A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to announce myself until I’ve had a chance to talk it all through with Grandad and we’ve decided what we’re going to say. With what’s happened to Mum it isn’t going to be easy for him, so I’ll be guided by what he wants.’

Even though he’d told his friend at the library about me, I still wanted to talk to him before I started saying anything.

‘Right,’ said Bec. ‘Of course.’

I couldn’t help noticing she’d turned a little pink.

‘So,’ she said, flicking open her order pad and pulling my thoughts back to my rumbling tum. ‘What can I get you?’

I eventually settled on a trio of fruit and cream cheese breakfast pastries and strong coffee to accompany them. They were absolutely delicious. The pastry was crisp, the cheese was soft and the tang of the fruit cut through the sweetness, creating the perfect balance.

‘What did you think?’ asked the woman who cleared my empty plate, poured me more coffee and introduced herself as Jemma, the café owner.

‘Scrumptious,’ I told her. ‘Delicious.’

She flushed with pride.

‘They’re a new addition,’ she explained. ‘And they’re going down a storm.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘The only thing I’m not happy about is the fruit,’ she quietly said. ‘I’m trying to buy local, but the commercial farms all supply in such large quantities. They won’t take smaller orders.’

She sat down in the chair opposite mine and her smile grew.

‘I don’t suppose you’d be able to help me out with that, would you? Bec mentioned that you’ve just moved to Fenview Farm. You’re Bill’s granddaughter, aren’t you?’

I looked across to where Bec was standing. She looked even pinker than before and I guessed she’d let the cat out of the bag. She looked so upset that it felt impossible to be cross with her, especially as she might have found the farm some new business.

‘To tell you the truth,’ Jemma continued, ‘I wasn’t sure the farm was still trading, but Chris Dempster who sells fruit and veg on the market has told me its’s still operational and that last year he and Jake at Skylark Farm took most of the crops to sell on your Grandad’s behalf.’

‘It certainly is still operational and we grow a whole range of fruit,’ I told her. ‘We’ve got apples, pears, plums, a few cherries, strawberries and a good range of other soft fruit.’

‘That sounds perfect,’ she said, her eyes sparkling. ‘Just what I was hoping. I want to supply seasonal and local in here and I’m looking to forge permanent links with a reputable small-scale grower. I’m willing to adapt the menu to whatever’s available and if that’s only for a short while, then that’s fine too, because it will make it even more special.’

‘But what about things like the pastries I’ve just had?’ I asked. ‘Won’t you want to sell those all year round?’

‘Well yes,’ she said. ‘But I have enough freezer capacity to make that possible.’

She certainly sounded like she’d got it all worked out and it was obvious her business was thriving. In the time I’d been sitting there, the place had filled to capacity, as had the tables outside.

‘So, what do you think?’ she asked, her voice full of hope. ‘Do you think we could strike a deal where Fenview Farm supplies the Cherry Tree Café fruit? It sounds like a winning combination to me.’

It sounded like a winning combination to me too. I was excited at the prospect of working with this clever and clearly competent business woman.

‘I’ll have to talk to my grandfather,’ I told her, reining my feelings in and erring on the side of caution. It wasn’t my place to sign the harvest away, even though I was tempted to. ‘Just to be certain he hasn’t got contracts lined up elsewhere, but I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.’

‘Fantastic,’ she smiled, as a woman with red curls came bouncing over the café threshold and set the bell above the door jangling wildly. ‘And there’s no real rush. As long as I can get my hands on some fresh, local strawberries, I’ll be happy. They must be well on their way to ripening now.’

I smiled back, my heart skipping at the thought of what this opportunity could do for Fenview. If we could form a lasting collaboration with the café, then it could make a big difference to the farm and really raise its profile.

‘Sorry I’ve taken so long,’ said the curly haired woman, who was dressed in a pretty floral tea dress which clashed gloriously with her hair. ‘I’m having a total mare this morning.’

‘This is Lizzie,’ Jemma said to me. ‘My business partner and she isn’t usually so flustered. Whatever’s the matter?’ she asked, turning to her friend.

Lizzie stood with her hands on her hips and explained. Her other half, Ben, had booked a table at a restaurant they had been trying to get into for months but the local taxi firm had let them down and they’d had to cancel because they had no transport. Their own car was in the garage awaiting repairs so they couldn’t get there under their own steam.

‘You didn’t need to do that,’ said Jemma. ‘Tom would have driven you.’

‘But you’ve got that event at school tonight,’ said Lizzie. ‘So that wouldn’t have worked.’

‘What about your dad?’

‘It’s too late now and besides, we wouldn’t have wanted to eat knowing we were on a timer because he was waiting to ferry us home.’

‘I suppose not,’ said Jemma.

‘What we need,’ Lizzie pouted, ‘is somewhere nice to eat around here in the evenings. The pub and other places are all well and good, but I want something a bit different every now and again. Something unique.’

‘Well,’ said Jemma, standing up. ‘I’m not opening in the evenings. It’s all I can do to drag myself home at the end of the day.’

‘I wasn’t meaning here,’ said Lizzie. ‘It would be nice to occasionally get out of town, wouldn’t it? But not so far