What The Heart Wants (12 page)

Anna laughed, “Do you think, do you think she would have liked me?” she asked, embarrassed that she wanted to know.

Sam cocked his head to the side, looking at her. “I cant imagine anyone not liking you,” he said and watched as she turned her head away in embarrassment. “She would have loved you, Anna.”

Anna smiled weakly, putting her mug on the counter and suggesting they start stringing up the dill in the living room.

Handing a bunch to Sam who was hanging them from a strip of string he had hung just below the ceiling, she asked, “So do you think there’s like any teens in this town or anything who would have done this?”

Sam thought for a minute, trying the dill upside down. “I don’t think so. I mean most of us grew up with farming in our families and we would never do that to someone. Destroyed crops meant a devastating blow to the family and the town. But I guess it’s possible. There’s always a bad seed or two. You could go to the sheriff,” Sam suggested.

Anna shrugged. “There’s nothing for them to go on. I would just be wasting his time. I just hope I can figure out a back-up plan. I need to sell some of this stuff eventually if I want to stay here.”

Eleven
 

He wasn’t about to let her lose her farm. It was the single thought he obsessed about for two days after he helped her start drying her dill. He would find some way to help her.

Then as he was packing his truck with coolers, he realized he had some pull in many different little food stores across the state. His name would go a long way in securing her a few new vendors for her goods.

After finishing packing up his truck, he drove over to Mam’s farm, pounding on the door. A few moments later, Anna came to the door in a pair of green khakis and a tan tank top. Beads of sweat were spread across her chest above the bodice.

“What’s up Sam?” she asked, a little out of breath.

Sam pulled open the door, “Go grab your purse and a notebook.”

Anna’s eyebrows drew together. “Might I ask why?” she asked, her lips turning up into a confused smile.

“We are going to go get you some stores,” he said “but we have to get going now or we wont make all our stops today.”

“You’re serious?” she asked, feeling hope rise up in her chest. At his nod, she looked down at herself. “Oh, I have to change into something more professional,” she said, turning quickly.

Sam reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Anna, we’re farmers. This is how we are supposed to look,” he said, gesturing toward his own worn blue jeans and blue t-shirt.

Anna ran to grab a pen, notebook and a small purse and met Sam outside. He went over to the passenger side of his truck and pulled the door open. Anna looked up at the hand grip to help pull her into the obnoxiously high pick-up truck. There was no way she could even reach the darn thing. Sam looked down at her and laughed before grabbing her by the hips and hauling her up to the seat himself.

They drove off a few seconds later. Anna leaned forward toward the vents and sighed as the cool air conditioning hit her skin. “I forgot how nice air conditioning is,” she admitted when she noticed Sam watching her. She glanced over her shoulder into the cab. “So what is all that?” she asked, wishing Sam had put the radio on.

“Brie,” Sam said. “Fresh organic aged cheese is at a premium in all the small boutique shops and restaurants.”

“I’ve never had brie,” Anna said, wrinkling her nose a little at the thought.

Sam laughed at her face, a big booming sound in the enclosed truck. “It’s actually pretty good. Goat’s cheese is softer than milk cheese. And there’s a definite distinct taste, but it isn’t as odd as you might be imagining.”

They talked casually about goat farming for a long time, Anna finding herself genuinely interested. They arrived at the first shop about half an hour later, Sam hopping into the bed of the truck and hauling one of the coolers down with him.

Unfortunately the owner was off for the day and Anna couldn’t make a sale.

The next stop was almost forty-five minutes from the first shop. When Anna commented on it being a long way to travel, Sam shrugged. “This restaurant was the first one to give me a chance when I first got started. The chef wants to see me personally at the drop offs.”

The restaurant was a small gray stucco, upscale building hidden slightly behind perfectly manicured ornamental trees. Sam parked toward the back and unloaded two coolers. Anna struggled to help him with one before he shook her head with his trademark lopsided grin and pulled it behind himself.

He rapped on the kitchen door. A face appeared in the small window and the door clicked open.

“He’s in a mood,” the young, neat man in a white chef’s jacket informed them.

“He always is,” Sam smiled, following him inside, dropping the coolers by the door.

