by Ellen Parker
“Milwaukee. West Allis, really. Only a line on the map separates them.”
“Home to the Milwaukee County Zoo.” Tina combed down the final section of hair. “Went there once when the kids were still in grade school. I’d like to go back sometime. Never seems to fall into place.”
“We went a lot when I was growing up. Our neighbor, Mrs. Dray, worked there and would give us passes sometimes.” Sylvia separated out a bright red color sample. “Do you have number thirty-three, Ripe Apple?”
“That’s a gel. Two dollars extra.”
Stunned by the name Sylvia had dropped, Beth hesitated long enough to organize her words. “Linc Dray owns the orchard up on the hill. Any relation?”
“Mm-hmm. Linc’s her older son and inherited the grandfather’s farm. Younger one’s named Jackson. He’s a lawyer in Wagoner. I’m pretty sure he’s living at the orchard.”
Beth studied the blonde in the mirror. She may have said the words with an air of indifference, but her eyes sparkled when she mentioned Jackson. If he wasn’t on the opposite side of the class action suit, she’d warn him about a target on his back.
Chapter Seven
Jackson picked up a damaged apple from the sorting table and set it aside for their own use. The windfalls and scabbed fruit were destined for applesauce and sliced fruit in pie-sized freezer bags. If—when—he managed to get the cider press operational, they would have another orchard product.
Yip. Yip.
He turned to check on the dogs. They were in a temporary pen at the head of the stairs to the barn’s lower level, and Bailiff had gotten excited over something.
Jackson listened for a moment before identifying tires on gravel. “Sounds like a customer. Take it easy, Bailiff. We want visitors today.”
At the sound of his name, the pup turned his attention to his master. An instant later, he stood beside Cider and poked his nose through the large mesh of the orange snow fencing.
Jackson took deliberate steps to the wide open sliding door and paused with one foot on the packed earth and gravel ramp. Two women were getting out of a silver van. He didn’t recognize the passenger, but the driver, Beth, brought a grin to his face. “Hello. Welcome to Hilltop Orchard.”
“You must be Jackson,” the lady with short, dark hair called. “I’m Anita. Is Linc around?”
“In the orchard. Section one. Far end.” The words escaped before he remembered that not everyone knew the orchard plan.
“Got it,” she replied. “See you in a few. Off to talk business first.”
“The farmer cousin?” Jackson stayed still as Beth approached.
“Good deduction.”
“Come to buy apples?”
“And check on a certain German shepherd.” She waved across the generous sales area to Mona, who sat on a tall stool by the cash register with a textbook on her lap.
“He’s settling in nicely. Excited at every new voice.” He reached over the orange plastic web and scratched Cider behind the ears.
Bailiff wagged his entire hindquarters and nuzzled and licked Beth’s arm as soon as it was in range.
“Mr. Energy.” She laughed.
“Two speeds. Sleeping and fast forward.”
Beth slipped two fingers under the puppy’s collar to check the sizing. “Trifle tight.”
“Next notch is too loose. Plan to go up in a day or two anyway and hope he doesn’t figure out how to slip it within five minutes.”
“He appears smart enough to figure it out in two.”
Jackson studied her as she continued to combine petting and rubbing the puppy in some of his favorite spots with a layman’s exam. Today her hair brushed her shoulders, held off of her face by a wide fabric band. A sleeveless top allowed a nice view of the freckles on her upper arms, and her well-fitting jeans propelled his imagination to create long, smooth legs.
He cleared his throat. “Our early apple is Zestar. How many?”
“Five pounds.” She gave Bailiff a final pat and sauntered toward the sales counter. Greeting Mona, she pumped sanitizer into her palm and rubbed her hands together.
Jackson filled a brown paper bag, set it on the scale, and added one more to bring it up to the requested amount. “These were picked fresh this morning.”
“I like what you’ve done to the hayloft.” Beth gestured at the oversized photos mounted behind the sales counter and sorting table. Huge images of apple blossoms and trees heavy with fruit blocked the structural details from view.
“Thanks. We had fun picking the photos.” Mona lifted the lid on a slow cooker and released the hot, sweet, cinnamon scent of simmering applesauce. “Free sample. Recipes if you’re interested.”
“Yes to the sample. I’ll pass on the recipes. We have a mini-library of cookbooks at home.”
“Difficult to have too many.” Mona tapped the textbook resting on the stool with a rainbow of bookmarks peeking out. “My last class. Graduate with an Associates in December.”
“Great! Carla keeps telling me how you talk about your classes while fixing breakfast for fifty care center patients. Is it the culinary course?”
“Restaurant management. Considering I’m limited to two classes at a time at night, it seemed the more important to finish first.”
Jackson stayed out of the conversation on purpose. Mona didn’t have the conflict of interest problem, and his sister-in-law enjoyed talking all things kitchen and restaurant related. He happened to turn his attention back to the dogs an instant before Bailiff let out one of his “please notice me” whines and Cider wagged her tail at top speed.
“Thought we’d find you here.” Linc, wearing his picking bag, led Anita into the sales area. “Done for the day. At least the picking part.”
