The Orchard at the Edge of Town

by Shirlee McCoy

“Right. I’ll try to keep that in mind,” he responded, glancing around at the kitchen, running his palm over the butcher-block counter. “How are things going for you?”

  “It’s three in the morning, and I’m awake. Do you really need to ask?”

  He laughed, shook his head. “I don’t suppose I do. I know you’re not asking for my advice, and you probably don’t want it. But I feel the need to give it anyway. Don’t waste your time mourning the guy you dumped. You deserve better. Being here and away from him? It’s the best thing that could have happened to you. Now, I’d better get back to work. Thanks again for the tea.”

  “No problem.” She followed him outside, waited on the porch as he drove away, the cold air seeping through her pajamas reminding her of childhood evenings, cold wind, hot fires, people who loved her.

  She blinked back tears.

  There was no need for them.

  Cade was right.

  Being here and away from Lionel was the best thing that had happened to her in a very long time.

  So why did she feel like crap?

  She settled onto the porch step, hugged her knees to her chest, let the silence and the darkness drift around her as she waited for the first golden rays of sun to crest the distant mountains.

  Chapter Six

  Things were happening at the old Shaffer place.

  That’s what the blue-haired ladies at the diner were talking about when Simon brought the girls there for lunch. The kittens had been in residence for three days, and the girls had tucked them into their box before they’d left, kissed them good-bye, acted like they might be separated forever.

  Now Rori and Evie were giggling, their purses slung over their shoulders and clutched tight to their sides, every bit of their hard-earned allowance money tucked away inside. They’d planned out the whole day for Simon. First, they were making a stop at a dance store to buy some frilly little tutu Evie had been eyeing. Then they were going to the pet store to spend the rest of what they had on toys for the kittens. He hadn’t had the heart to remind them that the kittens weren’t staying for much longer.

  The fact was, the girls had taken to their new responsibilities with an ease and cheerfulness that surprised him. They’d fed the kittens, kept the water bowl filled, cleaned the litter box. Not one complaint and no fights about who was going to do what.

  He took a bite of his quarter-pound hamburger and watched the girls divvy up the fries and chicken strips he’d ordered them.

  “Need a refill on those sodas?” Maura Cline asked as she sashayed past their table. She’d been waiting tables at the diner for longer than Simon had been alive. It’s what she loved, she’d tell anyone who asked. Simon thought it was more likely that she was waiting for Mr. Right to come rolling through town, hoping that he might stop in for a bite to eat and take her away from Apple Valley. Fiftysomething and still clinging to her twenties, she had bleached blond hair, blue eyes, and enough makeup on her face to sink a battleship. “Free for the kids. Just like always.”

  “No. Thanks, Maura.”

  “But I’m still thirsty, Daddy,” Evie complained.

  “Then you can have water. It’s healthier.”

  “Your dad is right, sweet cheeks.” Maura snagged a pitcher of water from behind the counter and poured some into a glass.

  “This stuff?” She set the glass down in front of Evie. “It’ll keep your figure nice and youthful. A girl needs to think about such things.”

  “Not when she’s eight.” Evie pouted, her eyes flashing with frustration. She looked so much like Megan, Simon’s heart clenched, that old guilt, that old feeling of failure welling up in him.

  “Don’t be rude, Evie,” he snapped, his voice much harder than he’d intended it to be.

  “I’m not being rude.” She sniffed. “I’m just being honest. Isn’t that what you always tell me to do?”

  Maura let out a bark of laughter. “You got a smart kid, Simon. You’d better be careful or she’ll have you running in circles trying to keep up with her.”

  “She already does,” he replied, and Maura laughed again. She glanced around the nearly empty diner, leaned in close. “You hear anything about what’s going on at the old Shaffer place?”

  “Just what the blu—just what the women in the booth behind me were discussing.”

  “I heard them. Bunch of busybodies, if you ask me. Of course, no one is asking me, so I’ll just keep that opinion to myself.”

  “Thanks,” he said drily. If she caught his sarcasm, she didn’t let on.

