Kelly put out her hand. “I’m Kelly.”
“Laura,” she said, then laughed. She held up the jar. “Obviously I’m Laura. Laura Osika.”
“I was hoping to get some late organic tomatoes,” Kelly said.
“Well, the co-op will have lots of organic vegetables, some local and some shipped in. But there’s this stand out on Rt. 199 that’s open till about five o’clock. It’s run by a commercial farmer who’s growing year round—all organic. Some of the best stuff I’ve tasted. And I’m a vegetarian. And I’m a damn good cook.”
Kelly grinned at her. “Are you, now?” Then she dug around in her big shoulder bag and produced a business card. “I’m a chef and I like your jelly. Give me five. No, give me ten. And then give me a call sometime—I’d love to talk more about selling here or at the co-op. Seems like I have nothing to do but cook.”
“Are you kidding? You’re a chef? And you want ten of my jelly?”
Kelly chuckled. “I was formerly sous chef at a five-star restaurant in San Francisco called
La Touche—
look for it on Google it sometime. It’s famous. I quit—the stress was too much. I’m going to have to find a new job, but for now I’m visiting my sister in Virgin River and canning everything I can pick, buy or steal.” Kelly shrugged. “It’s what I do to relax.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“Oops,” Kelly said, grabbing that business card back. “I forgot—I have a new cell phone.” She dug around for a pen and scribbled a new number on the back of the card, handing it to her. “Cell reception in the mountains is spotty, but you can leave a message and I’ll get back.”
Laura was in enough shock that she hadn’t bagged those ten jars of jelly. “Have you studied all over the place?”
“Culinary institutes in Paris, Italy, Spain, U.S.A. And worked with some amazing chefs. But it takes nerves of steel—very competitive and demanding. I’d give anything to have a small restaurant that I could run
my
way.”
“Why can’t you?” she asked.
Kelly laughed. “Well, only because I’m not rich.”
“Damn, Kelly, you shouldn’t let a little thing like that stop you!”
“Why aren’t you mass-producing Laura’s Pepper Jelly?” Kelly asked with a lift of her brow.
Laura leaned close. “Are you kidding? I don’t want to! This is a little gold mine! Best kept secret in the west—the flea markets, farmers markets and co-ops. I work three days a week for enough stock to sell for two days and I almost always sell out and my profit is a hundred percent.”
Kelly looked at the jar—priced at $2.50. “It cost you $1.25 to produce this?”
Laura nodded and said, “That includes the cost of the jar, transportation, permits, memberships, licenses and booth.”
Kelly nodded. “Bring it up to $2.99.” Then she winked. “Better still, $3.99. You’re giving it away!”
“That’s what my husband says. I’ll give you a call this week,” Laura said, bagging up ten jars and taking twenty-five in cash from Kelly. “I think we have information to trade.”
“You bet! Now I’m off to check out the co-op and that vegetable stand.” She put out her hand. “Nice meeting you!”
Lief drove Courtney to the Jensen Veterinary Clinic and Stable even though she said she wasn’t all that interested. “That’s fine,” he said as they drove. “I’d just like you to look around, meet a couple of the instructors and horses, see if it sparks any interest for you.”
“But
why?
” she moaned.
“Lots of reasons, Court. Your friend Amber has animals and you seem to like being around her house—if you’re going to do any riding with her, I’d prefer it if you had some lessons first. And—I talked to one of the instructors. She said nothing helps build confidence in a teenage girl like riding, like being able to control a large animal. She, Lilly Tahoma, said that’s why she’s teaching—when she was a young girl, it was probably the most important thing she did to help her learn responsibility, trust and commitment.”
“You think riding horses is going to get me to do my homework on time?”
“No,” Lief said. “I think being allowed to hang out at Amber’s is going to get your homework done.”
She sighed heavily. “Amber’s is okay, but I don’t think we’re going riding. One of their horses is old and the other one is sometimes a problem. I like the dogs, though. And we’re agreed, I’m getting that dog. Right?”
“I’m just about there,” Lief said. “You do understand that having a dog around our house is going to be a lot different than having dogs at the Hawkins farm.”
“Different
how?
” she asked.
