His Hometown Girl

She sighed. “Aunt Grace, you know it’s the only way I can get the money for Tyler’s school.”

“We’ve got perfectly good schools here.”

Her hand covered her aunt’s and squeezed. “Not the kind that Tyler needs.” Her aunt meant well, but she was Tyler’s mother and knew best.

“I like this,” Jodi added after tasting the minty tea. “Peppermint Harvest?”

“Green Moroccan. Trader Mike’s is carrying it now.”

“Since when did Cedar Bay go international?” She couldn’t resist teasing her aunt, although the inclusion of foreign products at the local mom-and-pop store did surprise her. Yankees weren’t fond of change. Just look at Daniel. As the class valedictorian with a full ride to Cornell, he could have studied anything. Been anything. And what had he done? Gotten an MBA in agricultural economics and run right back to his farm. She took another sip of tea. Why did her thoughts so often turn to him?

Her aunt gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Stick around, honey. There’s a lot that’s changed. Not just you.”

She rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder. “And how have I changed?” It was clear that she had, but she wondered how people back home saw her. More confident. Self-assured. No longer an object of pity? And had Daniel noticed? Not that it should matter...but somehow it did.

A hand stroked the crown of her head. “Oh, honey. In lots of ways you’re still the sweet, generous girl you always were, but now there’s something a little—I don’t know—hard about you. And please don’t take that the wrong way.”

She pulled back, stung. “Hard as in strong or hard as in mean?” The former she’d be happy with but the latter...

Aunt Grace’s eye folds looked puffier than usual and she pulled a crumpled tissue out of the robe’s sleeve and blew her nose before answering.

“I don’t know, sweetie. It’s like Chicago put a coat of varnish on you that I wish I could strip away. Uncover your natural self.”

Jodi shook her head. Considering her aunt supplemented her deceased husband’s retirement by refinishing antique furniture, it wasn’t a bad analogy. It just didn’t apply to her.

She spread her arms. “Aunt Grace, this is the real me. I was never myself here.”

“It sure looked like you were enjoying those 4-H picnics, and no one’s beat your record for bobbing apples. Not even Jimmy Terry. With his teeth, we all thought he’d best you for sure.”

The competitor in her felt a flash of satisfaction, and then she remembered they were talking apples, whereas she’d closed multimillion-dollar deals. She’d definitely changed, and for the better. No matter what her aunt might be suggesting.

Aunt Grace lifted her tea mug while Jodi stared out at the red rowboat floating beside the dock. She remembered the gentle slide of the boat through Lake Champlain’s water and yearned for such a peaceful moment. How long since she’d done something just for herself?

“Do you still take it out?”

“When the arthritis isn’t acting up. Why don’t you go for a paddle? Take Tyler. You haven’t let him out of the house yet and everyone’s asking about him...and you.”

She glanced at the silent monitor perched on the porch railing. “He’s got allergies like you. Maybe when he’s better.” She gulped more of the minty brew and refused to imagine why she felt reluctant for the community to meet her son.

“Well, you should get out at least. You’ve been working all kinds of hours since you got here. Mailing out letters. Setting up meetings. Talking on your phone steady. I feel like we’ve hardly had time for a good visit. And I don’t think you’ve had a bit of fun.”

“I’m not here to have fun. The sooner I get this deal wrapped up, the sooner I can get Tyler home. The country isn’t good for him.”

“It isn’t good for him, or it isn’t good for you?” Aunt Grace’s eyes peered into hers, missing nothing.

Jodi glanced at the lake when a trill drifted in the morning air, the melancholy sound echoing her mood. A pair of loons swam past the dock, a small V rippling behind them. They were one of the bird species that mated for life. She’d once expected the same for her and Peter.

As if reading her thoughts, her aunt asked, “How’s Peter?”

“Suing to lower child support, actually.” The words poured out of her, unbidden. Why had she burdened her aunt with that?

Aunt Grace’s eyes sparked. “I don’t mind telling you, Jodi, I never liked the guy. How he wouldn’t accept Tyler’s autism diagnosis and acted ashamed of his own son. You both worked the same hours, but he didn’t lift a finger at home with Tyler’s treatment. It wasn’t right.”

