In the Weeds (Lovelight #2)(45)

That’s how Josie answers the phone as I begin my treasure hunt across the farm. I snort a laugh. “I did not.”

She breathes out a sigh, long and gusting. “What are you even doing out there?”

Going on a scavenger hunt for bits of happiness, apparently. I round the pumpkin patch and refer back to my map. Beckett has drawn a little dotted line that crosses the next field in a zigzag pattern. I take three big steps to the left and then tilt to the right. I look down at my boots and notice this field is more marshy than the last, a somewhat solid stretch of ground moving at a crisscross right through the center of it. I smile.

“I’m figuring it out,” I answer. I am, I think. If I’m not out in the field with Beckett, I’m somewhere else in town. I’ve had a steady stream of consulting requests since I arrived in town and I’ve accepted payment in the forms of lattes and secondhand books. It’s working out well for me.

I don’t feel the same suffocating pressure when I’m helping someone else. I’m not stuck in my head, trapped in an endless cycle of over analyzing every detail. It’s slower, more relaxed.

I like it.

“I noticed you posted the other day.”

Just a short video. A mash-up of clips from my wandering around town. A half-eaten croissant on a chipped plate. Flower petals drifting through the air. Dane staring at Matty over the counter at the pizza shop like he hung the damn moon. Sandra McGivens belly laughing on the sidewalk.

Bits and pieces of a normal, extraordinary day. Just like I used to.

“Also, Kirstyn called. You owe me a raise for not ending that conversation with a string of expletives. She wanted to know if you’ve looked at any of her emails.”

“I haven’t.” The longer I stay away from my inbox, the more clear it is to me that I need to end my relationship with Sway. I don’t think I can ever sit through a meeting about the Okeechobee music festival again. I’ve known it for a while now. The time away has made that decision easier to make. “I think we’re going to be done with Sway,” I tell Josie.

Her relief reaches through the phone. “Thank god. Can I be the one to end it? I’ll do it right now.”

“No,” I laugh. “I’ll set up a meeting for when I get back.”

“Which is when?”

I stop in the middle of the muddy field I’m walking through and look up at the rolling hills lined with trees. I can just make out the sounds of a rumbling tractor in the distance, the figures of people working in the field. I wonder if Barney is needling Beckett. If Prancer is on her throne at the back of the tractor.

I don’t feel ready to leave this place yet. For the first time in a long time, I’m content standing still.

“I don’t know,” I reply faintly. “I still don’t know.”

“That’s alright,” Josie assures me. “I’m actually glad you called. I wanted to talk to you about something I saw in your inbox.”

I start walking again. “Yeah?”

“Remember how I told you Sway was screening your messages?”

Not exactly unexpected, as that was a big reason why I signed up for their services. I wanted someone else to sort through for potential. I was also tired of the trolls and the comments and the never ending criticism. “I do.”

“I’ve been sifting through to see if there’s anything interesting and I have a few new places for you to check out, when you’re ready for that. But what really caught my attention was a guy named Theo from the U.S. Small Business Coalition. Has he reached out to you before?”

I rack my brain. “I don’t think so.”

“He’s been pretty persistent. Said he tried to call through Sway and wasn’t able to leave a message. Anyway, he thinks you’d be a good fit for a new initiative they’re launching. I think you should give him a call.”

“Like a partnership thing?”

“Not exactly. I think it’s a position within their organization.”

That would be a new direction. I never went back to exploring traditional jobs after my string of horrible interviews right out of school. I always liked being my own boss too much.

“I’ll think about it. Send me his contact information.”

“Sure. As soon as you send me a picture of your hot landlord.”

I snort a laugh and continue carefully wandering my way across the muddy field. “He’s not my landlord.”

“Interesting part of the sentence to contradict,” Josie replies. “I gotta go. I’m meeting my mom for a run.”

I glance at my watch. It can’t be much later than six in the morning on the west coast. But Josie has always been an early riser. “Godspeed.”

I tuck my phone back in my pocket and continue following the map, snickering at Beckett’s doodles. I laugh at a collection of wavy lines scribbled on the paper, supposed to be a cluster of bushes right before a dip in the landscape hides everything from view. I crest another small hill and then I see it. Exactly what Beckett intended for me to find.

A field of wildflowers, rolling out from the base of the hill in a patchwork quilt of color. Blue and purple and a smattering of rich gold, the sight of it so quietly beautiful that I don’t hesitate to walk right in the middle of it all and lay flat on my back. They must have bloomed to life during the last string of warm days, still standing tall despite the cold. Resilient. Stunning.