Sour Apples

by Sheila Connolly

  Meg sneaked a glance at Bree. She looked as happy as Meg had seen her over the past year. “Once we get the trees planted and have a little breathing room, we should have Christopher over. Is there such a thing as the blessing of an orchard?”

  Lolly had jumped into Bree’s lap, and Bree was scratching her behind the ears. “Probably. You want Christian? Wiccan?”

  Meg laughed. “Wiccan?”

  “Sure. I know people in Northampton who would do it. I could ask.”

  “I was thinking more like the tradition of launching a boat with a bottle of champagne.” They bantered happily through the casual dinner.

  “I’ll wash up,” Bree announced when their plates were empty.

  “Fine by me. Are all three guys from today going to send us bills? We’ve got the surveyor, Jake and the backhoe rental, and the tree guy. You said delivery was free? Should we set up separate accounting for the new orchard section? Are there tax breaks for new investments?”

  “Whoa, Meg! Can this wait ’til tomorrow? I’m too sleepy to think straight, but don’t worry, it’s under control.”

  “I hope Seth didn’t twist anyone’s arm to get us too good a deal. I keep telling him this is a business, not a charity.”

  “Are you actually saying you want to pay more than you have to?” Bree asked, her hands in soapy water.

  “No, not exactly.”

  “Hey, I’m the one who found the deal on the trees. If you want, I can check comparables on leasing land, if you don’t want to take charity from your boyfriend.”

  “I just want to keep things official,” Meg said, her voice sounding prim even to her ears. “Seth said he’d take care of it.”

  “Great. Hey, is your buddy coming back tonight?”

  “I have no idea. There’s plenty of spaghetti left, if she’s hungry. I was hoping to get her together with Seth and Lydia for a nice dinner, maybe at Gran’s. I wonder if Rick will let her off the leash long enough to do that?”

  “That’s an odd way of putting it—‘off the leash.’ Besides, when you sign up for something like a campaign, you know your life is not your own, right?”

  “I guess. How do you know that?”

  “I’ve got friends from college who’ve gotten sucked into working for candidates. Using college kids and recent grads is a great way to get cheap or even free labor, not to mention that they’re usually energetic and eager. Good deal all around—the students get some experience, and the candidate gets short-term enthusiasm.”

  “You were never tempted?”

  Bree snorted. “Ha! I had to work to put myself through college, even with scholarships, and I don’t trust politicians. Not my thing.”

  “I can’t say it’s mine either. But Lauren seems to be enjoying it.”

  A car pulled into the driveway outside the kitchen. “Speak of the devil,” Bree said, drying her hands on the kitchen towel. “Well, the dishes are done, so I’ll head upstairs. Don’t stay up too late! We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  “I know, I know. Good night.” As Bree left, Meg went to the back door to let Lauren in. “Hi, stranger.”

  Lauren surged into the kitchen, tossing her coat over a chair. “Sorry, sorry—I’ve been meaning to call you all day, but it’s been crazy. Do I smell food?”

  “There’s some leftover spaghetti if you want it.” Meg picked up Lauren’s coat and hung it on one of the hooks next to the door.

  “Great. I’m at least one meal short today,” Lauren said, grabbing a bowl from the dish drainer and filling it from the pot on the stove. She stuck the bowl into the microwave, pushed buttons, then turned to look at Meg. “Keep me company?”

  “Sure, but not for long—I keep farmer’s hours these days. We’re planting an orchard tomorrow, and we need to get it done while we’ve got good weather.”

  “Wow.” The microwave beeped, and Lauren retrieved her bowl, found a fork, and sat down. “Sounds impressive.”

  “The trees are tiny, and somebody else is digging the holes for them, but it’s a real step forward. How was your day?”

  “Busy, but what else is new? Listen, Rick’s got one more event on Saturday, and then I guess we’ll be moving on, at least for now, so I’ll be getting out of your hair soon.”

  “I still feel like we haven’t had much time together. Are you going to be free tomorrow night? It’s your last night here.”

