The new farmer in Stardew Valley caught Leah by surprise. That is—she'd known someone was moving in, of course, but she'd expected something far, far different. Maybe an old man in a straw hat, or a plaid-clad young fellow with a full beard. Someone farmerly. Not the slim, attractive woman with the short navy-dyed hair and the amber eyes whom she'd found foraging for greens in the Cindersap Forest this morning.

Leah would be lying if she said she hadn't thought she was hallucinating at first. Her wine last night had been a little strong; maybe she'd gotten a bad bottle, or had a little too much. Anything to explain the presence of this lovely, foreign creature crouched in her bushes in dew-stained gray overalls. Upon parting the branches and laying eyes on her, Leah could only stand there and blink, her feet feeling as rooted to the dirt as the trees swaying around her.

The woman heard her approach and turned around on her knees, those amber eyes flashing gold in the sun and freezing Leah in place. She looked startled for a split second, confused for another, and then her pale, angular face cleared. "Oh! Hello," she crowed, unfolding to her feet and wiping dirty hands on her overalls, then holding one out. She had a few inches on Leah. "I don't think we've met."

Leah hoped she didn't look as utterly shell-shocked as she felt when she reached out and clasped the stranger's hand in greeting. It was long, delicate; built for something more refined than farming. "I, uh—I'm Leah," she managed. The stranger was looking at her with the hint of a smile that curled more on the right side than the left. She realized she was staring at it and jerked her eyes away. Then jerked her hand away, too, because she was also still shaking the woman's hand. Get it together, Leah! "I live in the little cottage by the bend in the river." She waved over her shoulder in indication and cleared her throat. Honestly! She had met attractive people before without stumbling all over herself. She didn't understand why this was any different.

The woman's crooked smile widened as if she knew exactly what was going on in Leah's head. "You've probably gathered, but I'm Vesper, the new farmer in town," she said instead of prying, blessedly. She had a bit of a city accent. "I took over my grandpa's land just north."

Leah nodded for too long as she scrambled for something else to say to keep the conversation alive. Her brain was stuck on Vesper? That's her name? but it seemed rude to voice her surprise. For some reason, the next best thing she could think of was, "So we both live outside of town, huh? Does that mean something?" Geez Louise. Yes, Leah, it means you're crazy.

Thankfully, Vesper laughed. "Means we're special," she provided with a casual wink that certainly did not set Leah's heart all a-flutter. Then she toed the basket resting on the ground beside her, which was full of leeks and horseradish, and asked, "Would you care to join me? I'm sure I haven't picked every veggie in the forest."

"I, uh—oh! Sure! Of course." Leah dropped to her knees at the base of the nearest tree so the farmer wouldn't see her silly blush. There was a cluster of mushrooms between two roots that she'd missed, and Leah retrieved them easily. "Here you go. On the house," she declared as she tossed them into the waiting basket. Nice. Smooth recovery.

The farmer's face brightened. "No kidding! Thanks!" She turned the full force of that crooked white grin on the unwary artist and all progress toward composure was dashed. "I might just have to keep you around, Leah." She offered another wink. "For those hard-to-find ingredients, you know."

And though Leah's laugh was a little strained and a little high-pitched, she certainly didn't have a problem with spending more time with this charming new addition to her life. In fact, she was looking forward to it.

…

This past few weeks, they'd fallen into a habit of meeting up for 'foraging dates,' as Leah liked to call them in the safety of her mind. If she was being honest, she treasured them more than any other part of her week. What could be better than sharing her favorite activity with someone she might tentatively call one of her favorite people? There was nothing like rooting around in the dirt for dinner with pleasant company by her side. Vesper's little quips and comments had her laughing the whole morning, and the constant blush in her cheeks was a convenient ward against the crisp spring air.

Today, the farmer was telling her about her memories of her grandpa, which were few and far between but always entertaining. Right now she was recounting the way they saw each other so infrequently, he'd always gotten her name wrong upon meeting her again.

A few weeks ago Leah might have been too shy to comment, but today she felt comfortable enough to joke, "I see where he's coming from. When we first met, I thought there was no way that's your real name."

Vesper looked up from the patch of greens she was harvesting, turning sparkling eyes on Leah. "No?"

The artist's blush intensified. "Yeah, no way. It's too…mysterious," she floundered, not sure where she'd been going with this conversation.

Vesper didn't seem to mind. She flashed that crooked smile and returned, "Mysterious? Says the lonely forest goddess who spends her time living off nature and communing with animals."

