Raspberries and Vinegar (A Farm Fresh Romance Book 1) (4 page)

Zach nodded. “I can’t believe he said that. I met Yvette through him, not the other way around. He couldn’t find a thing to quibble about my work. She lied to him.”

“About what, man?”

Zach glared. “Said I’d come on to her. Pushed her to have sex.”

Shock glittered in Gabe’s eyes.

Zach reared back. “I just said she lied. She was getting back at me for not going all the way like she wanted. Where’s the trust, Rubachuk? We made a pact. Remember? Back in high school. Girls were supposed to value that.”

“God does.”

Yeah, and Bethany had. Zach heard the censure in his buddy’s voice. “That too. Look, I messed up, okay? She was a fun date. I respected her.” He looked in Gabe’s eyes.

Pity.

Man, he didn’t want to see that. “How was I supposed to know I was temporary entertainment for her? Some kind of game?”

“You want the truth?”

Not that Gabe could shed any light. He’d only met Yvette once.

“Did you ever bring her home to meet your folks? Did you ever take her to church?”

Zach
’s breath whooshed out. Seemed Gabe didn’t need to know Yvette. He only needed to know Zach. “She’s a city girl.” Maybe Gabe wouldn’t notice he was only addressing one of the aspects. Sort of.

“Meaning? You’re ashamed of your folks?”

“Hey!”

“Well, what then?” Gabe’s face softened. “I wasn’t trying to pry. Honest. I just want my buddy back.”

Zach took a deep breath. “I couldn’t see her walking around the farm in her short skirt and high heels. I couldn’t see her sitting in my mother’s decrepit kitchen drinking black coffee. She’s a mochaccino kind of girl.” He couldn’t imagine her in overalls like Josephine. Now that was a girl who could dress up or down to suit any occasion. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at Gabe. “I did ask her. Once. I promise.”

Gabe studied Zach’s face. “I’m worried about you.”

Something heavy sank in Zach’s gut. “How so?”

“I get the feeling you’re drifting, hoping something will snag you and reel you in. You might need to get a bit more proactive, man. Ask God what He wants of you, then go out and get it.”

“I’m not drifting. I don’t have a job, but I’ve got résumés at a bunch of clinics in Spokane and Coeur d’Alene. Something will surface soon.”

Gabe’s gaze pierced Zach. “You’ve been praying about it? Sure you’re on track with what God wants?”

“Look, the Almighty is sort of ignoring me right now, okay? Praying is like talking to a brick wall. Not much point.”

Gabe shook his head. “Not so. When did you last spend time on your knees for more than two minutes?”

“Um.” It had been awhile, hadn’t it? “I’ve been busy.”

“So don’t go saying God’s ignoring you, okay? You have to do your part to keep the pipeline open.”

When had Gabe started to sound like Zach’s mother?

Gabe shifted his weight. “Something I don’t get, man. Once upon a time you wanted to come back to this valley and be a farm vet.
Now you’re in an all-fired hurry to get away, but why? There’s no job,
no girl.”

Did he really need to spell it out? “Security. Everybody I know in this town is barely scraping by. Are you making anything on this place?” He paused a moment, but Gabe didn’t answer. Zach had nailed it. “My parents never had anything for extras. No trips to Disneyland, no new cars, nothing. My dad can’t even earn enough
money farming to make ends meet. No, he had to go work for Leask, and look where that landed him. All but paralyzed. It’s not the life I
want.”

“So it’s the big bucks you’re after.”

Zach threw his hands in the air. “You make it sound so wrong! Don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t like more cash than you’re getting out of this store. You’ve got a baby on the way. Don’t you worry about how you’re going to cover that kid’s basic needs?”

Pain sprang into Gabe’s eyes.

Zach hadn’t meant to hurt his best friend. “Look, you know there’s more to life than this town, this valley. Your parents are in Romania. They need people with good jobs and a few spare bucks to help support that mission orphanage. I can help. Yeah, Mom organized her quilting league to make quilts and ship them over, but those kids need more than blankets.”

Gabe leaned over the counter. “If that’s what God is calling you to do, go for it. Just make sure. Because I know He’s looking after my needs here, as well as the Romanian orphans.”

Right. Trust Gabe to bring it back around to God.

