Home on Apple Blossom Road (Life in Icicle Falls)

by Sheila Roberts

  Home is where the love is...

  Colin Wright and Mia Blair grew up in Icicle Falls, but they left years ago—and not on good terms. Now Colin’s grandmother, Justine, has died, and they’ve come home to honor this woman they both loved. That’s when they get some unexpected news. They’re about to inherit something. Jointly. They just have no idea what. It turns out that Justine’s designed a treasure hunt for them, like the ones they enjoyed when they were kids and best friends.

  But they’re not kids anymore, and they sure aren’t best friends. As for that young love they once shared? Well…it’s complicated.

  On the trail of Justine’s treasure, they follow a series of clues that take them down memory lane—ending up at the orchard on Apple Blossom Road. What will they find there? And what did Justine know that they didn’t?

  Praise for the novels of Sheila Roberts

  “A cast of endearing characters, a warmly humorous look at the myriad forms mother-daughter relationships can take, and a delightful small-town setting come together enchantingly in Roberts’s latest sweetly engaging novel.”

  —Booklist on A Wedding on Primrose Street

  “Sweet, affecting, and emotionally charged, this multi-threaded story highlights the complex relationships between mothers and daughters, and while more women’s fiction than pure romance, this is sure to appeal to fans of both genres.”

  —Library Journal on A Wedding on Primrose Street

  “Whenever I start a Sheila Roberts book, I know that I won’t be able to stop until the very last page. A Wedding on Primrose Street is no exception. I love the Life in Icicle Falls series, and with every story it’s like going home and visiting with old friends.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “The Lodge on Holly Road is the ultimate in feel-good family drama and heart-melting romance.”

  —USA TODAY

  “This amusing holiday tale about love lost and found again is heartwarming. Quirky characters, snappy dialogue and sexy chemistry all combine to keep you laughing, as well as shedding a few tears, as you turn the pages.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Merry Ex-mas

  “Homing in on issues many readers can identify with, Roberts’s women search for solutions to a common challenge with humor.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  Also by Sheila Roberts:

  BETTER THAN CHOCOLATE (also published as SWEET DREAMS ON CENTER STREET)

  MERRY EX-MAS

  WHAT SHE WANTS (also published as ROMANCE ON MOUNTAIN VIEW ROAD)

  THE COTTAGE ON JUNIPER RIDGE

  THE TEA SHOP ON LAVENDER LANE

  THE LODGE ON HOLLY ROAD

  A WEDDING ON PRIMROSE STREET

  CHRISTMAS ON CANDY CANE LANE

  Look for Sheila Roberts’s next novel

  available soon from MIRA Books.

  For Lorraine

  Dear Reader,

  I love a treasure hunt—the thrill, the fun! Where will we look next? What will we find? I actually designed one for an annual fall party once with some of our crazy friends. At the time we were living on our family island property with lots of woods to crash around in and a beach, where I buried treasure in the form of tiny bottles of rum and gold coins. (Did I mention we had a pirate theme going for this particular bash? Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of silliness!) I created a map, tore it into pieces and hid them all around the property, then sent the players in search of clues that would lead them to those pieces of the map. There was only one fly in my ointment... I forgot about the tide. By the time my pirates got to the beach, it was coming in with a vengeance and there was barely any beach left. We did manage to rescue the rum and chocolate, though.

  Remembering how much I enjoyed creating that search for treasure, I thought I’d give two characters a bit of a treasure hunt and send them all over Icicle Falls. I hope you’ll enjoy going along for the ride as Colin and Mia search for their inheritance by way of many of the places and people you have come to know. (And if this is your first visit to Icicle Falls, please come back soon!) I hope as you join their adventure, you’ll find an entertaining and inspiring read. Thanks for coming along!

  And if you’d like to hang out together in between books, check out my website (sheilasplace.com) and my Facebook page (Sheila Roberts Author). We have lots of fun!

  Sheila

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Home at Last

  Recipes from Gram

  Acknowledgments

  Excerpt from A Wedding on Primrose Street by Sheila Roberts

  April 3, 1960

  Dear Mother,

  We’ve done it! We bought the apple orchard that was for sale outside town. Mother, it’s perfect. The orchard is lovely, and Gerald’s already talking about planting some cherry and pear trees in addition to the apple trees. I can see myself in the house that comes with it. It has four bedrooms. Four! And a front porch for sitting on in the evening, just like folks do back home in Pittsburgh.

  The owner wouldn’t come down very far on his price but, thanks to the GI Bill, we were able to swing it. I’m going to make yellow-checked curtains for the kitchen window, and I plan to bake my very first apple pie this fall. Of course, we’ll also have a vegetable garden, since the house itself sits on a quarter acre. Gerald and I are going to be very happy here.

  I do hope you and Daddy and Emmaline will be able to come out for Thanksgiving or Christmas or maybe even the Fourth of July, so we can all be together.

  Do write back and say you’ll all come out and see us in our new home.

