Page 70 of More Than This Land

“Pie’s fresh. Strawberry rhubarb.”

Claire’s stomach rumbled in response. She’d worked through lunch, too focused on helping a family restructure their farm debt to remember to eat. “Save me a slice?”

“Already done.”

She weaved around the busy room, sliding between tables filled with families. Several retired ranchers who treated Miss Jo’s place like a social club lined the counter, munching on fries and chatting about hay prices. Claire recognized most of them and could name their grandchildren and their coffee preferences and which ones had bad knees that acted up before storms.

Luke sat in the back booth with Wade and Ruth, his head bent over paperwork spread across the table. He looked up when she approached, and the smile that crossed his face sent her heart racing every single time. Three months. She almost couldn’t believe the passage of time. Their worlds had collided so shockingly at first but since that night outside Billings, it all came together.

“Hey.” He slid over to make room, his hand finding hers as she settled beside him. The contact was automatic. Natural. His thumb traced circles on her palm while he turned back to the documents.

“Sorry I’m late.” She leaned into his shoulder.

“How’d it go?” Ruth looked over the top of her reading glasses, pushing aside the notepad covered in her neat handwriting.

“Good. We worked out a payment plan with the bank that should keep them afloat through harvest.” They’d told Claire it was okay to share the good news, otherwise she would have claimed it as confidential information.

“That family’s been through a lot.” Wade tapped his pen against the table. “Glad you could help them.”

“That’s what the office is for.” She still marveled at how quickly her client list had grown. Word of mouth in Covenant Creek meant she’d barely had to advertise. People came to her because they knew her, trusted her, and after everything with Luke, they understood she cared about more than their bottom line.

Miss Jo appeared with coffee and pie, setting plates in front of Claire and Luke without being asked. “Don’t let my good food go to waste. Eat.”

“Yes ma’am.” Luke picked up his fork, but his attention pulled on the papers. “Mom was saying we should expand the outreach beyond the freezer program.”

“Community garden.” Ruth pulled out a hand-drawn diagram. “Graham’s been doing research. Says we have the land and the water rights. We could grow vegetables, donate what we harvest to families who need it, and use it to teach kids about agriculture.”

Claire studied the diagram. The garden would sit on the south side of the property, near enough to the main house for easy access but far enough away not to interfere with operations. “That’s ambitious.” She loved this about them. Their heart and desire to help never failed to amaze her.

And she had become part of that, thanks to Granny Mama and Luke.

Luke swallowed a bite of pie and wiped his mouth. “Graham’s already excited about it. He wants to start small this year, maybe a quarter acre, and expand if it works.”

“What about labor? Someone has to plant and maintain it.” She asked the obvious question while cutting off a slice of pie.

“Church volunteers.” Ruth flipped to another page in her notebook. “Pastor Mark and I talked. There are families who’d love to help in exchange for fresh produce. And the youth group could use it as a summer service project.”

Wade leaned back in the booth; his arm stretched along the seat behind Ruth. “We’d need to budget for seeds, tools, fencing to keep the deer out. But it’s doable.”

“Let me run the numbers.” Claire pulled her own notebook from her bag. “I can give you a preliminary budget by Monday.”

They spent the next forty minutes discussing logistics. Luke handled the operational side, taking care of where to source materials, which volunteers to approach, and how to schedule planting around the ranch’s existing workload. But he also asked questions about people. Who might benefit most from being involved? Which families at church were struggling and might appreciate the fresh food? How could they make sure the project built community instead of just producing vegetables?

Claire watched him navigate both aspects with ease and sat with her chin in her cupped hand. The Luke she’d met six months ago would have reduced this to a spreadsheet, calculated ROI, and made decisions based on efficiency. Luke asked about Mrs. Patterson’s arthritis and whether she could still bend to plant seeds, then suggested raised beds so she could participate.

“That’s perfect.” Ruth’s eyes flashed, her love for her son evident in the way she squeezed his arm. “She’d love that.”

“We could build them in April,” Luke continued, making notes. “Before planting season. If we get the youth group involved in construction, we can make it a teaching moment.”

Wade caught Claire’s eye across the table. He nodded once, a small gesture that communicated volumes. Thank you. For this. For him.

She nodded back. It hadn’t been just her. Luke had to want to change, and he’d found that part of himself that needed to be different.

The meeting wrapped up as the dinner crowd arrived. Wade gathered the papers and tucked them into a folder while Ruth added a few final notes to her list.

They stood, and Ruth pulled Claire into a quick hug. “Sunday dinner tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” She’d spent every Sunday for the past three months at the ranch. It had become tradition. Church in the morning and lunch at the Calloway house, followed by a lazy afternoon hanging around while the brothers argued and Wade dozed in his recliner and Ruth fussed over everyone.