Anna had never been back of house anywhere but her coffee shop. There was movement everywhere, people in white chef jackets, others in black and white stripes, and a bunch of flustered people in all black with aprons and name tags. Servers.

Sam grabbed her hand, unexpectedly and she almost pulled away from shock. But he held it tighter, linking his fingers between hers. “We have to follow that shouting,” he warned her and she nodded.

“Excuse me, chef,” the young man who answered the door called timidly to the back of a heavyset man in a white jacket. He was yelling at one of the men in stripes about the temperature of the soup. “Excuse me chef,” he repeated, louder.

“What?” the man snapped, waving a hand at the poor soup guy. “what do you want?” he said, turning. He had a chubby, clean-shaven face with almost black eyes and a ruddy complexion. “Sam,” he said, his face breaking out into a charming smile. “Idiot,” he said to the young chef, slapping him across the back of the neck. “you should have said Sam was here!”

Anna felt her spine straighten, always wanting to stand up for the poor underdog because they couldn’t stand up for themselves. “I believe that is what he was trying to do, chef,” she said and felt like squirming when the man’s dark eyes fell on her.

“Yes well he should have done so louder,” he said with a wink. He turned back to Sam, grabbing him in a huge bear hug and kissing him on the side of the head.

Sam’s hand slid from hers and she felt smaller and uncomfortable without it there unconsciously supporting her. The chef said something in Sam’s ear and Sam looked back at her and said no.

“Well no matter, no matter,” he said, his gruff professional persona replaced with that of a happy Italian father. “It will happen soon enough. So you,” he said, smiling at Anna. “who are you?”

Sam stepped back next to her, his hand brushing hers and she was pretty sure it wasn’t by accident. “This is Annabelle Goode. She owns the farm next to mine,” he said and she realized it was the first time someone had said she owned the farm. It was always Mam’s farm. “Anna, this is Lenny. His bark is worse than his bite, don’t worry.”  

“My bite, my bite,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “You’re very young to be a farmer, no?”

“Same age as I was when I first came to you,” Sam supplied. “with my first attempt at brie from my mom’s old backyard goat.

“This man,” Lenny said, rapping Sam hard on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. “This man has a special touch. His brie… perfect.”

Sam looked almost uncomfortable and Anna realized how humble he was. “Anna here runs an organic herb, spice, and tea farm Lenny,” he said, moving the attention off of himself.

Lenny looked at her with his sharp eyes. “Oh really? I use a lot of spice here. That one,” he pointed to a chef running past. “he uses too much spice. Me, I use just enough. Tell me about spices,” he said, reaching over and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Well,” Anna said, being led away from Sam. “I have mint about ready to…”

“Mint,” Lenny broke in. “Mint is good. We use at the bar. We will take mint. Five bunches at harvest. What else?”

Anna pulled out her notebook, jotting down his order. “Um. Cilantro is about ready to be harvested actually. And coriander at the end of the season.”

“Good good. Five bunches of cilantro as well. And this coriander. How do you sell it? In containers?”

Anna felt her heart pounding. She hadn’t even thought of that yet. “Yes, yes of course. The average size,” she improvised, praying she could find those types of containers for sale.

“Yes. Coriander is good. Hard to come by one that hasn’t sat on a shelf for months. So… ten containers regular size. More, more,” he encouraged, dipping a spoon into sauce on a burner and tasting it. “Salt, man. Salt this.”

“Well I have some dill drying as we speak,” she suggested.

Lenny looked up toward the ceiling, his lower lip pushed outward. “Dill is good for fish. I don’t make much fish, but some. Give me one container. If I like, maybe I make a new recipe that focuses on it. Basil. You have basil?”

Anna felt a smile spread across her face. This man was going to keep her head above water. “Of course I do. How would you like the basil? I could dry it, but you get the most flavor by freezing it.”

“Really? I did not know this. You’re a smart girl. How you sell this frozen then?”

“Well I guess we could sell it in five-cup portions, in airtight bags already frozen for you to preserve the flavor.” Anna felt all the words from her gardening books flood her brain. Twelve basil plants will produce four to six cups of basil every week. She had planted one hundred and fifty plants. If she had a twelve week harvest, she would have over seven-hundred five pound batches of basil to freeze. She needed to buy a cube freezer.