Anita set a basket of apples on the floor beside the sorting table. “Orchard’s looking good.”
“Your bees did good work.” Mona smiled.
“Nevertheless.” Anita picked up one of the culls and tossed it in the air with one hand before catching it with the other. “I reported to Linc on the Harvest Festival planning meeting he missed. Deadline for parade entries is coming up September fifteenth. Be nice to have you participate.”
“We’ve been a little on the busy side to make a decision.” Mona rang up the sale on the antique cash register and handed Beth her change.
Jackson remembered Linc and Mona telling him about last year’s event. “I thought the festival was just games and bar-b-que.”
“Every five years, we do a parade.” Anita added a second apple to her juggling circle.
Jackson exchanged a look with his brother. “Might have mentioned it.”
Linc shrugged. “Last Saturday of October. You have any dog shows going on that weekend?”
“Not that I can think of right off.”
“Good. Then we’ll discuss this among the three of us and get an answer to the committee before the deadline.” Linc rubbed his hands with sanitizer as he walked behind the counter toward his wife.
“One more thing, since I have all of you together.” Anita caught the apples and set them aside. “Local volunteer fire department’s still looking for recruits. New training class starts in January.”
“What sort of obligation?” Jackson asked.
Anita launched into her sales pitch. “Once a week during the training period. Meet for refresher training twice a month. Good way to get acquainted. Positive image too.”
“I’ll need to think about it.” Jackson liked the idea of doing a little community service. He wanted to fit in on his own, not drift along on his grandparents’ names and reputations.
Glancing at his brother, Jackson held his tongue. Linc was massaging Mona’s shoulders, putting a smile on her face that made Jackson aware of a hole in his heart. Until actually living with them, he’d not understood how well they completed each other like two pieces of a puzzle.
“Please do. Give me a call at the number in the book when you decide.” Anita gave each brother a nod in turn.
“For the moment.”
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Anita.” Jackson offered his hand.
“Don’t get beguiled. He’s a lawyer. For the enemy,” Beth reminded them.
Jackson adjusted his gaze to intercept Beth’s. “Cases settle. Meetings have occurred. We lawyers are tossing numbers back and forth. One set might just stick.”
Beth snorted. “Like spaghetti against the wall.”
“Prettier than that.” He understood keeping his distance, but figured his report was indicative of progress.
Beth’s wrinkled nose and averted gaze surprised him. He glanced at Anita. As the primary farmer at Big Cat Farm, she’d probably have the most to lose if the suit turned against the growers. Yet she stood there with her mouth level and non-committed. He suspected mention of the case stretched her patience.
“Let’s go. Get some of these into a pie before Carla wakes up.” Beth pulled out her keys and started for the door.
Jackson followed as far as the dog pen, where he picked up Bailiff and cradled the dog in his arms. “No, boy, I don’t understand either. Acts like she’s in love with you and allergic to me.”
* * *
Beth backed up the van and rammed the transmission into drive. Going there to buy apples had been a mistake. She should have stayed home and done leash training on Greta’s puppies.
“Whoa, Beth.” Anita steadied the bag of apples with her leg. “No need to get angry at the man.”
“Difference of opinion. I should have let you and Carla handle this.”
“But the entertainment was better this way.”
Beth glanced at her cousin. “Did you watch his face?”
“Absolutely. He’s easy to read. At least he was today. He likes you. Wants this lawsuit settled before some other man snaps you up.”
“As if that will happen.”
“He doesn’t know. And I’m not going to tell,” Anita added.
“He should have gotten a different dog. One of the toy breeds. Something I find easy to ignore.” Beth halted at the stop sign and turned toward home.
“The problem isn’t the dog. By the way, the pup’s a darling. Give him a year or two and he could make beautiful puppies with one of your bitches.”
“Out of the question.”
“Because?”
Beth flipped on her turn signal even though the road behind them was empty. “You know why. Some days I think I’m the wrong sort of magnet, attracting attorneys instead of normal men.”
Anita shrugged. “You’re allowed to look. Make friends. Might do you good to expand your social life.”
“No, thank you. Or are you forgetting the disaster of an outing we had when Sam’s college roommate visited?” She shuddered thinking of that spring evening. The man had not been a lawyer, and everything had started out friendly. But by the end of their time together, they’d been at odds over the use of chemicals versus organic growing and minimum till farming. And his hand had gotten grabby under the restaurant table.
“Personally, I’m glad to hear the lawyers are talking to each other again.” Anita reached for the door as soon as the van stopped at the edge of their gravel pad. “I want to resume work on the old house. It’s not good for it to sit empty.”
Beth looked across the narrow creek to the vacant farmhouse. “Think it would rent? We could draw up a one-year lease until you get Sam to put a ring on your finger.”
“Needs a new furnace and water heater first.”
“We might be able to swing it.” Beth ran the price of the two items past their current bank balance. It would be tight. No frills. And it if didn’t rent, they’d be a little worse off than now.
“Don’t think so.”
Beth sighed and released her seat belt. Putting that happy year of living in the house into the past where it belonged was difficult. The unwritten agreement between the cousins didn’t include her if she looked at it in a practical manner. It would be another four years before Beth could stop the internal debate each time an official form asked for her marital status. The sooner she accepted that she would always be a visitor to the house, the more sincerely she could wish Anita and Sam happiness within its walls.
