Home on Apple Blossom Road (Life in Icicle Falls)

by Sheila Roberts

  Water? At Herman’s? “I don’t think so,” he said, and went and ordered himself a shake. Large.

  She frowned when he returned with it. “You’re clogging your arteries.”

  “Hey, you told me yourself that we need some fat in our diets.”

  “Not a boatload in one serving,” she said. “Do you want to die young?”

  He shrugged and took a guzzle. Oh, yeah. That was what good tasted like. “I’ll die with a smile on my face.” He offered her the glass. “Try some.”

  “No, thanks,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Suit yourself.” He took a bite of his veggie burger.

  “Yummy, isn’t it?”

  Not compared to a cheeseburger with grilled onions. He wrapped it back up and shoved it toward her. “I’ll pass.”

  Lorelei gave up on the subject of nutrition. “Your old friend is pretty.”

  Colin found himself wishing they’d kept talking about fat and fake meat. “Uh, yeah.”

  “How long have you known each other?”

  “Since we were kids. We grew up together.”

  “But you’re not related.”

  “No. My family took her in when she was seven.”

  “So, she’s adopted?”

  “More or less. Her mom and my aunt were best friends. Her mom died of cancer.”

  “Gosh, that’s sad,” Lorelei said, and took a big drink of her water. “But you’re both inheriting something?”

  He shrugged. “My grandma loved her.”

  “I guess.” Lorelei seemed shocked that Gram could leave something to someone who wasn’t a blood relative.

  Maybe that was unusual. Colin didn’t know. All he knew was how his family operated, and that was with open arms. Well, except his dad, who was more of an arms crossed kind of guy.

  “What do you think she left you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Was she rich?”

  He hadn’t thought she was. Maybe he’d thought wrong. But where had she gotten the money for stocks and savings? She’d had to sell the orchard to pay for Gramps’s stay in the care facility. All Colin could figure was that Gram hadn’t used it all up before he died. Still, she’d lived so frugally, as if she was just managing on Social Security. He’d always tried to get her extravagant gifts for Christmas and birthdays to make up for it—two-pound boxes of chocolates from Sweet Dreams; gift certificates to Schwangau, the fanciest restaurant in town; hardcover copies of books by her favorite authors. She had the complete collection of Vanessa Valentine novels.

  “Maybe she was like those millionaires you read about,” Lorelei mused. “They’re eating dog food and they have millions in the bank.”

  Colin frowned at her. “My gram never had to eat dog food.” No one would have let that happen.

  “Not her, but you know what I mean.”

  Discussing his grandmother’s finances with Lorelei felt wrong. “Can we not talk about this?”

  She blinked. “Oh, well. Sure.” She wadded up her hamburger wrapper. “Why don’t we pick up some wine and go back to that B and B where I’m staying. The view is gorgeous.”

  He knew what the view was. He’d seen it most of his life. But he said, “Okay.”

  They got a bottle of local wine, and he followed Lorelei back to Gerhardt’s Gasthaus, where they sat out on the balcony of her room, taking in the evening glow as the sun set over the mountains.

  Lorelei oohed and aahed for a couple of minutes and then returned to the topic of Colin’s inheritance. “It’s really kind of cool, this whole treasure-hunt thing,” she said, and took a sip of her Gewürztraminer.

  It would’ve been cool if Gram was still alive. And if he wasn’t having to do it with Mia. Do it... No, no, don’t be thinking like that.

  “If it’s money, you should invest it. We could invest it in something together. Did I tell you? Lenny might be selling the gym.”

  “What?” Colin tried to pull his wandering thoughts back to the conversation at hand.

  “Now that would be a great business to invest in.”

  Suddenly, he felt like a buzzard. Colin and Lorelei, Mr. and Mrs. Buzzard. “I really don’t want to talk about stuff like that now.”

  “I was just trying to be helpful.”

  “Well, you’re not.”

  She sniffed. “You don’t have to get snotty.”

  “Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Of course it has,” she said, and poured him some more wine. “It’s hard to lose someone you love.”

  “Have you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I still miss poor Georgie.” She shook her head. “He was such a sweet little dog.”

  She was comparing his grandmother to a dog? “Lorelei.”

  “I know. You don’t want to talk about it. Men are from Mars. I get it. My mom has that book.”

  He felt as though he was on Mars right now. No, make that Planet Strange.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” she said brightly.

  Finally. Better yet, he thought, let’s not talk at all. He looked at the giant mountains looming over them, and then his gaze drifted up to where the sun was leaving behind a bleeding sky. Was Gram up there somewhere, looking down on them?

  “It’s beautiful,” Lorelei said. “And so romantic.” She smiled at him, and placed a foot on his thigh. “Isn’t it?”

  “Uh, yeah.” So, do something about it, came the message from the Urge to Merge Control Center. Instead of following orders, he tossed down the last of his wine and stood up. “But I should get going. I’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

  “Since when is eleven in the morning early?”

  Good point. And what was his problem, anyway? “I’ve got to go do some stuff with my dad,” he lied. He could find something to do with Dad. There was still Scotch left in that bottle.

