Page 23 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Twenty

Sage

M iles drove away from my apartment and I stood watching from my balcony in awe. I knew he’d rise to my challenge, but I didn’t expect this man to drive a tractor to my house just to deliver a letter.

The letter.

I scrambled inside, setting the tulips in the sink before ripping open the envelope. As I looked over the scrawls of Miles’ handwriting, I quickly realized that it wasn’t actually a letter, but an invitation.

Dear Sage Baker,

I’d like to utilize my twentieth question to ask if you’d like to join me for dinner.

If interested, please arrive at Baker Farm this Saturday evening at 6:00 p.m. While the meal remains a secret, I assure you will be satisfied with the chef’s choice.

Please RSVP to Miles Carver prior to the end of business day today.

He probably hadn’t made it home yet, but I couldn’t help sending him a flood of messages and about thirty minutes later, my phone rang, the image of Miles and Blossom invading my screen.

“Hello, Miles Carver.”

“Hello, Sage Baker. I see you’ve accepted my invitation.”

“How could I not?” I giggled, tucking the phone in the crook of my neck while arranging the flowers in a proper vase.

“I’d like to extend that invitation to the market if you’d like, but no pressure if you can’t.”

“I could probably be persuaded into that.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “How about coffee before your feet touch the ground and a warm slice of Beth’s banana bread for break?—”

“Deal,” I interrupted, agreeing before he had a chance to finish his sentence.

The walls I’d built began weakening, and by the time we hung up, I hopelessly vowed to allow each brick to crumble if it meant granting myself the simple pleasure of being with Miles.

I’d carried the vase of tulips into my room, and as I admired them from the coziness of my bed, I couldn’t help but feel happiness, the perfectly arranged hues of yellow serving as a constant reminder of his effort.

I woke up before my alarm the next morning and, after burning as much time as I could, I decided Miles wouldn’t mind if I showed up a few minutes early.

My farm visits had dwindled now that Blossom had graduated, which meant I hadn’t seen Miles much either.

With his tech skills being that of a caveman, we hadn’t communicated all that much either, and I couldn’t help the excitement of knowing I’d be spending the whole day with him.

When I arrived, he was sitting on the porch swing, and before my car was properly in park, he was up and opening my door, handing me a cup of coffee.

“Good morning.” I giggled.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered into my ear as he kissed my cheek, extending a hand to help me out.

“How’d you know I’d be early?” I questioned, trying to ignore how close he stood, my body pressed between him and my car.

“I guess I was just banking on the fact that you woke up early, missing me.”

His body was pressed against mine and I knew if I didn’t divert the path we were on, we’d never make it to the market.

”Do you still have a lot to load up?”

“Nope, all loaded,” he said, winking as he walked to open his truck door, ushering me inside from across the driveway. “I figured if you’re going to single-handedly make the market a success, I could at least do some of the heavy lifting.”

“Keeps you humble,” I mumbled, trailing my hand across his chest as I raised myself into the passenger seat, shooting him a smile as he closed me in.

My stomach immediately grumbled as the smell of vanilla and banana entered my nose and Miles chuckled as he slid into his own seat, opening the center console to reveal my promised bread wrapped in tinfoil, still warm.

“Deals a deal.” He smirked, handing it over to me.

My eyes closed as I took the first bite, and I made a mental note to text Beth later, forcing her to stock me up on this hidden delicacy.

When I finally looked over, my heart warmed at the man behind the wheel, a smile plastered on his face as he drove.

Leaning over, I held my beloved bread in front of his mouth, and when he looked over at me, puzzled, I nodded, urging him to take a bite.

What I didn’t expect is that he’d take a bite the size of Texas.

“Hey!” I squealed. “I give an inch, you take a mile!”

“Wanna know what's worse?” he whispered, leaning closer to me without taking his eyes off the road. “I ate two whole slices before you got here.”

I looked at him in disbelief. “You’re a monster, the type they film documentaries about. You know that, right?”

