The Apple Orchard

by Susan Wiggs

  “I’ll take care of you financially,” he said, his eyes begging her.

  Shannon knew it wouldn’t make the pain go away, but it would certainly help with her student loan payments, medical bills, babysitting.... “You don’t have any money of your own.”

  “I’ll get it. Trust me, Shannon. You have to trust me.”

  “What are you going to do, rob a bank?”

  “I’ll come up with a plan.”

  “The plan is, we go our separate ways.”

  He bridled, turning fierce and commanding. “I have rights.”

  She narrowed her eyes, reacting to the threat. “Don’t you dare.”

  “I don’t want to make trouble. I just need to give you what I can so I’ll know you’re taken care of.”

  “I don’t need you, Erik.”

  “You need money,” he said. “Quit thinking about your pride and think about your child. Our child.”

  She was one gulp away from puking again. “I won’t take anything that has strings attached.”

  “Agreed. If you want, I’ll sign a paper, I’ll do anything....”

  He would pay any price, she realized, to be free of her. To put her and her child conveniently aside. Fine, she thought, hardening her breaking heart. Let him pay.

  Fourteen

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?” Tess asked her mother. “How could you keep it from me?”

  Shannon sighed, looking from Tess to Isabel, and then down at her empty plate. The quiche had been followed by an apple and thyme turnover with cups of tea. “I just didn’t see the point of telling you. By the time you were old enough to understand, everything was so deep in the past—a past no one could change.”

  “But it was part of me,” Tess said. “Part of my history. Don’t you think I was entitled to know?” All her life, the man who had fathered her had been a mystery. Her mother had let her believe she knew nothing of him, of his family or his past. “You told me you never knew my father’s last name, that he was a one-night stand.”

  “It was the only way I knew to protect you,” her mother shot back. “He was charming, handsome and careless with other people. I found out about the carelessness far too late. And then, once he was gone, there was no reason to pursue the issue. I can’t regret knowing him, though, because he gave me you.”

  Oh, her mother was good, Tess conceded. A master manipulator. “All right,” she said. “That was Erik. But why would you keep me from knowing my grandparents? Or my sister?”

  “First of all, our life was elsewhere, thousands of miles away in Dublin. Jobs were hard to come by in those days so we had to live with your nana. And secondly, look around you. Look at this place. It’s paradise. The American Eden.”

  “So horrifying,” said Tess. “No wonder you protected me from it.”

  “I protected you from yearning for it. Can’t you understand? I knew I could never give you a life that could compete with a place like this. If I’d brought you here, I would have given you a glimpse of paradise, saying oh, isn’t it wonderful at Bella Vista? But guess what? You can never have it. You would have always been the outsider, the one born to the rogue’s mistress.”

  “Now I get it,” Tess said. “This was never about me. It’s always been about you.”

  Isabel was watching the two of them like a spectator at a tennis match. Tess turned to her. “Sorry. Mom and I tend to push each other’s buttons. Although keeping me in the dark about half my DNA takes button-pushing to a whole new level.”

  “Bubbie and I used to go at it, too,” Isabel admitted. “I called my grandmother Bubbie,” she told Shannon. “Her real name was Eva. Did you know her, too?”

  “No, as I said, I was the outsider. I came to Bella Vista thinking... Honestly, I don’t remember what. That’s when I realized it would be best to keep my distance. Bringing Tess into the picture would have been messy and caused a lot of hurt. I’m so sorry. Sorry for your loss, and...” She turned to Tess. “For everything.” Then she stifled a yawn. “Jet lag. It never gets easier.”

  Isabel got up. “I’m going to make sure your room is ready.”

  “I don’t want to impose,” Shannon said.

  “Please,” said Isabel. “I’d love for you to stay as long as you like. There’s lots of room.”

  “Thank you, then. I’ve been traveling so much for work, it would be nice to take a breather.”

