Or, no, maybe in his dream world, he never would’ve insisted on taking out a loan ten years ago to buy their current used harvester in the first place. But he’d been so sure back then they’d have it paid off long before now. Instead, they were still making payments while stuck in an endless loop of repairs.

Mr. Barrett ambled to his old Ford truck parked at the edge of the patchy lot in the center of a cluster of buildings—two barns, the machine shed, the cooling room where they stored winnowed berries until customers picked up their orders. A line of pine and birch trees behind the outbuildings hid the main house from view.

“A new one? You don’t even want to know. It makes much more sense to fix what you’ve got. With any luck, you can have it operational again for, oh, ten or fifteen thou.”

Fifteen thousand dollars? Neil would have more luck pushing back the tide than uncovering that kind of extra money from the farm’s meager accounts.

’Course, he could always dip into his own savings. Again. And push back your own plans. Again.

Mr. Barrett tugged open his truck door and slid in. He pulled out his keys but paused before turning the ignition. “You know, Neil, Carter Farms is always looking—”

“We’re not selling to Tatum Carter.”

“I’m not saying you should. But you wouldn’t be wrong to at least consider it. They’d do right by the land. You could sell the barrens but keep the house. That kind of money would set Maggie up for years to come and you could do, well, whatever you wanted. Whatever’s next.”

Neil gripped the edge of Mr. Barrett’s truck door. “This is my next, sir. This is all I’ve ever wanted.” This farm, this place, his family.

Except that wasn’t the whole truth of it. He had other thoughts—ideas for repurposing and reviving the farm. But Maggie never wanted to hear them. Never mind that he’d been setting aside his own money for years, praying, hoping for the day when she might trust him enough to—

A blur of color and movement in the trees snagged his attention. Indi wouldn’t be home for another day or two and Lilian was keeping longer and longer hours at her law office in town. Which meant that was probably Maggie, picking her way through the grove.

Where was she headed on a chilly day like this? Dusk wasn’t far off.

He turned back to Mr. Barrett. “Thanks for coming out. I really appreciate it.”

The older man’s eyes held kindness and compassion. “You’re a good man, Neil. Probably the hardest worker I’ve ever known. Maggie Muir’s lucky to have you.”

There were times he honestly wondered about that. Wondered if maybe somebody born to this land could’ve taken their farm from barely surviving to thriving in a way he still hadn’t managed to, even after all these years at the helm. Maybe he should’ve involved Lilian or Indi more in the day-to-day operations—after all, unlike him, they were legally Muirs, adopted years ago by Maggie. Whereas he’d been a gangly teen by the time he’d come to live here.