  “Yeah, I think so. Rick’s wife and kids will be joining him, and I think he could use a little family time. Why?”

  “Maybe we could get together with Seth and his mother? If I’m planting all day, I don’t think I’ll feel like cooking, but I could see if we could all go to Gran’s.”

  “Sure, sounds good to me. I’d like to get to know Seth better. If you two are serious, that is. If you’re just toying with him…” Lauren grinned.

  “Hey, we’re breaking land together, sort of. In some societies that’s significant.”

  After Lauren had consumed her spaghetti in record time, Meg stood up and stretched. “I’m going to take a shower, then head to bed.”

  “You look like you need it.”

  “Gee, thanks. But you’re right—I’ve been hauling trees around all day. I’m dirty and exhausted.”

  “Well, if I don’t see you in the morning, give me a call and let me know the details about tomorrow night.”

  “Will do. Good night, Lauren.”

  As she passed through the dining room, Meg checked her watch. It was all of nine o’clock—farmer’s hours indeed. Even so, she was too tired to call Seth and Lydia, not to mention the restaurant, tonight. She’d take care of it first thing in the morning.

  14

  Friday morning Bree bounced impatiently while Meg spent an hour on the phone trying to coordinate dinner plans, which involved calling Seth, Lydia, and Nicky at the restaurant. Lauren had confirmed her availability, after checking several new text messages that had come in in the middle of the night, and left, promising to return no later than six.

  Finally Meg had the details locked in. “There, done.”

  “About time,” Bree grumbled. “Those trees can’t wait, and the weather’s not going to get any better. Can we go now?”

  “Yes, we can go. What’s the plan? I assume you know where which trees are going?”

  “Of course I do. I figure we’ll load up each variety, one at a time, starting with the ones that are going at the top of the hill. Then we’ll work our way down. You can come help load.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Lead the way.” After a brief rub of Lolly’s head—she was sitting happily on top of the refrigerator—Meg followed Bree out to the barn. She waved at the goats, who ignored her yet again, intent on juicy new grass. Bree hauled open the sliding doors in the front of the barn, and Meg tried not to feel overwhelmed. A thousand trees. Admittedly, each one weighed only a couple of pounds, but together they added up fast. And she and Bree had to transport them all up the hill, set them in the holes dug the day before, position them at just the right height to ensure the graft junction wasn’t covered, then refill the holes, tamp down the soil—but not too hard!—and, finally, water each and every one, although Bree hadn’t said anything about how they were going to do that…Meg felt tired just looking at the trees.

  Bree, on the other hand, was full of energy. “Let’s get this show on the road!” she said, grabbing four trees, two in each hand, and depositing them in the trailer they used to transport apple crates.

  Meg resolved not to count how many they managed to squeeze into each load because then she’d have to calculate how many total loads there would be and that would only discourage her. One batch at a time, she reminded herself. She threw the shovels into the trailer and followed it up the hill on foot, with Bree driving the creaky old tractor. By the time Bree reached the top, towing the trailer with the trees, Jake had arrived. Bree parked the tractor and conferred briefly with Jake, who nodded and headed down an unfinished row to resume digging.

  Bree returned to
the tractor and drove parallel to the tree line until she was about halfway along the row of dug holes.

  “Okay, let’s set out the trees first, and then we can go along the row and plant them.”

  “Works for me,” Meg said, grabbing a pair of trees.

  They quickly fell into a rhythm, and the work went faster than Meg had expected. It took them until noon to finish laying out the first row of plantings, and then Meg and Bree leaned on their shovels contemplating their work. “Looks good,” Meg said. “Doesn’t it?”

  Jake walked up beside them. “Need anything else, ladies?”

  “Nope,” Bree said promptly. “We’re good to go. Thanks, Jake. Send us the bill.”

  “Will do.” He returned to the backhoe and headed down the hill.

  “Now we’ve got to get the trees into the holes,” Bree said.

  “How much do you think we can get done today?” Meg asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Half of the total plantings, if we’re real lucky. Too much for you?”

  Maybe, but Meg wasn’t going to admit it. “Should we get some help?”