Chapter 4

“So much for that little maneuver.” Sierra dumped her purse on the farmhouse table and flopped dramatically into a chair around the corner from Claire. “Town hall doesn’t care. I asked if anything was being planned for Earth Day and the receptionist looked at me like I’d sprouted wings and a pig’s snout.”

At the stove, Jo gave the wok full of vegetables a quick stir with her spatula. “Yeah, Galena Landing doesn’t seem that environmentally aware.” Or food aware. An open bag of butterscotch candies lay on Zach’s grandmother’s side table today. Need Jo wonder where those came from? “It’s not surprising there’s no farmers’ market with this atmosphere.”

“But we’re here now.” Claire shot a glare at Sierra. “Without as much research having gone into the area as I would have li
ked, I might add.” She shoved the papers she’d been working on into
a stack.

“Hey! This farm was a great deal. Tell me how it isn’t perfect.”

Claire raised her hands, all prepared to count off fingers. “The
trailer—”

“Now, don’t blame me just because my dad found the place.” Sierra surged to her feet. “I didn’t make you sign the papers. We were all looking for farms out west. Just because you were both too far away and too busy to make a trip doesn’t mean I’ll take the blame for everything. Yeah, the trailer is junk. So what? We all knew it was temporary, anyway. What about our plan for a communal house and some smaller outbuildings? One little summer of living in a dump too much for you?”

Whoa. Somebody felt a little defensive. Jo sighed. “Sierra has a point. Other places in our price range might’ve had similar issues.”

Claire snorted.

Peacemaking. A rather new role for Jo. “So forget the town. Let’s focus on the church.”

“Why would they be any different?” Claire thumped her papers, aligning them. “Still people.”

“It’s the Christians who should care.” Jo added diced tofu to the wok and reduced the heat. “Our bodies being temples of God and all.”

“They say that’s only spiritual. You’ve heard all their arguments.” Claire shrugged. “Well, we can try. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when they shoot the plan down.”

Sierra dropped back into her chair. “Jo’s right. We have to start somewhere, and the folks at the church seemed pretty friendly. There was a good age range, too. Some of those folks must have farms and gardens.”

Jo leaned against the cupboard beside the range.

“I’d hoped the town had some things in place.” Claire scraped her short fingernail along a crack in the wooden table. “I did look up farmers’ markets before I signed the papers. They have a website. It hadn’t been updated in a while and looked kind of tired, but I assumed people were too busy
doing
the market to worry about online stuff.” She looked up. “I take food very seriously. In Paris we started every day at the markets, and what we found dictated the menu for the day. The restaurant in Seattle followed the same model. Here, there’s just a Super One.”

Sierra opened her mouth, but Claire’s raised hand cautioned her. “And Nature’s Pantry, but come on. Organic canned vegetables when we’re used to fresh? It’s a huge challenge.”

“All good points.” Sierra tapped French-manicured nails against the tabletop, her eyes narrowing. “Does that mean you want out?”

“I don’t know.” Claire swallowed hard. “I’m leery. I want to be settled so badly, to have a home,
land
that I can sink myself into.” She glanced up between her lashes. “I’m afraid.”

Claire craved stability more than anyone Jo knew, and that was saying a lot. Jo’s chain had been yanked from one direction to the next as a kid, too. Away from the grandparents, who offered her and her mom stability, to Brad’s “paradise” in California. If only he wasn’t such a liar. If only Mom hadn’t totally fallen for the money he dangled.

“I understand, Claire. I’m scared, too.” Jo cleared her throat. “This is our first major act as grownups. We’re done with school. We have an education and a career path chosen. But these forty acres represent the stage our lives will play out on. It’s big.” She focused on Claire. “I say we’re home. There are negatives. There will be downsides everywhere we go. It’s the way of life.”

“It’s cool here.” Sierra leaned back. “This place is growing on me. The building site is as close to perfect for what we need as possible in this universe. Our original sketches for the retreat center work perfectly and the building permits should be through any day.”

The smell of scorching food wafted to Jo’s nostrils. Oh, great. She swung around, turned the element down a smidge, and added a splash of organic vegetable broth. Would that be enough to salvage supper?

Sierra’s voice went on. “I say we can make a real difference here. Isn’t that more important than being somewhere where it’s already all in place and we just contribute a bit? This is kind of like being
missionaries.”

Claire inhaled, gathering steam no doubt, but a knock at the door forestalled her reply.

