Sour Apples

by Sheila Connolly

  “But at least they end eventually,” Lydia added. She stood up. “Thanks for lunch, Meg. I’d better head back with Max. I’ve got a list of errands a mile long.”

  “It was good to see you, Lydia. I’ll see what Lauren’s plans are, and maybe we can all get together. Just leave your checkbook at home!”

  Lydia laughed and waved good-bye, and Meg turned back to Bree. “You’ve been quiet.”

  “I was hungry.”

  “You don’t have any issues with Lydia, do you?”

  “Nope. She’s one nice lady. You know it’s Lauren I’m not crazy about, but I didn’t want to say anything negative. Anyway, I’m glad Mrs. C’s okay with our leasing the land. You about ready to head up there and take a look? I’ve got some stakes in the barn.”

  “My, you are eager to move on this. But I can understand why. Isn’t it getting pretty late for planting?”

  “Exactly.” Bree stood up and carried the plates over to the sink and began rinsing them.

  “Aren’t you worried about finding the stock we want? From what I’ve read in those catalogs, we should have ordered last year, if we want so many trees.”

  “I’ve got that part figured out,” Bree said, without turning around.

  “Oh? That was fast. How can you get it so quickly?”

  “Have you talked to Christopher lately?” Bree asked guilelessly, her hands immersed in soapy water.

  What would he have to do with this? “Should I have?”

  “Uh, I talked to him a few days ago, and he said something about a grower colleague of his who had decided to fold up the business and was looking to get rid of the stock he had on hand…”

  Meg laughed. “And you jumped at the opportunity? Is that why you’ve been pushing me to cut this deal with Seth?”

  “Kind of. It’s good healthy stock, and it’s going cheap. We can pick and choose our varieties. And we can have the trees this week.”

  Not for the first time, Meg had the feeling that events were rushing past her a little too quickly. “Well, if Christopher recommends this guy, I guess it’s okay with me. You have a shopping list?”

  “I do.” She returned to her seat and pulled a folded piece of paper out of her pocket. “Let me show you…” Bree proceeded to describe her selections.

  “It all sounds good to me. But come clean—when did you really find out that these trees would be available?”

  “A couple of days ago, that’s all!” Bree protested, without meeting Meg’s glance. “It was too good a deal to pass up.”

  Meg sighed. “I believe you. So why did you make me look at all those catalogs, if you already knew what you wanted?”

  Bree grinned. “To get your head back into the trees, not other stuff.”

  “Fair enough,” Meg replied, “and it is fun to look and think about the possibilities. I know I was waffling about the land, and I’m sorry. But I get so tired of being beholden to Seth. You know, he’s already helped with the storage chambers and the septic system and the furnace. And the tractor and the delivery truck…”

  “Enough!” Bree help up a hand and laughed. “He also runs his business on your land. So consider that you’re both helping each other.”

  “But what if things go wrong between us?” Meg asked.

  “Then you’ll deal with that when and if it happens. Jeez, you’re such a pessimist! You can’t plan everything. Besides, you said he’s okay with a lease agreement. We’ll make it nice and legal. It’s not like it’s a huge commitment—only a few acres, and they’re just sitting there empty.”

  “I know.” Meg sighed. It wasn’t like a dynastic merger between the scions of the Warren family and the Chapin family or anything.

  So why did it feel like such a big commitment?

  9

  They reached the top of the rise: Meg’s orchard lay to their left, its wavering rows of trees extending to the local road at the south end, and to the state highway to the west. The highway curved away at the edge where they stood, and the Chapins had maintained a small patch of trees on their land as a buffer against the highway. “Talk me through what you’re planning,” Meg said.

  Bree scanned the land before answering. “It’s a nice piece of land—good slope, not too steep. It’s on the leeward side of the hill, so you’re protected a bit from weather. And the trees by the highway provide a windbreak, so your apple trees won’t dry out too fast.”

