The Orchard at the Edge of Town

by Shirlee McCoy

  “No need to skip church, Dusty,” Simon called out from the kitchen.

  He’d been listening, but he didn’t come out.

  He might have been busy, or he might have wanted to avoid being asked a hundred questions. Which is what would probably happen if he and Dusty ended up in the same room.

  “You sure, Simon?” Dusty brushed past her and made a beeline for the kitchen.

  “Dusty! Hold on!” She tried to stop him.

  He just kept going, booking it like a New Yorker, head to the wind and moving forward like his life depended on it.

  Great. Perfect.

  Cade was in the kitchen. Simon was in the kitchen. Poor Jet was in the kitchen. At the rate things were going, rumors of an arrest and conviction would be all over town by sunset.

  Apricot raced after him, made it as far as the threshold of the kitchen when the doorbell rang again.

  “Dang it all to Grandma Sapphire’s plantation and back!” She spun on her heels and ran to the door, the sound of Simon’s warm laughter ringing in her ears and causing a slow heat to build in her stomach. God! She wanted to be back in his arms. She wanted to snuggle up close and forget that she had a kitchen filled with people and a handyman who was being accused of a crime. She wanted to forget that she’d been betrayed by a guy she’d spent three years living with, a guy who was supposed to be her best friend and confidant but who’d really been a no-good, cheating son of a mangy mongrel. She wanted to put the whole blasted twenty-four hours behind her and pretend it hadn’t happened.

  Heck with that! She’d like to put the past six months of stress behind her and pretend they hadn’t happened. All the wedding planning that Lionel’s mother had forced her into. Picking linens and place settings and food that Apricot wasn’t interested in. She’d wanted a simple wedding. Outside. With just a few close friends and family. Instead, Lionel had urged her to go with the flow, enjoy the extravagance, get behind the insanity.

  She had. Look at the result. It sucked.

  Things can only get better from here on in, she told herself, because she didn’t want to imagine that they could get worse. Seriously. What would be next? Finding out that Lionel’s paramour was already six months’ pregnant with his child? The child Apricot had wanted. The one they’d planned to start trying for on the wedding night, because, in Lionel’s words—You’re not getting any younger, darling. Those ovaries are going to shrivel up and die a thousand deaths if we don’t get them working.

  “Bastard,” she growled, wrenching open the front door.

  “What’s that, dear?” Aunt Rose said, her amber eyes fully lined with kohl, her lips pink with the rose petal–colored lip balm she made. All natural and completely and utterly gorgeous, she held a large fuchsia bag in one hand and her pet guinea pig, Elvis, in the other. Coming up the porch steps behind her, looking like they’d just fought the Thousand Year War, were Lilac and Hubert.

  Dear God in heaven!

  She’d been wrong.

  Things couldn’t only get better, because they had just gotten a whole heck of a lot worse!

  Simon was escorting Dusty out of the kitchen when the doorbell rang and the commotion began. It sounded like a thousand people had descended on the house. For about three seconds, he had visions of a modern-day lynch mob coming for poor Jet.

  And that’s exactly how Simon thought of the kid.

  Poor Jet.

  Daisy’s accusations aside, the kid seemed legitimately upset by the accusations lobbed against him. He’d begged to take a lie detector test and had sworn up one side and down the other that he hadn’t left the Shaffer place all day. He’d agreed to let Cade search his room at his grandparents’ house, begged him to check the broken-down junk car he used for transportation.

  As far as Simon could tell, Jet was being honest. He hadn’t robbed Daisy. Of course, there was room for error in human judgment, and it was possible the kid was just a good liar. So far, he didn’t have a criminal record, hadn’t been in any kind of trouble in school. Up until his parents’ death, he’d been living in obscurity, doing whatever things teens did nowadays.

  “What’s all the ruckus? It’s too early in the morning for that kind of noise,” Dusty groused as they walked to the foyer. The guy was pissed because he wasn’t being allowed in on the investigation. Dressed in his Sunday best, he looked ready for church and for a little bit of information dissemination. Too bad there was nothing to disseminate.

