Page 23 of Forbidden to Fall

James and I both looked at what she was doing—trying to open a jar of pickles. Our gazes met again.

“I got it, Mama,” James said, coming up beside her. A second later, the jar opened with a pop.

“You see?” May said. “This is why you can’t leave me. I need those strong hands.”

“Is that all I’m good for to you?” The words teased, but his brow had a faint furrow as we took our seats.

The table was rectangular, but only three places had been set: two on one side, one on the other. James took the chair he was closest to. I was nearest to the one next to it, but I hesitated, then went around the table to take the loner chair.

My eyes met James’s as I sat down, and my insides wriggled with guilt. I was trying to walk this impossibly bouncy tightrope of not betraying Ryan by making James feel like everything was just hunky-dory and not being a vengeful human to people I was technically trying to help.

I could only be grateful James would be gone soon, relieving both of us of this awkwardness.

We passed each dish around the table, filling our plates, while May asked about the progress we’d both made in the sugar shack.

When I let her know that James had cleaned the entire kitchen, she shot him a close-lipped smile full of affection, as if to say good boy.

There was a contentedness in her tonight, and it was clear that the source was James. She couldn’t stop looking at him, her eyes warm and proud.

Of course she was overjoyed to have him here. Thinking of all the time she spent alone made my heart ache.

She brought up the unfortunate cupboard situation and apologized about the latch, which Archer had fixed when he’d first moved to Autumn Ridge a few years back.

“I’ll have to take it up with him, then,” I said, cutting into a dumpling. “My perfect hiding spot, forever ruined.”

“Maybe that’s for the best, darlin’,” May said. “We had plenty of mishaps durin’ hide-and-seek. I seem to remember one time when you and Archer”—she directed a stern look at James—“thought you’d hide up in the maples. Your father had to climb up and help you both down.”

James’s mouth lifted at one edge. “He didn’t help us down, Mama. He stayed at the bottom and, when both of us were too scared to come down, he got out his stopwatch and timed us, promising to give the fastest one his dessert.”

May tried to suppress a smile. “Well, your father was always a bit unconventional, wasn’t he? Who won?”

“Archer. But then Ryan wanted to—” He cut himself off.

It was quiet. Tense and quiet.

“Well,” May said, “at least you learned somethin’, right?”

James didn’t respond.

The conversation was the reminder I needed that this dinner was meant to be about business—not nostalgic reminiscing bound to turn sour.

“I have a couple of questions for you, May,” I said. “About the farm.”

“Let’s have ‘em,” she said.

“I’m wondering how many visitors you expect this season. It’d be nice to have an idea how much product we could sell. I don’t want you to end up with too many pastries instead of too much syrup.”

“Oh, darlin’,” she said with a grimacing smile. “We have enough maple on hand for many seasons. You don’t need to worry about that. We used to plan on about eight hundred visitors, but the numbers have been dwindlin’ for the past few years.” She took a bite of chicken.

James scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and I wondered if May meant for the past eight years.

“What if we didn’t limit the goods to farm visitors?” I asked.

May chewed for a few seconds. “I’m not sure I follow, darlin’.”

I lifted my shoulders. “We could sell at the Harvest Festival—syrup too, of course. Maybe ask a couple of local businesses if they’d like to carry some goods? Little impulse buys at the cash register. We want the pastries to be fresh, of course, but it wouldn’t take long for me to do a delivery every couple of days. If we package them nicely, it could be good marketing for the farm.”

May reached across the table for my hand. “You’re an angel, Sadie Stevenson. But you’re doin’ plenty already. You have a life and job outside of Carver Maple Farm.”