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CHAPTER SIX

ROZ

I stood on the back deck of the farmhouse, following the path of a bald eagle as it soared through the blue sky. It swooped toward my neighbors’ property, disappearing out of sight. I dropped my eyes, my gaze landing on the hay wagon parked next to my black Mercedes-Benz. Shit .

I glanced down at my watch. It was four p.m. The farm was closed to visitors and my family would be arriving in two hours, their first visit since I moved in over the weekend. I frowned. Did I have time to learn how to drive a tractor between now and then?The thought of Lottie’s disappointed face spurred me on. How hard could it really be?

I scanned the property for any signs of Dana. A tractor was rolling along in the corn field, which was currently just an expanse of dirt. I took up a brisk pace in its direction.

The tractor slowed as I drew nearer. I waved my hand and Dana switched the engine off.

“Can you teach me to drive a tractor?” I asked, looking up at her.

Dana tilted her head. “Sure. Does tomorrow afternoon work?”

“No, I need to learn now. Before my niece comes at six.”

Dana’s brow furrowed. “Um, okay. Do you mind me asking why?”

“I promised I’d take her on a hayride.”

“Ah.” Dana glanced down at her watch. “Well, I’ve almost finished spreading manure here. Do you want to squeeze in with me, and I’ll show you the basics?”

My lip curled at the mention of manure, but I steeled myself. Think of Lottie.

I clambered up and squeezed next to Dana. The hard seat was clearly only designed for one large farmer, rather than two medium-sized women. Frowning, I took in the various levers and pedals before me. Dana walked me through them all before starting the tractor and continuing to drive down the field, narrating what she was doing as she went. I wrinkled my nose. Now we were in the middle of the field, the smell of manure was overpowering.

“Do you want a turn?” Dana glanced at me.

“Sure,” I replied. Yes, there were a lot of different things to remember, but I was used to mastering things quickly. Once I started driving, I was sure it would all come together.

Dana brought the tractor to a halt and shifted to the side so I could reach all the controls. I grasped hold of the large steering wheel and pushed my foot on the clutch before turning the rusty key and pushing down on the gas pedal. The engine revved loudly. I reduce the pressure, gritting my teeth. The gear lever was stiff and creaked as I moved it. I released the clutch, pushing the gas pedal down further. The tractor jumped forward, and I grabbed the wheel to avoid being thrown out.

“Good god, they should put seatbelts in these things,” I yelled over the rumble of the tractor.

“They do nowadays, but this tractor is old. New tractors are usually also automatic, have better suspension, enclosed cabs, and even air conditioning,” Dana responded.

I made a mental note to upgrade the tractors as soon as possible.

“A new one will set you back between fifty and a hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Dana said, as if she’d just read my mind.

I winced. A tractor upgrade would not be happening in the immediate future.

I pushed the hand throttle to get the tractor to pick up pace. Why this damn thing needs a gas pedal and a hand throttle is beyond me.

“You’re veering left. You need to make sure you’re driving in a straight line, or the manure won’t be spread evenly.”

I twisted the wheel, and the tractor slowly straightened. Good god, this was clunky. I yearned for my Mercedes-Benz, with its soft leather seats, twin turbo-charged engines, and power steering.

I drove up and down the field until we reached the corner closest to the main road.

“Okay, that’s done now.” Dana yanked a chain. “I’ve closed the spreader. I think you’ve got the hang of it. Why don’t you drive back to the barn, and then we can drop off the spreader and hook up the wagon for your niece?”

I steered the tractor down the dirt road toward the barn, where Dana jumped off and disconnected the spreader.

“You know, if you’re thinking about buying some new equipment, I’d love to upgrade the irrigation system for the flowers,” Dana said as she swung herself back on the tractor.

“That won’t be necessary,” I replied, turning the tractor back on and driving toward the farmhouse where the wagon was parked.

