Page 35 of The Perfect Blend
“Love you all too,” I said, and squeezed her back. “I’ll just go say hello to your Mum. But remember - Beanie’s forbidden from running around a lot on her poorly leg, she needs bed rest and lots of love.” I looked them each in their eyes to make sure they were listening and understood that I was serious. “Do you think you could bevery gentleand look after her for me today?”
“Yes!” they chorused, and I knew she was in safe hands.
I moved through the now very crowded hall to the lounge. As expected, Sharon was there, sat wrapped in a plush dressing gown, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand.
“Hope that’s my house blend,” I told her.
She grinned at me, “Instant.”
I groaned dramatically, typical.
“We don't all have peaceful kitchens to ourselves in the morning in which we can whip up a latte,” she said. “James was bouncing around this morning like a kangaroo.”
I laughed, “Thank you for looking after Beanie. I should be back around 9 or 10pm.”
“No worries, no worries.” She levelled a stare at me. “You’re not getting ahead of yourself and getting silly ideas about that Zach are you?” I should have known she couldn’t resist sticking her oar in yet again. I knew it came from a place of love but sometimes she did my head in, treating me like I was incapable of taking care of myself. And I really didn’t need her paranoia to add fuel to my own.
“Ooh!” I said, turning bodily to dramatically gasp at the clock on the mantelpiece, “Is that the time! Goodness! Got to dash! Thanks, Sharon, you're a star! Love ya!”
Sharon was still shouting after me as I dashed past the kids, ruffling their hair before bolting outside and shutting the door behind me.
I was still laughing as I unlocked my car and started heading up the hill towards Bluebell Ridge Farm.
It was a stunning day, and the countryside looked cinematic as I drove through it. I wondered idly why more films weren’t shot here. I’d done my fair share of trips abroad, and whilst there were many beautiful places in the world, none held my heart like the beauty of the Peaks.
I loved the fields, stitched together like stone edged patches on a quilt, the rugged jutting rocks bursting from the earth, the sweeping moors so stunning when the heather painted it purple. I was happy just to be near them, but deep in my heart I longed to live in one of the lonely farm houses scattered throughout. To look out of my windows to rolling hills, just like the many inhabitants before me in times long past. To step outside straight into the beauty of the countryside. It was just a fantasy though, the days when you could buy cheap farms were long gone, but daydreams didn’t hurt anyone.
Well, it hurt me a little bit. A small pang of jealousy spiked within me as I turned up the road to Bluebell Ridge Farm. The track that led from the road to the farmhouse was long - hence why the business being located in the barn just set back from the road was a good idea - and the short drive allowed me time to take in the view and reminisce. In the dark, the farm was beautiful, but in the daylight you could really see what made it so special. As its name suggested, the farm was situated just by a ridge and had stunning views down the valley, surrounded by fields in every direction. Once you arrived at the farmhouse at the end of the track, you could no longer hear the noise from the road, just the wind and the birds. Back when it had been a working farm and I came around during the holidays, there were also the sounds of livestock, the barks of the farm dogs, the distinct sounds of hay being pitched. You’d call out and whoever could hear you would call back from the old barns or you would go to the front door and call to the people inside the house and they’d invite you in for a cup of tea. Despite its isolation, the farm had always felt so alive, more than any other place I’d ever visited. I had always felt more alive here too.
I parked the car next to Zach’s and got out.
“Zach?” I called.
“Here!” his voice floated out from the barn.
I walked over and entered. “You really should get a dog, you know,” I said. “That way all your guests can have an enthusiastic greeting and you can have a heads up if you don’t hear the car.”
“Also, it would make the farm feel more like a farm,” he added from where he was perched on top of some step ladders by one of the walls, thighs tense as he balanced himself.
“I’m getting deja vu,” I said, craning my neck to look up at him.
“I’m even working on the lights too. Hold the bottom?”
“Anytime,” I said with a small sly smile, before walking over to grip the stepladders.
“I’m just making sure these aren't going to come down,” he gestured to the point on the wall where he’d tacked up the long line of lights. They were the kind with big bulbs that you might see outside a circus tent or lighting a trail at an outdoor event.
“It would make quite the impression if they did come falling down on everyone, but I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about,” I said, pretty confident in his skills as a handyman. “The lights outside my shop are still up and looking good despite the strong winds we keep getting.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Inspection finished, he made his way down the stepladder to stand beside me. I hadn’t stepped back quite far enough and we now stood closer than we’d been since that kiss. With only inches separating us I could feel his heat, and smell the faint hint of wood smoke mixed with the delicious scent that was all Zach. A tense beat passed before I finally took that step back. Now was not the right time to get distracted by Zach Spencer. Soon, but not yet, there was too much work to get done today.
“So, shall we work through the game plan?” I asked.
The next few hours passed according to schedule. We laid out the tables, put up the signs, set up the fire pits and logs, the vendor electricity cables, and made sure the bathroom was stocked. We also put up festive touches here and there, green foliage and holly and berries, and some old decorations Zach had pulled out of the attic. By the time we were done I was really quite chuffed with it all. Once the stalls were filled, fires lit and market goers milling around, it would be fabulous. Gosh, I hoped people would turn up.
The flow of the market had been designed around a seating area at the end of the barn which also had boards around it explaining the plan for the farm in the coming year. The rough plan for the business was all sketched out with diagrams and mockups, and it looked really good. That’s where Zach would spend most of the evening, seeking community engagement and suggestions. We would need ground support to make our project a success and get the relevant permissions to set up the business here. I realised with a jolt of nervousness that without a phone signal I had no data to send out last minute reminders about the market on social media, so I called Zoe on the landline and had her do it for me. Zach was miffed that the broadband provider had kept pushing back his wifi installation date, he’d spent months now having to go into town to use the internet. The farm landline had been provided in advance to all the vendors though, in case they needed to get in touch.
