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Sophie stared up at the ceiling of the old cottage, wondering for the thousandth time if this had all been a mistake. She’d had a good job back in the city; not exciting, not interesting, but it had paid well and been secure. Her apartment had been cramped but the location was decent. Sure there were the roaches and the broken faucet that the landlord never fixed, but it hadn’t been that bad. Maybe she’d just needed a break. Maybe she should ask for her old job back, move back to the city, stop pretending this was a good idea.
The work on the old farm was difficult and often thankless. She’d had a decent harvest over the summer, but there were always so many uncertainties. She couldn’t be sure if her crops would continue to flourish or if they’d be taken by some pest. Her chickens or cow could suddenly fall ill and stop producing, leaving her with no return on that investment. She’d made good headway on clearing the land, but the back area was still choked with weeds and rocks that she never had time to clear away. Life on the island was by no means easy, and in fact it often felt like she was more stressed than she’d been in the city. What would she do if she couldn’t turn a profit here? Had she moved all the way out here just to be a failure in a new setting?
With a sigh, Sophie swung her legs out of bed and sat up, running a hand through her brown hair and resigning herself to another day. The pessimism wasn’t always this bad, but the overcast gray sky of early fall seemed to weigh on her mind. Sophie got dressed as she thought about the few friends she’d made during her few months on the island, wondering if anyone would be free to hang out that evening. Maybe she just needed a distraction.
Emerging from the cottage a short while later, she was surprised to see a new face peering at her crops. She’d thought she’d met everyone already, but this man with his short black hair and stubble and the large overcoat draped over his shoulders was a stranger.
“Er, can I help you?” Sophie asked, trying to summon as much politeness as she could at six in the morning.
The man straightened up and looked at her, raising an eyebrow and smirking. He had a self-satisfied air that made a horrible first impression. “I’m Bobby, of Beluga Bay,” he said, as though Sophie should know that. “I’ve just come to check out the competition for the harvest festival. But…” he took a look around, surveying the shambles of a farm. “It seems there isn’t any competition to speak of! Even for Starlet Town’s standards, this is dismal,” he added with a laugh. “But I guess if you want to embarrass yourself, that’s your call. See you at the competition! If you even end up submitting anything, that is,” Bobby said over his shoulder as he walked back in the direction of town.
Sophie stood on the porch, mouth hanging open as she watched him go. She’d never felt so disrespected, so dismissed, in her life. Anger burned within her, even more so because she’d been too caught off guard to speak up for herself. She exhaled sharply, clenching her jaw and looking out over the slapdash barn and coop and the bedraggled garden. Her anger cooled as a quiet, doubting voice inside her whispered, What if he’s right?
Scott liked Starlet Town’s festivals. Sure, they were kitschy and often more work to set up than they were worth, but celebrations like this gave a place culture, gave it personality. It was thanks to ancient festivals and rituals that many of the artifacts on display in the museum came to be; masks, musical instruments, ceremonial regalia. Who knows, maybe in hundreds of years someone would dig up a fossilized mooncake and learn something about their time.
He was just beginning to think of excuses to end the conversation he was having with Walter (the vineyard owner was an astute businessman, but he had a tendency to drone on) when he spotted Sophie approaching. She was carrying a crate full of produce, evidently to stock her competition display.
“Great to catch up, Walter, but I should go lend Sophie a hand,” Scott said quickly, patting the man on the shoulder as he made his exit.
Sophie had moved to town less than a year ago, even more recently than he, but they’d crossed paths quite often. It was thanks to her donations that the museum was even functional. They’d all been uncertain when news came that someone had bought the old farm, but Sophie had exceeded everyone’s expectations. It made a difference to have someone who was actually interested in working that land and giving back to the local community, rather than turning it into an apartment complex or corporate headquarters. Everyone in town talked about how nice she was, how helpful. She was a breath of fresh air on their poor polluted island. But she looked nervous now.
“Let me help you with that,” Scott said, jogging up to her and reaching to steady the crate she was carrying.
“I got it,” Sophie asserted quickly.
“You sure?” Scott asked carefully, backing off nonetheless. She looked overworked and exhausted.
