Chapter One
The ground seemed to sway underneath Hilary Larkin’s feet as she stepped through the gate in Duluth International Airport. She made her way to the main corridor, setting her sights on theWelcome to Minnesota!kiosk ahead. The flight had been awful. Flying was the worst on agoodday.
Tugging her suitcase beside her, Hilary took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. The smell of diesel and fried foods from Big Jim’s BBQ across the way wasn’t the best combination for her already nauseous stomach. While she tried to get her bearings, the other passengers from her flight dispersed in all directions like a disturbed anthill.
Her phone dinged. She took it out of her pocket. The screen lit up with a message from her sister-in-law Jorie.
Missed the flight. I’ll send an update later. Sorry.
Hilary shook her head. Running late was such a Jorie thing, but it wasn’t her fault this time. Jorie’s father—Hilary’s father-in-law—came down with pneumonia last week and was hospitalized two days ago, tossing all plans in the air. Cal Larkin’s health took precedence over some conference. Hilary would make the best of it and cross her fingers Jorie could catch another flight as soon as possible.
She checked the overhead sign once again and headed down the long corridor. The flight had been on time despite the rough start. She had fifteen minutes to find her suitcase before the pick-up time listed on her itinerary. As she walked, her lightheadedness faded. She concentrated on the click of her boots on the tile floor and grumbled to herself about her dislike for airports. Ahead, the corridor intersected with the baggage claim area. She stopped to scan yet another overhead sign, this time noting the carousel numbers, until she found the one connected with her flight.
She set her shoulder bag at her feet and stuck her hands in her coat pockets to wait. A few dozen people were already there.
“Are you here for the farm conference?”
She’d been so busy stewing about being here alone, especially since Jorie signed her up for this, that she didn’t sense anyone nearby.
Hilary turned. The young woman who’d sat across the aisle from her on the flight from Grand Forks stood there. Her upbeat voice and friendly face were contagious. Hilary smiled back.
“Yes. First time in Minnesota too.” How did the woman know she was here for the conference? Then it dawned on her. Larkin Farms was embroidered across the back of her jacket.
“Where are you from?” the woman asked.
Hilary cleared her throat. “A town not too far from Boise called Redville.” Her voice cracked. She hadn’t done much talking since boarding the flight at six that morning.
“I grew up in the northern part of Minnesota but live in North Dakota now,” the woman said.
Hilary nodded. She wasn’t very good at the chitchat.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the cavernous mouth with the black strips of rubber part as suitcases rolled toward them on the belt. Hilary watched for the blue length of satin ribbon she’d tied to her suitcase handle.
“Here’s mine.” The woman stopped the bag on the belt before heaving it over the edge and onto the floor. “I’ll wait for you.”
Relief eased the anxious knot in her stomach. Hilary wouldn’t have to wander through this strange airport alone, looking for the contact person.
“I’m Meg, by the way. Meg Willson.”
“Hilary Larkin. Nice to meet you.” Now that they faced one another, Hilary recognized the pin Meg wore on the lapel of her blazer right away. The white-and-gold ear of corn on a red background. The Gold Standard Seed decal. Her husband had sold their products. Hilary swallowed hard and looked away.
Meg went on. “My family raises sheep and a small herd of alpacas. My mother is a fiber artist. And Mom found out there’s a fiber artist at the conference too, so she’s over the moon about that.” Meg looked around. “She’s here somewhere. Must still be in the restroom.” She shrugged and leaned on the handle of her suitcase. “Anyway, we hosted a holiday open house in our refurbished barn.Hugeturnout last November at the start of the Christmas season. So that got us thinking about expanding. You know, giving classes on spinning, weaving, hosting artist groups. Stuff like that.”
Hilary exhaled through her nose. While thankful for Meg’s company, she could do with a little less conversation. Her bag finally appeared on the belt, the blue ribbon a beacon of relief. She stepped forward to claim it, lugging its weight onto the floor. It landed with a thud.
Meg looked down at the suitcase. She giggled. “I have a tendency to overpack too. It’s a security thing. You know, bringing those familiar comforts to offset the stress of being somewhere new.”
The woman was trying to be helpful, but Hilary didn’t need the reminder that home was fifteen-hundred miles away. Her hand clutching the suitcase handle was moist. Jorie owed her big.
Meg waved to someone across the room. “There’s my mom. You’ll have to meet her.”
Meg’s mother, Yandi, lumbered over a few seconds later, dragging a black orthopedic boot. She shook Hilary’s hand with a crushingly enthusiastic grip. The woman was taller than her already willowy daughter. Hilary flexed her hand at her side, feeling the bones settle back into their rightful places.
“I think we need to make our way to the front entrance. We’re looking for someone with a ‘Small Farms Conference/BPL’ sign,” said Meg, looking at the paper she’d pulled from her coat pocket.
“What’s BPL?” asked Yandi.
“Blueberry Point Lodge. The place that’s hosting the conference,” Hilary offered. The only bright spot of this conference she looked forward to so far was staying in the historic lodge. The place boasted gourmet meals, premium mattresses, and a short walk off the back patio to Lake Superior. If she could pretend it was a vacation instead of work, she’d be set.