“Hello, anyone home?” a woman’s voice called out.

Jo glanced up as Sierra reached behind her to open the door.

A middle-aged woman with short graying hair stood on the landing. Smiling, she held out a casserole dish. “Hi, I’m Rosemary from next door. I just wanted to come welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Next door? That meant . . .

“Rosemary.” Sierra surged to her feet before sweeping a bow in welcome. “Do come in. I’m Sierra. We met a few months ago.”

That meant she was Zach’s mother.

The woman smiled. “Of course I remember you.”

Because no one ever forgot Sierra. Man, woman, or child. Especially man.

“This is Claire Halford,” Sierra went on. “She’s a French-trained chef. Know anyone who’s hiring?”

Claire got to her feet. “Pleased to meet you.”

Laugh lines crinkled around Rosemary’s eyes. “In Galena Landing? There aren’t many restaurants. Maybe you should open another one.”

“I’m thinking of it.”

“And this is Josephine Shaw. She’s just started as nutritionist at the nursing home.”

Rosemary’s brown eyes, so much like Zach’s, met Jo’s. “So you’re the young lady I’ve been hearing about.”

Uh oh. Jo’s smile froze. What was that supposed to mean? From Zach — or his grandmother?

Sierra broke in smoothly. “Only good things, I hope.”

“Of course.” Rosemary glanced down at the dish in her hands. “I’d meant to get here earlier with this, but the puppy got loose and I had to go looking for him. If you’ve already got supper for tonight, you can just reheat it tomorrow.”

Jo found her tongue. “Thank you so much. You shouldn’t have.” She fumbled behind her to turn down the burner a little further. Hopefully no one noticed the lingering acrid aroma.

“Oh, it’s the least I could do.” Rosemary passed off the dish to Claire, who brought it over to the stove and set it down. “I’d made a promise to have the trailer cleaned and ready for you, and I feel so badly I wasn’t able to do it. I wasn’t even here to welcome you.”

Claire handed the oven pads back to Rosemary. “I hope your husband is feeling better.”

Rosemary’s jaw clenched. “A bit, thank you.”

Sierra shrieked and all but elbowed Rosemary out of the way as she leaped at a kitchen chair, sending it skittering across the floor. She jittered on one foot, pointing at the floor beside the range.

Jo swiveled, sure of what she’d see, wishing Rosemary didn’t have to stand witness.

A little gray mouse nibbled the peanut butter on the wooden trap’s copper catch. Though not fond of gore, Jo couldn’t tear her gaze away as the rodent enjoyed his snack. Any instant now he’d make a wrong move and
snap
, that would be the end of him. She or Claire would haul the trap outside, dump him behind the pole barn, and re-set it for the next victim.

Only nothing happened. He pretty much licked the catch clean, sat on his little haunches for a few seconds, staring at them, then scuttled away, right over top of the trap.

Which still didn’t snap.

Rosemary’s voice broke the stunned silence. “Well, then. Zachary mentioned you had mouse troubles, but I never dreamt they’d be as brazen as this. You girls need a cat.”

Jo shook her head. “Nice idea, but I’m allergic.”

A high-pitched beep filled the air. Of course. The smoke alarm.

Not only allergic, but incompetent.

***

The salesman parked the galvanized metal box onto the counter at the hardware store. “It’s basic. You put some bait in here, and the mice come in the tunnel. They can’t get back out.”

Jo eyed the large trap with distaste. “I’m not keen on the idea of emptying out live mice.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to. Just leave them in there and they’ll die eventually.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “Or eat each
other.”

Jo’s stomach rolled over. “Eww.”

“I’m serious. Probably half a dozen or more will fit before it’s full. Then just have a bucket of water outside and dump the contents into it. That way, if there’s anyone still wiggling, they’ll drown.”

Not her preferred way of doing business. “That doesn’t sound . . . humane.”

He patted the box. “Well, your choice. There’s always poison.”

“No.” Just the thought made Jo recoil. “That’s not happening.”

“Then I guess you’re out of options. Mice, ten points. You and your, ahem...” The guy’s eyes gleamed. “
Partners
, zero.”

She should have known someone would start a rumor like that. Jo’s eyes pierced his. “We’re not lesbians, if that’s what you’re hinting at. We’re friends who happen to want to own property and couldn’t afford it on our own.”