The Orchard at the Edge of Town Read online

  “Yes, but—”

  “But what?” Lilac demanded, hands on her hips, the neckline of her muumuu still drooping a few inches too low.

  “The park may be—”

  “Boring.” Lilac cut her off again. “I did not raise a boring child. You might live a boring life, but there’s got to be a little bit of wildness in you. Embrace it for a change, Apricot Sunshine.”

  “There is nothing boring about lunch in the park,” Apricot protested, but her mother and aunt had Simon by the arms and were jabbering away at him as they walked toward the house.

  Simon didn’t seem to mind being shanghaied. As a matter of fact, he smiled and waved at Hubert as they passed the living room window.

  Hubert mouthed something that looked an awful lot like you poor son of a monkey’s uncle and Simon laughed.

  He didn’t seem at all bothered by her family’s intrusiveness. Which made Apricot’s heart melt just a little. In all the time she’d been with Lionel, he’d never been comfortable with her family. When they’d come for their once-in-a-blue-moon visits, he’d moved in with his mother to “give them room in the condo.”

  Her family hadn’t appreciated the effort. As a matter of fact, Lilac had complained bitterly about it on more than one occasion.

  “Too good for us. That’s the problem. He’s got his fancy clothes and fancy way of talking, and he thinks we’re a bunch of clueless hippies. What you see in that guy, I’ll never know.”

  Apricot had known exactly what she’d seen in him—the opposite of what she’d had with her family—predictability, order, manners, and a bit of polish. She’d wanted that for herself, because she’d never, ever wanted to be like Lilac and Rose or any of the rest of the clan. She’d wanted to be . . . normal, because normal had seemed like the easiest way to live her life. She hated the overwrought emotionalism, the extremes of passion. She wanted to raise her kids in an environment that embraced individuality but didn’t thumb its nose at conformity.

  She and Lionel had talked it all out, and they’d agreed on Montessori school for the first few years, then a private middle school and high school to polish things off. No one-room schoolhouse in the middle of a tiny little village where everyone knew everyone. Their children would be exposed to art and culture and sports.

  Their children who would never exist, because she and Lionel no longer existed as a couple.

  She should have known that was the way it would be. The women in her family weren’t meant for long-term relationships. If she hadn’t been so caught up in her dream of wanting one, she would have realized that and saved herself a little heartache.

  Simon glanced over his shoulder as Lilac and Rose led him away.

  “Help me,” he mouthed, and she couldn’t help smiling. He had a sense of humor, and she liked that. She liked him. She liked his girls. She liked the way she felt when she was with them. As if all those years she’d spent with Lionel weren’t a waste because they’d led her to Apple Valley and all the wonderful people she’d met here.

  That had to mean something.

  Didn’t it?

  Right then, she wasn’t so sure, but she knew she couldn’t just let Rose and Lilac drag Simon off. Lord alone knew what those two women would do with him.

  She caught up with them quickly, Rose’s basket slapping against her thighs, the little white sundress that Apricot had planned to wear in Aruba sliding up her legs. The weather in Apple Valley was almost too cool for the dress, but the eyelet fabric made her feel pretty and feminine, and for some reason that had seemed important while she was getting ready.

  “It’s going to be a little difficult for Simon and me to have lunch together if you two are around,” she said pointedly, hoping Lilac and Rose would take the hint and leave.

  “We could all eat together,” Lilac suggested.

  “I’d rather starve,” Apricot responded.

  Simon chuckled.

  Lilac scowled.

  “I’m shocked at how inhospitable you sound, Apricot. You were raised on the idea of the communal meal, of breaking bread together as a sign of solidarity in mind and heart.”

  “Right now, I’d just like to have a little solidarity in my stomach. I didn’t eat much this morning, and I’m starving.” As if to prove the point, her stomach growled so loudly a couple of magpies flew from an apple tree.

  Simon glanced her way and winked, and her heart thumped so hard in response she thought it was trying to leap from her chest.

  “And what have I told you about that?” Lilac sighed. “How can you possibly keep your metabolism working properly if you refuse to nourish your body?”

  “Lilac, how about you hold off on your advice for a while? I’m seriously going to tear someone’s head off if I don’t get some food in my stomach soon.”

  “No need to get snippy. I’m simply informing you because I care.” Lilac thrust the second basket into Apricot’s free hand. “Eat the tongue,” she whispered loudly. “It will help with the wrinkles you’re getting on your forehead.”

  With that, she grabbed Rose’s hand and dragged her away.

  There was a moment of silence, the day just kind of pausing as Lilac and Rose walked inside the house.

  “Wow!” Simon breathed. “Just . . . wow.”

  “Yeah. I know. Imagine being raised by those two.”

  “And Hubert?” He took both baskets and used his hip to shove open the gate that led into the orchard.

  “And with an entire gargantuan family of crazy people,” she responded.

  He laughed, and the muted sunlight seemed a little brighter, the leaves a little greener.