“Well, on the farm, you tend to let ’em run loose and the big dogs train and look after the pups. They stay with the pack most of the time. There can’t be any running loose outside our house—he’d get lost in a second. A lost pup ends up being dinner for some bobcat or eagle. He’ll have to be watched and trained.”
“Trained to do what?” Courtney asked.
Ah, Lief thought. She’s never had a pet. How had he and Lana completely overlooked the importance of that? Because they were always working and traveling; pets hadn’t fit into their lifestyle. “To pee on the grass,” Lief said. “And to not eat the house. Puppies chew everything.”
“Do you know how to train a dog to do those things?”
“It’s been a while, but I think we’ll manage. You don’t realize it yet, how busy that puppy is going to keep you.”
“Then I don’t think there will be a lot of time left over for things like riding…”
“You don’t have to make a decision about riding,” he reminded her. “Just have a look around, talk to the trainers.”
“Since we’re in the truck headed there, I don’t see much choice,” she said.
“Good. You’re catching on.”
“Waste of time,” she muttered.
How,
Lief asked himself,
do I stay sane?
“Keep an open mind…”
When they arrived at the stable, Lief was glad to see Annie Jensen, the vet’s wife, had a couple of teenage girls on horses in the round pen. She was standing in the center of the pen shouting and pointing while the girls practiced their dressage training. There were some cones in the pen, and the girls maneuvered their mounts around them. Their backs were straight, chins up, hands gently lifting the reins. Lief was relieved to see the girls were wearing jeans and not anything as fancy as jodhpurs. There was a truck and trailer parked outside the pen, the back open and ramp down. The girls looked too young to have driven the truck, but maybe a parent brought them and their horses and was in the barn or vet’s office. “Hang out here for a while, Courtney. I’m going to see if I can find Clay or Lilly.”
“Sure,” she said, leaning on the fence.
And as he walked away he was thinking,
Oh, man, I hope this wasn’t a huge mistake.
While Courtney watched the two girls riding in the pen she had to admit to herself it looked kind of fun, but these were older girls. Fifteen or sixteen. And she was not only just fourteen, but maybe the smallest fourteen-year-old girl in her class. There was no way she was ever getting up on one of those huge animals. She thought she might fit under its chin.
“Hi. Are you Courtney?”
Courtney turned to the voice. Coming toward her was a very small woman, maybe only a few inches taller than Courtney. She was a woman, though. Her body was full and curved while Courtney’s was still straight and flat. And she was beautiful—dark hair, tan Native American skin and the most unusual bright blue eyes. She pulled off a heavy glove and stretched out her hand. “I’m Lilly Tahoma. Your dad said he was going to bring you by today.”
“Where is he?” Courtney said, looking around.
“He must be in the office. Come with me a minute—I want to show you something.” And with that, Lilly turned and walked away, expecting Courtney to follow.
She was a little reluctant. But surely these people knew what they were doing and wouldn’t let her be stomped to death by one of those huge beasts.
Lilly was way ahead of her, opening the door to a pen. She pulled on a dark horse’s halter, leading her out of the stall. Courtney kept a safe distance.
“I’d like you to meet Blue, Courtney. Her full name is Blue Rhapsody, but I call her Blue.” Lilly was stroking her nose and cheek, kissing her long muzzle. “I found her, if you can believe that. I was driving and saw her rolling around on the ground, sick. I called Doc Jensen and Clay and they took care of her, but she’d been abandoned. I was able to adopt her.”
Courtney stood back about six feet in case the horse reared and began to stomp her.
“You can come a little closer. Blue might be the gentlest, most trustworthy horse in the stable. She’s the one we always choose for a new rider.”
Courtney took a few more steps. She looked over her shoulder to see Lief in the barn door, leaning against the frame, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. She hadn’t once mentioned to him that the very idea of getting up on one of those big animals terrified her.
“She’s completely docile, Courtney. Especially in the barn, with me—it’s a controlled environment. Nothing here to spook her.”
“How old were you when you learned to ride?” Courtney asked.
“I’m not even real sure. Very, very small. I grew up on the Hopi reservation and my grandfather put me on a neighbor’s horse. We didn’t have horses, but the neighbors did and they taught me to ride. Then we moved and I wasn’t on a horse for years—till I was in my twenties.”