  “So it’s pretty close to ideal, right?” Meg surveyed her new domain. She could see her house down the hill, off to the right; she knew that a mile or so away to her left lay Lydia and Seth’s houses, both built by Chapin ancestors over two hundred years before. She could hear the cars passing on the highway behind her, but she couldn’t see it from where she stood. She felt an unexpected surge of joy: this was a perfect place to create “her” orchard. “What layout were you thinking of?” she asked Bree.

  “I’ve been looking at the land, and like I said, I’m thinking three acres. I’m sure Seth would give us more, but I don’t want to get overextended, you know? The rows would follow the contour of the hill, with the first one maybe twenty feet from the old trees. The saplings have dwarf rootstock, so they won’t get real tall. I want to use a high-density orchard management strategy—have you heard about that?” When Meg looked blank, Bree went on. “It’s kind of new, but the university’s extension service thinks it’s a great idea. Thing is, it would mean some more work for us, mostly in staking and pruning, but it would increase yields on the new trees. I can show you a couple of local places that have tried it.”

  Meg held up her hands. “You’re the expert—I trust you.”

  Bree grinned. “Good! So in terms of layout here, I’d space the rows maybe fifteen feet apart and the trees each about eight feet apart along the rows. That’ll still let us get the heavier equipment through. Overall, we’ll be taking a chunk that’s maybe seventy feet down the hill and about four-tenths of a mile over that way. Here, let me give you some idea of where the rows will go.”

  With a bundle of stakes tucked under her arm, Bree loped off toward the west side. When she stopped, she planted the first stake about twenty feet short of the stand of mature trees near the road, then walked back toward Meg, pacing off fifteen-foot intervals and sticking stakes in as she went. She passed Meg, headed down the slight hill, and added a couple more. Then she set off toward the north again, aligning more stakes with the first set. When she finished, she looked very small in the distance. Finally she came back to where Meg was standing.

  An acre out here looked a lot bigger than it did on paper, Meg reflected. “You’re thinking four rows? How many trees does this add up to?”

  “Two hundred fifty a row, so a thousand total,” Bree said promptly. “Four varietals, depending on what we can get.”

  Meg swallowed hard. A thousand trees seemed like an overwhelming number. She focused on the varietal question. “How about if I ask Gail Seldon at the Historical Society to look for old orchard references locally? She may not be able to find much about specific varieties, but you never know. Oh, and Lydia said she has some trees on the other side of her house, but she didn’t know what varieties. I wondered if maybe you might be able to tell her, and if they’re old or rare, maybe you could do some grafts onto our older trees?”

  “Sure. Good idea. You know, there are probably a lot of old varieties lurking in forgotten corners around here—you just have to know where to look. If you have the time, that is. I don’t know if we will have time this year, since grafts should be done before bud break, but it’s something to think about for next year. We can scout out possible trees for grafts now—there are plenty of abandoned orchards scattered around here.”

  “I like the idea of saving the old ones. All right, next question: how are we going to plant all these trees? I can’t see the two of us digging a thousand holes by hand.”

  “Backhoe’s the fastest way. First you run it along the lines where you want to plant, clear off the grass, then you
can dig the holes with it. The two of us could handle the actual planting part—if you’re not afraid of some hard work?” Bree’s look challenged Meg.

  “If we can do it ourselves, I’d rather not spend the money on hiring help this early. Do you know where we can find a backhoe for rent?”

  “Maybe Seth can—” Bree began.

  “Get us a deal?” Meg laughed. “As usual. Sure, I’ll ask him. Do we know what our timeline will be?”

  “I can place the order today, if you’re good with it. We can have the trees delivered by the end of the week, I’d guess.”

  Meg waved a hand at Bree. “Make it so, Number One!” When Bree looked blankly at her, Meg mumbled, “Old Star Trek reference. Yes, do it. I’ll talk to Seth and see what paperwork we’ll need for the land lease. And about the backhoe.”

