The Orchard at the Edge of Town (8 page)

Apricot sidled up beside him, her hand settling on his shoulder as she stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “You know, Simon, having pets teaches children wonderful things about responsibility and love.”

“No,” he replied without looking at her, because he had this odd feeling that if he did, she'd see the doubt in his eyes, sense his weakness and move in for the kill.

“Studies have shown that children who have pets have better social skills and are more successful as adults,” she continued, her lips brushing his hair, her breath whispering against his cheek.

“Liar,” he responded, but his mind was only partially on the cats and the kids. The rest of it was on Apricot and her warm hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe, but they do look cute together, and you can't deny that pets teach responsibility.” She stepped back, scooped the ugly gray cat from the floor, scratched it behind the ears. “Besides, sometimes the punishment needs to fit the crime, and what better punishment for kitten rustlers than to clean out litter boxes and be woken three or four times a night by crying babies? They don't have to keep the kittens, but babysitting them for a couple of days wouldn't hurt,” she added blithely.

“No,” he repeated, but she had a point.

The girls were going to give the kittens back, but they weren't going to understand exactly why he'd been refusing to allow pets in the home.

“Fine.” Apricot's hand slipped away. “Let me just get a box to put the kittens in. You and the girls can say good-bye.”

She walked from the room, and he looked at the girls and the kittens and all the tears, and he had one stark moment of realization that he was making a huge mistake before he opened his mouth and made it.

“I've been thinking—”
Don't
, his brain shouted.
Whatever you do, do
not
think about this
. “You stole the kittens, and you thought it would be a great idea to try to take care of them yourselves. Instead of leaving them here tonight, we're going to take them home.”

“Ya—” The girls started to shout in excitement, but he held up a hand and cut them off.

“I didn't say we're keeping them. I said you're going to take care of them. Then you're going to help me find them a good home.”

The wails commenced again, and he was sure he heard Apricot's laughter from somewhere deep inside the old house.

When she brought the box a few minutes later, there wasn't even a hint of a smirk on her face. He was sure, though, that he saw the amusement in her eyes as he put the kittens in the box and carried them out into the cool September evening.

 

 

Insomnia sucked.

It especially sucked in a strange house with no television, no radio, and nothing but the darkness pressing against the windows to keep her company.

And Handsome.

Who'd been howling pretty much nonstop since midnight.

It was three in the morning.

He was still going strong.

“Hush.” She fished the kitten out from under the daybed she'd been lying on. He started purring immediately.

If Simon was having as much trouble with the kittens the girls were babysitting, she was probably going to hear about it.

Really, though, he only had himself to blame.

It wasn't like she'd forced him to bring the kittens home. She'd simply planted the seed. Of course, as Rose often said, seeds grow what's planted.

Rose.

Yeah. She should probably call her. Let her know that things were fine and that she appreciated her getting the lights and gas turned on.

Tomorrow.

Or the next day.

No doubt Rose had a lot to say about Lionel. Lots that she hadn't already said after the wedding. Apricot wasn't in the mood to hear it.

She set the kitten on the daybed and went to the kitchen, pulling dry herbs out of one of the boxes that she'd found in the Airstream. Rose must have packed it. She believed that there was nothing in life that couldn't be cured by the right combination of herbs or tea leaves. Even a broken heart.

Not that Apricot's heart was broken.

It was just a little bruised, and she was just a little at loose ends, a little off-kilter. That was to be expected. She'd spent a lot of years with Lionel. She'd invested time and emotion into their relationship, and she had every right to be disappointed that it hadn't worked out.

The thing to do was focus on something else, get herself involved in a project that would take up time and leave her too tired to worry about the fact that she was nearly thirty, all her plans and dreams for the next few years dead.

She brewed a cup of chamomile tea and walked outside. The moon had already dropped below distant mountains, the sweet scent of mown grass hanging on the night-cool air. She'd forgotten how dark early mornings at Rose's were. She'd forgotten the velvety feel of fresh air, the heavy comfort of country quiet.

“It's been too long,” she said to herself and to whatever nocturnal creatures were bedding down. Something rustled in the trees at the edge of the yard. A deer, maybe. Or a coyote. She and Rose had seen several during their summer stays.