He bursted into laughter, squeezing my thigh, but instead of pulling his hand away he left it resting atop my leg, cementing a constant connection between us.

We pulled into the market moments later, and for the first time as I rounded the loop, the dread of uncertainty I usually felt was replaced with hope.

I knew that Baker Farm would be back in its old spot and some part of me accepted that although it was no longer mine, I could stand alongside it, supporting it in a way I could never achieve when my parents owned it.

For the first time, instead of anger, my heart ached at the thought of my parent’s making the impossible decision to sell.

Part of me wondered if they could have known everything would end up being okay.

Guilt slowly trickled in, reminding me of all the time I’d lost with them because of the white knuckled grip I had on a grudge.

We were early and while vendors were slowly trickling in, customers were unheard of at this time.

I relished in the relaxed morning, working in unison with Miles as we set up the stand arranging milk bottles and setting out cheese tastings.

When I returned with another crate of milk bottles, I noticed there were a few people hovering around the front of the stand.

“Can I help you?” I called out, inviting them to approach instead of pretending I didn’t notice them.

An older gentleman approached first. “Good morning, Miss. I know you’re not open yet, but last Saturday you sold out before we were able to get anything, so this weekend we came bright and early.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t help you last weekend, but have no fear.

Me and my trusty assistant here brought extra in order to try to avoid a repeat occurrence.

” I gestured playfully to Miles. who was unloading crate after crate of product.

Chuckling at the eye roll I received I said, “No need to wait though, we can go ahead and take care of you now.”

The gentleman smiled ear to ear, thanking me as he checked out, and once he left, it was as if I had sent an invitation to every person who missed out last weekend. Half an hour before official opening time, we had people lining up, weaving around the market loop to support the farm.

Before long, Miles joined me at the table and as we checked people out in tandem, he gracefully fielded common questions about current practice.

But when people began asking about the farm's history, he stepped back, urging me to step in. We went on like this for the greater part of the morning, making small talk while simultaneously astounded at our booming sales for the second weekend in a row. Things slowed slightly, and I sent Miles with a list of things to grab before the market ended. I wasn’t going to the grocery store during peak season just because we were busy, and as soon as I could see the end of our line, I shooed Miles away.

As I loaded the last of the crates we had, I noticed one of my old teachers from high school approaching the stand.

“Hi Sagey! It’s so nice to see you back here.”

“Hi Mr. Bloom, it’s nice to see you too! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good, honey. When I heard you were back at the farm I knew I had to come see for myself.

” The conversation halted slightly as Miles scooted by, brushing my back as he slid behind the table next to me.

“Hello,” he said, tipping his hat to Miles before continuing.

“I wanted to reach out because I’ve heard about your work with the youth programs down at the library.

The school is looking to organize agricultural experiences for the kids and I couldn’t help but think of you.

I know you’re just getting back into it, but it’s a pretty flexible paid position.

Mind you, the pay isn’t fabulous, but we couldn’t think of anyone more fitting. ”

“Thank you, Mr. Bloom. I really appreciate it…but unfortunately Mr. Carver owns Baker Farm now…and I have obligations at the libr?—”

“Can we get back to you, Mr….” Miles interjected, extending a hand.

“Bloom.”

“Mr. Bloom,” Miles finished, shaking his hand. “Sage and I are still working out the kinks. Let me see if I can finagle anything on my end before she turns you down.”

Mr. Bloom nodded, satisfied that my no was turned into a maybe, and after some small talk he completed his purchase before heading on his way.

Once alone again, Miles tugged me close.

“I told you that the farm was yours to use as you pleased, and I meant it. Don’t ever turn down an excuse to grow on my behalf.”

“It’s not mine though, Miles. It’s yours. The entire town is acting like I got the farm back, and I didn’t. I’m trying to work through it, but I don’t even know how to balance the awkward grasp I have on things now.” I set my forehead to his chest, exhaling in frustration. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are, love,” he said, threading his fingers through my hair, squeezing me closer. “I know you are.”