Jodi sighed, remembering how hard she’d tried—but it’d never been enough, especially when she’d “spoiled” Tyler, according to Peter, with the extra attention required by his therapy plan and “wasted” her time in autism chat rooms and doing research.

“So he’s not going to help you pay for day care, then?”

She shook her head. “He won’t admit Tyler has autism.”

“Or visit him, either. And now he won’t even support his son. The man is despicable.”

Jodi agreed, though she wouldn’t voice her complaints. She shouldn’t have brought up the subject in the first place. He was still Tyler’s father.

“Tyler’s my priority now. There isn’t room to think about anything else.”

“Or anyone else.” Her aunt gently turned her by the shoulders so that they faced each other in the brightening light. “Listen, Jodi. Take it from me. Life is short, and while I understand that Tyler’s important, you’re important to me. Since Charlie and I couldn’t have any of our own, we’ve always thought of you as our kid, too.” Her tissue reappeared and she dabbed at her eyes. “I only want the best for you.”

Jodi caught her in a tight hug, tears pricking the backs of her eyes. It’d been a long time since she’d thought about herself, and it felt good to know her aunt cared. Since her mother had her hands full helping Jodi’s father with the post-traumatic stress disorder he’d developed after the accident, Jodi hadn’t burdened her mother with her problems. Their phone calls usually focused on lighter issues.

“Once I get Tyler settled and talking again, I promise I’ll get out more.”

But even as she said the words, she knew she never would. Her ex had accused her of caring more about her son than him, and maybe he’d had a point. When a child needed love and attention as much as Tyler, she couldn’t make room for anyone else in her life or her heart.

Aunt Grace smiled. “There’s my girl. And you can start tonight with your class reunion.”

She blinked. “My what?”

“Your ten-year class reunion. Didn’t you see your invite on the fridge? At least I think that’s where I put it. Anyway, it came here since they didn’t know your Chicago address. I was going to forward it until I heard you were coming.”

“Oh. I don’t know. I think I should stay home with Tyler.”

“I can watch him, and it’d be a great way to get out like you promised.” Her aunt rubbed Jodi’s arm. “See your old friends, maybe make some of the connections you’re fussing over for Midland.”

Her pulse sped at the thought of facing those who had called her a charity case and others who’d thought it. But those were adolescent insecurities, not the fears of a mature woman. She needed them to see her as a successful professional, someone they could trust and depend on to equitably handle the sale of their farms to Midland. Hopefully those old impressions hadn’t lingered.

Aunt Grace had a point. It would push her Midland plans along faster than waiting for next week’s town council meeting. Plus, she’d just been authorized to increase the offering price to a number they’d be crazy to refuse. But how to face all of them? See Daniel again?

A low snuffling cry crackled across the monitor. Tyler.

“I’d better go check on him.” Jodi took her aunt’s mug. “I’ll leave these in the sink. Oh, and, Aunt Grace?”

“Yes, honey?”

“If it’s not too much bother, would you mind looking for a copy of my old yearbook? I think I might have left it here.”

“Of course, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy.”

Tyler’s cry turned into a full-out wail and she hurried to the door. “Me, too, Aunt Grace. Me, too.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“GOOD TO SEE you, Melissa. How’s Rex doing? Any better?” Daniel ladled punch into a plastic cup as a DJ blasted another 90s hit. His ex-classmates filled the veterans’ hall with their excited chatter, scented candles on cloth-covered tables filling the muggy air with an evergreen aroma.

He peered around the tall woman and glanced at the empty doorway. When would Jodi arrive? Was she coming? He’d bet any money she wouldn’t miss this opportunity to talk up her company. And he’d do everything to stop her. After hearing about Bud Layhee, he was more resolved than ever.

“Turns out Rex picked up a tick, so we’ve got to treat him for Lyme disease,” the woman said, and moved aside to grab a napkin.

Daniel murmured something sympathetic, he was sure he did, but his attention was captured by the stunning blonde framed in the doorway. Wow. In a pink dress that showed off flawless skin and curves, she was more beautiful than he’d ever seen her.

An artificial rose pulled back her curls on one side, the gold strands gleaming under the soft twinkle lights strewn around the long, rectangular hall.

