“Oh, there you are,” she said, smiling widely. “I was hoping I’d catch you at a good time.”
Mitch rose, keeping a careful hand on Emmy’s forearm to steady her as the swing rocked. “Glad you made it, Mrs. Markham.”
“Oh, I made it quite some time ago, but I’ve been so caught up in the celebrations, I haven’t had a chance to stop by your way.” She laughed and rubbed her belly. “I think the good food and great company slowed me down.”
Mitch smiled. “That I can understand.”
Bending, Dana held out her hand to Emmy. “I wanted to thank you for the pleasant afternoon, Mrs. Hart. I really enjoyed myself, as did a whole lot of other people.”
“You’re very welcome.” Emmy squeezed Dana’s hand, then patted it, her eyes tired. “I’m glad you joined us.”
Dana straightened. “I wanted to share some good news with all of you, if I might?”
“Of course.” Mitch waved a hand toward the empty cushion beside Emmy.
“Oh, no thank you. This won’t take but a second.” She flashed an excited smile in Kristen’s direction. “All three project managers stopped by earlier this afternoon. I bumped into them when I arrived. They were on their way out.”
Dylan stomped his feet on the porch floor, halting his rocking chair with a thump. “What’d they say? They still gonna take our house?”
Emmy sat up, a small cry escaping her as she eyed Dana.
“Dylan.” Wincing at the worried look on Emmy’s face, Mitch leveled a look at him. “Give Mrs. Markham a chance to speak, please.”
Dylan frowned. “Sorry. But are they?”
“Well, the official word won’t be released publicly until late next week, but . . .” Dana shook her head and smiled wider at Mitch. “They loved the alternate plans you and Kristen presented at the meeting and were even more impressed with today’s turnout and activities. They saw so much potential.” She reached out and squeezed Emmy’s hand again. “Hart’s Hollow Farm is going to stay right where it belongs. With you, Mrs. Hart.”
Emmy closed her eyes and released a heavy breath, a soft smile appearing. “Thank you, Dana. Thank you so much.”
Dana shook her head again. “The real thanks goes to all of you. The Hart family saved Hart’s Hollow Farm, not me.”
The sheer look of happiness on Emmy’s face and the shouts of joy from Sadie and Dylan were worth every backbreaking hour of work.
Mitch slipped his hand along Kristen’s forearm that rested on the chair’s armrest, and wound his fingers with hers. She looked up at him and smiled, but there was a heaviness behind her look of pleasure. An emotion he couldn’t pin down and identify.
“I hate to run, but I need to head out,” Dana said. “There’s a lot of work to be done to prep for the new project.” She paused on her way back down the steps and glanced over her shoulder. “It was a wonderful day.”
“The best,” Mitch said. When she left, he returned to Emmy’s side on the porch swing, his heart turning over at the happy tears in her eyes. “You don’t have to worry anymore, Emmy. You’re home for good.”
She dabbed her wet cheeks with her fingertips. “We have to tell Joe. He’ll be so happy.”
Mitch froze, the exhilarating joy lifting his spirits moments before now faltering.
“Kristen”—Emmy craned her neck, looking past Mitch—“I want you with me when we tell him, okay?” Her hands moved restlessly in her lap, plucking at the seam of her skirt. “We’ll have to catch him as soon as he comes in tonight. He’ll be tired, but it’ll be worth keeping him up awhile to tell him.”
The helpless look on Kristen’s face made Mitch’s hands tense against his knees. “Emmy.” He eased closer on the swing, sifting through words in his mind, weighing the options. “Joe won’t be with us tonight.”
A flash of panic appeared in her eyes; then she firmed her mouth. “Of course he will. He’s just late, is all. Stays out too long lately, if you ask me.” She turned her head, brow creasing, and stared at the porch rail. “Probably just got held up in one of the fields, or he might be at his thinking place, you know?” A faint smile appeared. “He likes to mull things over. Joe’s always been careful about making decisions.”
“Em—”
Several loud pops reverberated across the grounds, and a collective whoop rose up from the crowds gathered on the front lawn and several yards out in the empty stretch of field. Bright bursts of color streaked the night sky, and thick trails of smoke curled up behind them.
Emmy jumped, her hands clutching around his arms and her nails digging into his skin. “Mitch! The thunder . . . Joe won’t make it back.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly, leaning close and cupping her elbows. “There’s no thunder. The fireworks have started, that’s all.”
The sharp pops continued, then transitioned into slow booms as the larger pyrotechnics exploded high above the fields, the dazzling sparkles cascading downward in a glittery array of light. Emmy shook in his hold, her fingers curling tighter around his flesh.