The thought didn't scare her. Whatever creature was lurking in the trees would leave soon enough. In the meantime, she dropped onto the step Dusty had made her sit on, pulling her knees to her chest, her faded cotton pajamas cool against her skin. Thank goodness all the sexy lingerie she'd bought for the honeymoon had been removed from her bags. Probably one of her sisters' doing.

A bird called from the gnarled orchard, the sound a sweet good morning that made Apricot smile. Insomnia sucked, but sleeping in meant missing a lot of beauty. In Los Angeles, she'd always been up at the crack of dawn, working from her home office before the nursery opened. There'd been smog, of course. Noise. Lots of people, and she'd loved every minute of it, but somewhere deep inside, she must have missed country living, because being at Rose's house felt like returning home after being away for much too long.

She stood, the tea in her hand, her mind humming with something odd, something a little surprising given her circumstances. It felt like hope. Like excitement.

She headed toward the orchard, cold grass under her bare feet. She needed something to keep her mind occupied, and the neglected apple trees were begging for some attention. She'd spend the next few days doing some trimming. If the orchard could be saved, she'd hire a few locals to help her do it. In a few years, the land would be producing again. Then her aunt could sell more than tinctures, soaps, and candles at the local apple fair. She could sell apple cider, apple butter, apple pies.

She stepped into the thick copse of trees, her hair snagging on branches. The trees weren't the only things that needed trimming! She'd been growing her hair out for three years because Lionel liked it long, and she'd been idiot enough to want to please him.

Come first light, she was going to find a salon and get every inch of it cut off.

A twig snapped behind her, the sound reverberating through the quiet morning.

“Is anyone out here?” she called.

“Yes,” a man replied.

She jumped, whirling to face the speaker.

He stood at the edge of the tree line. Tall. Broad shoulders. Face hidden in shadows. She wanted to get a good look at him. Just in case she needed a description for the police.

That would involve moving closer, and she had no intention of doing that.

“I have a gun,” she lied, taking a step back. She'd have gone farther, but her hair snagged another branch.

“I doubt it.” He laughed, his voice vaguely familiar. “But if you do, please don't use it.”

“Who are you?”

“Cade Cunningham.”

Not a serial killer.

Thank God!

“Dusty wasn't complaining about me again, was he?” She yanked her hair from the tree branch. “Because I haven't done anything for him to complain about.”

“No. I was driving by on patrol and saw your lights.”

“So you stopped in for a visit?”

“Not quite. I heard you own A Thyme to Heal.”

“That's right.”

“Daisy said your chamomile tea is fantastic.”

“I'm glad she liked it.”

“My wife is thirty-five weeks' pregnant—”

“Is she still suffering from morning sickness?”

“No. She—”

“Sleep issues, then?”

“My wife is fine,” he responded. “It's her aunt who is having issues. Gertrude has been pacing the house like a caged tiger, and she's driving everyone in it crazy. I thought maybe some of that chamomile tea would help.”

“Is she a tea drinker?” she asked as she led him inside.

“Not even close, but I'm getting desperate. My wife needs some sleep, and I need some peace. If we don't get Gertrude to calm down, we may have to move out until the baby is born.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” He ran a hand over dark brown hair, rubbed the back of his neck. She'd known him when they were kids; not well, but enough that she wasn't surprised that he'd become sheriff or that he cared enough about his wife's health to stop for help in the wee hours of the morning.

“Chamomile might help some, but you may want to get her involved in some physical activity.” She grabbed a box of chamomile from the cupboard and handed it to him. “Steep this in hot water. Not boiling.”

“Got it.”

“And take her on long walks.”

“She's not a dog.” He tugged at his uniform tie. “And she can't be convinced to do something that she doesn't want to do. There is no way Gertrude is going to want to participate in any kind of exercise.”

“You could tell her she needs to be healthy for the baby's sake,” she suggested, wondering what it would be like to have a man like Cade in her life. One who would go out of his way for her rather than expecting that she would always go out of her way for him.

“We told her that to get her to quit smoking. She's still bitter.”

“When'd she quit?”

“A few months ago.”

“No wonder she's pacing the house and driving you all crazy.” She grabbed the sleep tincture from the windowsill and handed it to him. “She can take a couple of drops of this before bed.”

“I can tell you for sure, she won't. Gertrude is stubborn as a mule.” He set the bottle on the counter.

“I guess we're back to getting her to exercise.”

“Right.” He sighed.

“Don't sound so defeated, Cade. Eventually your wife will have that baby and Gertrude will have something else to focus her attention on.”