He tossed back a cup of punch, handed over the ladle and strode toward her. Looking that way, she wouldn’t make it two steps inside without admirers surrounding her. He needed to head them off before she got her Midland hooks into them. He could speak from experience; farmer bachelors were a lonely crew. A beauty like Jodi was fresh milk to a barn cat. A hungry one at that.

He arrived just in time to hear her exclaim, “You’re still pregnant?” to a nearly full-term Pamela Bates.

The glowing woman’s complexion paled. “That was my first pregnancy—in high school. This is my fifth.”

Jodi leaned in and murmured, “Then I suppose money must be tight on the farm?”

He shook his head at the frowning blonde as Pamela stomped away. “You’re unscrupulous.”

“And you’re vexatious. Go away.” She craned her neck to look over his shoulder, but he moved closer and blocked her view. At this distance, he could smell her perfume—something floral, but not anything that grew around here. It flooded his senses.

“Having fun?” He forced a light tone to cover the effect her proximity had on him. It was the best he could manage when her skirt brushed against his pant leg as she twisted for a better view of the crowd.

“Daniel. I’ve got work to do. Would you mind?”

He sidestepped with her when she made to walk around him. “Don’t mind at all. In fact, I’ll help.” Keep your enemies close, he thought.

Jodi snorted. “Thanks, but I can manage on my own. What?”

“What?” Daniel blinked down at her.

“You’re staring. Knock it off.” With her hands on her softly curved hips, her blue eyes flashing, she was irresistible.

And right. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. A song from their senior prom played, something acoustic and slow. He took her hand, loving the delicate feel of her fingers, the silk of her palm in his. She was a siren. Why was he answering her call?

“Dance with me and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Hah,” she scoffed, and yanked her hand away. “I didn’t come here to dance, Daniel.” She pulled a yellow sticky note from the tiny purse that matched her dress and seemed to mouth the names written on it.

His eyes flew from the paper to Ted Layhee, one of the names she’d written down. Oh, heck no. The guy would be the first to sign up. He’d about said as much to his father, Bud.

“Let’s get you some punch, then.” He put a firm hand on her back and steered her through the crowd toward the drinks table. He could feel her toned back through the silky fabric of her dress and strove not to run his fingers up over her shoulder and bury them in that thick tangle of hair.

“Whatever game you’re playing, Daniel, it’s not going to work.” She took the punch and stared at the dancing, chattering throng over the rim of her cup. He followed her gaze and watched the former head cheerleader trying to rally her old squad into doing the Macarena, his old football buddies laughing and fist-pounding each other.

“Hey. I come in peace.” He forced his hand away and spread his arms wide. His eyes drank in the gentle cast of her features that glowed pink then orange in the revolving strobe light, her generous upper lip that begged to be nibbled on, her short, straight nose and her large, wide-spaced eyes.

“Said the big bad wolf.” She laughed, the throaty sound of it setting off alarm bells inside him. He knew he needed to leave her for his own sanity, but she’d only cause trouble on her own. Especially if she talked to Layhee.

“Evening, Daniel.” He tensed at the voice. Ted. “And if my eyes aren’t lying, this is Jodi Chapman. How are you, darlin’? You’re breaking my heart in that dress.”

“Oh.” She squinted at him for a moment, and then asked, “Ted?”

“That’s right! Knew you’d remember me from science class.”

“It was social.” Jodi’s eyes met Daniel’s over Ted’s shoulder and her mouth hitched up at the corners.

“Whatever.” Ted shrugged. “It was all the same to me. Hey, listen. I heard you were buying farms and wanted to talk.”

“Perfect.” She arched a triumphant brow at Daniel, Ted’s hand at her waist as he guided her away.

Daniel’s pulse picked up and he tugged at his tie. Not so fast, Ms. Jodi Lynn.

“Ted, isn’t your pickup the red 150 with the flame decal on the sides?” he called after them. Ted turned. “Because its lights are on. Meant to mention it earlier.”

“Darn. Had to give the batteries a jump just to get here.” Ted hurried off and Daniel unfurled his hands.

Jodi tapped her fingers on her hips and glared at him, her nose scrunching in a way that got his heart thudding.

“Was that the ‘help’ you mentioned earlier? Scaring off every person I talk to?” Jodi pulled her note out and scanned the list of names, her eyes lifting from it to the crowd and back again.