"Goddess?" Leah could hardly manage through the sudden tightening of her throat.

"I said what I said," the farmer maintained, that grin growing almost like she enjoyed flustering Leah like this. The artist wouldn't put it past her. It wasn't very difficult for her, anyway. She was just so charming and sweet and funny and everything that Leah loved in a person and that fact scared her just a little. It would be so easy to fall for someone like her.

Too easy.

"Vesper," she burst out suddenly, inhibitions bulldozed by the swell of pure fondness that was ballooning in her chest along with her realization. "I've never met anyone like you. Everyone else thinks I'm weird for living out here. The only one who talks to me is Elliott." She realized that might sound sort of pathetic and dropped her eyes bashfully. "I guess that makes sense."

The farmer laughed, but it was kind. "I guess I'm just as weird as you," she proposed as she knocked the dirt off her palms and picked up her basket of foraged greens. Then she stood and reached a hand back down for Leah. "Lunch?" she suggested brightly, and Leah's heart stuttered in her chest as she took her hand and took her up on that offer.

…

One of Leah's favorite spots to sit and draw was the end of the pier over the Cindersap pond. Incidentally, that was also one of Vesper's favorite places to fish. They found each other there more often than not. Leah liked to think it was fate and not that they both sort of needed those particular hobbies to fund their meals for the week.

In any case, today was one of the days that Leah came trudging up the rise and found the navy-haired young woman swinging her feet off the edge of the pier, fishing pole in hand, and tried to pretend like the quickening of her heart was simply due to the exertion. That was more easily explained than the accompanying blush that crept into her cheeks.

Wow, she was pitiful. She'd known this woman for hardly a season and already she was reduced to a mess by the sight of her! Maybe her breakup with Kel had changed more about her than she'd thought.

Or maybe Vesper had. They'd spent a lot of time together lately, and everything the farmer said and did only seemed to dig Leah's grave a little deeper. The woman was selfless; she visited the request board every morning to see if she could lend a hand anywhere around town, and she was constantly handing out hard-won resources as gifts. Her own farm didn't suffer for it at all, though; she got up at the crack of dawn each morning to tend her crops and animals, and they were looking about as pleased with her as the townsfolk were. Leah had no idea how she had the energy to manage all of that plus fish and mine and forage and all of the less farmerly aspects of being a farmer in Stardew Valley. And have time left over for Leah, and energy to stay so cheerful and witty and perfect all the time. She was a miracle incarnate, and Leah was just a little—okay, maybe a lot—infatuated with her.

But she was managing. She cherished the time she got to spend with the farmer, like these afternoons on the pier. She cherished the gifts of twisted driftwood and ripe berries that the young woman brought her each week. She cherished the conversations they had over the lap and ripple of the pond, and the fond looks the farmer gave her whenever she cracked a joke. But she was not desperate, no sir; she didn't hang on every word and look forward to every gift and melt under every look…

Except she did. She did, and it had only been a single season and she hated herself just a little for how poorly she guarded her heart. She should really be more careful than this, after Kel. She didn't even know if the farmer liked girls, or liked anybody, for that matter; much less her. Vesper was nice to everybody, wasn't she? It was more than likely that she was simply treating Leah the same. Leah had no business falling so hard, so fast, with no safety net.

Oh, but that farmer.

Leah had no more time to dwell. She padded over the final stretch of grass to the pier, at which point her footsteps on the wood alerted Vesper to her presence. The farmer swiveled with a smile that Leah liked to think was specially-made for her. Before she could get too flustered by it, and then too ashamed that she'd gotten flustered, she greeted, "Well, if it isn't my favorite farmer!"

Vesper's eyes narrowed, though her grin remained. "Favorite?" she echoed with her hint of an accent. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only one around."

Leah laughed and sat down beside her at a distance she determined to be perfectly advisable for her current state of heart. Their shoulders were almost touching. "Even so. You'd still be my favorite," she assured, focusing on flipping open her sketchpad to the next blank page instead of Vesper's warm gaze on her.

Instead of answering that, the farmer leaned over a tad closer so she could watch as Leah began laying down the first lines of her sketch. "What are you going to draw?" she asked with so much genuine curiosity it caught Leah off guard. She'd never had anyone show an interest in her art this way. Kel had outright scorned it, and everyone else just seemed to politely nod along whenever she brought it up. Having someone want to watch over her shoulder was…new. And really nice. Just another addition to her list of reasons why Vesper is utterly perfect.

