She buzzed down the windows in her car and cut the engine. She felt better just sitting here, looking at Shade Tree Cottage. Reaching over to her tote bag, she brought out a small notebook, one of dozens she carried around. Sometimes she used whatever she had on hand, a paper napkin or the back of an envelope. It all ended up in her bag. Most of her lists were about control, about breaking down her life into manageable pieces. But some of the lists were simply wishes. There was nothing more satisfying than putting what you wanted most onto paper. It gave substance to something that was before as thin as air. It made it one step closer to being real.
She flipped to a clean sheet of paper and started a list about Sebastian. She had a lot of lists about him. Sebastian’s Favorite Things. If Sebastian and I Went on Vacation Together, Where Would We Go?
Today she started:
REASONS WHY SEBASTIAN MAKES ME FEEL BETTER
He doesn’t care that I’m as tall as he is.
He doesn’t care that I weigh more.
He holds my hand through things and doesn’t think less of me for it.
He smells fantastic.
He’s all clean lines and perfect manners.
“Do you do this often when I’m not here? Sit outside my house and work on your lists?”
Paxton gave a start and turned to see Sebastian, his hands on top of her car as he leaned down to look in her window. The sun on his skin highlighted how clear and poreless it was, and turned his blue eyes crystalline. She hadn’t heard him approach, but she could see now that his car was parked behind hers in the driveway.
She smiled and quickly tucked her notebook away. “No, I was just waiting for you.”
He opened the car door for her and helped her out. “It’s too hot to be sitting in your car. Your hair is wet.” He put his cool hand to the base of her bare neck, which made her want to shiver. It was a base reaction from a place deep within her, a well full of sharp longings and pipe dreams. She couldn’t fill that well, couldn’t stopper it, as hard as she tried. But for the sake of their friendship, she did everything she could not to show it.
She smiled. “You never sweat. Are you actually human?”
“I enjoy air-conditioning too much to ever be long without it. Come in.” They walked to his door, where he unlocked it and gestured for her to enter first. He put his keys on the entryway table. She caught a glimpse of herself in the gold starburst mirror and immediately set her tote bag down and used both hands to slick back her hair, tucking all the loose strands into the knot she’d tied that morning.
“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked.
She dropped her hands. “No.”
“Join me, then. I’ll grill salmon. I’m glad I came home first.”
“First?”
“Sometimes I go to that diner on the highway.”
“The Happy Daze Diner?” she asked, disbelieving. The place seemed so unlike him. It had been a family diner at one time, now it was a hole-in-the-wall greasy spoon, still doing business because elderly people who remembered it in its heyday continued to frequent the place.
He smiled at her reaction. “Believe it or not, I have fond memories of the place. My great-aunt used to take me there when I was a kid.” He loosened his tie. “So, how was your day?”
“The same. Until I got home this evening.” Paxton hesitated. “I think my brother is interested in Willa Jackson.”
He raised a single brow. “And you don’t approve?” His tie hissed as he pulled it off. Maybe it was because she was already on edge, but she thought it was a seductive sound. It made her skin prickle.
“No, it’s not that. I’d love her forever if she made him stay.”
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked.
She hesitated, still bothered by it. “He seems to think I should have invited her to participate in the restoration of the Blue Ridge Madam.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It didn’t occur to me,” she said. “Do you think I should have?”
He shrugged. “It would have been a nice thing to do.”
“That’s what Colin said. I didn’t mean to slight her.”
“I know you didn’t. You like being in control. It never occurs to you to ask for help.” He smiled and put a hand to her cheek. “But some things are worth asking for, darling.”
“Easy for you to say,” she said miserably.
“No, actually, it’s not,” he responded. “I’m going to change. You haven’t seen the upstairs since I redecorated my bedroom, have you?”
“No.”
“Come on, then.”
She knew where all the rooms were—the guest room, the room with expensive exercise equipment in it, the empty room he said he had vague plans to turn into an office, and his master suite. He’d mentioned having his bedroom painted last month, but she wasn’t prepared for the major overhaul he’d done. The gray walls had a metallic sheen, and the furniture was all black lacquer now. He’d spent most of his time when he first moved back decorating the downstairs and ridding the house of medieval décor left behind by the previous owner. She’d loved watching the transformation, watching it become more like Sebastian. This, though, wasn’t anything like what she thought it would be. Dark, moody, stark, masculine.
She started to leave so he could change, but he told her to stay, and disappeared into his dressing room.
“Why did you choose a house this big, when there’s only you?” she called as she walked around his bedroom. His bed was king-sized. There was room for someone else there; he just seemed to have no interest in issuing any invitations, though there was plenty of interest, from men and women alike.
“Every life needs a little space. It leaves room for good things to enter it.”
“Wow, Sebastian. Profound.”
She heard him laugh.
She walked by his bed, trailing her fingers along the silken black cover. She stopped to look at a painting over his bureau. She’d never seen it before. It was cracked and dark, obviously old. It looked like something that should be in a folk art museum. It was of a red bowl filled with ripe red berries. A black-and-yellow bird was perched on the edge of the bowl, looking out angrily, as if daring someone to take a berry from him. The tip of his beak was red from berry juice, or maybe blood. It was a little disturbing.