“Well,” Courtney said, keeping her voice down, “I’ve been around a horse or two, but I’ve never been on one.”
“Are you a little uncomfortable around them?” Lilly asked.
“I would say, a lot.”
“I see that as a real plus,” Lilly said. “Tell you why—you’re likely to pay close attention to safety, more so than some of these hotshots I teach who think they’re unbreakable. And you won’t have any bad habits to unlearn. You’ll get it right from the start. But the most important thing—when you develop your equestrian skills, you’re going to feel like a goddess!” Then she laughed. “Come a little closer. Here. Touch her neck, right here. And her jaw—here. Give her a stroke. Ah…. Blue, you are the queen of the stable, aren’t you?”
Courtney reached out a tentative hand. When she stroked the horse’s neck, Blue nickered softly, moving her head toward her a bit. Courtney pulled back her hand, and Lilly chuckled. “Did that surprise you, Courtney? She likes you, that’s all. That was a sweet, affectionate sound, like a kitten’s purr. Here,” she said, pulling a few carrots out of her back pocket. “Would you like to give her a carrot?”
“No. You go ahead.”
“All right, watch this. I’m going to hold it way back here and stick the skinny end in and let go the second she takes it. If I were giving her a sugar lump or something small, I’d lay it in my hand and hold it out flat—we don’t want to be involved with those big teeth!” The horse took the carrot and worked it around in her mouth. “Go ahead, Courtney. It’ll help you bond with her a little.”
“Listen…” Courtney began.
“It’s okay, Courtney. You can trust me. I’d never let anything happen to you with my horse.”
When Blue was done with the first carrot, Courtney fed her the second. And of course Blue took it happily and chewed it right up. But Courtney wasn’t that impressed. She was still afraid of this huge horse.
But she was beautiful. She gave Lilly a nudge with her muzzle and Lilly said, “Aw, you’re welcome.” Then she gave Courtney a nudge, and it almost knocked her back a foot, more out of surprise than anything. Lilly laughed. “That was a thank-you, by the way.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“My suggestion is that you spend a couple of hours with me in the stable. You can help me brush her, feed her, maybe turn her out. Talk to her, get to know her before we put a saddle on her for you. The next step would be you in the saddle and I’ll have her on a lead. You’ll be amazed how fast you get comfortable. Once you like it in the saddle, we’ll advance slowly, always at your pace.”
“I just don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Courtney said.
“Well, maybe it won’t work out for you. But if it does, it can make a girl feel so powerful to be able to handle a thousand-pound animal with the slightest press of a thigh or flick of a wrist. Plus, we love getting a group of girls together out on a trail ride. Our older kids sometimes have group trail rides—boys and girls. It’s a fun, healthy sport that promotes the kind treatment of animals and fair competition. It’s all good,” Lilly said. Then she smiled.
“I just don’t…”
Courtney’s voice trailed off at the sound of horse hooves pounding toward the barn. The back doors were open to the trail that led between fenced pastures and seemed to stretch all the way into the hills, and down that trail blazed a beautiful chestnut-colored horse with a blond mane and tail. And upon this horse, a beautiful boy. Man, for sure. He was lowered in the saddle while the horse charged at what appeared lightning speed.
Then the man rose upright and pulled back on the reins to slow the horse. The horse pranced a bit, turning sideways, then fell into a nice trot right into the stable doors. And the strong athletic young man leaped off, hanging on to the reins. He was also Native American, his cheekbones high, his skin beautifully tan, a long black braid down his back and his teeth so shockingly white that when he smiled Courtney almost wet her pants.
She knew her eyes were wide and hoped she wasn’t drooling.
“My stepson, Gabe,” Lilly said. “Gabe, meet Courtney. She’s considering trying out riding—a brand-new adventure for her.”
“Cool,” he said. Then he looked at Lilly. “I’d get this horse a jockey and trainer, no kidding. He’s unbelievable.” Then he turned and led the horse away.
Courtney whirled away from Lilly and Blue and walked over to where Lief waited by the front barn doors. “I’m going to need boots,” she said.