  “Diplomatic, gorgeous, cooks like an angel,” Tess said after Isabel went upstairs. “But she’s too nice to dislike.”

  Shannon gave her a weary smile. “I’m glad the two of you found each other.”

  “No thanks to you. Mom, what were you thinking?”

  “That we’d never be having this conversation. Which was incredibly stupid of me. I realize that now.”

  Tess stifled a sigh and picked up one of her mother’s bags. “I’ll show you upstairs.”

  “This is perfect,” Shannon said, running her hand along the chintz-covered bed in the cozy room Isabel had prepared. Turning, she gave Tess a lingering hug. “I’m so sorry about...everything.”

  A hundred accusations built up inside Tess, but she pressed them down into a little compact ball. “I’ll be all right,” she said. “I always am.”

  Shannon’s smile softened with relief. “It’s what we do, we Delaney women, isn’t it? We find a way to be all right.”

  Isabel turned down the featherbed. “Do you give lessons? Because I could use some.”

  Shannon patted her arm. “I’ll show you everything I know.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Tess found Shannon on the kitchen patio, surveying the view. In one direction, Dominic’s Angel Creek vineyards festooned the hillsides, the leaves a bright sunny yellow. In the other direction was a much bigger, commercial operation—Maldonado estates. Closer in, the orchards of Bella Vista looked denuded after the harvest, the trees neatly pruned for winter, the lavender trimmed to low mounds. The kitchen garden was still thriving with herbs and fall vegetables, each row marked with sprays of crimson-and-gold mums, and the last roses of the season.

  “It’s wonderful here,” Shannon said.

  “Yes.” Tess swallowed a lump of bitterness. “Listen, I need your help.”

  Shannon turned, eyebrows raised. “You never asked me for help before. You’ve always been so independent.”

  “By necessity,” Tess told her.

  “We’re too much alike, we two.”

  “Speak for yourself. I’ve always needed you, Mom.”

  “Then you should have told me.”

  Tess gave a short laugh. “I didn’t want to bother you. But look, I need some answers, not just about everything you’ve been hiding from me.”

  “Tess—”

  “I know, you had your reasons.” She just felt weary of the argument. “There’s something more immediate.”

  Isabel came out and joined them, looking worried. Tess wondered how much she’d overheard. As succinctly as she could, she and Isabel described the troubles with Bella Vista and the imminent foreclosure. Then Tess showed her mother the photos and documents she and Isabel had found. “And then there’s this. It’s something you really can help with. How’s your Russian?”

  “Sharp as ever, I suppose.” Shannon studied Tess’s enhanced scans of the photo, letter and ancient receipt. “Well. This is intriguing, to say the least.”

  “I hope that means it’s good news,” Isabel said softly.

  The three of them gathered around the table. Shannon read the words aloud. Hearing her mother speak fluently in Russian reminded Tess of her mother’s depth of expertise and experience. In spite of everything, she respected her mother’s knowledge.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “This letter is a note of gratitude,” Shannon explained, “giving an art treasure called ‘The Angel’ to Christian Johansen, free and clear.”

  Tess was stunned. She made her mother go over and over the letter.

  “I don’t get
it,” Isabel said.

  “This sort of document, assuming it can be authenticated, is a provenance expert’s dream,” Tess said. “A direct personal gift is a swift route to proving ownership of an object.” The strange and ancient letter convinced her that the impossible just might be true. “What do you think?” she asked her mother.

  “It’s too crazy to contemplate, but I believe you’re right. That’s a Fabergé. If you can figure out what became of it, everything could change.”

  Tess was surprised by her mother’s enthusiasm. Usually they respected each other as colleagues but tended to go their separate ways, focused on their own projects. Now the three of them put their heads together and discussed their next move.

  “You need to ask the bank for more time,” Shannon said. “This is definitely worth looking into.”

  “True,” Isabel said softly. “But I doubt Dominic will be able to give us another extension.”

  “You owe it to yourself—to Magnus—to try,” Shannon said.

