Finally, an answer I knew wasn’t up for argument. “I am not interested but thank you.”
At that, Miller finally smiled. “You’re saying your grandmother is wrong?”
“I’m saying I’m staying with her until I can find a rental, and I don’t need to rent a house from you.” The man would now be my boss.
“I heard last week Sylvie held a painting class at her home.”
“She’s always been an admirer of the arts.”
“This involved a nude male model from the senior center.”
I was on my feet in an instant. “Let’s go see this house.”
Chapter Six
“Hop in.” Miller folded his long legs into a Gator and patted the seat beside him.
Trees swayed in the spring breeze and birds chirped happy tunes as I regarded the mud-covered vehicle outside a barn. “Is the Bugatti in the shop?” I asked sweetly.
“No, it has a lunch date with my Learjet.” The engine revved when Miller’s tan hand turned the key. “Get in or walk. Choice is yours, but if you walk, be sure not to make eye contact with Captain Rage, my Hereford bull.”
My hip bumped Miller’s as I slid inside. “Carry on.”
As he drove us through a field, bypassing a perfectly good path, I was still fuming over Miller’s poor attitude over the job, as if my presence and the help I’d bring would be an intrusion.
I’d show him.
Did he honestly think his wildflowers and cattle were superior to the healing powers of horses? I’d put my previous therapy clinic on the map, so Miller had better buckle up for Hope Farms to be flooded with success. Heaped with healing. Drenched in trauma deliverance.
Oh, Lord help me.
I could not fail.
Miller pointed out highlights of the property, from the Christmas tree farm, which was a few years away from being ready, to acres of sunflowers that would show off in the fall. He waved at a scattering of men and women working the vegetable gardens, then explained how Hope Farms had started partnering with upscale restaurants in area towns to provide organic produce for their kitchens.
Hope Farms was a therapeutic farm, worked mostly by military veterans. The vets learned how to raise cattle, grow vegetables, or even tend beehives to produce jars of wild honey. Some folks stopped by as a break from their hectic world, while others found new skill sets and even parlayed their new farm knowledge into jobs. I knew counseling services were offered to all veterans who participated, but according to accounts from the farm’s website, the most interesting growth often happened when a veteran witnessed a calf’s birth, spent hours with hands immersed in the soil, or saw a field of flowers grow market-ready. The farm provided purpose, as well as training. I thought my equine-assisted therapy program would be the perfect addition, and so had the entire Hope Farms board. That had to count for something.
Just past the sunflower field, we came to a small white cottage. Surely it had been the main residence of the property many years ago, and it was within walking distance of the horse barn and main house.
Black shutters framed each window, and though the front porch sagged, it was as cheery as a hug. Ferns climbed from large hanging baskets, and rosebushes lined the cracked sidewalk that bid me to follow.
I stooped to smell a pink rose, disturbing a bee in the process. “The cottage is really cute.”
Grinning, Miller dug into his pocket for keys. “Adorable is what we go for out here.”
“If there’s a rental shortage in Sugar Creek,” I asked, “why is it available to me?”
He searched the key ring until he landed on one that looked big enough to open a treasure chest. “Because Sylvie said so.”
I laughed at that. “I love the front porch. It’s perfect for some vintage wicker chairs and sipping sweet tea.” Boards creaked their welcome as I stepped up and inspected the space. “You know what really belongs here though?” I pointed to the left of one window.
“A five-burner barbeque grill.”
“No, a swing. One of those daybed swings you can nap on. With cotton ticking and pillows the color of sunshine.”
Miller came up behind me, hands sunk into his pockets. “Sounds fussy.”
I shrugged it off, suddenly feeling silly. “That’s what Ned said when I wanted one back in Nashville. So I never bought one.”