Eight
W
hen Kelly pulled Jill’s truck up to the Victorian’s back porch, she saw her sister sitting in one of the chairs, all dirty and sweaty from a day in the gardens, tipping back a bottle of water. Kelly gave her a wave and began unloading from the back. She had boxes of fruit from the farmers’ market, bags of tomatoes, onions and peppers from the roadside stand, several different jars of all-natural salsa, relish, sauces and jellies from the co-op, supplies from the grocery.
Jillian picked through one of the bags Kelly dropped on the porch beside her. She pulled out a jar of sweet relish. “Interesting shopping trip,” she remarked.
“You have some late peppers coming in, don’t you?” Kelly asked.
“Yep. Some very pretty, dark red, cherry sweet peppers like Nana used to grow. Yellow sweet Cubanelle, some miniature yellow bells, and pimiento that’s just so sweet and nice you’ll want to eat them like apples.”
“Any jalapeños?”
Jill shrugged. “Not so many hot peppers, but a few. Why?”
“I thought I’d do some preserves, jellies and some of Nana’s relish. With the peaches, how about some chutney?”
“Wonderful,” Jill agreed.
“With the way I’ve taken over your kitchen, I hope you and Colin don’t wake up one morning with the itch to chase each other around naked all day.”
Jillian laughed. “Denny and the UPS guy should get a big kick out of that, not to mention all the other people who feel comfortable just dropping by, like Colin’s brother and sister-in-law.”
“I might have found a job. Sort of.”
“Here?” Jill said loudly, hopefully, sitting straighter in her chair. “Here?”
“Maybe.”
“What kind of job?” Jill asked excitedly. Kelly dug around in one of her bags and produced a jar of Laura’s Pepper Jelly. Jillian took it from her and studied it. “She gave you a job?”
Kelly shook her head. “I bought some of her jelly at the farmers’ market. She makes it in her home kitchen and sells it at the market. It’s her specialty and it’s wonderful. And I got to thinking—I love working in a one-woman kitchen, I have tons of wonderful recipes that were Nana’s, and there are lots of places besides the farmers’ market that might be interested in my goods.”
“Can you just
do
that? Just make it and sell it?”
“Permits are necessary, but remember—I helped run a very large restaurant kitchen. I know the ropes—I just have to find out what the county requirements are.”
“Oh, my God! You could stay!” Jill nearly shouted.
“Okay, don’t get too excited—I’ve been looking for something to do to justify my existence while I think about what to do next and this might be it. I’m not talking about anything permanent, but something to help me pay the rent.”
“Kelly, you will never pay rent here. You’re my
sister!
”
“Yeah, well, I appreciate the sentiment as much as your love and loyalty, but I really hate feeling like the poor relation. I want to pay rent—it’s important to me. You must understand that.”
“Maybe later,” Jill said. “You have to let me give this to you for at least a little while. You’d do this for me if I needed you to. Concentrate on this project for now—we’ll talk rent later. I’ll start harvesting peppers for you tomorrow.” Then she leaned close. “Think you can actually make money doing this?”
“Laura said it’s her best kept secret—she almost always sells out and her profits are at least one hundred percent. The only problem I see is volume. I’m not sure how much I can produce or how much I can sell. The farmers’ market is due to close the end of November so I’ll have to find other retailers, like small groceries, delis, co-ops and places like that.” She shrugged. “It’s going to be an experiment.”
“Man, it would be wonderful if you could stay!” She took off her straw hat and ruffled her dark hair. Then she suddenly stilled. “I have a feeling Lief wouldn’t mind either!”
“Please, I’ve only known him a couple of weeks,” Kelly said. But her ivory complexion betrayed her, and she warmed with blush.
Jillian grinned. “Hah! Look at you! You like him.”
“Well, I have to like him! He hangs around all the time. I even watched his movie. But that doesn’t mean he has anything to do with relishes and chutneys—that’s just a way for me to keep from going back into some crazy kitchen full of insane egos. But let me tell you, that’s a big thing—not making that mistake again.”
Jill leaned back in her chair. “But I have to ask you—what about Luca? Is your heart still hurting?”