  “You think she’s having some kind of pot party? Probably planned it before we all showed up to stop it,” he continued.

  Simon didn’t respond. He was too busy taking in the small group standing in the foyer with Apricot. Two women. One man. The women wore ankle-length skirts and loose tops. One had her hair in a long, black braid, flowers woven through the strands. She carried a huge bag and what looked like an oversized guinea pig.

  Simon recognized her immediately. Rose spent a couple of weeks every summer in Apple Valley. He’d figured she wouldn’t show for another couple of weeks, seeing as how the apple festival where she sold her wares didn’t begin until then.

  “Rose!” Dusty gasped and tripped all over himself trying to get to her and take the bag from her hand. “I wasn’t expecting you until the end of next week.”

  “Yes.” She smiled, and Simon was sure Dusty just about dropped dead with the force of it. “That is when I planned to arrive, but my niece needed me, so I decided to come early.”

  “You should have let me know. I would have made that curried cauliflower you love so much,” Dusty said gently, taking Rose’s arm and leading her into the living room.

  He didn’t give the couple that was left standing in the foyer the time of day.

  “Simon, these are my parents,” Apricot said, the words gritty and a little tight. If her folks noticed, they didn’t let on.

  The woman smiled, offering a hand, a ring on every finger, a bunch of bracelets rattling on her wrist. “Lilac Miller.”

  “Nice to meet you, Ms.—”

  “Doctor Miller!” Apricot’s father spat. “And don’t you forget it, because she sure as heck never does.”

  “Why should I?” Lilac asked, fluffing her curls, her bracelets jangling even louder. “That’s Hubert. He’s bitter.”

  “I’m not bitter. You’re a bi—”

  “Hubert! Lilac!” Apricot snapped. “Enough! Wasn’t a continent’s worth of fighting enough?”

  “Of course not,” Lilac responded. She looked to be in her early forties. Either she’d had kids really young or she’d aged well. “Do you know the tale of—”

  Apricot cut her off. “Not the time, Lilac.”

  “There is always time for a story, Apricot,” Lilac chided. “Stories teach us important lessons. They are living truths passed from one generation to another.” She shifted her gaze to Simon and smiled sweetly. “Don’t you agree, Simon?”

  “I suppose that depends on what the story is, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?” Rose called from the living room. “Did I hear a Southern gentleman out there? Stop keeping him to yourself, Lilac. Bring him in here!” she demanded.

  “We’ll come when we’re ready. Won’t we, Simon?” Lilac purred.

  He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but he had a feeling that Hubert’s bright red face and flashing eyes might have been part of her motivation.

  “Stop it! Your season for making Hubert jealous ended about ten years ago.” Apricot tugged her away, gave her a gentle push toward the living room. “Besides, Simon has work to do. He can’t entertain the two of you. Can you?” She met his eyes, and he could swear there was a hint of panic in her gaze.

  “Do you need me to?” he asked. He and Cade had a few more questions to ask Jet, but once they finished, Simon would be off the clock.

  Hubert sighed. “Wouldn’t matter one bit if she did.” Simon would place him at about sixty, his white hair pulled back into a low ponytail, his beard thick and long. Guy could have been Santa Claus if h
e hadn’t been skinny as a rail. “Those sisters cause more trouble than a couple of possums in an attic. I just spent five days with them, and I can tell you right now, those were the worst five days of my life. Turned my hair completely white!”

  “Your hair has been white for as long as I can remember,” Apricot said with a sigh.

  “Doesn’t mean their shenanigans didn’t make it whiter. I swear I’ve aged a thousand years these past few days.”

  “You don’t look a day over twenty, Hubert.”

  Apricot’s dry response made her father smile. “You still got it, kid. But all the flattery in the world isn’t going to make me feel better.”