  “If this treasure exists, and it’s as valuable as Tess thinks, then why didn’t Grandfather use it long ago?” Isabel asked.

  “That’s one of the first things we’ll ask him when he wakes up,” Tess said.

  Fifteen

  Each day on his way to work, Dominic drove past the airpark where people kept their private jets and airplanes. Sometimes he dreamed about flying, soaring on his memories of the speed and power of flight. The aircraft here were a far cry from the high-tech Prowlers he used to pilot in the navy, but even the little Cessnas and Otters at the airpark caught at him. A couple of clients sometimes let him use their birds for the price of fuel. Just the sensation of leaving the earth, even for a little while, reminded him of who he used to be and the dreams he used to dream.

  That had been a different life, and it had happened to a different person. And then, in an instant, everything had imploded—the house of cards that had been his navy career had come crashing down, both literally and figuratively, taking his marriage as collateral damage.

  He didn’t miss that life, though, and had no regrets about relegating it to the past, closing it like a novel he’d finished and left behind in an airport lounge. His rebuilt life was designed to keep him close to his kids. Close, and out of harm’s way.

  So if he felt a twinge when he pulled into the bank parking lot each day, and stepped through the doors of his glass-walled office, he had only to remember how much his son and daughter needed him to be this person, this rock of stability and predictability.

  He missed the flying, though. Man, did he like flying a plane.

  Taking out his phone, he scowled at the latest text message from his ex-wife. It had been sitting on his phone screen like a dormant virus, waiting for a response. Can you stay for dinner when you pick up the kids tonight?

  This was her latest thing. Apparently Lourdes had dumped yet another boyfriend and was back to trying to reconcile with Dominic. She did this periodically. For the sake of the kids, he handled the situation with as much compassion as he could muster, knowing his ex-wife’s attention would wander away soon enough. He just wished she would stop planting seeds of false hope in the children, particularly Trini. They were already scarred by the divorce, and Lourdes’s manipulation simply reopened old wounds.

  He sent her a simple No, thanks and scrolled through his agenda for the day. Underwriters and regulators didn’t amount to a lot of excitement, but he reminded himself that mortgage lending had its upside. A guy could do worse than help people buy their homes. Some days, when he enabled a hardworking couple to qualify for their first mortgage, when he saw the look on their faces as they signed the papers, he felt like a latter-day George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, dispensing dreams to deserving people.

  Other days, he thought, as the Bella Vista white SUV swung into the space beside him, he felt like Mr. Potter from the same movie, crushing hopes like a bug under a boot heel.

  Tess Delaney got out of the car with her characteristic ball-of-energy movements—thumb skimming over her phone screen, the other hand jamming a sheaf of papers into her oversize handbag. To Dominic, it seemed the woman was never still. Which was probably a good thing for him, because if she slowed down for about two seconds, she might figure out that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Her appeal went deeper than looks, though her long red hair and that pale, expressive face were enough to stop any guy in his tracks. There was something else about her. There were things about her that he couldn’t stop thinking about. Lots of things.

  Don’t go there, he told himself. That way lies madness. He’d been the walking dead after his divorce. He’d tried to connect with other women since, and God knew, women had tried to connect with him. Nothing ever came of it, though.

  He did want to be in love again—but on his terms, with someone who made sense in his life, not with someone like Tess Delaney. She was an unlikely candidate, anyway, given that he was in charge of foreclosure proceedings on her grandfather’s place, and she was pursuing some supercharged career in the city. But damn.

  She woke him up in ways he hadn’t anticipated. It was no surprise that she turned him on, not with those looks and that attitude. The surprise was that she lit him up, made his heart remember what it was like to love someone.

  He wasn’t about to try explaining that to her, though. She wasn’t ready to hear it. Yet he found himself intrigued by that busy restless energy and the way it concealed a side of her that was soulful and soft, something he’d only glimpsed a time or two. He’d seen that side of her when she’d visited Magnus. She’d seemed as if she was in another realm for a moment. Not this moment, though. Right now, she looked as if she’d eaten roofing nails for breakfast.