Kelly’s eyes sparkled. “Lief has a way of driving Luca far from my memory. In fact, I find myself wondering what I was using for a brain when I thought I’d let myself fall in love with someone like Luca. All that was ever going to do was make my crazy life even crazier.”
“Well, that’s quite a change…”
“Is it reasonable to say that I love my work as a chef but hated my life in that dysfunctional chef’s world?”
“I think you’re going to be okay in this kitchen, Kell. No one around to get in your chutney.”
One week before Halloween, with the help of Denny and Colin, the grounds at the Victorian had been transformed. There were bales of hay, scarecrows, construction paper bats flying in the trees. Colin had borrowed a ladder from his brother and hung a witch on a broom high in an oak tree that was resplendent with the colored leaves of autumn. He had also carved a half dozen of the odd-shaped pumpkins for the front porch, saving the big, perfect round ones for the town kids. His artist’s hand had created the most fantastic jack-o’-lanterns. There were also tall, thick candles of orange and black, lanterns and baskets of fall leaves and flowers. Orange, rust-colored, dark red and yellow mums lined the walk. Denny and Jillian had borrowed an old-fashioned hay wagon from the Bristol’s farm, picked a bunch of pumpkins and loaded it up.
Kelly set up her refreshment table outside, right at the base of the back porch. She had a big pot of pumpkin bisque, muffins, pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread. Right inside the kitchen there was more of everything. There were plenty of paper plates and small cups for the bisque. Jack and Preacher brought their portable barbecues and big tubs of beer and soda as they did for every town gathering. They put up a table of buns, condiments, chips, cups, plates and napkins along with a big glass jar for donations. They were very civic-minded but had a business to run and families to support.
Noon was the opening hour on a bright and sunny late-October day, and cars were pulling up the drive and honking their horns at 11:45 a.m. Kelly, who had staked out her goody stand and was ready for business, yelled into the house. “They’re starting to arrive!”
Within a minute, Jillian jumped through the back door onto the porch. “Heh! Heh, heh, heh, heh, heh!” she cackled.
Kelly looked at her in shock. And then she burst into laughter.
Jill wore a black, long-sleeved shirt, a short black skirt that stuck out like a bell, red-and-white striped stockings, ankle boots and a witch’s hat. Her hair was done in braids that sprung out away from her head, thanks to pipe cleaners woven in. She carried an old-fashioned broom, and when she smiled she revealed blacking on one of her front teeth.
Right behind her came Colin, dressed as a modern hunk. As in no costume at all. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked Jill up and down and chuckled, his eyes sparkling. It was very clear that she could thrill and surprise him. No matter what personality Jillian presented, he obviously thought she was adorable.
“You didn’t mention you were coming in costume today,” Kelly said.
“I wanted it to be a surprise!”
Jack and Preacher had their coals hot but were holding off on the dogs and burgers until they had customers. “Best-looking witch I’ve seen all day!” Jack yelled.
She bowed toward them. “Wait till you see my partner.”
Denny walked out of the house behind her—the perfect scarecrow. He wore bib overalls over a plaid flannel shirt, a straw hat, and someone—probably Jillian—had put red lips on his handsome mouth and two round spots of rouge on his cheeks. He even had straw sticking out of his sleeves and pantlegs. Kelly beamed. “You are magnificent,” she said. And no sooner were the words out of her mouth than people started coming around to the back of the house from the front drive. Whole families arrived with kids racing to the pumpkin patch.
“I hope this isn’t the shortest party in history. We’re going to run out of pumpkins in no time,” Jill said. “We’ve only got about a hundred.” And with that, she took off for the west end of the garden at a trot, cackling the whole way.
There was no way Kelly could have prepared herself for the way the town took over the afternoon. The party had barely started when three men who she would later learn were Buck Anderson and two of his sons came around the corner of the house leading ponies that they’d transported for rides for children. Dr. Michaels brought a big tub, and right behind him was his wife, Abby, with a big bag of apples for dunking and a set of twins scampering to keep up. Someone brought a mini-trampoline, obviously from their own backyard, and before she knew it the property was full of people. She was handing out muffins, slices of pie, cups of bisque and pumpkin bread like mad, so grateful she had a large backup supply in the kitchen.