“Good. I’ll take two to start. You grow bay leaves?”

“Bay leaves. No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

“You grow bay leaves,” Lenny said in a way that left no room for discussion. “Bay leaf when fresh dried is perfection in soup recipes. Bay leaves are expensive. You’ll make a lot of money. Grow bay leaves.”

Anna jotted down notes as Lenny talked. By the time he stopped discussing herbs, she had filled three pages. Some were notes for order, much more were ideas of what to grow and how to sell it. “Okay. Let’s go find Sam,” Lenny said, moving toward the front of the restaurant. They found him sitting at a table in a corner by a window, talking to one of the servers, a pretty young blonde with an unfairly curvy body. She felt jealousy rise up, unbidden and souring her amazing mood.

Lenny shook his head as they approached, telling the server to go find another table to talk to. “Now you send me an invoice when you get home. Sam has my fax. We will pay at delivery. Now you eat,” He said, pushing her toward a chair.

“Oh no we couldn’t,” Anna started but Sam reached across the table, patting her hand.

“He is going to feed us,” Sam said and smiled at Lenny.

“Yes you eat. You’re too skinny. I’ll find something to fatten you up,” he declared, moving off toward the kitchen at an impressive speed.

“How great is he?” Sam asked when they were alone.

“Oh my god I love him,” she gushed, looking down at her notebook. “Look at this, look at all this stuff he wants.”

Sam glanced down at her writing, small and neat, not curvy and elaborate like many young women. “Lenny is a great customer to have. He likes all of his ingredients as fresh as possible and he really likes to know exactly where everything comes from.”

Anna looked up at him, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion and she felt tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much Sam. You have no idea. I mean this order alone will be like… I dunno… three-hundred dollars. And if he likes everything, he will order more. I might be able to make it. And I cant thank you en…”

“Stop,” Sam said, leaning on the table and resting his hand on her forearm. “You don’t need to thank me. I have some good contacts. You’re doing all the work. You deserve this, okay? So don’t thank me.”

Anna nodded, swatting at a single tear that escaped her eye.

Lenny bustled back with a huge platter of small portions of what looked like every dish on the menu. He named off the dishes quickly and turned to Sam. “You make her eat,” he said and left them.

They ate, talking about their next few stops and savoring the food on the platter. “Do I even want to know what this platter costs?” she asked, looking around at the décor that screamed expense.

“He wouldn’t take our money,” Sam said, shaking his head. “believe me, I’ve tried. And this,” he said, taking a forkful of pasta. “sample platter alone would cost just under a hundred.”

They finished eating, and were wrapped in bear huge from Lenny who demanded she come to drop off the herbs when they were ready. And with that, they were on their way.

Sam pulled back into Stars Landing well after the sun had set. Anna was in the passenger seat, her head against the seat and her legs curled up under her, facing him. She had been fast asleep for almost an hour. Stop after stop, he watched her grow in confidence, informing customers about amounts and rates like a seasoned professional. When she stepped out of her shell, she was an impressive business force.

He pulled the car into his driveway. Why he didn’t drive her to her house was beyond him. He shut off the engine and slid closer to her, his hand landing on her thigh and rubbing.

Her eyes opened slowly as if she didn’t want to leave a good dream. “I fell asleep,” she said quietly and he chuckled.

“Yes you did.”

“What time is it?” she asked, sitting up quickly and his hand fell onto the seat.

“It’s after eight,” he answered and watched her look around, confused from sleep. “We’re at my house. I’m gonna feed you before I bring you home.”

Sam led her into his house, flicking on lights as they walked through each room. They stepped into the kitchen and Anna dropped down on a chair at the kitchen table. Sam moved around the kitchen, grabbing things out of cabinets and the refrigerator.

He looked over at Anna and noticed she was staring up toward the ceiling wistfully. He smiled to himself. “Go ahead,” he said, reading her mind. “I know you want to.”

Anna smiled, jumping out of her chair and racing toward the staircase. “There are old oversized shirts in my dresser,” he called to her. “they will probably fit you like a dress.” He knew it was wrong of him. He had her clothes she had left last time all washed and folded for her. And she would probably want those panties pretty badly, but he liked the idea of her naked underneath his old t-shirt better.