Promptly at seven o'clock, a knock on her door disturbed Anita from her breakfast of French toast and hard-boiled egg.
"I told you to be here at six," Anita scolded Amir as she let him in.
"I tried getting up at five, but it didn't work. I do live forty minutes away, you know."
Anita pursed her lips. "Fine. Seven will do. Come join me for breakfast; there are a few things I'd like to speak with you about."
As Amir moved fried bread around his plate uncomfortably, Anita spoke between bites. "So I was doing a bit of thinking last night, and I realized that I'm gonna have to say no can do to your little half-the-profits scheme."
Amir stared at her. "We shook on it."
Anita waved her fork in the air as she considered. "That's more of a symbolic thing, really," she decided, taking a bite of bread with emphasis. "Certainly we have to leave room for problems, if they arise, and I'd say your share of the profits is indeed a problem."
"I'm sorry, Anita, but if I don't get half, then I'm not doing any work for you, and I'm going straight to Felix."
Anita's eyes snapped to his face with a cold suddenness. "I don't think so, your Highness." She leaned closer to him with a hard edge in her expression. "Do you really think that you'll be so invaluable to me as a worker that you'll deserve half of what I make? You've never done a day's work in your life, so you said. That means I'm going to have to spend the time to train you. Time is money, Prince Amir. I'm offering you a third of the profits, and I'd say that's pretty generous."
"You can't intimidate me," Amir responded with an unimpressed laugh. "I've had to deal with politicians more practiced in manipulation. We agreed on half the profits, and if you're going to back out, you know where I'll go."
The mood had become abruptly antagonistic, and Anita held in a biting retort. No need to start out the first day already raring to go for each other's throats. She took a deep breath, smiled, and returned to her reclining dining position. "Let's start over."
"Let's start where we came in, with our deal at fifty-fifty."
Another calming breath, another charming smile. "Hear me out, Amir," she said winningly. "Don't turn your nose up at a third before I tell you what I make, exactly."
He sighed deeply. "I will be fair."
Perfect. Anita's charming smile grew into something slightly more predatory before she reigned it in. "You're not present at the merchants' meeting the day after the bazaar, so you wouldn't know this," she began. "You might know that we are the best bazaar in the world, so Felix sets everyone's daily goal at five hundred thousand yen. To encourage us to meet the goal, Felix gives out prizes to whoever made the most money."
She stared at him until he met her gaze. "I always win, Amir. And I don't mean I make the goal by the tip of my nose. I make close to a million each bazaar day. Sixty percent of that million comes from my liquor business. A third of a million yen each week is going to leave you with plenty of pocket change."
The doubtful expression on the young prince's face was losing its prominence. Anita swooped in for the kill by appealing to his honorable side. "Let's not forget that I have a farm to manage. I have close to fifty animals, four orchards, and two buildings to maintain. A lot of the money I earn goes into taking care of all that. If you take a fifty percent cut, I'll only have enough to put a loaf of bread on the table."
His expression wavered between acquiescence and indecision. Anita held her breath.
"I suppose one third is more than sufficient," he finally sighed. Anita repressed the urge to clap her hands with pleasure.
"Excellent. I'm glad we resolved that little detail. You'll get a third of the bazaar profits every Monday after a bazaar." She rose, taking their clean dishes with her. "Let me put these in the sink, and then we can get to work. We've wasted enough time."
Anita had given Amir the choice of working the orchards or taking care of the animals, and after having his baggy white pants played with by Anita's newest cat, he'd decided to go with animals. Anita led him into the barn to get them properly acquainted. There were ten cows, ten sheep, twenty chickens, four cats and four dogs, and a noble white horse. Anita began rattling off the names of each animal, but Amir was unable to remember them except for the horse's, a fact that he was sure she knew.
"It's snowing a bunch today, and while ordinarily I'd just let them outside if the weather isn't too bad, let's pretend it's raining or storming so I can show you what to do in that situation," Anita began. She whistled a rather odd whistle, and the cats and dogs, which had begun rounding up the herd animals, suddenly darted back into the house.
She walked over to a feed dispenser, where fresh fodder was already waiting. "This part is kind of self-explanatory," she said, "but you look kind of lost, so I'll explain it anyway. On a nice day, the pets will just lead the animals outside and lead them back in at five in the evening, but when the weather's bad, you're going to need to feed the animals.