  Love,

  Justine

  Chapter One

  At thirty-one, who wants to think about death? Colin Wright sure didn’t, and the last thing he wanted to do was go to a funeral, especially when that funeral was for his grandmother.

  The Icicle Falls Baptist Church was packed with people who’d known Colin since he was born, all dressed in their Sunday best on a Thursday afternoon to honor Justine Wright. Justine only had two kids, Colin’s dad, Dylan, and his aunt Beth, but to hear people talk you would’ve thought she’d had a dozen. All the testimonials made her sound like Mother Teresa. In a way she was, with all the foster kids she and Gramps had taken in over the years. They’d never kept a penny of the money they received as foster parents, opting instead to put that money in savings for the child. Colin couldn’t begin to count the number of people who’d called her Mom. Or Grandma.

  It wasn’t only former charges blowing noses and dabbing at eyes. Gram had inspired countless people in Icicle Falls—giving cooking lessons to young brides, volunteering for the town and at church, baking for the annual Raise the Roof fund-raiser that helped maintain historic buildings. She was one of the old-guard movers and shakers, and everyone loved her.

  August had just begun, and a blazing afternoon sun was reaching in through the windows. That, combined
with all the body heat, made the sanctuary hot enough to bake a pie in spite of the fact that the doors had been opened.

  The heavyset, fortysomething guy two rows back who’d stood up to share his memories was sweating as if he’d been stuck under a broiler. “No one could make an apple pie like Mom,” he reminisced and mopped his eyes and his forehead. Colin had no idea who he was, but the tears and the use of the word Mom proclaimed him to be one of Gram’s many projects.

  The sweaty pie eater had barely sat down when a woman called out, “I can. She taught me how.”

  This produced a chuckle from the crowd and momentarily lightened the misery.

  Except for Colin. He tried not to look at the closed casket at the front of the sanctuary, loaded with lilies. Not looking couldn’t save him from remembering what a shit he’d been the last time he’d seen her. Not a major one, he tried to comfort himself, just a minor one.

  Who was now having a major guilt attack. If only he’d known Gram was going to die so suddenly a month later, he would never have told her to mind her own business. Oh, man. Had he really said that to his grandma?

  “But you are my business,” she’d said sweetly. “My favorite business.”

  He’d shaken his head and said, “I love you, Gram, but I gotta go.” At least he’d kissed her goodbye.

  Next to him Aunt Beth was sobbing quietly and blowing her nose. He took her hand and she squeezed it, cutting off his circulation and turning both their hands slick with sweat.

  Gram was in heaven for sure. He, on the other hand, had to be in purgatory. He still couldn’t believe she was gone, and he had no idea how he was going to fill the gaping hole in his life.

  And then there was Mia Blair, the woman who’d broken his heart, sitting on the other side of Aunt Beth. She was another reason Colin didn’t want to be in this overheated sanctuary smelling of battling perfumes and sweaty armpits, pulling on his shirt collar with his free hand. She’d moved away, made her choice years ago. Why hadn’t she stayed away? Who’d invited her here, anyhow?

  She was still slender and delicate, with the same huge brown eyes and long dark hair, same full lips. Those lips used to drive him wild. Not to mention her other body parts. The light coming in through the stained glass cast her in subtle rainbow hues, making her look like an escaped fairy from one of those Lord of the Rings movies.

  “Don’t wear black,” Aunt Beth had instructed everyone. Mia hadn’t, but if you asked Colin, she shouldn’t have come ready for a picnic, either, in that dress splattered with pink flowers, showing off so much leg. She leaned forward to dig another packet of tissues out of her purse and he could see cleavage. A woman shouldn’t be showing cleavage at a guy’s grandma’s funeral.

  And a guy shouldn’t be looking. He directed his eyes straight ahead. But oh, man, there was the casket again. He lowered his gaze to his hand, the one that wasn’t numb and sweaty.

  “Justine had a long, wonderful life,” said the minister, “and we all know how happy she’d be to see so many of you here to honor her today.”

  It would’ve been better to honor her when she was alive and not been a smart mouth, even if Gram had provoked him. It seemed she was still provoking him from beyond the grave, summoning Mia back to Icicle Falls, dredging up memories of their childhood, those intense teenage years, the final hurt and frustration.

  “When we celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday last month, she told me she was ready to go and meet Jesus,” the minister said. “Everything was in order down here. She’d done all she could.”

  To get her grandson squared away, anyhow. Sadly, he hadn’t squared the way she’d wanted him to.

  “‘And now I’m leaving things up to God,’ she told me. How’s that for a great attitude?”

  No one could deny Gram had her shit together. Which was more than Colin could say.

  Now he was looking in Mia’s direction again. Cut that out! He forced his eyes to move away. Again. Back to staring at his sweaty hand.

  Boring.

  Too bad, he told his wandering eyes. We’re not looking at Mia, so deal with it.

  “Justine wanted us to all celebrate her life,” the minister said. “So, at her request, we’ll sing ‘Amazing Grace’ and then proceed to the fellowship hall for pie and ice cream.”

