One Old Thread, One New Spring

Chapter 4: A Different Kind of Spring

The next week, I stopped sleeping more than four hours at a time.

I made lists in the margins of the wholesale calendar. I called suppliers about overdue invoices. I checked the furnace temperature every two hours, though the technician had already replaced the control unit. I learned which staff members had heard the sale announcement and which ones had been too busy unloading flats to notice.

I didn't tell them Caleb had used my signature. I told them the sale was under review.

That was the most honest thing I could say without making the greenhouse feel like it was already gone.

On Monday, I met with our staff in the break room. There were seven of us, including me. Caleb didn't come.

"Northline has asked to inspect the property," I said. "I haven't approved the sale. Until the lawyers have reviewed the paperwork, we're operating as usual."

Marta, who had worked here since my mother's last summer, folded her arms. "Is the business closing?"

"Not today."

"That isn't the same as no."

"No," I said. "It isn't."

A few people looked down at their coffee. I could not promise them a future I did not control.

"I can promise your paychecks will be on time this week," I added. "If that changes, I'll tell you before you hear it from anyone else."

Marta nodded once. It wasn't trust. It was a chance to earn some.

That afternoon, Caleb arrived with Elise Ward from Northline. He had not called ahead.

I met them at the front counter. Elise wore a pale gray coat and carried a slim leather folder. Caleb stood beside her, hands in his pockets.

"June," Elise said. "Thank you for meeting with us."

"I didn't agree to an inspection."

"We're not here to enter the growing areas. We'd like to talk."

"Then we can talk here."

Caleb's smile was strained. "We just want to make the transition easier."

"Which transition?"

Elise glanced at him, then back at me. "The purchase option covers the business assets and property. We've already spent money on preliminary engineering and environmental assessments. Our team understood that both owners were aligned."

"You saw a signature page with my name on it."

"We did."

"Did you speak to me?"

"No. Caleb represented that he had your authorization."

"Did you ask him to show you the authorization?"

She closed the folder. "We reviewed what was provided."

"That isn't an answer."

Elise's expression stayed pleasant. "I understand this is a difficult moment."

"Do you?"

"I know these transactions can put pressure on a family."

I looked at Caleb. He was staring at the pots behind the counter.

"This isn't about pressure," I said. "I didn't consent."

"June, we can address any concerns in the contract process," Elise said. "But the option is in effect until the end of the month. We'd prefer to continue in good faith."

"Then send all requests through Avery Cole."

"Of course."

Elise turned to leave. Caleb stayed behind.

"You didn't have to embarrass me in front of her," he said.

"I didn't tell her anything she didn't already know."

"You're making an enemy of Northline."

"They're not my friends."

"They could have given us a way out."

"Us?"

He dropped his voice. "We need the money, June."

"We need the money because you let the business fall behind while you planned a sale."

"I kept it afloat."

"You kept it afloat long enough to hand it to someone else."

He leaned toward me. "You don't know everything."

"Then tell me."

He glanced toward the front window. Elise had reached the SUV but was waiting by the driver's door.

"I can't explain it here."

"You could explain it in the house. You could have explained it before you signed my name."

His face tightened. "I'm trying to keep us from losing everything."

I wanted to believe him. That was the worst part. The old habit remained: when Caleb looked worried, I wanted to fix whatever was frightening him. But I had begun to understand that worry was not the same as honesty.

"If you want to help," I said, "give Avery everything you sent Martin."

"I will."

"Today."

He left without answering.

Before closing, I took a turn through the seedling bay. A tray of sweet peas had started to climb the stakes we'd put in last week. Their thin green tendrils curled around whatever they found. They did not distinguish between support and a trap.

I untangled one tendril gently and guided it toward the twine.

Some things could still be redirected.

That didn't mean they could be made to grow the way they had before.