  “Wimp! Let’s see how today goes. And hope the weather holds until tomorrow.”

  “You’ve already gotten a lot done.” Seth’s voice startled Meg; she hadn’t seen him coming.

  “We have. Meet the new orchard, or the start of it. Did you just come to admire it, or did you need me for something?”

  “Just checking on plans for dinner. You talked to Nicky?”

  “I did—we’re all set for seven.”

  “You sure Lauren’s going to be able to make it? She’s been so busy.”

  “She said she would. If she doesn’t, the three of us will still have a nice dinner, and it’ll be her loss. Bree, I’ll need time for a shower, okay?”

  “We’ll see. Let’s go get the next batch.” Bree started up the tractor and pointed it down the hill toward the barn again.

  “Duty calls,” Meg said cheerfully, waving good-bye to Seth.

  By five o’clock they’d planted two full rows, leaving two for the next day. Meg felt blurry with exhaustion, and she could tell that her muscles, built up by the fall harvest, had missed their workout over the snowy winter months, and they were letting her know it in no uncertain terms. A hot shower sounded like heaven, and for a moment she considered calling off dinner. No, she couldn’t do that—although it was an open question whether she could stay awake through it. She’d made a point of roping Lauren in, and she did want Seth to get to know her a bit better, since Lauren was one of the few friends who hadn’t forgotten Meg entirely since she had moved to this end of the state. Besides, she loved the food at Gran’s, and she really didn’t feel like cooking.

  At the bottom of the hill, Meg turned to contemplate the day’s work: little bare trees marched in file along the side of the hill above. They looked like tiny soldiers, all in a row. It was hard to imagine them as trees, but by the end of this year’s growing season, they should at least have added branches. Maybe by next year, or the year after, there would be apples.

  A little while later, showered and dressed, Meg stopped in the kitchen to feed Lolly and say good-bye to Bree. “You going over to Michael’s tonight?”

  Bree shook her head. “Nah, I’m too beat. He said he might come over here for a while, but when I told him I wasn’t going to cook for him, he kind of lost interest. Maybe tomorrow. You all have fun, and don’t stay out too late.”

  “Yes, Mother. I don’t think I could stay awake too late anyway. Should I bring you a doggy bag from Gran’s?”

  “You expect to have anything left? Sure, if you want to. See you later.”

  Meg pulled on a light jacket and went out to her car. It was still getting dark fairly early, and she loved approaching Gran’s in the dusk. The restaurant, housed in a sturdy nineteenth-century house, sat proudly on a rise at the top of the town green, and with all the lights glowing, it looked warm and welcoming. And that was even before Meg could smell the good food cooking. Once again she felt proud of having played a small role in creating the restaurant, although its subsequent success was due mainly to Nicky’s food and Brian’s management of just about everything else that kept things running smoothly. She turned into the parking lot and realized Seth and Lydia had pulled in right behind her. She waited for them to join her before going in.

  Inside there was no sign of Lauren, not that Meg was surprised. The restaurant was comfortably filled—good news on any Friday night—and Nicky must have been watching for them, because she bounded out of the kitchen to greet them.

  “Hi, guys!” she said breathlessly. “I saved a good table for you. I’m so glad you wanted to come here. Has your friend arrived yet?”

  “Ah, there she is.” Meg waved at Lauren, hesitating in the doorway. Once she drew closer, Meg said, “Lauren, you remember my friend Nicky, the incredible chef? Nicky, my former Boston colleague, Lauren Converse, who was at your opening.”

  “Hey, Lauren—glad you could come back,” Nicky said, offering her a hand.

  Lauren shook it. “Good to see you, Nicky.”

  “Why don’t you all sit down and have something to drink, and then we can talk about the menu.” Nicky led them to a round table near the working fireplace. “I’ll send someone to take your drink orders.”

  Once they were settled and had ordered a bottle of wine, Meg said, “I’m forgetting my manners. Lauren, this is Seth’s mother, Lydia—you’ve met before, I think? And you already know Seth.”

