I missed the easiness Candace and I had shared this morning before those old women had stirred up trouble and the locals had dimmed her smile.
So, I did what usually helped people grow more comfortable—I gave Candace an opportunity to talk about something she was passionate about.
“So you got the office ready at the farm. Do you have some ideas for the orchard?”
Candace looked surprised by my question. “Yeah, I have some things I’m tossing around.”
When she didn’t offer anything more and silence settled over us, I smiled encouragingly. “Let’s hear it.”
“Oh.” She fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth. “You really want to talk about my ideas?”
“Sure. Haven’t you gone over this stuff with Joan and your parents?”
Her eyes slid away briefly. “Well, I wanted to get Joan’s opinion before I presented things to my parents, but she wasn’t, uh, too receptive.”
I fought a wince and nodded. I could see that. Joan was about as flexible as an eighty-year-old. She did things her way, and if you wanted to keep the peace, you did them her way too. I suspected she was feeling proprietary over the orchard and probably a little resentful to have Candace swooping back in to make improvements.
“Well, how about you test out your pitch on me? I’ll answer any logistical questions you may have, tell you what’s feasible from my standpoint. And then maybe you can give everyone a rundown at the next staff meeting.”
Dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Y’all have staff meetings?”
“Yep,” I lied. I could wrangle everyone together when Judd’s was closed to the public. That wouldn’t be too hard. “So, let’s hear what you got.”
“Okay,” she replied, excitement bubbling through as she grinned.
Candace reached beneath the table for her bag. She dug around until she produced a notebook. It was spiral-bound and small enough to fit in her purse, but it was clearly well-used. I couldn’t see the cover as Candace quickly started flipping through pages filled with colorful ink and her neat script.
“So, some of my ideas are pretty basic upgrades, like using PayPal and Venmo for payment, like I mentioned. And other simple things, such as local advertising and using incentives—like the bounce pillow coupon. But I think the farm could utilize some of the unused acreage on the farm for other popular u-pick operations. The tourist season has really expanded in Kirby Falls over the years. I requested numbers from the Agricultural and Festival Planning Committees, and I think now is a great time to further develop what Judd’s Orchard offers.”
I listened to Candace read off items from her notebook checklist and expound upon them in detail. By the time she hit her third bullet point, I realized she’d done her research and had some really good ideas. What started as an effort to get her talking again, and to get us back on even footing, suddenly morphed into me being a sounding board for Candace’s grand plans.
She was radiant and energetic. Enthusiasm poured from her in big, sweeping hand movements and the velocity of her speech. Candace smiled a lot as she spoke, and I grew distracted by the sight. It wassomethingto have all of her focus and attention. She was vibrant and animated, and I couldn’t have looked away if I tried.
This might as well have been a company presentation, but with me as her lone audience member. I was glad for it. I’d never seen her in action as captain of the debate team, but I could easily envision it now.
Her excitement was palpable, as was her love for her family and the farm. This temporary gig at the orchard wasn’t just her killing time until another opportunity came along in New York. She’d clearly researched and put effort into this.
God, Joan would hate it. All of it. But Nick and Amy would support anything Candace wanted to do. Brady would see the benefits and go with the flow, whatever was decided.
A lot of these things, if implemented, would make the orchard more profitable, but some of the long-term goals would require a lot of work and probably a few more hands to accomplish them.
“So what do you think?” Candace was bright-eyed and nearly breathless. And so damn hopeful. Her sincerity made me eager to give her whatever she wanted. She’d won me over and gained my support without even breaking a sweat. Respect and admiration had me smiling. It was, admittedly, a little intoxicating to see this side of her—one that fought to replace my teenage memories with its authenticity.
If Brady was a natural salesman, then Candace was an inspirational speaker. Maybe enthusiasm and charisma were genetic. Maybe it had somehow bypassed Joan Judd, who did not give a single shit about impressing anyone.
“I was not expecting that.”
Her face fell like a dimmer switch.
So I hastened to amend, “I wasn’t expecting to agree with nearly everything you said.”
Candace’s hazel eyes searched my face, like she was looking for the lie or waiting for me to say I was messing with her.
She must have been satisfied with whatever she saw because after a moment she smiled shyly and asked, “Really?”
“Really.” I nodded. “But we’re going to need a plan to get Joan on board.”
She sighed as if she knew the battle awaiting her. One that was uphill . . . both ways . . . in the snow.