“Right. I'll try to keep that in mind,” he responded, glancing around at the kitchen, running his palm over the butcher-block counter. “How are things going for you?”

“It's three in the morning, and I'm awake. Do you really need to ask?”

He laughed, shook his head. “I don't suppose I do. I know you're not asking for my advice, and you probably don't want it. But I feel the need to give it anyway. Don't waste your time mourning the guy you dumped. You deserve better. Being here and away from him? It's the best thing that could have happened to you. Now, I'd better get back to work. Thanks again for the tea.”

“No problem.” She followed him outside, waited on the porch as he drove away, the cold air seeping through her pajamas reminding her of childhood evenings, cold wind, hot fires, people who loved her.

She blinked back tears.

There was no need for them.

Cade was right.

Being here and away from Lionel was the best thing that had happened to her in a very long time.

So why did she feel like crap?

She settled onto the porch step, hugged her knees to her chest, let the silence and the darkness drift around her as she waited for the first golden rays of sun to crest the distant mountains.

Chapter Six

Things were happening at the old Shaffer place.

That's what the blue-haired ladies at the diner were talking about when Simon brought the girls there for lunch. The kittens had been in residence for three days, and the girls had tucked them into their box before they'd left, kissed them good-bye, acted like they might be separated forever.

Now Rori and Evie were giggling, their purses slung over their shoulders and clutched tight to their sides, every bit of their hard-earned allowance money tucked away inside. They'd planned out the whole day for Simon. First, they were making a stop at a dance store to buy some frilly little tutu Evie had been eyeing. Then they were going to the pet store to spend the rest of what they had on toys for the kittens. He hadn't had the heart to remind them that the kittens weren't staying for much longer.

The fact was, the girls had taken to their new responsibilities with an ease and cheerfulness that surprised him. They'd fed the kittens, kept the water bowl filled, cleaned the litter box. Not one complaint and no fights about who was going to do what.

He took a bite of his quarter-pound hamburger and watched the girls divvy up the fries and chicken strips he'd ordered them.

“Need a refill on those sodas?” Maura Cline asked as she sashayed past their table. She'd been waiting tables at the diner for longer than Simon had been alive. It's what she loved, she'd tell anyone who asked. Simon thought it was more likely that she was waiting for Mr. Right to come rolling through town, hoping that he might stop in for a bite to eat and take her away from Apple Valley. Fiftysomething and still clinging to her twenties, she had bleached blond hair, blue eyes, and enough makeup on her face to sink a battleship. “Free for the kids. Just like always.”

“No. Thanks, Maura.”

“But I'm still thirsty, Daddy,” Evie complained.

“Then you can have water. It's healthier.”

“Your dad is right, sweet cheeks.” Maura snagged a pitcher of water from behind the counter and poured some into a glass.

“This stuff?” She set the glass down in front of Evie. “It'll keep your figure nice and youthful. A girl needs to think about such things.”

“Not when she's eight.” Evie pouted, her eyes flashing with frustration. She looked so much like Megan, Simon's heart clenched, that old guilt, that old feeling of failure welling up in him.

“Don't be rude, Evie,” he snapped, his voice much harder than he'd intended it to be.

“I'm not being rude.” She sniffed. “I'm just being honest. Isn't that what you always tell me to do?”

Maura let out a bark of laughter. “You got a smart kid, Simon. You'd better be careful or she'll have you running in circles trying to keep up with her.”

“She already does,” he replied, and Maura laughed again. She glanced around the nearly empty diner, leaned in close. “You hear anything about what's going on at the old Shaffer place?”

“Just what the blu—just what the women in the booth behind me were discussing.”

“I heard them. Bunch of busybodies, if you ask me. Of course, no one is asking me, so I'll just keep that opinion to myself.”

“Thanks,” he said drily. If she caught his sarcasm, she didn't let on.

“The way I hear things, that woman who moved into the Shaffer place is tearing the old house down and building one of those newfangled modern homes. All glass walls. No privacy. Guess a fancy city lady like herself doesn't think she needs any.” Maura huffed.

“She's not tearing the place down,” he responded. He'd have believed a lot of things but not that. A woman with an ancient Ford truck and a 1950s Airstream knew the value of old things.

“I'm telling you right now that she is. I heard it from Caroline Randall, who heard it from Jasper Guthrey. He got the information from Tim Wyatt. Tim's the one helping Jet with the project.”