  He bent and gave Lorelei a kiss and she wrapped her arms around him and hung on like a limpet, making the kiss worth his while. Lorelei knew how to make a kiss worthwhile.

  Mr. and Mrs. Buzzard get it on. He broke away. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  “When?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know how many more clues we have to work through.”

  “Fine. I’ll go shopping.”

  Her tone of voice implied punishment, but that was fine with him. It would keep her busy and out of his hair.

  Out of his hair. Hmm. A guy shouldn’t feel like that about his girlfriend.

  “Okay, I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and scrammed.

  Something is wrong with this picture, he concluded as he got in his car. But when it came to love he was no artist, and he had no idea how to fix it.

  May 25, 2002

  Dear Emmaline,

  I’m taking advantage of a lull at the information booth to write you a line. We’ll see how long it lasts. We’re always busy on a holiday weekend. In fact, we’re busy most weekends. We’ve had a record number of visitors this year. More and more people are discovering Icicle Falls, and we have quite the team of volunteers now. Isn’t this note card, with our little downtown all dressed up for spring, pretty? What a change from what the town looked like when Gerald and I first moved here!

  It was lovely to chat with you on Mother’s Day. The day certainly didn’t feel the same without Mother, though. To live to be ninety-two, with all her faculties intact, was remarkable, and I’m grateful we had her for so long. Still, I miss her.

  After our phone chat, Gerald and Adrian and I went over to Bethie’s for dinner. I told her I didn’t want her cooking on Mother’s Day, but she insisted. Mia made a special cake shaped like a hat, and Colin gave Bethie and me Sweet Dreams chocolates. Gerald was not happy that Adrian did
n’t use any of his allowance to purchase a card for the mothers, but honestly, the boy’s spent the past six years bouncing from foster home to foster home. I don’t blame him for wanting to hoard every penny. Besides, he’s only been with us a few months, which, in my opinion, hardly makes either Beth or me eligible for a Mother’s Day card. Considering the fact that his birth mother abandoned him when he was three, it’s no wonder that Mother’s Day doesn’t mean much to him.

  Having said all that, I must admit I’m finding this boy a challenge. He’s the oldest child we’ve ever taken in, and I’m afraid his character is already formed. We keep trying with him, though, and let me tell you it’s exhausting. Or maybe it’s simply that taking in children at seventy-two is exhausting. I think, perhaps, our days of foster-parenting may be coming to an end.

  Well, dear, I can see a car pulling up, which means we have more visitors looking for a map and some brochures. I’ll drop this in the mailbox on my way home. Give my love to Joey.

  Love,

  Justine

  Chapter Seven

  Colin showed up at Beth’s house the next morning ten minutes before eleven. Beth was working on an alteration and had left Mia to enjoy a second cup of coffee and the morning sunshine out on the porch swing.

  “You ready?” he called to her as he came up the front walk.

  “Yeah, I’ll get my purse.” She went inside and put her mug in the dishwasher, then grabbed her purse and hurried back out the door. She found Colin perched on the railing, the morning sunshine glinting in his hair, and her heart did a flip. She half wanted to ask him what he and Lorelei had done the night before, but the answer to that was obvious, so instead she said, “I sure hope Evan has our clue.”

  “If he doesn’t, we’re gonna have to come back and ask Aunt Beth to give us a hint.”

  “What’s babe doing while you’re clue-hunting?” she asked as they walked to the car. Okay, that was mature. Honestly, Mia, how old are you, fourteen?

  “Shopping.”

  “Icicle Falls is a great place for that.”

  “It’s a great place for everything,” he said, and opened the car door for her.

  “Yes, it is,” she had to agree.

  “Not as great as Chicago, though,” he added as he got behind the wheel.

  “Oh, I don’t know.”

  “I thought you liked it.”

  “I did. I do.”

  “What did I just hear, a Freudian slip?”

  “No, and since when do you know about Freud?” she retorted.

  “Hey, I went to college, too. You getting tired of hanging out with movers and shakers?” he mocked.

  “Of course not.” She’d worked too hard to prove herself these past few years to be tired of her corporate world. She was making decent money and now she was promoting a good product. “There’s nothing wrong with being a mover and shaker.”

  “There are a lot of ways to be one,” he said.

  “True.” Grandma Justine was proof of that. She’d never left this small town, but what a big difference she’d made. “Brighten the corner where you are,” she used to say.

  So, Mia asked herself, what corner are you brightening? The answer evaded her. But hey, she was just getting started. Give her time. Soon she’d be making boatloads of money and she’d attend charity balls and donate small fortunes to the Red Cross and the Humane Society.

  Herman’s was a few minutes away from opening to the public, but they went to the entrance, anyway, and Colin knocked on the glass door. A couple of high school kids were setting up behind the counter. One, a pretty girl with curly blond hair, came to the door and opened it.

  “It’s almost eleven, so I guess I can let you in,” she said with a smile.

  “We’re actually here to see Evan,” Colin explained. “Is he around?”

  “Sure, I’ll get him.” Colin and Mia followed her to the counter, then waited as she disappeared into the nether regions of the kitchen, yelling, “Evan! Somebody here to see you.”