  “Mrs. Chapin,” Lauren said politely. “I’m so glad you could join us tonight.”

  “Lydia, please. I’m always happy for an excuse to eat here, and it’s a pleasure to meet a friend of Meg’s. She’s really had an impact on our community since she arrived. Has it been a year already, Meg?”

  “Just past. Time flies, doesn’t it?”

  Nicky reappeared and they spent several intense minutes discussing menu options, drawn out only because everything on the menu sounded wonderful. Meg beamed at her tablemates, but she noticed that Seth looked guarded.

  When Nicky hurried back to the kitchen, Lydia picked up the conversational ball again. “I hear that you’re currently working on a political campaign,” she said to Lauren.

  “Yes, I am—he hasn’t officially filed the papers yet, but Rick Sainsbury will be running for Congress from this district. You knew him in high school, right, Seth?”

  Seth nodded. “I did.”

  “Seth,” Lydia said, “I don’t know if you remember, but Rick’s father was in construction, back when your dad was getting started. They worked together on some projects. I’m sure I met him, years ago.”

  “I think so,” Seth said. And stopped. Meg wondered again why he was being so taciturn. It wasn’t like him.

  “Rick’s family left this area some time ago, if I recall correctly,” Lydia went on. “Is his father still in construction?”

  “Unfortunately, Rick’s dad had some health issues and passed away a couple of years ago,” Lauren said. “But by then Rick had already gotten an MBA and was working for his father, so he took over the company. He really expanded it. It’s not just construction anymore—he added divisions for site management, remediation, project development, and more. Rick has always thought big.” Lauren spoke with the zeal of a true convert. “He’s been living on the other side of Springfield for a while. Now he’s hoping to renew old connections in the area. Like with Seth.”

  Seth ignored that comment, so Meg said, “Sounds like a busy man. Why does he want to get into politics?”

  “He wants to give something back to the community,” Lauren replied promptly, but Meg thought the line sounded canned—she’d heard it before. Lauren looked around briefly. “To tell the truth, I think he feels he’s taken the company as far as it can go, and he’s looking for a new challenge. Then the congressional seat came vacant unexpectedly, and he jumped on the opportunity. And of course his father-in-law was delighted to help out.” Lauren
noticed that Lydia looked perplexed and added, “You remember Senator O’Brien, don’t you, Lydia? Rick’s wife Miranda is his daughter.”

  Lydia nodded. “I see. Yes, of course I remember him—he made a point to stay connected with his constituents. So Miranda picked up political wisdom at her father’s knee?” Lauren nodded yes.

  “Is Rick pulling out of the company to run for office?” Meg asked.

  “No, not yet—but he will when he wins. He’s done well financially with the company, so he can bankroll the campaign to some extent, and the congressional delegation has been very supportive. I hope he’ll have your support.”

  “That depends on what his positions are,” Lydia said. “James Sainsbury was a good man—honest, hardworking, fair to his employees. I have no idea what his political leanings were, because it never came up. If the son turned out anything like his father, he should do well. But I’ll reserve judgment until I see what Rick has to say on the issues.”

  For a brief moment Lauren looked chastened, but then she rallied. “What issues do you consider important, Lydia?”

  Lydia glanced around the table. “You know, I think this is a discussion for another day. I’m not sure political discussion and good food mix well, and I’d hate to slight Nicky’s cooking.” Lydia’s tone was firm, and even Lauren could tell that pushing the issue would only serve to antagonize her. Luckily the food arrived just then, and talk drifted in other, less controversial directions.

  Meg tried to concentrate on her food—which was, as always, delightful—but she was troubled by some of the undercurrents that she sensed at the table whenever Rick Sainsbury’s name came up. By now she was used to Seth’s odd response, but Lydia had made a point of shutting down the topic of politics. Lauren was less than her usual bubbly self, probably picking up some of the same…what? Hostility? Points to Lauren for her quick read of the situation, but what had created it in the first place?

  Toward the end of the meal Nicky came back out of the kitchen to check on them. “Everybody happy?”