“Yeah,” she said, continuing her way through the square, keeping her eyes fixed on the pavilion in the center where the competition would take place. “I… Sorry,” she said, looking at him with embarrassment. “It’s just, some of this is fragile. I’ve been working on this stuff for ages, and I just…”
Scott understood her concern; the harvest festival was apparently a big deal for farmers. Walter had been talking his ear off about Starlet Town’s longstanding rivalry with Beluga Bay. It made sense that Sophie would want to put her best foot forward. Not that she should be worried; the produce he’d seen at Sam’s from her farm was a hundred times better than the imported stuff. She’d win for sure.
“I see,” Scott said, a grin on his face as he tried to diffuse her nerves with a joke, “you fall through a glass display case one time, and all of a sudden you get a reputation for being clumsy.”
Sophie smiled at that, just like he’d wanted. He felt his heart skip a beat—probably just from all the sugar he’d had. She set her crate on the ground carefully and straightened up to look at him. “You have to admit, it was a pretty memorable moment,” she said, a hint of teasing in her voice. “And Charles has all those stories about you walking into doors…”
“I can’t believe he told you that,” Scott pouted theatrically. “Whatever happened to doctor-housemate confidentiality?”
Sophie just smiled and rolled her eyes at him as she began to set up her display. To his eyes, her produce looked much more appealing than the stuff in the other guy’s display. Who would want black honey?
“I’ll leave you to it,” Scott said, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he made his exit. “We’re all rooting for you!”
Sophie tried to enjoy the festival despite the churning in her stomach. She hadn’t expected to be so nervous; it wasn’t like she had to give a speech or do anything. She just had to stand up in front of all her new friends and neighbors and watch as one of the paragons of the agricultural community judged her work. Easy.
But in spite of her nerves, the evening was undeniably nice. A light breeze flowed off the lake, giving a perfect chill to the autumn air. The orange glow of the lanterns made everything look softer, more cozy. The scents of cinnamon and apply drifted through the square as she nibbled at a dessert and made idle conversation with Macy and Leah. But she always had one eye on the pavilion, where the results would be announced. Eventually, Jeff Smith (the Jeff Smith! From TV!) stepped up to the mic and called for everyone’s attention.
“Folks, it’s an honor to be with you here this evening,” Jeff said. “The celebration of the harvest is a time-honored tradition, but it’s important to remember that the produce and goods on display tonight are not just items; each of them tells a story. A story of the hard work, dedication, and passion displayed by our two farmers here—let’s give them a hand, shall we?”
The Starlet Town crowd erupted in cheers; some of the people standing near Sophie gave her a playful nudge or pat on the back. Across the square, she caught Scott’s eye and he smiled at her, looking charming as ever. Knowing he was watching made her heart flutter even more, for some reason.
She tried to smile, feeling a little bashful to have so many people looking at her. They were all counting on her to win, to end Starlet Town’s losing streak and stick it to Beluga Bay. No one would say it outright, but Sophie could read between the lines there. There was a competitive part of her that wanted to win and take Bobby down a peg, too. But unfortunately his display was impeccable; it seemed like he had the skills to back up all his hauteur.
“And now, it’s my privilege to announce the winner of this year’s harvest festival…Beluga Bay!”
Sophie felt her heart drop. She’d expected the result, of course, but it was still a blow to hear. Her display—a few mid-size pumpkins, duck’s eggs, and orchids—were nothing compared to the artisan goods Bobby had submitted. She had known this would happen, had known she was just playing at working the land here. What did she know about farming, anyway? She’d grown up in the city, this was no place for her.
Sophie’s thoughts swirled in a torrent of self-hatred, but she plastered a smile on her face and did her best to look composed. Bobby, on the other side of the pavilion, was crowing about his win.
“Hah!” Bobby exclaimed, triumphant. “We all knew how this would end, but it’s nice to make it official, I suppose.”
Sophie crossed to his side of the pavilion, arm outstretched to shake hands. “Well done, Bobby,” she said, trying her best not to sound humiliated.
He sneered at her as he gave a quick and dismissive handshake. “Yes, yes. I suppose this should count as my good deed for the year, shouldn’t it? Showing a greenhorn like you how it’s done? Daddy always said it’s important to model success for others.” He laughed, a sharp and grating sound that cut through the soft conversations of the crowd as people began to disperse. “Perhaps I’ll see you next year. If you’re delusional enough to enter the competition again, that is.” With that, he turned his back on Sophie and strode away, back to his group of bland-faced Beluga Bay sycophants.