While I kept my eyes focused on the road in front of me, I sensed Dana staring at me.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We’re only turning a small profit with the flower fields. I ran the numbers, and we’d be better off leasing the land to another farmer for grazing than continuing to grow flowers.” When my new neighbor had told me over the weekend that he’d be more than happy to lease any land that I didn’t want for his cattle, I’d jumped at the suggestion. The passive income could be used to reinvest in the agritourism side of the business.

“You’re getting rid of the flower farm?” Dana’s eyes bore into me, a sharp bite to her tone. “I thought you were going to keep everything going.”

“No.” I frowned. The tractor drove over a bump, and I clutched the steering wheel tighter. “I told Jim I’d keep the farm going as an agritourism business. I never said I’d keep the flowers.”

“But it’s one of the best sustainable flower farms in the region—and the only one with a geothermal greenhouse. Jim worked so hard to establish it; you can’t just get rid of it.”

I pursed my lips together. I didn’t appreciate Dana’s tone. It was my money on the line. She should be thankful I’d bought the farm at all. “I can, and I will. I need to do what’s best for the bottom line.”

“But—”

“I’ve made up my mind, Dana. If I don’t increase revenue, the whole farm will go under. And you’ll be out of a job and a home. We need to streamline operations and focus on what the farm is best known for, and that’s agritourism. Not growing flowers. I’m planning to build a taphouse and event venue space to capitalize on our strengths.” Doing so would create synergies, as the café’s large kitchen could be used for catering both venues, and the existing café staff could also work functions as required.

As I pulled the tractor up near the wagon, I spotted my parents, Matt and Lottie standing by the side of the house.

“I can reverse it so we can hook up the wagon,” Dana said, her voice surly.

“No, I can do it,” I insisted. “You can hop down. I’ve got this.”

I hadn’t practiced reversing, but how hard could it be? And with my family watching, I wanted to stay on the tractor.

“Fine,” Dana said, sliding off the seat and jumping down.

“Auntie Roz!” Lottie yelled.

I waved at my family. “I’ll be done in a second—just getting the hayride set up.”

I put the tractor in reverse, twisting my head to look behind me as I inched the vehicle backward. I turned the wheel to align the rear of the tractor with the front of the wagon.

I frowned. From where I was, it was difficult to see clearly behind me. There was no rearview mirror and the large engine hood on the back of the tractor obscured my view. I could use the sophisticated 360-degree camera system in my Mercedes-Benz right now.

“You’re turning too much!” Dana yelled from her vantage point on the ground near the house. “The steering wheel is more sensitive in reverse. Slow down!”

Sweat pricked my armpits as I pushed the throttle to slow the tractor.

The tractor jerked backward.

“Pull the throttle; don’t push it!” Dana’s shout was barely audible over the rumble of the tractor.

Shit.

Still twisting to try to see, I grabbed what I thought was the throttle and pulled it.

“That’s the gear stick, not the throttle. Push down on the brake, or you’re?—”

Dana’s words were drowned out by a loud crunching noise as the tractor hit something and started tipping forward.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I gripped the steering wheel.

“Brake now!” Dana screamed.

I slammed my foot on the brake, and the tractor jerked to a stop, sending me toppling forward. My chest crashed into the steering wheel. The tractor was tilted on a thirty-degree angle, its back wheels presumably propped up on whatever I’d smashed into. Was it the wagon?

Dana sprinted over to the tractor. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”

Winded and with my heart still pounding, I wheezed out, “Yeah.”

With trembling legs, I carefully climbed off the tractor and turned to survey the damage.

My heart plummeted.

My Mercedes-Benz.

One of the gigantic back wheels of the tractor was sitting on the crumpled front of my car. The hood, grille, and bumper were crushed under its weight.

“Fuck.”

I had a terrible feeling my insurance wouldn’t cover me destroying my own car. I winced at the thought of the hundreds of thousands of dollars I’d just destroyed in less than two minutes.