* * *
“Come, Bailiff. You can do it.” Jackson displayed a doggie treat and backed down another step.
Bailiff looked at his master, licked his lips, and leaned forward. After a moment, he moved his paws down to the next step.
“Good boy. Three more times.” Jackson set his feet on the smooth concrete and squatted, still holding the treat a few inches from the puppy’s nose.
Cider nudged his elbow, eager to receive the treat due her as soon as the youngster had all four feet on the cool barn floor.
Jackson broke off a corner of the small dog biscuit and tempted Bailiff into descending one more step. “Good boy. A few more times and you’ll go down as easy as up.”
Bailiff licked the large crumb from Jackson’s hand, stretched his neck to give another lick, and edged forward. Thump. His paws bumped the wooden riser.
“Almost down.”
The German shepherd followed the scent of the snack and accomplished the final two steps. Jackson let Bailiff take the treat from his hand before he pulled a second from his pocket and flipped it to Cider. Wagging tails and quick crunching indicated all was well in the world of the Hilltop Orchard canine population.
Sighing, Jackson walked toward the line of small windows. Dogs always hesitated to go down steps, but Bailiff and this particular set remained a problem longer than most. Granted, they were steeper than any other steps on the farm and open on one side.
He turned to his right and glanced at the floor. It all looked the same dull gray to him, but Mona must have more imagination than him or his brother. After scrubbing with bleach and a couple of power washes, neither he nor Linc noticed any discoloration where blood had pooled on the floor two years ago. Mona still refused to enter the space unless absolutely necessary. He shrugged. It didn’t really matter. She seldom had reason to come down here.
He pulled the plastic tarp off his current repair project, an antique cider press. A moment later, he selected a wrench from the workbench and continued with the disassembly of the long-neglected equipment. He tugged, pushed, and sprayed another dose of fine oil into the crevices. “Decades in the back of an old shed. Not even tarped. It’s a wonder I didn’t have to pull out birds’ nests.”
He tapped a light hammer against the handle of his wrench gripping a stubborn nut and watched fine rust flakes disperse. Thank you, Mona. An instant later, he made a silent apology. Like any sharp businesswoman, Mona recognized opportunity. So what if her conversations with care center residents and their families sent them into the depths of old farm sheds? The cash register and cider press would be useful. And Linc had managed to upgrade to a better orchard deck mower after one of their excursions into an old machine shed.
The dogs and their play faded into the background as he focused on the mechanical problem. The puzzles of his current legal cases and the tension of meeting customers melted away. His entire world became a press screw rusted and grimed into place.
“Jackson? You alive down there?”
He jerked at the sound of his brother’s voice. The wrench fell from its position and clattered to the floor. He drew a deep breath and blinked a wider view into focus. “Last check.”
“Visitor. For you.” Linc continued down the steps.
Jackson scrambled to his feet, batting Bailiff away from what the puppy viewed as a game. “Customer you can’t handle?”
“Sylvia,” Linc said in a hoarse whisper. “Mona’s trying to keep her interested in recipes for a minute or two, but first thing out of her mouth was half request, two thirds demand to see you.”
“That girl, she never reads the memo to leave me alone.” He paused in wiping streaks of rust
and machine oil off his hands. Let her deal with it. He’d just be careful not to handle the apples. Except to hand one to Sylvia and watch her recoil.
“I’ve every confidence in you, bro. And give thanks regularly that she latched onto you and not me.” Linc laughed as he followed Jackson up the steps.
Climbing the stairs, Jackson took care not to step on any part of either dog as the canines galloped up between the barn wall and his legs. He paused at the top to scan the sales area and glance out the wide door. No other people or vehicles. He unlatched the temporary gate and propped it open for the dogs to roam free. The sales day was almost finished and the chance of another customer slim. “Afternoon, Sylvia. Understand you have something to say.”
“Jackson.” She smiled and hurried toward him. “I’ve missed you. I thought you’d be at the fish fry the other night. Or at the café yesterday.”
“Other plans. Different obligations.” Avoid the café on Saturday mornings. He concentrated on keeping his voice even.
“Can we talk? Go for a walk.” She reached for his arm but appeared to reconsider before making contact.
“We’re among family and friends. Anything we say can be shared.”
Witnesses suited him fine. Mona may not be aware of much beyond Sylvia’s status as former neighbor and girlfriend, but Linc knew plenty of the history between them and was savvy enough to detect when Sylvia separated from reality.
“Are you sure?” She tilted her head and blinked, all flirty.
“Absolutely. What’s on your mind?”
“The other day… in your office. I think I owe you an apology.”
Only one? Two or three came to mind before he even started on the points in which her statement didn’t match that of other bar customers. “For?”
“Not calling first. When Mr. Frieberg said I should contact you at the first opportunity, I took it to the extreme. All the way to rude. Mother raised me better than that.”
He nodded, well aware of the manners practiced at the George household.
She slapped her hand in the air around a jumping Bailiff. “Ooo. Ugh.”