  “The way I hear things, that woman who moved into the Shaffer place is tearing the old house down and building one of those newfangled modern homes. All glass walls. No privacy. Guess a fancy city lady like herself doesn’t think she needs any.” Maura huffed.

  “She’s not tearing the place down,” he responded. He’d have believed a lot of things but not that. A woman with an ancient Ford truck and a 1950s Airstream knew the value of old things.

  “I’m telling you right now that she is. I heard it from Caroline Randall, who heard it from Jasper Guthrey. He got the information from Tim Wyatt. Tim’s the one helping Jet with the project.”

  “Building a house is a mighty big project, Maura. Do you really think Jet is up to it?”

  She shrugged, her breasts heaving under a T-shirt that was three sizes too small. “He’ll give it a try. I suppose if he can’t do it, she’ll just hand the job over to a big company. She’s got the money for it. I can tell you that for a fact.”

  The diner door opened and the woman they were discussing walked in. Apricot was like a breath of fresh air after a long day working in an office. Like sunshine after a long, hard winter. She brightened the room, her smile offered to everyone.

  “It’s her!” Evie squealed. “Princess Apricot.”

  “Apricot?!” Maura scoffed. “Her name is Anna.”

  “No, it’s not,” Rori said more quietly than her sister. “It’s Apricot. She was over at our house one day, so we know her name perfectly well.”

  “Over at your house?” Maura met Simon’s eyes, raised one very narrow brow. “Is that so?”

  “She wanted a reference. For Jet,” he explained, because he knew if he didn’t, rumors of his engagement would spread like wildfire. No matter how much he denied it, he’d never be able to undo the damage.

  “Sure she did.” Maura’s eyes glittered as she waved at Apricot. “Annie! Over here!”

  “Apricot!” Evie shouted, and Simon should have been way too busy shushing her to notice Apricot’s shorn hair or the way her body seemed to glide beneath a long blue skirt and bright white tank top. She wore a tiny little sweater over the tank. It didn’t do anything to hide her curves.

  “Hello, everyone!” she said as she sidled up next to Maura. Something in the big bag she had flung over her shoulder moved, but Maura didn’t seem to notice, and Simon decided not to call attention to it. “I’m just in for one of the diner’s famous club sandwiches, Maura, and a glass of water to go. If you don’t mind.”

  “Business is business,” Maura responded, jotting something on her order pad even though she never used the thing.

  She stalked away, muttering under her breath as she went, and returned seconds later with a carryout cup. She slammed it down on the table. “Sandwich will be ready in ten. Better pay at the register before you walk out,” she said loudly enough for everyone in the diner to hear.

  Apricot sipped water through the straw and smiled. “I will. Thank you, Maura.”

  “Humph!” Maura replied and stalked away again.

  “I get the distinct impression that woman doesn’t like me,” Apricot said, taking a seat next to Evie. “Mind if I rest here for a spell while she gets my sandwich?”

  “For a spell?” Rori repeated. “Are you going to make a spell while you sit?”

  “It means for a while. It’s just a different way of saying it,” Apricot explained. The bag moved again, and she patted it. “I rode my bike into town
, and I’m tired.”

  “Is that why you cut all your hair off? Because it was too heavy for your tired head?” Evie asked, her eyes wide as she studied Apricot. Simon had the feeling his daughters wouldn’t find the short pixie-ish cut nearly as beautiful as they’d found Apricot’s long hair. Of course, in their minds, princesses always had long flowing locks of silky hair. Daisy made sure to keep them informed of such things.

  “My hair—” Apricot touched her head and frowned. “It’s a long story.”

  “I love stories,” Rori said.

  “In that case, I don’t mind telling you this one. I went to this place in Apple Valley to get it cut, and I said I wanted it to here.” She touched her shoulder. “I ended up with it here.” She pointed to a spot right below her ears. “And out to here.” She held her hands out a foot on either side of her head. Both girls giggled.

  “Could you fit through a door with it that big?” Rori wanted to know.