“I think you did a good job of that on your own with Pamela Bates. Plus, you should be glad I rescued you from Hands.” It had been Ted’s nickname in high school—earned for a reputation Jodi should keep in mind. “And who else is on that list?”

She turned her back, but he peered over her shoulder, the brush of her hair soft as satin against his jaw. He forced himself to focus and noticed a number written at the bottom of the list. That couldn’t be the price she was offering per acre.

He swallowed hard. With a number that high, who’d say no? This was worse than he’d imagined. Midland had put the best person on the job and armed her with an irresistible deal. He had to stop her. Now.

“Care to dance?” asked one of their classmates, a part-time crop duster and farmer, Frank Trudeau. Jodi smiled and Daniel recalled seeing Frank’s name on her list.

“Actually, I’d rather talk if you have a minute...Frank.”

Frank, one of his bowling team members, caught the small shake of Daniel’s head and took the hint.

“Uh, that’s okay. I was just looking for a dance.”

“Oh.” Jodi’s mouth turned down in disappointment. “Maybe another time.”

“How about a dance with me?” Ted reappeared, out of breath. “Came back as quick as I could before another fellow got you. Oh, and it turns out you had the wrong truck, Gleason.”

Jodi extended her hand. “I suppose this is the only way I’ll get to speak with anyone.”

Daniel paced as he watched her smiling and talking a mile a minute. Ted’s eyes looking unfocused; his hands drifted lower and lower until Daniel couldn’t take it anymore.

“Time’s up, Ted. She’s dancing the next one with me,” he grumbled when he reached them. He forced his face to relax when Ted immediately gave way.

“Of course, Daniel. If I’d known...”

“We have a conversation to continue, Ted. Remember? My offer?” Jodi asked, insistent.

But Daniel held Ted’s eye until he shuffled away.

“Later, Jodi,” Ted muttered.

“Phone me at my aunt Grace’s,” she called, her business card disappearing back into her purse. Her eyes leveled on Daniel. “There’s no reason to behave unprofessionally. And, despite what you said when you dropped us off, this is not a war. It’s business. Big difference.”

He looked down at her and shook his head, unable to resist tucking a strand behind her ear. “Keep telling yourself that.”

When the music switched up to something low and smooth, he pulled her in close, every inch of him aware of the feminine beauty he held in his arms.

“Regardless, he said he planned to sell and knew other farmers that would hear me out. Oh. And he liked my offer. See? Not personal.”

His body tensed as he looked around at the many people who had traveled less than a few miles to be here and at all of their community events. This was their hometown. Who’d be left if Jodi had her way? Pamela Bates? Frank Trudeau? He’d grown up with them. Had imagined them all farming and growing old together. Yet with one check, Jodi would destroy that future. Old men who’d fought to preserve their legacies for the next generation would finish their lives in nursing home corridors instead of on their farms’ front porches. It wasn’t right.

“Look around you.” He gestured at their classmates. “These are people, Jodi, so it’s personal. How can I get that through to you?”

“You can’t. This is a business transaction. Plain and simple.”

A spotlight stopped on them, blinding him before he could insist that it was the end of a way of life. He’d thought the old Jodi might still be reachable, but now he knew the truth. Another Midland suit stood before him. The only difference? She resembled someone he used to know.

“And now it’s time for a speech from our valedictorian,” boomed Frank. “Daniel Gleason.”

Raucous applause exploded around him and he reluctantly let go of Jodi’s hand and took his place on stage. When he looked out at the smiling, cheering audience, the group that had voted him class president, he knew what he had to do. With old men about to get turned out of their farms, and Jodi’s offer too good to turn down, desperate times called for desperate measures. Her refusal to consider others meant he’d run out of options.

He held up his hands until they hushed, and raised the microphone.

“Folks. Looking out at all of you, I see family, friends...Layhee.” He paused for the ripple of laughter to die down and Ted’s attention-getting protests to end. “I see a community of people I’ve known all my life, whose parents grew up together and their parents before them.”

Lots of smiles and nods erupted around the room as well as a few cups of punch raised his way.

Daniel yanked at his tie. It was hot under these bright lights, especially with Jodi’s narrowed eyes fixed on him. He gave her a look that he hoped expressed his silent apology for what he was about to do.