  “Cool.” Bree’s glance shifted. “Looks like your company’s back.”

  Meg followed her gaze and saw that Lauren’s car had pulled into the driveway. Meg checked her watch: it was after five. Where had the day gone? “I hope she’ll have time to sit still for a bit. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to her since she arrived.”

  “Don’t let her talk you into anything,” Bree muttered. “You don’t have the time.”

  Meg turned to look at Bree. “You don’t like her much, do you?”

  “Me?” Bree shrugged. “She’s not my friend, she’s yours. I don’t want her interfering with our work schedule. You want to have some playtime with her some night, go ahead.”

  Unlikely, Meg thought. “Are you going to leave the stakes in place?”

  “Yeah, I want to get some more precise measurements before I put in the order, and it’ll be dark soon.”

  “I’m going to go down and try to catch Lauren before she disappears again. See you for dinner?”

  Bree nodded, and Meg headed to the house, where she found Lauren in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator. Lauren backed out to greet Meg.

  “There you are! I was wondering where you’d gotten to, since I saw your car was still here.”

  “I was up laying out a new part of the orchard. Are you just passing through, or can you sit for a while? I feel like I’ve barely seen you since you got here.”

  “I know! Luckily, Rick’s got a private event tonight, and he’s taking his wife. So I’m all yours for the evening.” Lauren cocked an eyebrow at her. “Unless you have other plans? Like with that hunky neighbor of yours?” When Meg shook her head, Lauren said, “You can fill me in on what’s going on with you two over dinner. Want to go out?”

  “If you recall, there aren’t a lot of choices in Granford. And I don’t feel like cleaning myself up to go over to Northampton or Amherst. You mind just staying in? It would give us a better chance to talk anyway.”

  “As long as I don’t have to cook, suits me. Will your manager person be joining us?”

  Meg fought down a flash of annoyance. “Please don’t dismiss Bree that easily. She’s young, but she knows far more about the business than I do, and I couldn’t function here without her. She’s also a smart woman—and, as she reminded me, a registered voter. I assume your campaign can’t afford to blow off the twenty-something vote?”

  Lauren held up her hands in surrender. “You’re right, and I was being rude. I guess I’m more stressed out than I thought.”

  Meg went over to the cabinet to contemplate the possibilities for dinner. “Why are you stressed?” she said over her shoulder. “You seem to be having fun.”

  “Oh, I am, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I’m new to this whole game, and we’ve got such a tight schedule. Most candidates get a year’s head start on us apparently.”

  Meg opened the fridge and pulled out some ground meat. “So why did Rick jump into this race so late?”

  “Boy, you really don’t follow politics, do you? There wasn’t an opening until now—incumbents usually win, you know, but for your district the incumbent just announced his plans to retire. Do you have anything to drink?”

  “I did see something in the paper about that, but I guess I didn’t realize this was his district. There’s some wine open in the fridge, and I’ll be happy to join you. But I warn you, these days wine mainly puts me to sleep—I work hard, you know.”

  Meg handed her the bottle, put two wineglasses on the table, and turned back to dinner—wondering why Lauren seemed so edgy.

  Bree came in a few minutes later, but as soon as she spotted Lauren settled at the table she announced, “I think I’ll just grab a sandwich and get started on those orders. I’m sure you two want some alone time.”

  Meg started to protest, but Lauren jumped in. “Bree, don’t let me drive you away. In fact, I’d love to talk to you sometime about how to reach out to college voters, if you’re willing.”

  “Maybe. But right now I have to go buy a lot of apple trees.” Bree headed into the dining room, where the laptop computer lived.

  Lauren looked at Meg. “She doesn’t like me much, does she?”

  “It’s not that—she’s working really hard to make the orchard a success, and she resents you taking me away from it. So tell me—I’ve really been wanting to hear about how you extricated yourself from the bank and ended up working for Rick Sainsbury.”