  “I don’t have an appointment,” she said, barely looking at him as she headed for the door. “So you’re going to have to make time for me right away.”

  Maybe the appeal was in her personal charm, he thought, holding open the door for her. Yeah, right. “Good morning to you, too,” he said.

  She paused for half a second. “I think it might be. Maybe.”

  “Tea?” he offered. “There’s a selection of herbal—”

  “Coffee,” she insisted. “Black, with sugar. Refined sugar, or is that against the law in this town?”

  His assistant, Azar, gave a nod and headed to the staff room. Dominic gestured toward his office. “Have a seat.”

  She glanced around. “Wow, how do you get any work done in this space?”

  His workspace was as neat as hers was messy. He liked to think he wasn’t freaky about it. Just practical. Life was too short to spend his time trying to find stuff.

  “Believe me, work is all I do in this space.” There had been a time when work had consumed his life, with no boundaries between duty and personal hours. These days he was strict about keeping bankers’ hours. The rest of his time was taken up by kids and grapes.

  “It makes it easier to find what you’re looking for. Plus, when you work in a glass office where the whole world can see you, it’s best not to look like a slob.”

  “Better to look OCD?”

  “Ha, ha.”

  “There is not a single personal item in this space. Hey, maybe you’re sick in the head, like me.”

  “My personal stuff doesn’t belong at work.”

  “Seriously, not even a photo of your kids?”

  “I know what they look like.” There was more to it than that. He had strong reasons not to put his daughter and son on display, but he would not go into it with Tess. He hit the power button on his computer. “Now, besides admitting to my undiagnosed mental illness, what can I do for you?”

  Her expression lit up, and for a second, the breath left him. That inner fire of passion, burning so close to the surface, completely entranced him.

  “I’ve found something,” she said. “Isabel and I—we’ve found something. It could turn this whole situation around.”

  Dominic tried not to allow h
is inner skeptic to kick in. He didn’t point out that he’d been trying to turn the Bella Vista situation around for years, literally. “I’m all ears,” he said.

  Tess studied him. There was a world of knowledge in the look she gave him. He wasn’t fooling her for a second. “Right,” she said; then her gaze shifted to the ceiling. “This bank is filled with cameras.”

  “It’s a bank.”

  “Can we go outside? Maybe take a walk?”

  He glanced at the clock. He usually spent his first hour at the office dealing with email and reports, research and market studies. Tess Delaney was a lot more interesting than email and reports.

  “Let’s go,” he said and held the door for her.

  The bank was situated at one end of the town’s main street, which bore the overly auspicious name of The Grand Promenade. It was a boulevard with a park in the center, shaded by plane trees and lined with benches for whiling the day away. The rich smells of autumn spiced the air—drying leaves and flowers going to seed, wood smoke from someone’s chimney.

  “What do you know about Magnus’s past?” she asked him suddenly.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Humor me. I might be onto something.”

  “What you heard at the gathering at Bella Vista just about sums it up. Magnus isn’t the kind of guy to dwell on the past. And he seems more focused on putting things behind him rather than putting up a struggle. The health insurance dispute’s a perfect example. He focused on his wife’s treatment, and after she was gone, he didn’t have any fight left in him.”

  “I don’t get it at all,” said Tess. “Why not fight back when his entire life’s work is at stake?”

  “That kind of struggle can wear a guy down.” Dominic had developed an intimate understanding of this as he’d dragged himself through his divorce. Lourdes was a lawyer who knew everyone in the local legal community, and she’d brought up every possible dispute. He’d reached a point where he wanted it to be over rather than fairly settled. Letting himself dwell on the inequitable settlement would only keep him shackled to the past, to the failed marriage and to mistakes he couldn’t change. Such things could eat you alive from the inside out if you let them. Ultimately, you had to let go.