“Building a house is a mighty big project, Maura. Do you really think Jet is up to it?”

She shrugged, her breasts heaving under a T-shirt that was three sizes too small. “He'll give it a try. I suppose if he can't do it, she'll just hand the job over to a big company. She's got the money for it. I can tell you that for a fact.”

The diner door opened and the woman they were discussing walked in. Apricot was like a breath of fresh air after a long day working in an office. Like sunshine after a long, hard winter. She brightened the room, her smile offered to everyone.

“It's her!” Evie squealed. “Princess Apricot.”

“Apricot?!” Maura scoffed. “Her name is Anna.”

“No, it's not,” Rori said more quietly than her sister. “It's Apricot. She was over at our house one day, so we know her name perfectly well.”

“Over at your house?” Maura met Simon's eyes, raised one very narrow brow. “Is that so?”

“She wanted a reference. For Jet,” he explained, because he knew if he didn't, rumors of his engagement would spread like wildfire. No matter how much he denied it, he'd never be able to undo the damage.

“Sure she did.” Maura's eyes glittered as she waved at Apricot. “Annie! Over here!”

“Apricot!” Evie shouted, and Simon should have been way too busy shushing her to notice Apricot's shorn hair or the way her body seemed to glide beneath a long blue skirt and bright white tank top. She wore a tiny little sweater over the tank. It didn't do anything to hide her curves.

“Hello, everyone!” she said as she sidled up next to Maura. Something in the big bag she had flung over her shoulder moved, but Maura didn't seem to notice, and Simon decided not to call attention to it. “I'm just in for one of the diner's famous club sandwiches, Maura, and a glass of water to go. If you don't mind.”

“Business is business,” Maura responded, jotting something on her order pad even though she never used the thing.

She stalked away, muttering under her breath as she went, and returned seconds later with a carryout cup. She slammed it down on the table. “Sandwich will be ready in ten. Better pay at the register before you walk out,” she said loudly enough for everyone in the diner to hear.

Apricot sipped water through the straw and smiled. “I will. Thank you, Maura.”

“Humph!” Maura replied and stalked away again.

“I get the distinct impression that woman doesn't like me,” Apricot said, taking a seat next to Evie. “Mind if I rest here for a spell while she gets my sandwich?”

“For a spell?” Rori repeated. “Are you going to make a spell while you sit?”

“It means for a while. It's just a different way of saying it,” Apricot explained. The bag moved again, and she patted it. “I rode my bike into town, and I'm tired.”

“Is that why you cut all your hair off? Because it was too heavy for your tired head?” Evie asked, her eyes wide as she studied Apricot. Simon had the feeling his daughters wouldn't find the short pixie-ish cut nearly as beautiful as they'd found Apricot's long hair. Of course, in their minds, princesses always had long flowing locks of silky hair. Daisy made sure to keep them informed of such things.

“My hair—” Apricot touched her head and frowned. “It's a long story.”

“I love stories,” Rori said.

“In that case, I don't mind telling you this one. I went to this place in Apple Valley to get it cut, and I said I wanted it to here.” She touched her shoulder. “I ended up with it here.” She pointed to a spot right below her ears. “And out to here.” She held her hands out a foot on either side of her head. Both girls giggled.

“Could you fit through a door with it that big?” Rori wanted to know.

“Just barely,” Apricot said, meeting Simon's eyes and smiling. “It was so difficult to get into my house, I decided I'd better drive to Spokane and have another hair dresser fix it. This very short cut was the only way they could do that.”

“I think it's pretty!” Evie claimed. “I think I should get my hair just like that, Daddy.”

“It would be kind of hard to get it into a ballet bun,” he reminded her. Not that he cared much about the length of the girls' hair. It was Daisy who insisted they keep it long. Daisy who'd signed them up for ballet. Daisy who insisted that they wear dresses a few times a week. He'd stepped back plenty regarding those things, because it hadn't mattered all that much. Although, when she'd tried to dress the girls for picture day in outfits that looked like Laura Ingalls Wilder might have worn them, he'd put his foot down.

“He's right,” Rori said quietly. “Plus, Aunt Daisy wouldn't like it. She doesn't like short hair.” She glanced at Apricot. “I think it's pretty, though. It makes your eyes look bluer.”

