Chapter 3 - Snowbound at McAllister PineBefore I could process his words, a heavy gust of wind rattled the bedroom windowpanes.
Outside, the gentle snowfall had transformed into a howling Vermont blizzard. White sheet-like drifts blew across the pine tree fields, burying the driveway under three feet of heavy snow.
Miriamâs voice echoed up the staircase: âThe main county road is closed! State troopers just shut down the pass!â
I was trapped.
For six weeks, according to the contract, I was supposed to play the dutiful fiancée to secure a crucial loan for McAllister Pine Farm. But now, trapped inside the snowbound farmhouse, the lines between our past lie and our present truth began to dissolve rapidly.
The following morning, the farm was a hive of activity. Buyers from across New England were arriving for the annual winter cut-tree market, and the bankâs lead loan officerâa stern, sharp-eyed man named Harrison Vanceâwas scheduled to inspect the operations on Monday.
Despite my anger at Noah, I couldn't watch his family farm fail.
I put on a heavy wool coat, leather boots, and stepped out into the main timber barn. I took charge of the floral arrangements, designing breathtaking winter wreaths woven with fresh Fraser fir, eucalyptus, dried berries, and velvet ribbons.
The farm workers marvelled at my speed and artistry.
Noah stood near the barn entrance, holding a wooden crate, watching me work.
A wealthy corporate buyer from New York stepped up to my worktable, admiring a grand mantel arrangement I had just finished. âThis is exquisite! Who designed this?â
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Noah stepped forward, a proud, warm smile illuminating his handsome face. He placed his hand gently over the small of my backâa touch that sent a jolt of electricity through my spine.
âMy wife,â Noah answered smoothly, looking directly into my eyes. âEleanor is the heart of this farm.â
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