  “Just barely,” Apricot said, meeting Simon’s eyes and smiling. “It was so difficult to get into my house, I decided I’d better drive to Spokane and have another hair dresser fix it. This very short cut was the only way they could do that.”

  “I think it’s pretty!” Evie claimed. “I think I should get my hair just like that, Daddy.”

  “It would be kind of hard to get it into a ballet bun,” he reminded her. Not that he cared much about the length of the girls’ hair. It was Daisy who insisted they keep it long. Daisy who’d signed them up for ballet. Daisy who insisted that they wear dresses a few times a week. He’d stepped back plenty regarding those things, because it hadn’t mattered all that much. Although, when she’d tried to dress the girls for picture day in outfits that looked like Laura Ingalls Wilder might have worn them, he’d put his foot down.

  “He’s right,” Rori said quietly. “Plus, Aunt Daisy wouldn’t like it. She doesn’t like short hair.” She glanced at Apricot. “I think it’s pretty, though. It makes your eyes look bluer.”

  She was right. Apricot’s eyes did look very blue, and her skin was flawless, a few freckles sprinkled across cheeks that were flushed pink with exertion or embarrassment. Simon wasn’t sure which, but he thought it was time to change the subject. Since her bag seemed to be crawling across the bench seat, he figured that was as good a subject as any.

  “Did you bring someone with you?” he asked, and her flush deepened.

  “Shhhh!” She grabbed the bag and dropped it into her lap. It meowed and both girls giggled.

  “You have more kittens,” they squealed in unison, and Apricot sighed.

  “Not kittens. Kitten. Just one. Handsome is more trouble than he’s worth. I can’t leave him home, because he escapes from the house and goes on Dusty’s property. Yesterday he found a way into Dusty’s house and managed to break a vase and shred a chair. Dusty said that if he ever sees Handsome on his property again . . .” She looked at the girls and pressed her lips together.

  “I get the point,” Simon cut in. Dusty wasn’t known for his patience. Not with people. Not with animals. “But I don’t think Maura will be any more understanding than Dusty is. If she finds out you have a kitten in here, she’ll ban you for life.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “I was planning to wait outside, but it’s hot as Hades. I really thought it would be cooler around here this time of year.” She stood and stretched, the tank riding up along smooth, creamy flesh.

  She tugged her shirt back into place and grabbed her water, hitching the bag with the errant kitten over her shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of your lunch. I’ll see you around.”

  “We’re done.” Rori hopped up, her quick movement and loud voice surprising Simon. She was never loud or quick.

  “Aren’t we done, Evie?” she prodded her sister.

  “We are! We’ll wait outside with you, Apricot. Daddy can bring out your sandwich when it’s ready. I’ll give him the money.” She dug in her purse.

  “You do that and you won’t have enough money for that tutu we’re supposed to get this afternoon or for the toys you want to buy the kittens,” he reminded her.

  In true Evie fashion, she sighed dramatically. “Some things are just more important than tutus.”

  He was surprised that she realized it. She’d been talking nonstop about the blue tutu she’d seen at Empire Dance Shop. She’d scrimped and saved and even done extra chores so she could afford the glittery, gauzy thing.

  “You’re right about that. There are plenty of things more important than a tutu. My sandwich isn’t one of them, sweet cheeks,” Apricot responded with a laugh. “Besides, I have cash right here.” She opened the purse and Handsome popped out, taking off like a flash and dashing under a table.

  “Handsome! No!” Apricot cried, running after the kitten.

  Nancy Edgar spotted the kitten as it dashed away from Apricot’s grasping hands. Ninety years old if she was a day, the woman had the shrillest voice Simon had ever had the displeasure of hearing. She used it to full advantage, shrieking so loudly, Simon’s water glass vibrated.

  “A rat!” she screamed. “This place has rats!”

  Next thing Simon knew, all hell broke loose.

  The cook ran out of the kitchen, broom in hand, Maura chasing along after him. The few customers who were there jumped onto chairs. Except for Campy Sampson. He reached for the pistol Simon knew he had concealed beneath his jacket.

  “Freeze!” Simon shouted.