  That was not good, because she was not heading down the relationship path again. It wouldn’t lead anywhere but heartache, and she’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

  “What’s wrong?” Simon asked as she led the way to the clearing and the pretty little bench that had been placed there by a man who had loved his wife so much that he’d spent every minute without her mourning what he’d lost.

  At least, that’s what Apricot had been imagining late at night when she couldn’t sleep, when all her dead dreams just kind of piled up in her mind and made her wish she’d made different choices.

  “Just thinking that this probably isn’t a good idea,” she responded honestly.

  “What? Lunch?” He sat and pulled her down beside him, his arms somehow winding around her shoulders, his fingers playing in the ends of her hair.

  “Lunch is fine. It’s us I’m worried about. That’s what this feels like to me. Not just lunch with a friend, lunch with someone I really like, someone I want to get to know better, someone I think I could spend a lot of time with and never get tired of.”

  “Whatever kind of lunch we’re having, it doesn’t mean a lifetime commitment. It just means today, right now, this moment. Let’s just relax and enjoy it.” He smiled, stretching his legs out in front of him, the sunlight dancing in his hair. She wanted to run her fingers through the soft strands, run her palm along the rough stubble on his jaw. She wanted to hold his hand and bask in the warmth of the day and just let herself enjoy the deliciousness of new . . .

  Love?

  Good God almighty! That was not where they were heading!

  “Right. Enjoy it,” she muttered, thinking that she wouldn’t be enjoying it in two or three years when the newness wore off and he went and found someone else.

  “Get a little cranky when you’re hungry, huh?”

  “Sometimes,” she admitted, but she took a cracker that he held out and ate it. “And you know this is more than lunch. If you say anything else it will be a lie.”

  He didn’t say anything, just sat beside her silently for so long, she finally had to speak.

  “No comment?” she asked.

  “What do you want me to say?” he responded, lifting her hand, his thumb sliding across her knuckles. “That we’re making a mistake spending time together? That it would be wrong to walk down this path and see where it lea
ds?”

  “I . . .” Was that what she wanted him to say? “Just got out of a relationship.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “I did see you the day you drove into town in that fluffy pink monstrosity of a wedding gown, remember?”

  “How could I forget? Dusty had his rifle pointed at my heart.”

  “Not quite,” he said with a smile.

  “It seemed like it to me.”

  “You were having a bad day, but I still thought you were beautiful and spunky.”

  “Spunky, huh?”

  “I’m not into women who aren’t,” he replied, suddenly serious again. “Here’s the thing, Apricot. You just got out of a relationship. I’ve been out of one for six years. Up until recently, I didn’t think I wanted to ever be in one again, but here I am, having lunch with you.” He kissed her palm and folded her fingers over the spot the way he’d done the day before. “If that bothers you, I can go have lunch with my crazy sister-in-law and you can have lunch with your crazy family, and we can call it good. The choice is yours, but make it quick, because my stomach is growling and, like you, I’m not all that pleasant when I get hungry.”

  “You’re always pleasant,” she responded, lifting Rose’s basket, her cheeks hot, her heart running like a mad thing in her chest. “But, just to be safe, let’s go ahead and eat.”

  He smiled, smoothing a strand of hair from her cheek, tilting her chin just enough for a kiss that should have been nothing at all, but seemed like everything Apricot had ever wanted.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Simon could have gone on kissing her forever if his cell phone hadn’t buzzed.

  “You’d better get that,” Apricot said, her cheeks pink, her lips rosy from his kiss.

  “I can think of a few other things I’d rather do.” He pressed his lips to her nape, felt her pulse racing beneath the skin. His hand found its way to her thigh, and he ran his palm along the silky flesh, loving the feel of firm muscles and smooth skin.

  His cell phone buzzed again, and he finally dragged it from his pocket, glanced at the number.

  “Daisy,” he muttered.

  “Of course,” Apricot responded, reaching down to grab the plate that had dropped onto the ground. She put it back in the basket, tossing the spilled crackers and cheese farther into the orchard. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

  “It can wait.”

  “What if it’s something to do with the girls?”

  “They’re at school. If something happened to them, the school would be calling.”

  “But—”

  “Tell you what,” he said, a little more sharply than he intended. “How about we forget Daisy? I want to have lunch with you, and I don’t want to think about her while I’m doing it.”

  The orchard went dead silent, both of them sitting on the bench, tense and more than a little frustrated. His fault. Not Apricot’s, and it was his job to fix it.

  “Sorry,” he finally said. “That came out more harshly than I intended. Daisy is becoming a problem, but that has nothing to do with you.”

  “I think it probably does.” She handed him a slice of crusty bread smeared with jam. “She’s jealous. She wants you to herself, and she probably thought she was going to have you. Then I came along, and everything just kind of fell apart.”

  “You said something similar to that yesterday. I don’t want to believe it anymore today than I did then,” he said, biting into the bread, the sweet, tart taste of the jam nearly making him moan. It was that good. “What kind of jam is this?”

  “Huckleberry. I made it yesterday.”

  “It’s good.”

  “You can’t distract me with your compliments, Simon.”