  Pie and ice cream. As if it was a party. Colin had no interest in partying. Gram and Aunt Beth had been his mothers growing up, and Gram had been the queen bee mother, keeping everyone happy and connected. He didn’t want to celebrate the fact that she was no longer here by eating pie in her memory. It would taste like ashes.

  If it wasn’t for the reading of the will the next day and strict orders from his dad to stick around, he’d be on his way back to Seattle.

  * * *

  This was...awkward. Why had Aunt Beth insisted Mia sit with her?

  Because she was family, of course. Not blood-related, but family just the same. Aunt Beth had been Mama’s best friend, and when Mama got sick and Mia’s loser dad took off, both Aunt Beth and Grandma Justine had been there for them. They’d finished raising her after Mama died. Mia had spent as much time playing in the family’s orchard on Apple Blossom Road as Colin had. She’d helped sell apples at the fruit stand and worked alongside Grandma Justine, canning applesauce and apple-pie filling every fall.

  Still, she was very aware of Colin sitting there, glaring at her as though she didn’t belong. Well, as far as Aunt Beth was concerned she did, darn it. Colin might have dumped her, but his family hadn’t. Most of them, anyway. And just because she lived in Chicago, that didn’t mean she loved Grandma Justine any less than he did. He’d moved away, too.

  Okay, only as far as Seattle, but he’d still moved.

  Behind her an old lady was singing so shrilly it made Mia’s ears hurt. Next to her, Aunt Beth was blowing her nose. And next to Aunt Beth, Colin was frowning. Mia realized she was, too. Oh, Grandma, I wish you weren’t gone. I wish you could have stayed around to hear about my latest success. I wish you could’ve stayed until I finally got the whole love thing right.

  Except at the rate Mia was going with the love thing, Grandma Justine would’ve had to live to be two hundred. How easy it was to take wrong turns, and it seemed that once you did, there was no turning back.

  Never mind the painful past. Mia was here to pay tribute to a wonderful woman, not to sneak glances at the woman’s grandson, the man who broke her heart.

  “We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begu-un,” warbled the woman behind Mia. It would’ve been more tolerable if she’d been singing in the same key as everyone else. Hopefully, this all sounded a lot better up where Grandma Justine was than it did down here.

  The service ended, and people began to make their way toward the fellowship hall. Aunt Beth still had Colin’s hand, so Mia figured she should slip into the crowd for a while.

  She was just about to when Colin said, “Uh, Aunt Beth, my hand’s gone numb.”

  “Oh, Colin Cootie, I’m sorry,” Aunt Beth said, freeing his hand and latching on to Mia’s arm at the same time. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two here.”

  Since Uncle Mark had been seated two bodies down, next to Colin’s dad, Mia was fairly sure that she would’ve managed. In fact, it was kind of odd that she wasn’t sitting beside her husband.

  Now she had both Mia and Colin by the arm and was walking them down the aisle, making it pretty darned obvious what had motivated the seating arrangement. “I’m so glad you two are staying over.”

  “Did we have a choice?” Colin retorted.

  “Oh, nice,” Mia said. “Be rude to your aunt at your grandma’s funeral.” Sometimes Colin could be so thoughtless.

  He kept his mouth shut, but his scowl said, “Who asked for your opinion?”

  Nobody. And she wasn’t his mother. Or his
girlfriend. Not anymore. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  Aunt Beth was always happy to cut them both some slack. “We aren’t ourselves. Mark,” she said over her shoulder, “I think we’re going to need more ice cream for the pies.”

  She was some kind of magician. In the space of a few seconds she’d stepped back a pace to confer with her husband about ice cream and move Mia and Colin together as if they were a couple. Awkward. Oh, so awkward.

  Well, they were adults. “I’m sorry about...” Our grandma? No, technically that wasn’t right. And your grandma sounded...removed, as though she didn’t care. “Grandma Justine.” That was who she was, to Mia and many others.

  He nodded.

  It would have been helpful if he’d said something. Anything. It was his turn.

  And then he did. “Nice dress. You going to a party after this?”

  So now he was a fashion expert? Who’d crowned him the next Clinton Kelly? “As a matter of fact, I am. A celebration of life.”

  He scowled again. Then grudgingly said, “You look good.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “So do you.” No lie. He’d been cute as a boy, even cuter as a teenager. As a man he was ridiculously handsome. Blond hair, blue eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a square chin with a strong mouth that made a girl dream of kisses. Ugh.

  They were in the foyer now. Some of the mourners were already heading toward the addition known as the fellowship hall; others milled around, visiting. She scanned the crowd for someone to talk to besides Mr. Thistle Britches. It wasn’t hard. She knew almost everyone.

  There was her old friend Bailey Sterling-Black, only a few feet away, standing with a man who looked like an escaped model. Todd Black, the new husband, of course.

  “Bailey, hi!” she called.

  Bailey turned and smiled. She took the man’s hand and towed him over. “Mia, when did you get to town? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming, you jerk? Your hair looks great! I love the bangs,” she gushed, hugging Mia.