"The fodder basket is weight-sensitive, so scoop up whatever's lying in it and some fresh fodder will pour itself out. Take it." Amir hesitantly began piling up the bits of cut grass in his arms, trying to keep it from spilling out. Sure enough, a pressure plate in the basket rose, and with a few mechanical beeps, more fodder was released.
"See that big trough there?" Anita pointed. "Put it all in. Make sure it's spread evenly throughout. They'll eat it up quickly, so you might need to put in some more to make sure every animal's eaten. I'll wait for you with the chickens." She hopped over a short white fence in the back of the barn with the ease of several years of practice. Amir awkwardly continued distributing fodder until he'd counted twenty animals leaving the trough, then, just as awkwardly, stepped over the same fence.
Anita was studying him with a poorly-disguised grin as she watched his stumbles. "Mind the chicken poo," she cautioned him, miming rolling up her capri pants. Amir did so with growing distaste. "So feeding the chicken is pretty simple; there's a similar feed dispenser here," she pointed, "only pour it out on the floor. They'll make happy sounds once they've eaten, so you'll know when to stop." She gestured for him to do so. The chicken feed plopped out in handy little sacks; Amir much preferred them to the fodder.
Once he was finished, Anita gave an appreciative nod before continuing on her tour. "Now, after they've eaten, it's good to pet them all a little and check them for signs of stress."
"All of them?" Amir hadn't even realized the thought had spilled out of his mouth before it was too late. Anita gave him an unsympathetic glance.
"All of them," she agreed. "Just a quick little pat and check over the body." She demonstrated, doing so with such blinding speed that Amir apologized and said he needed to see it again.
She glared at him. "You're not going to get out of this by asking for example over example," she said irritably, cuddling a Silkie chicken a little slower for Amir's benefit. "Now you try."
The chickens didn't seem to be as receptive to his touch, and he drew his hand away quite a few times for fear of being pecked or scratched at. Finally, one chicken with a spotted wattle chirped happily when he gingerly rubbed its wings, and he felt truly successful. Anita didn't allow him time to celebrate.
"They'll warm up to you," she said dismissively. "Now, in the morning, they'll have laid eggs in their little cubby holes," again she pointed, "so you'll want to scoop them up into your—oh, shoot," she said, starting. "You don't have a rucksack, do you?" Amir shook his head. "We'll have to get one made for you. Or, I don't know, maybe I have an old one lying around." She gave him a once-over. Amir felt almost insulted at the quick way she glanced his body over, sizing him up rather than slowly admiring. It wasn't like she'd made their relationship clear, of course. "We'll need to get you something more farmer-friendly." She sighed. "That's wool that I'll have to process for clothing instead of selling. Oh, well. It can't be helped. Speaking of which, let's teach you how to shear a sheep."
Amir quickly learned he was not cut out to be a shepherd. He was so terrified of harming the animal with the wicked-looking scissors that most of the wool remained on the animal when he was finished. Anita sighed again, a sound he was quickly becoming used to.
"Never mind. When the sheep need shearing, I'll do it myself. It doesn't take that long for me to do it, anyway." Amir flinched. "Let's see if you're any better at milking cows."
Anita led him back into the kitchen, where a cabinet next to the sink held an impressive array of different shapes of bottles. "I get new shipments of bottles every Tuesday," she explained, "but that's something I'll take care of, not you, since it's still my money I'm paying with. Now then…" She reached onto the bottom shelf and pulled out a large bucket. "I'll have filled this with warm water by the time you get here, and I'll even put it in the barn for you. You'll wanna clean the cow with this before you get to milking."
Amir felt the blood leave his face. "Am I correct in assuming that this will be much more complicated than shearing a sheep?"
"Oh, not at all," Anita insisted, waving her hand dismissively. "It's easy."
Amir didn't feel encouraged.
"So about the bottles. You see these thin ones? Those are for the black cows. The bigger bottles are for the brown cows, because they produce more milk. These golden bottles I get specially for my prize-winning cows, but I already pointed those out to you. You remember Amanda, Claire and Theresa?" Anita nodded encouragingly. Amir could only offer a weak smile, which unfortunately Anita noticed.
"You won't be able to recognize them, will you," she said. Obviously, it was not a question. Amir looked away, embarrassed. Anita sighed for the hundredth time.
"Let's get you milking anyway. We'll see what happens."