Sophie knew, in a small corner of her mind, that she should be angry. She should march up to him and demand an apology, berate him for speaking to her that way. But she couldn’t summon the rage required for that. He had a point, as odious as he was. She didn’t belong here.
Suddenly the crowd and the noise of the festival seemed oppressive. She wanted to get out of here, back to the stillness and quiet of her farm. Of her mostly-empty field and rundown cabin, rather. Sophie put on a brave face for those few folks who hung around, trying to commiserate with her, but quickly made her exit and packed up her failed produce display. She made her way out of the square and headed back home without saying goodbye.
Scott was dumbstruck when he heard the announcement. Was that old man off his rocker? Sophie’s produce looked miles better than the tar-black honey and tiny, splotchy eggs Bobby had on display. He’d waited for a moment to see if it was, in fact, a joke, but people just began applauding politely. Sophie had put on a brave face, even gone to shake Bobby’s hand, but Scott could tell she was disappointed. She had every right to be. And Bobby was far from a gracious winner. The bits of conversation Scott overheard as the man loudly boasted to the other Beluga Bay residents made Scott furious. How dare this puffed-up jerk speak about Sophie that way? How dare he speak about Starlet Town that way? Hadn’t anyone ever taught him manners?
Before Scott could march over and give Bobby a piece of his mind, Mayor Connor called to him for assistance with one of the decorations that had fallen over. Probably for the best, Scott considered darkly. Getting into a shouting match wouldn’t change anything, and there was never any winning with a guy like Bobby.
As soon as the decorations were fixed, Scott looked around for Sophie. She must be feeling terrible now. But she was nowhere to be seen and her display in the pavilion had been cleared out. Scott asked around and learned she had been seen leaving just a few minutes before. The thought of her returning home alone in defeat sent a pang of sympathy through him. He headed for the farm without thinking.
The night was dark once he left the plaza with the museum and community center, but he made his way across the river until he got to the boundary of the farm. The lights in the cottage were off, and the only sounds were the wind through the sparse nearby trees and the hum of the last remaining cicadas and crickets. Scott looked around for a moment before he finally spotted Sophie sitting on the porch. The crate she’d been carrying lay on its side a few feet away, a broken jar and cracked pumpkin spilling out of it.
“Hey,” Sophie said flatly, her hollow voice breaking through the stillness of the night.
“Hey,” Scott said, feeling a little hesitant now. “Mind if I sit?”
“Sure.”
Scott took a seat next to her on the wooden steps. He wasn’t the best at pep talks or cheering people up. He hadn’t come here with any kind of plan or idea of what to say, and it showed as the silence stretched between them for a moment.
“That guy’s an asshole,” he finally began.
Sophie made a noise that was almost a laugh. “Yeah. He is. But personality aside, he deserved to win. His produce was better than anything I could ever do here.”
“Personality should count for something!” Scott protested. “I mean, who would want to buy from a guy like that when you could support someone nice and helpful and funny, like you?”
Sophie gave him a tight smile; his attempt at charm apparently hadn’t gone over as well as he’d hoped. “Most people don’t think that way when they’re buying their groceries,” she pointed out, “but thanks for the compliment.”
Scott shook his head, undaunted. “I bet you can taste his smarminess in all of it. I bet even the wine he makes is slimy.” Sophie nodded absently, a hundred-yard stare directed at the ground. It made Scott’s heart twist to see her so miserable. She was normally so upbeat, so ready to jump in and lend a hand with anything. It felt unnatural to see her feeling defeated, and he couldn’t bear it. “You can’t win ‘em all, you know,” he said quietly, dropping his joking demeanor. “There’s no shame in losing to someone who’s been in the industry so much longer.”
“It’s not about losing,” Sophie said with a heavy sigh, pushing her hair back from her face. “It’s just…what am I doing here?” She leaned her elbows on her knees, surveying the land before them. “I basically destroyed my own life to come out here and play at being a farmer, and what do I have to show for it? This whole contest just made me realize how absolutely ridiculous this is!” Her words gained force as she spoke, a dismal fervor building. “Bobby’s right, I should quit while I’m behind. I’ll never be able to turn a profit here.”