  “Can I distract you some other way?” he asked, purposely letting his gaze drop to her lips, to the tiny bit of jam in the corner of her mouth. He wiped it away with his thumb.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he responded, his blood pulsing like lava through his veins, his fingers trailing over smooth skin. He could feel her pulse thrumming just beneath the surface, let his palm sweep along the slender curve of her neck and settle at her nape. Her skin felt like warm silk, and he trailed his lips along the line of her jaw. “Can I distract you some other way?”

  His cell phone buzzed again, and he wanted to take the thing and smash it against the nearest tree.

  “You know what?” Apricot stood, her white sundress swishing around those beautiful thighs. “This really isn’t a good idea. You have a really busy life, and I have . . .” She gestured at the trees. “All this to get under control. This isn’t the right time to explore a relationship or walk down some path that’s supposed to lead to something wonderful.”

  “That’s a cop-out, Apricot, and you know it.”

  “So?” She grabbed both the baskets. “What if it is? I already made one colossal mistake in my life. I don’t want to make another one.”

  “Another cop-out.” He was angry now, pissed because Apricot didn’t seem to have the guts to take a risk and because Daisy had interrupted a beautiful day and a pretty damn wonderful moment. Not once, but twice.

  “No. It’s not. You’ve got a perfect life, Simon. Two beautiful girls, a sweet house and a nice job. You have a community that loves you and that you love. You don’t need me, and I’m not going to get into a position where I find myself needing you.”

  “It isn’t about need. And having something good doesn’t mean that adding something else to it won’t make it better.”

  She hesitated, then shook her head. “I think our hour lunch break is up. I’m sorry you drove out here and didn’t even get to eat.”

  Okay. Now he was really pissed. “I’m sorry that you’re too much of a coward to go after what you want.”

  “I’m not a coward.” She huffed, her eyes blazing, her cheeks pink with annoyance and, maybe, embarrassment. “I’m cautious. There’s not a dang thing wrong with that.”

  “There is if it keeps you from having what you want,” he responded.

  She opened her mouth, snapped it shut again.

  “At least you’re not going to lie and say you don’t want me,” he muttered, shoving his phone into his pocket and stalking away. He had plenty to do. He didn’t need to waste his time arguing about something that shouldn’t need to be reasoned out or talked through. Not at this stage. Not when it was still so fragile and new.

  “Sometimes the things we want aren’t the best things for us, Simon,” she said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear.

  “And sometimes,” he responded, turning so that he was facing her again. “The things we want are.”

  “Too bad we can’t see into the future. We’d be able to take the risk without worrying that we’re going to end up worse off than we were before we tried.” She lifted both baskets, her movements stiff and tight, her pretty little sundress fluttering. A breeze ruffled her hair, pushing a few short strands across her forehead.

  “No one ends up worse off if he goes in with the right attitude. Today wasn’t about a lifetime commitment, Apricot. It was just about lunch with someone I’m interested in getting to know better. I’m not sure what it is about that that scares you.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Remember when I told you I only wanted to be in relationships that are built on honesty?” he snapped. “I meant it.”

  “I’m not!” she protested, but she was lying and they both knew it.

  “Tell you what, Apricot Sunshine. If you change your mind and decide we can both handle the truth, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll let you go on just the way you are, fixing up the orchard and dealing with your family and watching one day pass into another without more than a tiny little hiccup to make things difficult.”

  “Simon—” She started to protest, but he wasn’t in the mood for listening, so he turned on his heels and walked away, walking through the gnarled apple trees, past the hou
se where Lilac and Rose were snapping peapods on the back deck, and straight into his car.

  He didn’t look back as he drove away, because he didn’t want to see what he’d almost had. Just like Apricot, he didn’t want drama in his life, but he’d have been willing to take a chance on it for her.

  It was a helluva shame that she hadn’t felt the same.

  His cell phone rang again as he sped toward Main Street.

  Daisy again. He didn’t even have to look to know it. This time he answered. “What the hell is it this time, Daisy?” he barked.

  “Simon! Language!”

  “What. Do. You. Need.” He bit every word out.

  There was a moment of silence. “I . . . well, I’m at the library. Jet is here.”

  “And?”

  “He’s watching me with an evil look in his eyes.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” he growled, because, right at that moment, he didn’t have the patience for her high-strung nature.

  “He had murder in his eyes, Simon,” she hissed. “I saw it as clearly as I see the sun shining outside my office window.”

  “Did he approach you?”

  “No.”

  “Say anything to you? Imply in any way that he intended to do you harm?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then he has every right to be at the library,” he cut in, because he knew that but always led to twenty minutes of illogical reasoning.

  “You don’t seem to understand.”

  “I understand perfectly well. I think you’re the one who isn’t getting it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “People are talking, Daisy,” he responded, ready to go all out and say what needed saying. In for a penny, in for a pound, that’s what his grandmother always said. “They’re questioning your story.”

  “What story?”

  “They’re wondering if you really were mugged or if maybe you made the whole thing up.”

  Silence. Not even a breath of air passing across the line.

  “You still there, Daisy?”

  “I’m . . . I can’t believe you would say something like that to me.”