Sleeping in the same space as Owen proved to be as impossible as I expected. I was a little ashamed of the mouse joke I threw out the night before, but he couldn’t expect our truce to cancel out all the pranks. There was no mouse to be found, now that I’d moved into the old property manager's house. It had been vacant for years, ever since my parents built their new farmhouse. There had been a small animal infestation when I first took it over, but after having someone come in and set a few traps, I’d been pest-free for the last two years.

Regardless, I wished I’d set up a camera to witness the look on Owen’s face at my end-of-the-night joke.

I was surprised to have slept at all by the time my alarm buzzed. I turned it down as low as possible to keep from waking Owen, though I heard him turning and grunting most of the night. Guilt flooded through me a few times, but he had the luxury of hanging around town today, whereas I had to work. Just like I did every day.

Thankfully, by the time I got dressed and made my way down from the loft, any residual consequences from drinking the two beers last night were long gone. Working and testing the soils with a headache was never a fun task. Especially when it was self-induced.

I tried to move around as quietly as possible, and I’d be sure to let him know later about my courtesy.

After brushing my teeth and grabbing a bottle of water, I crept from the house and made my way toward the main barn. This was where we kept some of the equipment, but my favorite tool, a robot created by my brother-in-law, was stashed in a locked room in the corner.

My dad and the ranch hands loved working with the oversized tractors and combines, but I enjoyed getting my hands dirty with the tools and smaller machines. It was probably why I loved working in my great-great-grandmother’s garden the most.

My fascination and care with that particular space had been my downfall. The vested interested made my family assume I’d want to take over Sunny Brook. And while I did love working the fields and managing the little livestock we kept, I preferred tending the garden.

Unlocking the room, I flipped on the fluorescent light and grabbed the oversized remote. It reminded me of one of the RC car remotes my brother had when he was younger. But while it had a nostalgic feel, its large computer screen was a treasure trove of analytic data. Nate had set it up to feed all the information to a computer and backup server kept in my dad’s office.

My dad didn’t quite understand all the statistics it shot out, but I’d been working on a program to consolidate it all into more manageable information.

“Come on, pretty girl. Let’s go take a walk.” The agriculture robot resembled one of the robotic vacuums people had in their houses. Only this one was massive in comparison, with little compartments that compared the soil in eight different areas at one time.

When I tapped a button on the remote, the device came to life and began to follow behind me. It used an internal mapping tool to follow along by tracing the path of the remote.

Today, I needed to test some of the soil on Owen’s family land. Now that the sale was finalized, I could finally start working on ideas for its use. From memory, I knew Owen’s father tried to do various things with the acreage, none of which took. My father believed it was because the land was too far away from the creek that ran through our property, leaving it with more clay than soil. But I believed it was because it was nutrient-deficient. If I was correct, then it was a quick fix to grow whatever we wanted. Clay, though, would limit its use.

On my way out of the barn, I grabbed the keys to one of the UTVs parked just outside the door and lifted the robot inside to save her battery. A few of the ranch hands were milling about, prepping for the harvest. Dad hired a couple of new men who appeared closer to my age, and I wondered what their stories were. What brought them here? Were they stuck in the farming business like I was?

I waved at the crew as I drove past, heading down the dirt path that separated the fields. Sunny Brook Farm was massive, and with the purchase of the Ramsey property, we were the largest functioning farm in the county and surrounding area.

Thirty minutes passed before I made it to the parcels of land I wanted to test. I came out to the property last week and mapped the fields out into eight large sections, using one of the tractors to cut the paths. Setting up the robot, I let her get to work selecting the eight samples. She’d cover roughly three miles to gather all the data, which left me perched inside the UTV in the peace and quiet for the next hour.

I scrolled aimlessly through social media on my phone. There were old classmates with pictures from recent weddings and baby announcements, while some were jet setting around the world, living their best single life. By the time the robot was finished, I was depressed and hungry.

With no stove or microwave in my house, I usually ventured to the main farmhouse to make a meal like I did when I lived there, but I hadn’t been motivated to do so this morning. My aching stomach was payback for that poor decision.

Back at the barn, I parked the UTV in its spot, then I tucked the robot in her closet and plugged the data cable into her remote. This transferred the findings from a server in the barn over to the main computer at the house.

I followed the pebbled path from the barn to the mudroom of the house, noticing my father’s boots were still sitting by the door, which meant he was making it a late morning or taking one of the days off my mother had been begging him to over the years. She was the biggest reason he planned on retiring, though his love for the land would never allow it fully. My dad would most likely work until he took his last breath.

