Page 18 of Blue Jean Summer

Hayes chuckled. “Sadly, that’s Lewis’s territory now.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

“I inherited the estate, and Lewis—”

“Got the foundation?” I guessed.

Hayes nodded.

Dammit. If Lewis knew I was friendly with Hayes, there was no way I’d get my grant.

I pressed my napkin to my lips as I finished lunch. “During my year of service as Miss Virginia, I get to choose something I’m passionate about and turn it into a charitable endeavor.”

“What’s your endeavor?” Hayes asked.

“Connecting kids with hands-on learning opportunities in agriculture, horticulture, and ranching.”

“Like the Future Farmers of America?”

“Somewhat,” I said. “I used to be an FFA girl myself. I still volunteer with them. But there are tons of schools without enough funding for their existing programs. Some districts don’t have programs at all. I’ve spent the year fundraising and applying for grants. I even testified before Congress.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but.’ ”

“It’s easier to get funding to areas where there are programs already started. But rural school systems like Honey Hollow don’t have their own programs. Because the town is so remote, it puts too much of a financial burden on kids for them to travel to participate in established programs.”

“You want to start your own?” he guessed.

“I do, but my dream is for it to be outside the school system, so kids aren’t restricted from participating based on where they’re zoned. I still have a few irons in the fire, but it’s not looking good. Land is hard to come by. Staffing and start-up costs are egregious. I’ve poured so much time into researching it, but I don’t think it’ll happen in six weeks.”

“Who says it has to happen in six weeks?” he asked as he set his fork and knife down.

“I hand over my title in six weeks. Being Miss Virginia is a big draw when you’re asking donors to write fat checks.”

There was a long pause as Hayes sipped his wine. “What if you had a different title?”

I lifted my brows. “This was my last year in the pageant circuit. Don’t get me wrong, I love the pageant world, but I need to find out what’s next for me.”

Hayes nodded in understanding.

“What about you?” I asked. “What’s next? Heading back to Maryland?”

“Actually,” Hayes said as he leaned forward, “I’ve decided to move to the estate for the time being.”

That piqued my curiosity. “Really? May I ask why?”

“I feel as though I need to be here to…keep an eye on things. I work remotely most of the time anyway, so I decided to make this my home base and commute to DC when the need arises.”

“What do you do?” I asked, feeling just a little silly for not already knowing. Walt always talked about how proud he was of both of his grandsons, but until last week, Hayes had been a figment of my imagination from almost twenty years ago.

“I work for the Triticum Group.”

Am I supposed to know what that is? The name makes it sound like he works for some scary, secretive group of mercenaries. “Forgive me, I’m not familiar with that company.”

He chuckled. “I’m an agricultural commodities broker. I facilitate the buying and selling of crops and livestock to support the global food supply chain.”

A smile grew that I couldn’t keep down. Nor did I want to. “I wish I had run into you a year ago. You could have been my inside man in the private sector. I’d love to schedule a time to meet where I could pick your brain on ways to get kids excited about getting involved in the business of agriculture. I’m sure you have a unique perspective that could inspire them and—”

“Stop being so fucking formal with me, Catie,” Hayes said with a lazy smile that was full of amusement.