“That belonged to my great-aunt,” Sebastian said. She could feel his chest brush the back of her arm as he came to a stop behind her. “She loved it. It hung in her living room, next to her woodstove. It’s all I have by way of family heirlooms. I had it packed away for years.”
“Why didn’t you bring it out before now?” she asked, still staring at the painting.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to stay.”
“In this house?”
“No, in Walls of Water. I didn’t know if things would work out.” He paused. “But they did.”
Her scalp tightened, as though she was in a barely avoided collision. She hadn’t known she’d almost lost him. What was so wrong with this place that people wanted to leave it? What was so wrong with home and history and family, even if they got on your nerves? Her back still to him, she said, “You’ve mentioned your great-aunt twice tonight. I don’t think you’ve ever talked about her before.”
“She was the only person in my family I knew loved me without reservation. But she passed away when I was ten.”
Sebastian didn’t talk much about his family, but from what little he had told her, she knew his father was verbally abusive, and that he had a much older brother who now lived in West Virginia. They had lived in a trailer park on the west side of town, near the county line. She guessed she’d answered her own question. Maybe there were some things you simply had to get away from. She could understand it from Sebastian. She still didn’t understand it from her brother. To change the subject, she smiled and turned around and said, “Dinner?”
She didn’t realize how close he was. “Unless there’s something else you want to do up here,” he said.<
br />
She wouldn’t touch that. She couldn’t. “Are you implying I need to use your workout room?” she joked.
He lowered his eyes and turned away. “Never, darling. I love you just the way you are.”
FIVE
Unearthed
It was hard to believe on a day like today, when Willa and Rachel were so busy their lunch consisted of only filched cappuccino doughnuts and iced coffee from the café, but business on National Street actually fell off sharply after Thanksgiving. They could go days in the gray winter, sometimes an entire week, without a single customer. There was always a slight upswing in February, the town’s coldest month, when out-of-towners liked to hike into the national park to see the famous waterfalls when they froze, like bridal veils, against the mountains. But mostly, from December to April, those who made their living off tourists just suffered through, dreaming of warmer months, of kingfisher-blue skies and leaves so green they looked like they’d just been painted, as if the color would smear if you touched it.
It was those slow months leading into spring when many transplants got restless and decided to leave. Willa had seen it happen time and time again. Rachel had lasted here more than a year, but Willa could see how hard the cold months were on someone as hyper as she was. Willa was dreading this coming winter. She was afraid she was going to lose Rachel to it. And Rachel and her coffee and chocolate were the only things making life here bearable, the only things she really looked forward to now that the restoration of the Madam was almost complete and she didn’t have an excuse to drive up Jackson Hill every day to see how it was going.
“Willa, look,” Rachel said at about four o’clock that afternoon, when they finally had a quiet moment in the store. Willa turned to see that Rachel had stopped restocking the snack case at the coffee bar, and was looking out the window. “Tall, dark, and rich is heading this way.”
Willa looked up to see Colin Osgood walking by the store window, heading for the door.
“Oh, crap. Tell him I’m not here,” she said, and turned to the storeroom behind the counter.
“What is the matter with you?” Rachel called after her.
Willa disappeared, closing the door behind her, just as she heard the store bell ring.
What was the matter with her? That was a good question. But it was hard to explain, especially to someone like Rachel. The winters were tough on Willa, too—maybe even more so, because she knew she couldn’t leave. That was the big difference between Willa and Rachel, between Willa and all the other transplants. Her grandmother was here. Her father’s house was here. Her history was here. Sometimes she would lean against the front counter, chin in hand, and stare at the snow, craving something else, something different from life, which made her feel that nervous pull in her stomach, like how she would feel when weeks would go by in school after she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid again. The feeling would just get worse and worse, until she found herself hanging a rope of leotards out the dance tower window at two in the morning, just so everyone coming to school would think that a group of dancers had gotten stuck up there and had to tie their clothes together and climb out naked.
That’s why she wanted to stay far, far away from Colin Osgood. No one, no one, had ever said that she’d inspired them before. No one had ever said they’d admired her for what she’d done. It went against everything she’d been told, everything anyone who had ever suffered through high school wanted to believe, that if you just tried hard enough, you could actually get away from who you used to be. But not for the first time, she found herself wondering: What if who she was then was her truer self?
She heard voices out in the store. The timbre of Colin’s low voice, Rachel’s laughter.
Then, suddenly, the knob to the storeroom was turning. Her back was to the door, so she instinctively pushed against it. But he had the advantage of more strength and momentum, and it was a losing battle. She gave up and stepped out of the way, letting the door fling open.
Colin reached out and caught the door before it hit the wall, then looked at her strangely. It had been a long day, and her hair felt about two feet thick, so at one point she’d taken a bandana from stock and used it to push her hair away from her face. Completing today’s lovely ensemble were jeans, platform sneakers, and a T-shirt that read: Go Au Naturel! Au Naturel Sporting Goods and Café, Walls of Water, North Carolina. It, of course, had a coffee stain on it. “Why were you leaning against the door?” he asked.
