden smile stretching on my face, “I was thinking about how to increase our revenue. Did you know most farms do tours and have a shop?”
“Of course I know that,” he snapped. “But that’s not us.”
“Grandma would disagree.” I gestured to the house. “Before she died, we had both.”
“How are we gonna make money if we have to hire a bunch of people to run tours and work at the shop?”
“I was thinking we could see if anyone here wants to help out with it. Who better to tour than our people? And we could limit it to the weekends, keep it simple at first.”
“You’re going to put us in the ground, Olivia.”
Something about the way he’d said my name sounded like a curse.
“We’re not maximizing our earning potential. We could do a pumpkin patch. Festivals. The Fourth of July is coming up, and we could—”
“No.”
I blinked. “No?”
“No.”
I blinked some more. “No to what part?”
“All of it. We’re not whoring the farm out for money.”
I jerked back like I’d been slapped. “Excuse me?”
“You want to exploit this place, taint it with strangers just to earn a buck. I don’t know a better definition of the word.” He pointed at the barn. “I didn’t think much of you to start, but I thought more of you than this.”
Cheeks flushed and nose burning, I could barely tamp down my fury. “I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I think I’m the only person who knows how to run this place, and I think you are full of more shit than the manure yards.”
“Well, Jake,” I spat, “I think you’re a miserable asshole who’s so scared of change, you’d rather see the farm fail than admit defeat. And you’ll bully everyone around you until you get your way. But guess what? You don’t scare me, and I won’t be told what I can and can’t do around my farm.”
He kicked his head back and laughed so heartily, a bird flew out of a nearby tree. “Your farm. That’s rich. Call it whatever you want for the next three months. Because after that?” When he met my eyes, his smile went cold. “You’re gone.”
My muscles ached to launch myself at him and push him with every bit of strength I had. I clenched my fists at my sides, the ridges of the key cutting into my palm.
“We made a deal,” I said quietly, my voice trembling from restraint. “I can’t save the farm if you won’t let me. If you’re going to make this fair, you’re going to let me do whatever I want.”
He glared down at me, those stupid, angry muscles bouncing at his jaws. They were huge, bigger than a normal person’s, probably from excessive use.