She was right. Apricot's eyes did look very blue, and her skin was flawless, a few freckles sprinkled across cheeks that were flushed pink with exertion or embarrassment. Simon wasn't sure which, but he thought it was time to change the subject. Since her bag seemed to be crawling across the bench seat, he figured that was as good a subject as any.

“Did you bring someone with you?” he asked, and her flush deepened.

“Shhhh!” She grabbed the bag and dropped it into her lap. It meowed and both girls giggled.

“You have more kittens,” they squealed in unison, and Apricot sighed.

“Not kittens. Kitten. Just one. Handsome is more trouble than he's worth. I can't leave him home, because he escapes from the house and goes on Dusty's property. Yesterday he found a way into Dusty's house and managed to break a vase and shred a chair. Dusty said that if he ever sees Handsome on his property again . . .” She looked at the girls and pressed her lips together.

“I get the point,” Simon cut in. Dusty wasn't known for his patience. Not with people. Not with animals. “But I don't think Maura will be any more understanding than Dusty is. If she finds out you have a kitten in here, she'll ban you for life.”

“I know.” She smiled. “I was planning to wait outside, but it's hot as Hades. I really thought it would be cooler around here this time of year.” She stood and stretched, the tank riding up along smooth, creamy flesh.

She tugged her shirt back into place and grabbed her water, hitching the bag with the errant kitten over her shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch. I'll see you around.”

“We're done.” Rori hopped up, her quick movement and loud voice surprising Simon. She was never loud or quick.

“Aren't we done, Evie?” she prodded her sister.

“We are! We'll wait outside with you, Apricot. Daddy can bring out your sandwich when it's ready. I'll give him the money.” She dug in her purse.

“You do that and you won't have enough money for that tutu we're supposed to get this afternoon or for the toys you want to buy the kittens,” he reminded her.

In true Evie fashion, she sighed dramatically. “Some things are just more important than tutus.”

He was surprised that she realized it. She'd been talking nonstop about the blue tutu she'd seen at Empire Dance Shop. She'd scrimped and saved and even done extra chores so she could afford the glittery, gauzy thing.

“You're right about that. There are plenty of things more important than a tutu. My sandwich isn't one of them, sweet cheeks,” Apricot responded with a laugh. “Besides, I have cash right here.” She opened the purse and Handsome popped out, taking off like a flash and dashing under a table.

“Handsome! No!” Apricot cried, running after the kitten.

Nancy Edgar spotted the kitten as it dashed away from Apricot's grasping hands. Ninety years old if she was a day, the woman had the shrillest voice Simon had ever had the displeasure of hearing. She used it to full advantage, shrieking so loudly, Simon's water glass vibrated.

“A rat!” she screamed. “This place has rats!”

Next thing Simon knew, all hell broke loose.

The cook ran out of the kitchen, broom in hand, Maura chasing along after him. The few customers who were there jumped onto chairs. Except for Campy Sampson. He reached for the pistol Simon knew he had concealed beneath his jacket.

“Freeze!” Simon shouted.

Nancy froze. Maura and the cook froze. Even Campy froze.

Only Apricot was still moving, skidding under another table, her skirt bunched up around long legs.

“Don't even think about it, Campy,” Simon added for good measure, his gaze on Apricot and the ugly gray kitten she was chasing. He would have laughed, but he thought Maura would slap him upside the head with the frying pan she was holding.

Somehow, Apricot managed to snag Handsome by the scruff of his neck. She murmured something about the ruckus and sprinted from the diner.

 

 

Apricot didn't get her sandwich and she wasn't happy about it. As a matter of fact, she was fairly pissed off as she pedaled away from the diner. Handsome, on the other hand, was happy as a clam, sitting in the basket of the bicycle, his head to the wind.

“That's it,” she shouted at him, not caring that there were half a dozen people walking along Main Street. “I'm bringing you to the shelter! And I'm not going to feel bad about it. At all!”

A car chugged up behind her, but she didn't even pause in her frantic pedaling. Obviously, coming to Apple Valley on a day when she would have been better off staying in bed had been a bad idea. If not for the noisy, boisterous crew of teens Jet had brought to help him haul away old siding, she'd have done what she felt like doing and stayed under her covers until the sun went down.

Her new iPhone rang, and she snagged it one-handed from the depth of the purse she still had on her shoulder. “What is it?” she growled.