“I told you you wouldn’t see me if I saw you first.”
“I didn’t think that meant you would literally hide from me.”
“Not one of my finer moments,” she admitted.
He was wearing khakis and loafers. His aviators were tucked into the collar of his light blue T-shirt. He looked so put-together and in control of himself. This was apparently the unique power of all Osgoods—their ability to make her feel slightly out of control.
“What do you want, Colin?”
“I want you to come up to the Madam with me,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
Okay, that got her attention, but then, he probably assumed that it would. “I can’t. I’m working,” she said. To prove her point, she picked up a box of paper cups and inched past him through the doorway.
“It won’t take long,” he said, following her across the store to the coffee bar. “We found something on the property today, and maybe you can help us figure out who it belonged to.”
“I doubt it. I don’t know anything about that house,” she said. And it was true, unfortunately. Her grandmother had never talked about her life there. She handed the cups to Rachel, who was giving her a very juvenile you’re-talking-to-a-boy look. She turned around and found Colin closer than she’d expected. “What did you find?”
He leaned forward, tall and easy, and smiled down on her. “Come with me and find out,” he said seductively. He smelled intriguing, different from the sandalwood and patchouli she was used to—the National Street set was notoriously bohemian. Colin’s scent was sharp and fresh, both foreign and oddly familiar. Green, expensive.
She took a step back. “I can’t.”
“Are you saying you’re not curious at all?”
“Oh, she’s curious,” Rachel said.
Willa cut her eyes at her.
“Then come with me,” Colin said. “It won’t take long.”
It was too much to resist. She’d been wanting to see it for over a year, and now she had the perfect excuse, one that didn’t involve evening dresses, small talk, or Paxton Osgood. It did, however, involve Colin Osgood, his confusing motives, and some definite sexual tension. But he would be leaving in a month, so it wasn’t as if she would have to hide from him forever. “Rachel, hold down the fort,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time,” Rachel said with a knowing smile. “I’m forming some theories about cappuccino with one raw sugar.”
Yes, Willa just bet she was.
“She remembered my order,” Colin said as he stepped ahead of Willa and opened the door for her.
“She does that. I’ll follow you in my Jeep,” she said as she started to turn to where she’d parked farther down the sidewalk.
He grabbed her elbow. “That’s okay. I’ll drive us.” He pointed to the big black Mercedes in front of them. He clicked the key fob he was holding, and the lights flashed and the doors unlocked. She recognized this car. It was hard to miss. It belonged to his father.
He stepped off the curb and opened the car door for her. She sighed, deciding that arguing would only take more time, and got in. She was almost swallowed by the huge leather seats. Once Colin got behind the big wheel—there was something seriously overcompensating about this car—he put on his aviators and backed out. He smoothly maneuvered the car through the traffic on National Street, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his knee.
After several minutes of silence, she turned to him and said, “Why are you g
oing to be here a whole month?”
The side of his mouth lifted at her insinuation that it felt like forever. “I took some time off to help Paxton with the Mad am. And to attend the gala.”
“Where do you live now?”
“New York is my home base. But I travel a lot.”
Just then they turned the corner to the steep driveway up to the Madam, and she stopped trying to make small talk. She’d never been beyond this point. She turned her attention away from Colin and watched the house as it got closer. Giddiness felt like her skin, her whole self, was stretching into a smile. This is going to be something significant, she thought. No ghosts. This is going to feel like coming home.
When he stopped the car in the luggage drop-off lane in front of the house, she couldn’t wait to get out. Something was off, though. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The wind blew in a sharp gust past her, sounding like voices in her ears. She turned in the direction of the wind and whispers. At the edge of the plateau, there was a backhoe at work and a few men in hard hats were standing around.
“The tree is gone,” she said, realizing what was missing.
Colin walked around to her side of the car. “The peach tree, yes.”
“It was a peach tree?” That surprised her. “I didn’t realize peach trees could grow at this elevation.”
“They can grow, they just can’t bear fruit. The springs are too cold here. Kills the buds.” He leaned against the car beside her.
“Then why plant a peach tree here?”
He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Paxton said it wasn’t in any of the old photos of the place, so it had to have come up after your family moved out. Since it’s not historical, and not fruit-bearing, she decided it could go.”
“How did you know it was a peach tree if it’s never borne fruit? I don’t think anyone knew it was a peach tree.”
“I’m a landscape architect,” he said.
It was all starting to make sense. “Ah. You’re doing the landscaping. That’s why you’re here.”
“Yes. I drew up the plans, then contracted the work out before I arrived. My biggest contribution was finding a live oak to put on the property. I found a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old one over in Buncombe County. It was being threatened by development, and the developer didn’t want to get into it with the environmentalists, so he agreed to split the cost with us in order to transplant it here. It’s been almost a year in the making, getting the tree ready. The highway is going to have to close on Tuesday just to move it here.” He turned to her and smiled. “You should come watch.”
The Peach Keeper Page 6