“How did you know about Bella Mae? I never mentioned it to you.”
“I might be a quiet man, but I’m not blind,” he began. “I saw your notebook. You used to hide it under your bed. I didn’t understand your fascination with clothes and your desire to leave home and travel to far-away cities. I didn’t know what to do. It was easier for me when you were a tomboy, but then you grew up. But one thing never changed. Just like your mother, you always burned so brightly. You were driven and focused. Even now, that’s true. But Bella Mae wasn’t you, Mabel.”
“And that’s why you went online to Bella Mae—to take it away?” she pressed. It hurt to ask the question, but she had to know.
The man shook his head. “I didn’t want to take anything away from you.”
“But you did, Dad. That post is what caused me to lose what I had been working for.”
He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Before your mother passed away, she told me that she wanted you and Jamie to be everything you could be. I wanted you to be able to have all that without having to pretend you were someone else. My heart was in the right place. Things had been strained between us for so long. I couldn’t have called and asked you to come home.”
He was right. Still, his timing was uncanny.
“How did you know to post about my true identity on the day I met with Chelsea?”
There was no way he could have known that.
Her father’s gaze grew glassy. “The day I made that post, I found one of Jamie’s notebooks in the house. It had fallen between the fridge and the side of the cabinets. I opened it to a dog-eared page that had your name at the top.”
Her name was mentioned in one of the farming journals?
No, it had to be a mistake.
Jamie had never said anything about wanting her to be involved with the sustainable farming initiative.
“I don’t understand, Dad. What did Jamie write about me?”
The man pulled his cell phone from his pocket, tapped the photo icon, then showed her a picture. “You can read it for yourself,” he said gently.
Tears came to her eyes. “Ask Mabel to set up social media for the town.”
“Your brother needed your help, Mabel Ruth.”
“I never knew that,” she whispered.
“The journal entry was dated on your twenty-first birthday,” he added with a shake to his voice.
“The day he died,” she whispered.
Elias nodded. “He didn’t get a chance to ask you. He must have made the entry early that morning. But he knew, even then, that you’d be able to help the town.”
She brushed a tear from her cheek.
“They’re always with us, Mabel,” he said, holding her gaze.
“Who?” she asked the man who shared the same sky-blue eyes as she and Jamie did.
“Your mother and your brother. I like to think that they’re up there, watching over us. Sending us signs so we can do good by each other. What’s done doesn’t always have to be done. We have the capacity to grow and learn and change. I’m proud of you, honey.”
She smiled through her tears. “Let’s go home, Dad,” she said, but the man didn’t move as a curious expression bloomed on his face.
“Not quite yet,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“Dad, I need to talk to Cal. I love him, and we’re together—at least, we were. Please don’t shoot him,” she added with a chuckle.
“Why don’t you talk to him now,” her father offered, looking like the cat who ate the canary.
She frowned. “What’s going on?” she pressed when a woman shrieked.
“It’s him! It’s the farm porn!” another called.
It couldn’t be!
She eyed her father, who gave her another very Elias Muldowney no-nonsense shrug, as the click of cell phones snapping pictures peppered the air. She’d been so engrossed in conversation with Chelsea and her dad that she hadn’t even noticed that a decent-sized crowd had tuned in for the Farm to Mabel Heart-to-Heart Hour.
But she didn’t give the throng of bystanders another thought when Cal emerged from the mass of farmers’ market shoppers encircling her.
“Hi,” he said, giving her that handsome, million-dollar farmer smile she’d missed so very much.
“Hi,” she echoed.
He glanced at the crowd. “I can see why you like it so much in New York. They treat you like a celebrity here. Or maybe these people are admiring your floppy sombrero.”
She chuckled and shook her head. “It’s a sculpted wide brim—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “A sculpted wide brim dramatic floppy hat.”
She took another look at the crowd and couldn’t get over the number of people watching their exchange. But she couldn’t hold back. She needed to tell him what was in her heart. And she had to do it now.
“I owe you an apology, Cal,” she said with a deep sigh.
He took a step closer. “No, I’m the one who owes you an apology. You were right, Mabel.”
“Excuse me! Coming through!” came a voice as someone pushed their way through the crowd.
She glanced past Cal and nearly fell on her ass when none other than the creep with two C’s and one E, Lucce, cut through the swarm of people. He was clad in black but looked decidedly less full of himself.
The man caught his breath and mopped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I ran all the way from the hotel.”
She pegged Cal with her gaze. “What’s he doing here?”
Cal clapped Lucce on the shoulder, and the sweaty weasel of a man flinched. “We met at the hotel, and I remembered that you told me that he’d treated you badly. So, we had a chat. Isn’t that right, Lucce?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Would this be the kind of chat that you had with any boy who looked my way when I was in high school?”
A wide grin stretched across Cal’s face. “Jamie and I got pretty good at scaring off those guys.”
She rolled her eyes.
Lucce cleared his throat. “It’s nice to see you, Mabel. I apologize for my behavior when we first met.”
“Wow!” she said, catching Cal’s eye.
He tossed her a wink. “Pretty good, huh?”
“Sir,” Lucce said, addressing Cal as a bead of sweat slid down his forehead. “I was able to make the reservations you requested, and your delivery arrived.”
Sir?
“Why is he calling you sir?” she asked.
Cal gave Lucce the once-over. “You work for us now, don’t you?”
“We’re excited to have Eat Elverna on board with the Blaine Agency,” Lucce answered, then handed Cal a large envelope.
“How do you know about this?” she asked.
“I was with your dad and Claudine when Chelsea approached us in the hotel lobby.” He glanced around at the people holding up their phones. “And it’s being livestreamed.”
She gasped. “It is?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, then his expression grew serious.
“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” she asked. But Cal shook his head, then took the tomato from her hand and passed it to Lucce.