  Nancy froze. Maura and the cook froze. Even Campy froze.

  Only Apricot was still moving, skidding under another table, her skirt bunched up around long legs.

  “Don’t even think about it, Campy,” Simon added for good measure, his gaze on Apricot and the ugly gray kitten she was chasing. He would have laughed, but he thought Maura would slap him upside the head with the frying pan she was holding.

  Somehow, Apricot managed to snag Handsome by the scruff of his neck. She murmured something about the ruckus and sprinted from the diner.

  Apricot didn’t get her sandwich and she wasn’t happy about it. As a matter of fact, she was fairly pissed off as she pedaled away from the diner. Handsome, on the other hand, was happy as a clam, sitting in the basket of the bicycle, his head to the wind.

  “That’s it,” she shouted at him, not caring that there were half a dozen people walking along Main Street. “I’m bringing you to the shelter! And I’m not going to feel bad about it. At all!”

  A car chugged up behind her, but she didn’t even pause in her frantic pedaling. Obviously, coming to Apple Valley on a day when she would have been better off staying in bed had been a bad idea. If not for the noisy, boisterous crew of teens Jet had brought to help him haul away old siding, she’d have done what she felt like doing and stayed under her covers until the sun went down.

  Her new iPhone rang, and she snagged it one-handed from the depth of the purse she still had on her shoulder. “What is it?” she growled.

  “Is that any way to greet the woman who carried you in her womb for nine months? The one who squeezed your big head out of her—”

  “Lilac, I am not in the mood for a rehash of the details of my birth.”

  “Moody some?” Lilac asked.

  “I am not moody,” Apricot responded as she passed the Apple Valley Sheriff’s Department. Across the street, gates opened into Riley Park. Beyond that, a small white church stood atop a hill that looked over the park and the town. Rose had taken her there once. Not to hear the preacher, but to see the historic building, the beautiful stained glass windows, and the cemetery that spread out across lush green lawns.

  “Of course you are. How long has it been since you’ve had—”

  “Do not”—Apricot panted as she steered across Main Street and pedaled through the gates—“ask me about my love life.”

  “I would never!” Lilac proclaimed. A bold-faced lie, but Apricot didn’t have the energy to point it out. “I was simply going to ask how long it’s been since you’ve had some soothing chamomi
le.”

  “An hour,” Apricot ground out. A few kids were loitering on the path, and she had a good mind to hand Handsome to one of them.

  “You need more, but that isn’t why I called. I’m worried about you, Apricot. You should be in Happy Dale. With your family. Not in some uptight small town where you don’t know anyone.”

  “Apple Valley isn’t uptight, Lilac.” Not according to most people’s standards. To Lilac, it would have been oppressive.

  “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Apricot pulled over to the side of the path, hot September sun beating down on the back of her neck. It had been a long time since her hair had been short, and she’d forgotten to sunscreen her nape.

  “Your father and I are driving out there.”

  “What?!” she shouted, and an elderly woman sitting on a bench a few feet away scowled, her frizzy orange hair bouncing as she shifted to get a better look at Apricot.

  “We’re driving out there. You need support and—”

  “No. Not just no, but hell no!”

  “The decision has already been made.”

  “Unmake it then, because the last thing I need or want are two people who argue over the color of the sky staying with me.”

  “We won’t have to stay with you. I’m sure there is a hotel nearby,” Lilac responded. “I won’t even mention the fact that Rose’s house is so big that Hubert and I wouldn’t even have to see each other if we did stay with you.”

  “It’s not that big.”

  “Five bedrooms, right?”

  She hesitated, absolutely sure she was stepping into a trap but not sure how to keep from doing it. “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s perfect then. One for Hubert. One for me. Rose will stay—”

  “Rose is coming?”

  “Of course. A woman needs family at a time like this.”

  “Not this woman.”

  “That’s because you don’t know what’s happened. If you did . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I’d better go. We have a lot of packing to do.”

  “Hold on!” Apricot barked, and the woman with orange hair stood, not making any secret at all of the fact that she was listening. “What happened?”