She angled her pad so Vesper could see better and explained, "Just the pond, as usual. I'm working on establishing better contrast between the foreground and background. If the values are too similar, it just looks muddled, but I always feel like I have to completely render everything for the sake of realism." Surprisingly enough, her face didn't erupt into fire like every other time she spoke to the farmer. Talking about her art was comfortable. Easy. Maybe she'd have to frame it this way in her mind more often: conversation as art. Her developing relationship with Vesper like a painting coming together.

Or a wet clay sculpture too close to the edge of a table, just waiting to fall and be smashed out of shape.

The farmer drew a breath to reply, but it was cut off by a sudden tug on her fishing line. "Whoa," she blurted at the force behind it. Her pole was bending sharply. She adjusted her grip and set her shoulders and Leah watched her muscles pull taut, half-glad for the interruption. Then, "It's a feisty one!" Vesper cried, the thrill of challenge sending a grin sparking over her face. "Help me reel it in!"

"What?" Leah almost choked. Help her? Fish? With her hands on the same—

"Come on!" Vesper didn't give her any time to let panic set in. At the whip-crack urgency in her voice Leah jerked into action, lunging after the bending rod to close her hands on the handle between Vesper's. The action brought their bodies together, and if tracing the lines of Vesper's shoulder muscles with her eyes had been nice, feeling them pressed firmly against her was absolutely fantastic—and almost so distracting she lost her grip on the rod at the next sharp tug.

But she hung on with some effort, and after a lot of straining and reeling and splashing at the end of the line—

It snapped.

Leah and Vesper tumbled back at the sudden lack of resistance, hitting the planks side by side with a shared oomph! At first the artist's head spun as she tried to discern how she'd ended up on her back with the sun in her eyes, hands stinging from the effort of gripping the pole. Then she registered that Vesper's pole was empty beside them, no fish in sight. Her catch was gone and her line was ruined. A sick feeling trickled down into her gut and she sat up fast.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. This had to be her fault somehow; Vesper's line had never failed when she fished alone. Leah had ruined it. "I did the best I could, but—"

She broke off when she realized that Vesper wasn't angry. In fact, she was wheezing with laughter, still on her back, navy hair shining in the sun and the spray from the pond.

"Vesper?" Leah prompted, confused. Shouldn't she be upset about her messed-up pole? Shouldn't she be upset with her?

But the farmer wasn't upset. She let her head roll to the side to fix Leah with eyes that shined golden in the sun, chest still shaking with the last throes of laughter. "Don't worry about it, flower. You can't win 'em all," she said lightly, reaching one hand out to pat Leah reassuringly on the arm. And—

Leah felt like she'd been struck by lightning. Flower. Vesper said it like it was nothing; like there was nothing more natural than calling Leah a fond nickname and there was absolutely no reason for Leah to be internally freaking out right now. In reality, that was far from the truth. The artist felt like a fist had closed around her heart, keeping the blood from traveling to her lungs and her brain. Flower.

"Oh. Uh, right. You know," she stammered out, barely in control of the sounds her mouth was making. She couldn't stop a smile from rising to her face, though, either. Flower. "M-maybe you should take a break from fishing for a while."

Vesper chuckled again, clasping her hands across her stomach like she intended to keep on lying on the pier like this forever. "I think I've been effectively forced to take a break until I can go see Willy about my line," she returned, sounding perfectly unperturbed by that. Then she smiled up at Leah. "I don't suppose I could just watch you draw for the afternoon?"

Leah bit her lip to keep her grin from growing too wide; too telling. She failed. "Of course you could," she invited, and scooted closer so Vesper could watch if she tilted her head just right. And even despite their failed catch; despite this nasty hiccup in the farmer's routine, it was the loveliest afternoon either of them had had since setting foot in Stardew Valley.

…

Leah had never looked forward to the Flower Dance before.

The event had always seemed awkward; stilted, like Maru liked to claim. It seemed more of a matter of tradition than an enjoyable experience for those involved. The lacy white dress, in particular, always rubbed Leah the wrong way. Not to mention the embarrassment of doing the dance itself. She wondered why the older generation of ladies couldn't participate instead; they seemed much more invested in all the frilly rigamarole. She was just thankful that it was Elliott who insisted on doing her hair and not Jodi or Caroline. He was much more bearable about the whole thing. And gentler.

This year, though, Leah found her heart fluttering in anticipation the morning of the dance. Dragging the traditional white dress out of her closet and shaking the dust off gave her a sense of simmering excitement rather than dread.

