Page 85 of Sugar & Shadows

“Is that a good thing?” Marigold asked. Apparently she was already back from her trip to New York. She looked more tired than usual.

“Team,” Harper shouted, pointing fingers. “Nina. You’re on the drone. Just like we practiced.”

I turned to Nina. “You practiced?”

She glared at me, as if insulted by the question.

“Obviously.”

“Marigold and Laurie,” Harper continued. “Take the handheld. You’re on farmhouse interviews, human moments, and staging. And for the love of God, remember to use the external mics so we get clean sound quality.”

“You mentioned the farmers,” Marigold said, leaning on her cane, her eyes dancing. “Perhaps they should carry something heavy?” She eyed Logan and Josh, who stood nearby. “Or maybe chop some wood? Shirtless?”

Harper paused, head cocked, and considered the suggestion as if it weren’t absolutely ridiculous. “Love the content idea.” She nodded. “Strong engagement potential.”

Josh Lawrence visibly paled, and those chuckles rose up around us again, Gabe being the loudest.

“But our schedule is tight.” She consulted her clipboard. “I’ll slot sexy farmer content for tomorrow’s agenda instead.”

As Marigold blew her a kiss, I wondered, not for the first time, what TAP would unleash on this town.

“Sabrina.”

At the sound of my name, I stood up straight, awaiting my instructions.

“You’re with Gabe. GoPro duty. The two of you will ride the ATV through the sugar bush. Then switch to the mirrorless with the macro lens for capturing the dripping sap.”

I frowned. Half of those words were foreign to me.

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s all about the drip.”

“The drip?”

“The plunk,” she said. “Use the mics. We want that sweet plunk when the sap hits the metal bucket.”

Every member of the crowd was fixated on her, inexplicably captivated by her leadership abilities.

“The plunk is gold, people,” she said. “Social media gold.”

Up on the tailgate, her breath pluming around her in white puffs and dressed in her all-black snow gear, she was a force.

Damn. It was happening.

This was my life now.

And my seventeen-year-old protégée was running the show.

“I’m so proud of her,” I said to no one in particular while we dispersed. Josh and his farm crew took off, presumably to do the actual job, and the rest of us headed out to make social media tourism magic.

“I will be at the barn,” Harper called out. “Setting up our tech command center. Call me if you need help. And take extra memory cards so we can get as much content as possible.”

“Ready?” Gabe asked, bumping my shoulder.

Once again in a daze—that was happening far too much lately—I peered up at him. “What?”

“The ATV. We gotta go.”

“Where?”