Page 53 of Sugar & Shadows

“Let’s focus on the farms and the farmers,” I said, “but a little eye candy never hurts.”

Without my permission, my mind flashed to the very naked and very chiseled chest of our mayor.

Shit. I closed my eyes to block it out. The last thing I needed was a sex flashback mid-meeting. But as useless as he was, he was good-looking, and if we could get him to shake his ass on the internet, he’d probably go viral.

I inhaled deeply, collecting myself. “All good suggestions.”

“We can set up a sugar shack cam. A snow cam. Maybe a foliage cam,” Harper went on. “We can have seasonal variations to get people excited all year.”

“We’re going to build a maple-based surveillance state?” Meg asked. “I love it.”

“What about the Falls?” Marigold asked. “A lot of people love our history. Why don’t we lean into that?”

Lips pressed together, I considered it. The legend of Lover’s Leap falls was a big deal here. A legend specific to this region that every citizen could probably retell in great detail.

“It’s romantic,” Nina muttered, “and tragic.”

“Think it would be a good idea? Will people love the old-school New England charm?”

I chewed on my pen. “Yes. A story about star-crossed lovers and war could be gold. Add it to the list.”

“I’ve got connections with a couple of dairy farms. They’d probably be up for getting involved. Maybe activities centered around cheese?” Nina offered.

“We need to get the maple farmers on board too. Direct engagement is the best plan,” I said, “but we have to make it work for them economically. If we want their help, we need to ensure they’re supported in return.”

I moved over to the whiteboard and added to the list Harper had started.

We added maple passports, maple weddings, maple mixology, and sap subscription boxes to it. Marigold suggested partnering with the distillery for maple whiskey events. And my mom, of all people, insisted we consider creating a reality TV show about maple farmers.

“What about a documentary?” Meg offered. “Remember that all-female crew that exposed how the organic farms in Virginia had been put out of business?”

My breath caught. I’d forgotten about that. The governor had hired me to shut them down so his constituents wouldn’t discover that he had been taking buckets of cash from the agrochemical companies before his senate campaign.

“Senator Fuckface,” Meg said with glee. “They’re good. And this is their thing.”

They’d made the documentary even with the roadblocks we’d thrown up. And Meg was right; they’d done a damn good job.

“I can’t reach out,” I said, my stomach twisting.

“I can,” she replied. “One bonus to what I do is how often I go unnamed in projects like that one.”

With a concerned frown, my mother shook her head.

“Okay. Thank you, ladies.” I studied our ragtag team. Harper, who was young and brilliant. Nina, my sharp observer. Laurie, steady and grounding and always ready to help. And then there was Marigold, our walking archive of secrets. And, of course, Meg, chaotic and lethal.

We weren’t a team. We were a weapon.

And whatever happened, it wouldn’t be boring.

Chapter 14

Sabrina

The snow this morning was light and fluffy, with thick, beautiful flakes swirling through the air. As I trudged down the sidewalk in my mom’s snow boots, I felt like I’d gotten trapped inside a charming snow globe. The storefronts and laughing children against the backdrop of the beautiful mountains made for a dreamy scene.

Though it was quickly ruined by the presence of recall signs in every snow-covered yard and plastered in every shop window. They ranged from the simple Recall Harding to the defensive Save Mayor Gabe to the bizarre Recall Harding! Our pancakes are sad.

Hand lettered and printed, half buried in icy precipitation, but all signaling a growing divide between citizens.