  Lauren took a sip of wine. “Well, since you asked…”

  10

  Two hours later the wine was gone, and Meg was feeling very relaxed. In contrast, Lauren had become more and more animated as the evening had progressed. They’d covered the implosion at their former employer and the dispersal of most of the people they had known. Meg was surprised that she didn’t feel much of anything about the changes. Lauren had been her only real friend on the job. No one else had even contacted her in the year since she’d left—and she had barely noticed. Her life in Boston seemed very distant now.

  “So what made you decide to go into politics?” Meg asked.

  “Well, it was kind of serendipitous, I guess. I’d just about made up my mind to ditch the bank. Yeah, I know—bad time to give up any job, but I knew I had enough in savings to tide me over for a while, and I didn’t want to wait around for the axe to fall, you know? Then I went to this party with a guy I was sort of seeing, and he introduced me to Rick.”

  “Was he already running for something then, or did that come later?”

  “Maybe he was thinking about it, but it didn’t come up then. When he did decide to jump in, he remembered me saying that I was looking for a change, and I was ready to make a move. And here we are.” Lauren drained her glass. “Seth’s involved in local politics, isn’t he?”

  Meg had been wondering when Lauren would drag the conversation around to Seth. “He’s a selectman for Granford, but I don’t think he has any higher aspirations. He believes in contributing to the community, and he’s lived here all his life.”

  “I can respect that. But Rick is a businessman—a successful one. He’s got the money and he fits the profile, so he thought he’d aim higher. And having a father-in-law who’s still remembered fondly around here doesn’t hurt. I know, it’s kind of a long shot for a newcomer, but he’s made the right friends. I’m sure even you know that there’s a lot of dissatisfaction with the status quo among voters these days, so we think there’s a real opportunity for a fresh face with some good ideas.” Lauren grinned. “And he’s got me!”

  “Does it bother you that a lot of people today seem to vote against something rather than for something?” Meg asked, curious.

  “They’re angry and they’re frustrated. Who can blame them? I’m sure you see that even on a local level.”

  Meg remembered what Seth had told her about the complaints he fielded. “Yes, though on a smaller scale. Not enough money to pay for basic needs, like schools and roads, and no way to raise more given a declining population and falling tax revenues. It’s just simple math: demand far outweighs supply of funds, and that’s not going to change any time soon. I admire Seth for sticking with it. It’s not easy.”
>
  “Washington is more of the same, only on a bigger scale, from what I can tell already. But a lot of people seem to think that the old-guard politicians are hiding pots of money or spending it all on their pet projects, then flat-out lying about it. That’s why a new broom makes sense. Sorry, that’s not a good metaphor, but you know what I mean.”

  “I do. So how do you compress an entire campaign into a few months? I thought these things took years.”

  “That’s old school. With electronic media and instant communication, it’s a whole new world now. Why don’t you come see? There’s a small event in South Hadley tomorrow night, very low-key—a cocktail party at a professor’s house. You could come and get to know Rick, see him in action. Maybe bring Seth along?”

  “I don’t think Seth would be interested.” Although Meg couldn’t explain more than that to Lauren, since she didn’t really know herself.

  “You could at least ask him,” Lauren persisted.

  “Sure, but I can’t promise. Why are you so eager to involve Seth?”

  “Well, Rick and Seth went to high school together. It’s nice to renew old ties, don’t you think?”

  Meg remembered the expression on Seth’s face—or rather, the deliberate lack of expression—when Meg had mentioned that Lauren was working for Rick. Lauren’s explanation wasn’t convincing. “I’ll ask, all right?”

  “That’s all I can hope for. Thank you. Now, tell me: what’s going on between the two of you?”

  Meg couldn’t help herself from smiling, even though she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell Lauren just yet. “We’re dating, kind of. Taking it one day at a time. You’ve got to understand, if it doesn’t work out, it could be messy—I mean, he’s literally working out of my backyard. And he’s involved in everything that goes on in Granford. So we’re taking things slow.” Sort of. “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”