All over the property there were clumps of friends and neighbors visiting, laughing, holding plates of burgers or dogs or muffins from Kelly’s supply. Kids were quickly picking out pumpkins from the patch, running them out to the truck or car so they could come back to the party.
It was still very early in the afternoon when a ghoul came around the corner carrying a large tray covered with caramel apples. Behind the ghoul was a man carrying a second tray, this one covered with red candied apples.
“Laura!” Kelly said when they got closer. Her new friend from the farmers’ market arrived with goodies. “What is this?”
“I never go to a party empty-handed. Caramel with chopped walnuts, candied apples with chopped cranberry—for your friends.”
“You’re wonderful! But you’re not selling jelly today?”
“I like lots of different things. And I
love
Halloween!”
“I think all these people do,” Kelly said, looking around and noting that while most people wore their jeans and boots, many were costumed. And bless the nice Virgin River folks who made it a party by bringing games and ponies. Balls and catcher’s mitts appeared, lawn chairs came from the backs of pickups, little circles of friends settled in for an enjoyable afternoon. Preacher and Jack flipped and turned their burgers and dogs, served up soft drinks or beer, and joked with old friends. They seemed like simple, unpretentious, regular folks who liked each other and knew how to enjoy a fall afternoon together. What a concept.
Since coming here Kelly had learned what she didn’t want out of life. All the fame and money she’d always thought would be the reward for hanging in there and winning the competition for the head chef slot meant nothing, not when you couldn’t sleep at night and had to have an EKG to make sure you weren’t dying.
But then when she stood behind her refreshment table for a couple of hours and witnessed the easy camaraderie, relaxed pace and happiness of these people, it filled her with possibilities.
She would like to live in a place like this for the rest of her life.
It was after two before she spied Lief and the girls. Kelly instantly recalled seeing Courtney when she’d visited Virgin River last summer—she was unforgettable with her multicolored hair. In fact, if Kelly hadn’t known better, she’d think the girl had dressed up for Halloween. But the one thing that really affected her was how thin Courtney was. Kelly wanted to feed her.
Kelly had always been very ambivalent about having children; it was never a deep need within her. She always assumed that if she one day married a man who wanted children, she might be talked into one, but only if it didn’t pull her out of the kitchen for too long. She didn’t think she had any maternal instincts at all. And yet as she looked at Courtney, she felt the oddest urge to embrace her, to get her a decent haircut so she’d look like other girls her age, to plump her up so she appeared healthier.
The young teen with her, Amber, was rosy-cheeked and a bit fleshier. They
were
an odd couple, Kelly thought. What makes a teenager go to such extremes as Courtney had? Was it for attention? If so, how much more attention could Lief give her? And if Lief and Kelly actually did end up in a relationship, how in the world would she handle someone like Courtney?
“I’d better start tasting,” Lief said to her as he looked away from the girls and approached. “I can’t imagine all this is possible with a couple of average-sized pumpkins!”
“You’re going to be very impressed. Let’s start here,” she said, ladling some of the thick cream soup into a paper cup and garnishing it with a parsley sprig. “You know how long a pumpkin stays fresh? Forever, that’s how long. My great-grandmother used to leave a couple on the vine as long as possible, at least until there was a danger of frost damage. Then she’d put them in the cool, dark cellar…”
“Let me guess. This isn’t pie filling out of a can?”
“I beg your pardon. I rarely
ever
open a can! I steamed and pureed.”
He smiled, swirled it to study the texture, then took a little sip. His eyes grew round. “This is amazing!”
“That soup is not pumpkin pie in a bowl, sir,” she said.
“It is not,” he agreed, finishing his small cup. “Kelly, you have such a gift.”
“I do, don’t I?” When he pitched the paper cup in the large trash can beside her table, she said, “Now the pie. I don’t very often try to improve on my grandmother’s recipes, but I did have a pumpkin pie I liked better than hers. That sort of thing rarely happened,” she said, wedging him out a very thin slice.
“Come on,” he complained.
“Lots of people here today, Mr. Holbrook,” she said, giving him the slice.
He took a bite with the plastic fork. Again he made an ecstatic sound, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “That’s no ordinary pumpkin pie!”