The door connecting the mudroom to the main house squeaked as I pressed it open. As I crossed the hallway, I noticed my dad sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper in hand and a cup of coffee resting on the wooden table. It was a new purchase by my mother to accommodate all the new members at our weekly family dinners every Sunday.

“Hi, Dad,” I called out as I slipped into the kitchen.

“Morning, sunshine. Just getting started?”

“Nah. I spent the last hour over on the Ramsey property, testing the soils. I should have some data to look over in a bit.”

“That’s good. It will give us an idea of what we’re working with.”

“I’m hoping it’s salvageable enough to plant corn for next season. If not, we could look at bringing in some cattle for the area for regenerative seeding.”

“You think that’s a better idea than using soy or wheat?”

“I do. We could always rent out the space to the Jacksons for their cattle. The expense would be fencing, but the turnaround on the soil is faster.”

I could tell my dad was skeptical of my suggestion. We kept a few livestock on our land for the same purpose, but not on the scale we would need for the Ramsey area.

“Well, let me know what the data shows, then we can discuss it further. The leasing of the land will help pay for the fencing. But we’d need to get started soon, and with harvest starting next week, I’m not sure we would have the time.”

Nodding, I turned around to head toward the fridge, using the distraction as a way to hide my disappointment. That was one thing about working for your father; he was set in his ways. He had decades of experience, but any time I suggested something that would incur an upfront cost, it was normally turned down.

I already knew that for my suggestion to work, I’d have to scour the financials and see where we could cut costs. Even though we’d charge for leasing the land, we’d need the upfront money to pay for the fence installation. It was something we could do in-house and just pay for the materials, but my dad was right. The harvest was going to take all hands on deck. With Autumn pregnant and Alex up to her neck at work, we were going to lose some of the family for labor.

The fall harvest of the corn we produced was a family tradition at this point. Though most was done by machine, we all helped. There was a factory in Knoxville that collected our supply by the truckload every year for commercial use. We only kept a small supply to distribute to the local grocers.

Just thinking about all the work I had in store in the upcoming months left my mind spinning. Why was I even considering accepting Owen’s proposal?

I knew why. I was desperate.

I wanted the relationship my mom had with my dad. My sisters had with their husbands. Someone there to support me, love me, care for me, and who never felt like my life choices were a burden.

“Good morning, darling.” Mom’s gentle voice wrapped around me like the softest blanket as she stepped into the kitchen. She pressed a kiss to the top of my head as I walked over to the stove with the carton of eggs and a packet of bacon in my hands.

“Good morning, Mom.”

“Just getting up?”

I snorted in reply. She already knew I’d probably been up for hours. I couldn’t remember the last day I slept in. Christmas?

“Can I make you anything?” I asked.

“No, we’re headed over to the bed-and-breakfast. The chef is trying some new recipes, and we get to be the guinea pigs.”

“Oh, that sounds nice.”

I cracked the first egg into a mixing bowl a little harder than I meant to, and the shell fell into the yolk and membrane. Cleaning it up quickly, I mumbled to myself how it would have been nice to be invited. I suspected the rest of my family would be there except for Rory, who was in Knoxville with her husband.

Thinking of my sister, I pulled my phone from my back pocket and sent her a message asking about any rental properties she knew in the area. Not expecting a reply right away, I was surprised when my phone practically jumped in my hand with her response.

Smiling, I placed the cell back in my pocket and went to work, cracking a few more eggs before whisking them together. In the distance, I could make out the hushed tones of my parents as they discussed an article in the paper.

Footsteps echoed down the hall as the mudroom door hinges squeaked.

“There you are.” Owen’s deep voice shocked me as I peeled open the packet of bacon with a yank of the plastic, sending it flying in his direction. Thankfully, none of the strips came free from the package as it rested just in front of the toes of his sneakers.

“Oh my God. I am so sorry,” I apologized as I stumbled over to him and picked up the packet.

“Didn’t mean to surprise you. I couldn’t find you this morning, so I figured I’d try here. Though, I did start with the barn.” A strangled gasp sounded from the dining table, and Owen twisted his head with his signature cocky smile in place. “Oh. Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Easterly. I didn’t see you there. I apologize for not greeting you first.” He walked over, hand outstretched, and both of my parents must have been in a deeper level of shock than I was as they returned his greeting. “How are you this morning?”