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The twist in my chest was so tight, I thought it might choke my pulse to a stop.
Because that was where she had me. She’d just spoken the truth more plainly than I wanted to hear.
The farm had been in decline when I found it, but it hadn’t gone into this margin of debt until Frank took out a mortgage on the farm to fund my immigration. My mother had come here from Croatia under asylum, and when she died, my immigration status had to be reviewed and renewed. I didn’t know, not until I settled into the farm and ICE came to call on an anonymous tip that wasn’t anonymous at all. Deny it all they wanted—I knew exactly who’d made that call.
The Pattons had me detained, a fact Chase waved around like a battle flag. And it'd taken Frank mortgaging the farm and a near two-hundred-thousand-dollar debt to keep me here.
This farm’s downfall was more my fault than anyone. It was my debt.
I couldn’t walk away from that. I couldn’t let the farm fail.
Even if it meant getting out of Olivia’s way.
Heavy resignation settled on my shoulders, sloping them. “All right,” I conceded quietly. “But if she’s the reason we lose the farm—”
“I know you don’t trust anybody, but do your best to trust me when I say she won’t be.”
And with a nod, I promised the only thing I could.
“I’ll try.”
9
Knock Your Socks Off
OLIVIA
I stared at the printouts on the desk between me and Ed, the farm’s accountant, and pretended like I knew what I was looking at.
“So,” Ed continued, “you can see that the bulk of the farm’s debt is due to the two mortgages Frank took out on the farm—one a decade ago, the second two years ago. The first put us in the hole, and the second made it worse.”
I flipped the top paper over and skimmed the second one for information I understood without finding anything. “But what caused the decline in the first place?”
“Market prices, upkeep, expansion. That sort of thing.”
Something in his leathery voice sounded like avoidance. I glanced at him in search of a clue and found enough in the craggy lines of his face to confirm.
“So the first mortgage was for …”
He fiddled with the stack like he was looking for something, avoiding my eyes. “Well, ah, equipment mostly. Modernizing. Cattle. You know, farm stuff.”
“Right. Farm stuff.” I gave him a look.
“How about I get you access to the books? You can see what all Frank spent it on, if you’d like. And I’m always here to answer questions, if need be.”
“That would help.” I flipped back a few more pages. “It’s a lot of money to spend modernizing without a return.”
“Sure, but while Frank modernized the equipment, he didn’t modernize elsewhere, as you’ve mentioned. I don’t know much about the new way of marketing, but I can see it’s not what we’re doing.” He leaned in a little. “Don’t tell Jake, but I think you’ve got the right idea. My grandkids taught my wife how to use Instagram, and she’s been showing me your pictures there. I have a hunch you’re what we’ve been missing around here. Wish you’d come along a few years ago,” he said on an amiable chuckle.
A seemingly harmless thing to say, an offhand musing. It cut me open right there in his office. He couldn’t know my guilt, wouldn’t have realized just how desperately I wished I’d stayed when Jake asked me to.
I smiled through the pain. “Your secret’s safe with me. Here’s to hoping I can help.”
“Not a doubt in my mind, Livi. Have any other questions for me?”
What aren’t you telling me? “No, I think that’ll do for now. Just send me those records, if you would, and I’ll take you up on that offer to help me make sense of them.”
“Deal,” he said as he stood to see me out.
We said our goodbyes, and I wandered away from our offices—built in one of the old converted barns—toward the farmhouse with the papers he’d given me under my arm.
Papers that showed us several hundred thousand dollars in debt.
It made sense—equipment alone was a massive expense, and with the market constantly falling, dairy farmers all over the country were losing their farms. We weren’t alone. It was so hard to turn a profit, we operated hand to mouth. A couple hundred thousand seemed like nothing in comparison to the value of the farm itself, but with our profit in a constant freefall, there was no way to get caught up. We just kept falling further behind, hemorrhaging money every quarter.
And it was my job to stop the bleeding.
On that thought, I popped into the house, depositing the papers in Pop’s messy office before grabbing my things to head out to the pastures for a little photo shoot with the calves.
