We all turned to look at the young man. His cheeks were flushed beneath his pale complexion. He looked very uncomfortable.
“Joan made him cry,” Angelo offered up with a devious grin.
“I did not cry,” Archer squawked, the tips of his ears violently red.
“Yes, you did.” Angelo rolled his eyes. “And you deserved it.”
“What happened?” Zoe asked, breathless.
“Archer made some sexist remark about women farmers,” Angelo explained. “Joan overheard and laid into him. Not only that, but she treated him to a lengthy lecture about power dynamics and stereotypes in traditional occupations as well as modern farming families. Pretty sure Archer donated to about six different charities to atone for his ignorance. So, yeah, I imagine hereallydoesn’t want to be the one to touch base with Joan about a favor.”
“What about Della’s new intern?” Archer asked hopefully.
“I’ll do it,” Baxter said suddenly, from my side.
Everyone swiveled to peer at him.
He turned his focus away from his tablet and pushed his glasses up his nose, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. “She, uh, helped me change a tire on my rental car the other day. I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot, but I don’t mind asking her about clearing the land next to the lavender field for the set.”
“She changed your tire for you?” I asked.
Baxter glanced at me briefly before nodding. “Yeah. She actually had me help her so I could learn how to do it. I think I could probably manage it without a YouTube video now.”
I brought my coffee mug to my lips to hide my smile.
In truth, I didn’t know Joan all that well, but that sounded like something she’d do. Confidently delivering lengthy lectures to ignorant outsiders, but wholly incapable of ignoring someone in need, even a stranger. That was how I’d wormed my way into her good graces, after all.
Thinking back to the other morning on the Judds’ screened porch, I wasn’t so sure that grace extended to me anymore. Joan had obviously been surprised by my presence there. She’d been closed off, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she’d looked almost betrayed. The chill around her had rivaled the brisk mountain air. She hadn’t been happy to find me with her family members, and I could understand that. I was protective about Georgie, after all.
But it truly hadn’t been my intent to impose upon her family. I simply hadn’t been able to ignore Amy Judd struggling under the weight of that birdseed. And then it had seemed impolite to turn down her invitation to coffee. Before I’d known it, I’d been surrounded by Judds and genuinely enjoying myself.
Joan’s appearance had changed the atmosphere. Her reaction to my presence hinted at more than passing annoyance, though. And, maybe, I’d handled it all wrong, being flippant and teasing.
I supposed I’d find out just how upset she truly was tomorrow morning. We had another run scheduled.
I imagined she’d still show. That was another tidbit I’d picked up about Joan in our brief acquaintance—she was dependable, true to her word. Even something as casual as an early-morning workout wouldn’t be overlooked by the stalwart farmer.
I was relatively certain that if Joan Judd made plans, she stuck to them. I liked that about her. She was an original—a grumpy, principled original.
And I couldn’t wait to see what happened tomorrow. If she was actuallyangry over the way I’d butted in with her family, I’d let her take it out on me. Part of me thought I wouldn’t even mind a little punishment.
Archer frowned at Baxter. “Why didn’t you just call roadside assistance?”
“I was going to,” Baxter admitted. “But she just pulled over and started getting tools out. I wasn’t going to argue with her. You’ve met her.”
I just barely caught my snort of amusement before it could escape.
Archer opened his mouth to say something else, but Della swept into the room with the aforementioned intern trailing her, stacks of papers in hand.
“Good morning, friends,” Della called, in that way of hers. She was the writer and director for the film, and she wasn’t like anyone I’d ever worked with before. After meeting her and auditioning, I’d known immediately that I wanted to be a part of this project. It was outside my typical roles, but I could tell it would challenge me in new and exciting ways. Plus, I liked her vision for the project.
Della was probably in her early fifties, and she didn’t seem to have any fucks left to give, but I meant that as a compliment. She wasn’t concerned with how everyone else did things. Della wanted them done right, and to her, the right way was with kindness, respect, and consideration.
She was insightful and observant—probably a hippie in another timeline, judging by her long, graying braid and the colorful skirts she always wore.
Whenever we spoke, she always asked about my well-being. Most people said, “How are you?” But Della Stewart asked if all was well within your heart.
She was weird, in a good way. I liked her a lot, and I was excited to make this movie together.
