Page 125 of Never Let You Go

“I don’t understand why Rita never wanted to come back,” she tells me when we’re settled at Easy Monday.

I glance around nervously. The place is empty, except for Millie “making our day awesome” by fixing our drinks, and Noah, the owner of the general store, who’s here with a man in a suit. They’re far enough away, in deep leather-like couches, seeming to mind their own business, but you never know. That’s three people who can hear us. “Shh. People can hear you.”

“Okay,” she whispers loudly, rolling her eyes. Then, “I wonder where that red barn is.”

“What—oh. From the logo? Do you think it’s from around here?” I whisper back.

She shrugs. “That’s the story. Maybe not.”

Yeah, maybe not. Everything about Red Barn Baking, the company, is so fake. I didn’t use to see it that way. It took coming here to open my eyes. Maybe that was why Rita needed me to come here. To fix things.

I need to talk with Barbara about this, but Easy Monday is probably not the ideal place.

Thankfully, Noah and the other man stand up to leave. Noah trails behind. “Alex, nice to see you,” he says, nodding at Barbara with a smile. He’s handsome and soft spoken, almost to the point of being shy. All I know about him is that his family owns the general store, and he’s the Chairperson of the Chamber of Commerce. “I heard you were looking for some side work. Social media and things? That true?”

My hands flutter with excitement. “Yes! Are you interested? For the store? I love your store. We could do sooo much just with the local products. The leather work gloves, the carved wood, the alpaca sweaters, the maple syrups from several farms. Oh my god and the new pottery line made by Willow’s friend? And then there’s your family, the historic building… I could create content for three years without ever repeating myself!”

He blushes and I realize he’s very young. He always looks so put together. “Yeah, we’re also talking with a glass blower, some young guy starting out. But uh, we wanted to talk to you at the Chamber. We’re looking at ways for businesses to pool their efforts.”

“I love it! Yes, that makes perfect sense. Something cohesive, to bring more visitors to the town.”

“She’s awesome,” Millie says strolling up from behind the counter. “Autumn told me she got three new clients in two weeks just from the posts Alex made on her social accounts! Big jobs too. One of them is a whole house. A second home, owners are from Boston.” Her eyes shine with excitement for Autumn.

Noah nods silently and glances at Barbara, then looks back at me. “I’m sorry to impose. Maybe we can meet later? Everyone’s been talking you up. And we’d rather give the job to someone local.”

Happiness lodges in my heart. Working with small businesses, living in Emerald Creek, sound like a dream life, the stuff fantasies are made of.

After he leaves, Barbara comments. “Hmm. Someone local, huh? So, you’re staying?”

“That’s too much for me to think about at this point.” Like Christopher said, I can’t focus on all the balls I have in the air right now. “First, I need to figure out what to do with Red Barn. That’s all I can think of right now.”

“Holler if you need anything,” Millie calls out from behind the counter. “I’ll be next door.” Next door is 420, the weed shop Millie just opened.

“Let me settle, then,” Barbara offers, rummaging through the pockets of her coat.

“On the house!” Millie says with a hand wave as she leaves.

Now we’re totally alone.

“Okay. Let’s get this out of the way,” Barbara says. “Red Barn. What are your thoughts?”

I take a deep breath to calm down. I have given it some thought, but I’ve been needing someone to brainstorm with. This is my chance to find out if my ideas hold any weight. Any possibility. Here we go. “Down the line, and in a nutshell, each bakery would be owned and operated by a baker. These bakers will automatically become part of a co-op that owns the rest of Red Barn’s assets—the mills, trucks, etc. Red Barn Baking provides training, technical support, and zero-interest loans to buy the bakeries. There would need to be some sort of mechanism to ensure that these bakers follow some quality guidelines, like buying supplies locally as much as possible.”

I take a breath. Barbara hasn’t interrupted me yet. That’s a good sign, right? “We offload the overhead by closing the New York headquarters. Management works from home, with stipends to get set up with a home office. We organize regional training, brainstorming sessions for products that are in tune with local traditions and culture. Our strength is to be locally owned, globally supported.” That’s a hodgepodge of my thoughts, unorganized.

Barbara’s eyes are narrowed on me. “That’s a lot.”

“I know. It’s a total redesign of how we consider bread and food in our society.”

“And where do you fit? What do you see yourself doing at Red Barn once the transformation is complete?”

I’ve already given this a lot of thought, and what Noah said earlier confirmed my decision. “I want out of Red Barn as soon as possible. We’ll need to make that part of the plan of turning the company into a co-op. I see myself in a small town like this one, helping small businesses. That’s what brings me joy.”

Her eyes sparkle. “I like it.”

She likes it? Like, I’m not crazy, pie in the sky?

“But that’s going to take years,” she adds.

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