“Farming and family-run businesses have been a way of life in Cedar Bay since our ancestors struggled, sacrificed, fought and died to make the independence we enjoy today possible.”

“Hear! Hear!” someone hollered in the back. Bobby, another one of his bowling pals.

“Our teachers gave us extra time to turn in work during harvest or when we had to get the fields ready in the spring, but they understood—like the rest of our community—that we’re in this together, helping one another. We’re here for each other, whether it’s taking over someone’s milking to give another a vacation, bringing meals every day if someone’s ill, joining forces to repair and rebuild when tragedy strikes.” He avoided Jodi’s eyes. If he met them, he knew he wouldn’t have the heart to go on.

“And that doesn’t even take into account the good times like our potluck dinners overseen by Grace Chapman, Mary’s line dancing, hay-bale mazes at the Darbys’, the Winches’ sleigh rides, our tractor races and watermelon-eating contests and all the other things that go into making our daily challenges worth it.”

“I’m ready to line dance right now!” roared Ted, whose wandering hand moved toward Jodi before she shook it off. She was pale under the lights, her stare unwavering.

“We’ll get there, Ted.” Daniel shifted in his tight dress shoes. “I wanted to bring this up because this is the first time we’ve all been together since we accepted our diplomas and faced a future that, for many of us, was already a given. We knew we’d take the torch our farming families passed us and keep it safe.”

“We love you, Daniel!” shouted a female voice. By the set of Jodi’s face, it wasn’t hers.

“We’ve done a good job so far, weathering one of the worst economic times and coming through intact. Yet some would like to take advantage of the cracks in our foundation. Midland Corp, for instance.”

Several boos erupted in the audience and he saw Jodi flinch. He had to swallow over the lump clogging his throat and force himself to keep going.

“We’ve resisted their attempts to steal our livelihoods from us—our communities, our traditions, all that we have to pass down to our own kids. Yet they’ve devised an even more sinister plan than I could have imagined.”

He had the room’s full attention now. Many leaned in or stepped forward. You could have heard a pin drop.

“They’ve sent one of our own against us. Jodi Lynn Chapman.” He gestured toward her and while everyone turned to stare, no one clapped or smiled. In fact, many who had been cordial before now looked hostile. Guess word hadn’t reached everyone about her real purpose for coming home until now.

Jodi’s face turned bright enough to look sunburned.

“Let’s show her the door. That’s all the welcome she’s getting if she’s with Midland instead of us,” yelled someone from a shadowed corner.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, their angry babble rising until it drowned out his attempts to quiet them. He had more to say, but they weren’t listening. In fact, they’d turned their backs on him and were closing in on Jodi. Her face contorted and she pressed a napkin to it before pushing through the crowd and out the door, her rose hair clip loose and flopping on her shoulders.

He turned away from the microphone and muttered a word not for public hearing. After hopping off the stage, he shoved through the crowed in pursuit of her.

“Great speech, big guy.” One of his friends slapped him on the back.

Daniel nodded to the well-wishers who swarmed him, angry at himself for stirring this already boiling pot. Jodi’s motivations were wrong, and the sooner she realized it the better, but he’d underestimated the crowd and he owed her an apology. He’d wanted to get through to her, not drive her to her breaking point. The thought filled him with regret.

“Jodi!” He cupped his hands around his mouth and belted her name across the parking lot before she slipped inside her car.

“Leave me alone, Daniel.” Her keys fell from her shaking hands. “You’ve done enough.” She crouched down to search but ended up putting her fingers over her eyes, her shoulders quaking.

In a flash he was by her side, scooping up her keys and the flowered hair clip that’d fallen before pulling her upright. Her damp hair clung to her temples when he pushed it away from her face, and his hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jodi. I didn’t mean for it to turn that ugly.”

“Didn’t you?”

His stomach clenched. Hadn’t he? Yes. In a way. But he’d never imagined the aftermath would affect him this much. He had her on the ropes, but he felt as if he was the one down on the mat. Yet it’d always been that way between them. Each swinging until they couldn’t raise an arm, the wounds they inflicted staying long after the contest was over. His chest constricted when he recalled their squabbles over the years, from who’d win the blue ribbon for best pumpkin at the county fair to who’d win class president.