What happened was Amir not quite figuring out how to hold the bottle in between his knees like Anita had instructed, causing the cow to knock it over and spill milk everywhere. Anita's answering gasp was imbued with horror and rage. Amir could tell that where he saw spilled milk, Anita saw money trickling down the drain. He prepared for a severe tongue-lashing, but to his surprise, she remained quiet.
"It's okay, Amir," she said after a long, frightening pause. Her calm tone worried him more than the silence had. "I keep forgetting that you're completely new to all this. Let me finish milking the cows. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen while I wrap up here."
It was just after one o'clock when Anita returned to the house to find a very awkward Amir sitting at her dining room table.
"Did you eat anything?" she asked him, a little out of breath from the bottles of milk she held in her arms.
"I got a little lost in your storage space," Amir admitted with an embarrassed laugh. "I found some rice and cooked that for myself. I hope you don't mind."
"No, I have plenty of rice," Anita answered as she began piling away milk in the aforementioned storage, "but I'm surprised that you think that'll tide you over for the rest of the day. We're going to be doing some hard work."
Amir regretted ever agreeing to helping out. Would he be able to find a way to back out? Certainly, this was something to consider over the coming days. "What will we be doing?" he stammered.
"You. What will you be doing. And what you'll be doing is taking care of the orchard." She pulled her gloves tighter with a grin. "Consider yourself lucky. In the winter, all you need to take care of is the greenhouse. I might have to dock your pay a little, since it's such little work."
"Or you could pay me more, since it's probably nothing you couldn't do yourself," Amir responded coldly.
"Don't push it, your Highness," Anita snapped. Then, regaining her composure, she continued, "Please follow me into the greenhouse. It's in the basement."
As Amir descended the rickety wooden steps with her, he couldn't help but grin to himself. Money was obviously a subject close to Anita's heart, and if he ever felt like riling her up a bit—just in the name of a little payback—he knew what to say. The moment her feet hit the bottom step, Anita spun around and handed him a pair of pruning shears. As if she could sense his mutinous thoughts, she added, "Don't get any ideas."
"I would never—" Amir, appalled, began, but Anita cut him off.
"I'm just teasing. Here, look," she said, grasping an overgrown tree branch. Amir started, realizing he had yet to realize the enormous space that he suddenly found himself in. Despite its stone walls, the basement seemed to be overflowing in greenery. Grapevines clambered over countless wooden posts, practically fencing the dozens of apple trees in. Flowers blossomed from many of the trees, some even bearing baby fruits. Blueberry bushes covered what available space there was like a carpet. Amir stood standing with his mouth open until Anita impatiently snapped her fingers in front of his glazed eyes.
"You can admire them later. You'll be seeing a great deal of them, after all." She then proceeded to show him how to trim the trees, bushes and vines with the pruning shears, which, while much easier than milking a cow, made Amir sure that in a few days' time, he'd end up with sore muscles.
"Oh, definitely," Anita agreed when he brought the subject up. "You're going to be in a lot of pain over the next few days." Seeing his almost imperceptible look of dismay, her expression softened. "You know, I can be generous. If you need a day to rest the first few weeks, I can handle the orchard myself for a day." He flashed her an appreciative smile before she continued. "Just understand that I'm going to take a slice out of your pay for the week."
An argument immediately flared up. This time, Amir did not back down until she'd agreed that okay, he was allowed a few sick days. The anger didn't quite dissipate until she'd finished showing him how to fertilize the plants when they were flowering.
Finally, Anita stretched and glanced at her watch. "Well, I have to head out into the fields to make sure all the animals are rounded up, then get started dinner."
"I'll head back to the hotel, then," Amir said with a grateful sigh. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought Anita looked disappointed, but when he met her gaze, her typical businesslike manner hadn't wavered. He must be desperate to find any sign of weakness in the woman, he realized with annoyance.
"See you at seven, then," she said, heading up the stairs. When he hadn't moved, she called down, "Amir, I need to lock up after you." With a start, he darted up the stairs before she grew any more impatient.
"Good night, Amir," she said once she'd finished, and held out her hand. Amir gripped it in a firm handshake.
"Good night, Anita."
"Seven o'clock," she reminded him as he walked back down the hill. He thought he saw her wave goodbye, but when he turned to wave back, she'd already closed her door.
AN: Sorry if this chapter was a little boring and short. But it was speedy! Thanks so much for all the alerts, faves and the kind reviews! Looks like this story'll end up having a few more chapters than I originally planned. Sorry if you were in for a shorter fic, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Reviews make my day!