Yoba, Vesper hadn't even asked her to dance yet and Leah felt like she was going to implode. But Leah was hopeful: she would ask, wouldn't she? She'd certainly seemed interested these last few days after the fishing incident, coming over for lunch every afternoon and staying until responsibility pulled her back to the farm—not to mention all their little moments before. Leah had started thinking of their time together as dates (again, in the privacy of her own mind) and certainly that had to mean something, right?

Vesper had called her flower. The best Kel had ever managed was babe, and they'd been together for almost two years.

Maybe Leah was hanging a lot on the mere possibility that the farmer liked her as much as she liked the farmer, but she couldn't help herself. As lovely as it was in Stardew Valley, it hadn't ever seemed like home to Leah until Vesper's arrival. People had been nice, but never really shown an interest in getting to know her. They'd left her to her own devices out here in the Cindersap Forest and she supposed that was fine, but it got lonely sometimes. She'd been missing something vital, and she hadn't been exactly sure what that thing was until Vesper walked into her life and filled that hole with the simple power of friendly conversation and genuine care. Leah had never had someone really care. She was sure that would sound horribly pitiful if she ever dared voice it aloud, so she didn't. She just laid out the white Flower Dance dress on the bed for tonight and picked up her chisel and hammer and got to work on the twisting sculpture in the corner of her room because she sorely needed something to keep her mind from spinning out of control.

As it were, the only thing she could think of while she carved away at the piece of reddish wood was how she felt about Vesper.

Later that night, surrounded by her frilly white dress and the crisp spring atmosphere and the gentle chords of the hired band, tucked safely against Vesper's shoulder as they danced a slow two-step beyond the fringes of the general crowd, she felt invincible. This was what she'd wanted all her life.

And now it was within her grasp.

…

Apparently, there had been a fedora for sale at the Stardew Valley Fair this fall. Apparently, Vesper had thought it appropriate to win an obscene number of star tokens to buy it. Apparently, she now thought it perfectly sensible to wear the silly thing around all the time.

When she came knocking at Leah's door one day with a gift of goat cheese in her hands and the city-slicker's standard on her head, Leah could not help but burst out laughing at the sight. "You look like such a jerk," she giggled as the farmer got to stowing the cheese in Leah's fridge, unprovoked. When she straightened up from her task, there was a pout on her face.

"You don't think it's quite dashing?" she asked, feigning hurt. She closed the fridge door behind her and leaned against it and crossed her arms and honestly, it was pretty dashing—but not because of the hat.

But Leah wasn't about to come out and admit that.

"Not really," she pretended to sound remorseful. "You'd do better to get one of those classic straw hats farmers wear. It would really complete the image." She indicated Vesper's dark grey overalls and light grey button-down with the sleeves half-rolled. The choice of hat would determine the difference between looking like a farmer and looking like a mobster.

Vesper wrinkled her nose. "I have one of those, and there's a reason I don't wear it."

"Besides the itch?" Leah grinned.

"Yes; it makes me look like my grandpa."

"That's a bad thing?"

"Considering he would have been ninety-four this year, I'd say so."

Leah opened her mouth to fire back another quip, but before she got the chance Vesper took a step forward and plopped the fedora onto her head, and what came out instead was an eloquent, "Oh!"

The farmer's lips curled in that precious crooked smirk as she looked Leah up and down, judging the new addition. "Well, you look appropriately artsy," she appraised, then reached out and quirked the hat slightly to the left so it sat crooked on Leah's head. Her smile widened. "I'd even say dashing."

Leah felt herself blushing instantly and cursed her coloring. At least she could hide behind the hat. That is, until Vesper's finger came under her chin and coaxed her head up again and Leah was hit by how close they were and how gentle the farmer's calloused hands were and how easy it would be to lean in and—

"N-no." Her common sense caught up with her and shut that thought down real quick. It's not the right time. You don't even know how she feels. She plucked the hat off and returned it to its rightful place atop Vesper's navy waves, managing a nervous smile through her flush. She hoped she didn't look as whipped as she felt. "It looks better on you."

Always the expert at riling Leah up as much as possible, Vesper caught her hand on its retreat and brought it to her lips to kiss her knuckles tenderly. And, looking up from beneath the brim of that stupid hat, amber eyes bright and warm, her breath breezing over Leah's skin, Vesper really was a sight to see.

Leah might even say dashing.

"Enjoy the cheese," the farmer whispered before letting her hand fall, and Leah could only blink and laugh aloud in surprise.

She was well and truly doomed.

…