Page 8 of The Reason I Married Him
I shoot up from where my head is resting on my desk and look around my small office on the farm.
Sweat coats the back of my neck.
My heart beats wildly in my chest.
And tears are on the precipice of falling over as my throat grows tight from the memory still reverberating through me.It feels so real.
Like it was yesterday.
I pat down my face, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself from the terrible nightmare.
How did I even fall asleep?
Oh, I know. From stressing over the fate of the farm.
Of Cassidy’s farm.
Clearing my throat, I sit taller and wake up my computer. It lights up and brings me back into the mess that is the Excel sheet in in front of me.
“What is going on?” I mutter as I stare at my computer, trying to figure out why income is down when we’ve had the best tourist season to date.
I lean back in my chair and rub my hand over my forehead after staring at my computer for over an hour with no solution in sight. I’ve gone over production—we made nearly twice the number of bottles of almond vodka and almond extract than ever. We’ve increased our harvesting. We’ve even added bees to the farm for honey production so we can start infusing almonds with honey.
Yet here we are, not pulling in as much as we were last year.
Nothing has changed . . . other than I’m the one in charge now. Andthatdoes nothing for my self-confidence.
Needing to get out of the tiny office at the edge of the farm, I stand from the chair, shut the computer, and stretch my hands above my head just as Parson, my head harvester, walks into the office.
He removes his grungy, sweat-soaked hat and smiles at me. “Hey, Aubree, how are you?”
Clarke hired Parson. They knew each other through the volunteering they used to do throughout college. Parson majored in horticulture and has been a valuable asset to the farm. A hard worker, lover of model trains, and very much keeps to himself, never to be seen with a significant other.
“Doing okay,” I say, not wanting to lay down my frustration with him or talk about the dream I just had. “What’s going on? Are you done for the day?”
“Yes, I was coming in to let you know everything is looking good on our end and was wondering if I could take Friday off. There’s a convention over in San Francisco that I’ve been tinkering with going to. Since there isn’t much going on for the rest of the week, I thought it could be an opportunity.”
“Of course,” I say. “Take a long weekend. Enjoy yourself. Let the ladies know as well.”
The ladies, as in Aggie and Esther. Sisters with a work ethic stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. They are operations managers. Aggie takes care of the vodka, and Esther takes care of the extract. They are a godsend, and the reason I was able to take care of the farm and The Almond Store at the same time.
The Almond Store is our flagship retailer in the middle of town, where we sell our products and everything you could think of, including Cassidy’s famous almond cherry cookies. When Cassidy passed, she left me responsible for the shop and the farm. While I was busy in the shop, Aggie and Esther were therefor me, aiding me with everything I needed. Now that Hattie has taken over The Almond Store, I can focus solely on the farm.
“Great. Thank you. Doubt they’ll take the time off.”
“Tell them it’s a requirement,” I say with a wink. “Have fun at your convention, Parson.” Smirking, I ask, “Does it have anything to do with model trains?”
He smiles back. “Perhaps.”
“Are you going to take Rodney with you?” Rodney is the owner of the model railroad museum in town.
“Was thinking about it,” he says. “Rodney talks a lot, though, and sometimes I like to enjoy the calm and peace away from the ladies.” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “Don’t tell them I said that.”
I chuckle. “Your secret is safe with me.” I offer him a smile. “Well, have fun.”
But he doesn’t move. Instead, he studies me. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes deepen while the smile lines around his face fade. “You know, you’ve been acting strange the last couple of days. You haven’t been out in the fields like normal. Is everything okay?”
“Yup.” I try to smile brighter, even though it feels so incredibly fake.
