Page 64 of Sugar & Shadows

Mark’s eyes lit up. I’d hoped that would garner his interest. More than once, he and I had sat together at the brewery, commiserating over how difficult it was to drag our families’ businesses into the twenty-first century. He wanted his grandma to retire so he could streamline and optimize.

“You’ve got the best view of the mountains,” I said. “And that stretch of the Sterling River that runs through your property. It’d be a beautiful spot for events or tours, especially in the fall, when you’re not sugaring.”

Most farms produced other crops or products to keep income flowing year-round. Our family’s farm had apple orchards and a few other crops.

“We could all use alternative streams of income,” I said, as if they didn’t already know that. “And the work never stops. Your farm has been around for what, five generations?”

“Six,” Mary said, standing a little straighter. “Fitzgeralds have owned this land since the Revolution.”

“Exactly.” I dipped my chin. “Your farm is a treasure. A lesson in history. It makes this town unique. So let’s highlight it. The maple cams, some social media content, a documentary. I’m not asking you to host tourists.”

“Yet,” Mark grumbled.

“I won’t force anyone, just offering a possibility.”

“I’m tired.” Sighing, Mary tossed her tool onto the table. “I’m sick of the sharks trying to buy my land and those corporate shits with their bullshit chemicals. What’s the new one? Almost chased the guy off my land with a shotgun last time.”

“BGX-9,” Mark added, still typing.

“Yeah,” she said. “The last thing big ag cares about is trees.”

“Short-term yields, long-term damage,” Mark added.

Josh had ranted about AgriNova and their corporate bullshit to me on more than one occasion, so I knew a little about the situation. But it was the same song and dance every couple of years. Some corporation would come in and try to “hack” maple sugaring or “optimize” it.

“Let’s highlight tradition, then,” I suggested. “We’ll focus on how the Fitzgeralds have always been stewards of the land.”

“We have,” Mary groused. “I wish I could cast a spell that would make this easier or cheaper. But the real magic is in trusting nature and taking what she gives you.”

Hope bloomed inside me. Mary would be an incredible addition to this plan if I could get her on board. She was a spunky octogenarian with the vocabulary of a Gen Z environmental warrior. She would be the perfect star of our Maplewood documentary.

“Talk it over with the rest of the family,” I said gently. “Think about it. I won’t push you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But we’ve got to think bigger.”

Mary eyed her grandson. “Mayor’s not wrong. Could be good for business. You’re always on me about branding and online presence.” She spat the terms out like they were poison.

“Okay,” Mark said. “But we’d need help with the social media crap. We’ve got enough work around here without worrying about algorithms and trends.”

“Not a problem.” I kept my tone even, though inside, I was cheering. “We’ve got a person for that.”

Mary silently examined me from head to toe. “I like this version of you. You’ve got ideas. Used to think you were a bit of a wimp.”

I said nothing, and I wasn’t the least bit offended. That was probably the nicest compliment this woman had ever given me.

“This is bigger than losing the festival,” I explained. “This town has to evolve. We have to grow.”

Mark nodded once. “Things aren’t like they used to be. We’ve got to work from a new playbook.”

“Exactly. And it’s going to take effort from everyone.”

All my life I’d been told that our history was our strength, that my job was to preserve and protect. But as I stood here with Mary and Mark, who had held on through sheer force of will and willingness to change, Sabrina’s words rang in my head.

“We’ve got to bet on ourselves,” I said. “Politics and Birch Hollow don’t get to control the fate of this town.”

Mary smiled for the first time since I’d walked in. “Yes. Fuck the government. They can push their paper, but we’re the ones doing the work.”

My chest tightened with pride. “Exactly.”

She assessed me again. “I like you a lot. That’s usually a problem. I’m worried you’ll screw this up.”