I turned, glaring at the two cows in the paddock who were staring at me and chewing grass like they were enjoying popcorn at a movie.

“Show’s over,” I muttered.

“Are you okay?” Matt asked, appearing beside me, slightly out of breath from having jogged over from the house.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I snapped, still shaken by the whole situation.

A loud creaking noise made me turn my head again. Dana was back on the tractor, slowly driving it off my car.

“The tractor seems to be fine,” she called.

“Oh, thank god,” I muttered, kicking the dirt. “The tractor that’s probably as old as I am is okay.”

I couldn’t bear the thought of dealing with my car, so I strode toward my parents and Lottie, who were still standing next to the farmhouse.

“Sorry, Lottie, I won’t be able to take you out on a hayride today,” I said once I’d arrived. I’d need some time to recover and some more practice before I was willing to risk driving Lottie around on the wagon.

Lottie let out a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a sigh of relief. “That’s okay.”

Before anyone had a chance to comment further on what had just happened, I clapped my hands. “Let’s go inside, and I can give you a tour.”

I ushered them into the kitchen and then down the long hall and into the formal dining room, where Jim’s huge walnut dining table took center stage. Back in the hall, I swung open the door to the small powder room before continuing to the sitting room, which held four cozy armchairs circled around a fireplace, empty bookshelves lining the walls. I led them back into the hall and then into the study and living room.

“This place is huge!” Lottie exclaimed as we walked up the staircase.

“How many rooms did you say are here?” Mom asked, peering into a spare bedroom.

I opened the door wider, so everyone else could see the empty room. “There are five bedrooms and three bathrooms.”

“Well, that’s too many for just one person,” Mom said. “You’ll have to find a nice woman to settle down with and have kids to fill up all these spare rooms. You know, I think that woman who drove your tractor off your car”—Mom grimaced—“might be gay. Diana?”

My jaw clenched. “Mom, seriously. I’ve got a lovely niece”—I rustled Lottie’s hair—“and I’ve just bought a farm that will bring joy to thousands of children. That’s enough for me.”I began walking toward my bedroom.

Mom ran her hand along the balustrade. “But you always wanted kids?—”

“Mom!” I swiveled on the oak floorboards. “I used to want kids. Not anymore. Can you just drop it?” Having children with someone was the ultimate show of trust. And my trust had been broken so strongly that I couldn’t imagine putting myself in that position. “And even if Dana is interested in women, I’m not dating my employees. It would be highly inappropriate.”

“Well, you should at least give dating a try again. It’s been years since Sadie. When was the last time you went to that gay bar?” Mom raised her eyebrows, tilting her head forward.

I stiffened. I hadn’t been back to Pryde for just over six months.

Not since Olivia.

“My dating life is none of your business,” I snapped.

Mom looked away, but not before I saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

My chest tightened. Our relationship had always been rocky, even before I found out what she and Dad did to try to get me into college, but since we’d reconciled I’d made an effort to keep things between us on good terms, especially for Lottie’s sake. Right now that felt like pulling teeth. Why did Mom always have to bring up my lack of a love life?

I opened the door to my bedroom. “And this is my bedroom.”

Mom sniffed, walking inside and immediately began straightening the framed photo of my parents, Matt, Lottie and Mel that hung on the wall. Lottie’s little eyes darted back and forth between us. Mom sniffed again.

“I did actually meet someone last time I went.” Hopefully that would cheer her up a little. She didn’t need to know how it had ended.

Mom’s face lit up. “Oh, really? What’s her name?”

I hesitated, but it was too late to go back. “Olivia.”

“Well, you’ve kept that quiet! When can we meet her?”

I internally groaned. I should have kept my mouth shut. What a day. Totaling my car, and now this.

“So what are your plans for the farm?” Matt asked.

Tension in my chest released at the change of topic. Thank god for Matt.

I’d take talking about farm strategy over Olivia and my non-existent dating life any day of the week. Fingers crossed Mom would forget I’d said anything about her.