“Is that what life’s all about?” Scott asked. “Turning a profit?”
“No, but I have bills to pay, Scott! You can’t ignore the realities of life! I can’t exist off ideals or goodwill!” she said vehemently.
“You can’t give up,” Scott said emphatically, shocked by her outburst. He’d never heard negativity like that from her; it made him wonder just how much she’d been keeping below the surface. How much had he missed? “Sophie, you’ve done wonders here! This place was a jungle just a few months ago,” he pointed out.
“And it’s still a mess!” she protested. “I spent a whole afternoon out there breaking up rocks and barely made any headway!”
“Slow progress is still progress,” Scott pointed out. “I know it’s frustrating, believe me, I know. But it’s true.” He put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to impart some bit of the sympathy he was feeling. “You’ve done a hell of a lot more than I would have, in your place,” he pointed out. “Not to mention all the other things you’ve done for people since you got here,” he added. “People all over town are enjoying the things you’ve grown! And on top of that, you’re helping clear monsters out of the mines. And you’ve been helping Dr. Ling and Surya with their ocean research. And you add new exhibits to the museum faster than I can get them displayed!” He squeezed her shoulder. “Whenever your name comes up, people smile. They mention how much good you do for our community, and how nice you are. Even Bree says it was a good thing you moved in, rather than them expanding the vineyard.”
Sophie sighed and shook her head. In the dim moonlight, her expression looked wan and depressed. Lost.
“I just… What am I doing with my life?” she whispered.
Scott’s tone softened. “I think everybody asks themselves that, at some point,” he said. He put his arm around her properly, as if he could hold her together. He wasn’t always good at this kind of thing—he’d been accused more than once of running away from difficult conversations—but he couldn’t let her endure these feelings alone. “Did I ever mention I used to be a PhD student?”
She shook her head, turning to look at him.
He sighed; he usually tried not to give much thought to the past. “I was trying to get a doctorate in archeology, and I had an internship at a natural history museum in the city. Things…didn’t really work out. I got fired from the internship—which, in my opinion, if they’re not paying you, they shouldn’t be allowed to fire you, but whatever—and then I just…spiraled. Fell into some bad habits and ended up dropping out of my program. I moved here and took a job as Mayor Connor’s assistant, and he eventually ‘suggested’ I take over the museum instead.” Scott smiled a little, remembering that conversation. “I think he was just too polite to say I was getting underfoot too much. The point is,” he went on, steering himself back to the matter at hand, “life doesn’t ever go the way you think it will. And I think…the most successful people aren’t the ones who always get what they want, but the ones who can adapt and change when things don’t go their way.”
They were both quiet for a moment, the sounds of the evening a peaceful background as they sat under the light of the starry sky.
“You’ve got a point,” Sophie finally said quietly. “I guess I should probably stick it out a little longer before admitting defeat.”
“I don’t think this is going to defeat you,” Scott said, shaking his head. “What’s that thing Yuri says? You just gotta remember that the way you’re feeling now isn’t how you’ll feel forever.”
“Pretty good advice,” Sophie conceded.
“Yeah. Maybe we should get her over here for a proper pep talk, instead of me babbling,” Scott said with a chuckle.
Sophie nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “I don’t know, I think you did a pretty good job.”
Scott looked away, surprised at how bashful he felt at her compliment. He couldn’t just do nothing when a friend was hurting, could he?
“Really though, thank you for coming out here tonight,” Sophie went on quietly. “I didn’t realize how much all of that was weighing on me.”
“Happy to help. You may have only moved here recently but…I really think this place would be worse off without you, you know,” he confessed.
Sophie smiled at him. He loved making her smile. “You’re only saying that because you’d have to go back to digging up artifacts all by yourself,” she pointed out with a laugh, leaning against him.
He pulled her close, glad to see he’d lifted her spirits somewhat. “Hey, that’s not the only reason,” he protested.
Sophie shook her head before resting it gently against Scott’s shoulder, gazing out at the stars above them. “Well, whatever your reasoning is, thanks.”
“Anytime.”