  A moment later Evan himself, a skinny fortysomething guy sporting glasses and a beard, came into sight. “Hi, what can I do you for?”

  “We’re here for a Justine burger,” Mia said.

  “Wow, she pulled it off, huh? I told her this was some crazy idea, but she thought you guys would like it.” He reached beneath the counter and removed what looked like a hamburger wrapped in a yellow, black and red wrapper—the colors of Germany’s flag. “Here ya go.”

  Colin took it and said thanks. Then they turned their backs on Evan, who was leaning on the counter, enjoying the show, and opened it. The Justine burger consisted of two stale hamburger buns with a folded piece of the now-familiar pink stationery between them.

  “Pretty damned clever, huh?” Evan commented.

  “Yeah, clever,” Colin said. Then to Mia, “Let’s go back to the car.”

  Once in the car, he handed the paper over to her and they read it together.

  My darlings, I think you should go to watch the river rush by. It’s just like time. You probably haven’t come to realize yet how precious that time is and how quickly it carries you along. We can’t afford to waste it on the wrong person.

  Mia had already come to realize that. She felt sad whenever she thought about her father and what a waste of time he’d been. He still contacted her every once in a while, mostly to hit her up for money—“Just a loan,” he’d always said—which he never paid back.

  He wasn’t the only person she’d wasted time on. Adrian Malk, the last foster kid Grandma Justine ever took in, was far worse than a waste of time. He was a nightmare. Before Adrian, Mia had never swerved in her undying devotion to Colin.

  They parked the car and got out. Somewhere downriver, campers were cooking lunch over a fire. The smell of wood smoke hit her with an ugly memory, taking her back to that summer when she was sixteen and oh, so foolish.

  * * *

  He was almost seventeen, an older man. He had dark hair and eyes, and an Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down when he talked. Mia found it fascinating. She found everything about Adrian Malk fascinating. He wore his jeans halfway down his butt and walked with a swagger. And he swore. Swore! Not in front of Grandma Justine or Aunt Beth, but when he was out of earshot he used words that made Mia blush. He always beat Colin and her at video games when the families were all at Grandma Justine’s. The aura of cool that surrounded him made it easy to excuse the fact that he mocked everything and everyone, and ducked out of chores whenever possible. When you were so cool, chores were beneath you.

  “Who invited him, anyway?” Colin grumbled as he and Mia drove to the river for the big end-of-school party. “The guy’s a loser.”

  “I did,” Mia said, “and he’s not a loser.”

  “He doesn’t even have a driver’s license,” Colin continued scornfully. Colin had gotten his the second he turned sixteen. Dylan had bought him an old Corvette that he’d worked on for months with his grandpa, but made him pay for his own gas and insurance. He proudly drove it everywhere and never complained about having to work part-time at Swede’s garage on Saturdays, in addition to the work he did around the orchard.

  “How’s he supposed to get a car when he’s stuck in foster care?” Mia argued.

  “Gram said he could use hers, and she said she’d pay for driver’s ed if he’d bring up his grades. He didn’t. The guy cuts more classes than he goes to.”

  Mia shrugged. “So, he’s not into school.”

  Colin took his eyes off the road long enough to gape at her. “You’re kidding, right? You’ve got straight As. Since when do you stick up for a moron who’s going to fail his junior year?”

  “Not everyone’s good in school.” She’d said as much to Colin after his dad had reamed him out for barely passing English last semester. After al
l, not everyone was a Geek Girl. She couldn’t help smiling at Adrian’s fond nickname for her.

  “Just because he flirts with you and tells you you’re cute doesn’t make him cool.”

  Mia thought it did. Only the day before she’d stopped by Adrian’s locker and told him about the end-of-school party. He’d run a hand up her arm, shooting an electric current through her whole body. “You gonna be there?”

  “Of course,” she’d said. “Everybody goes.”

  He’d cocked his head and studied her. “I may have to check it out. Got any places down by the river where we can go have our own party?”

  Her heart rate picked up. There was something dangerous about Adrian Malk, something that made her pulse jump. He scared the sensible part of her, but the sixteen-year-old besotted girl part of her had no intention of listening to her sensible side.

  “Maybe,” she’d said coyly.

  “Then maybe I’ll come,” he’d said and tapped her playfully on the nose.

  He was going to be there, she knew it. They’d take a romantic stroll and then he’d kiss her. It would be like the kiss in the classic movie The Princess Bride. This would be a kiss to leave all other kisses in the history of kisses behind.

  “Don’t you be hanging around him tonight,” Colin warned as he drove them to the party.

  And miss the kiss of a lifetime? No way. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” she fired back.

  “I mean it, Mia,” he said sternly. “You stick with me.”

  Not so long ago she’d have liked nothing better. But where was that getting her? Colin was not more than a big brother to her. He’d never run his hand up her arm, tapped her on the nose or promised romantic adventures and excitement.

  “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself,” she informed him.

  “He’s twice your size.”

  “So?”

  “So stay away from him.”

  “You’re not my dad!”

  “Your dad? Like he cares?”

  True, but the words still hurt. She pressed her lips together and glared out the window.