  “How about I get you some coffee. Will that help?”

  “Whiskey would be better.”

  “I don’t have any whiskey in the house. Even if I did, it’s too early in the morning.”

  “It’s never too early for a shot of moonshine, little lady! I’ll take the coffee, though. Better bring some for your mother and aunt. We drove straight through, and we’re all feeling it.” He shuffled into the living room, and Apricot ran a hand down her face. Shook her head as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

  “I take it you’re not real happy about them showing up?” he asked.

  “What clued you in?”

  “The horror in your eyes was a dead giveaway.”

  She cracked a smile at that. “Them showing up on my doorstep is just about the last thing I wanted.”

  “Just about? There’s something you’d want less?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted as she walked down the hall. “My ex showing up with his new wife. That would be even worse.”

  She walked into the kitchen, and he followed.

  Cade didn’t look happy.

  Jet didn’t look happy either.

  As far as Simon could tell, Jet had been honest about where he’d been and what he’d done the previous day. His gut said the kid was innocent. Add to that the fact that everyone who met Jet liked him, and it was Daisy’s story Simon was questioning.

  He didn’t feel all that great about that.

  Daisy might drive him crazy, but she was family. He didn’t want to doubt her. Facts were facts, though, and the fact was, Daisy’s story wasn’t adding up. At first, she’d said she’d barely caught a glimpse of the guy who’d grabbed her purse. It wasn’t until hours later that she’d remembered exactly who she’d seen—not just some nameless stranger, a young guy she’d often said she was suspicious of.

  She’d called Cade immediately, not even bothering to get Simon out of bed to tell him about her epiphany.

  If Simon had to guess, he’d say that Daisy had confused a dream with reality. That maybe she’d been trying hard to remember something she didn’t, and she’d managed to convince herself that she had.

  “Who was ringing the doorbell? More company?” Cade asked, an edge of impatience in his voice. “Because we don’t need anyone else in here trying to help with the interview.”

  “Trying to collect information to share with everyone in town, you mean?” Jet snarled, his eyes blazing with anger.

  “Dusty agreed not to tell people that we were out here questioning you,” Simon reminded him.

  “Do you think he’ll keep the promise?” Apricot asked as she levered up on her toes and grabbed mugs from the cupboard. Her tank top rode up, revealing creamy skin and sinewy muscle. Simon wanted to press his lips to that little spot, nibble his way around to her stomach.

  He looked away, saw that Cade was watching him.

  He shrugged. There wasn’t any need for more than that. He was doing his job and doing it well. His private life was his, and he didn’t let anyone dictate how he lived it.

  “I’m pretty confident Dusty will keep his word,” Simon responded, turning his attention back to Apricot. Her shorter hair gave him a perfect view of her profile—the sweet curve of her jaw, the sharp angle of her cheekbones. She was a younger, more exotic version of her mother.

  “I hope you’re right.” She grabbed cream from the fridge and poured it into two of the cups, added a heaping teaspoon of sugar into another. “Jet doesn’t need or want any kind of trouble.”

  “I can speak for myself, Apricot,” Jet interrupted.

  “Of course you can, but sometimes we all need someone else to speak for us.”

  “He’s got more than one person to speak for him.” Cade glanced at his watch. “People in town like you, Jet. So don’t get too defensive about this thing, okay?”

  “Don’t get defensive? Some old spinster accuses me of robbing her, and I’m going to be defensive!” Jet’s eyes flashed and Simon could almost hear his teeth grinding. No doubt, the kid had plenty of other things to say about Daisy, and was holding back because Simon was there.

  Smart kid.

  Which was why Simon was convinced that he was innocent. No one in his right mind would rob an acquaintance in broad daylight in the middle of a town where everyone knew everyone. Seeing as how Jet appeared to be in his right mind, it seemed implausible that he’d actually been the one to rob Daisy.

  That put Simon in a tough position.

  Daisy was family, but she was high-strung and dramatic—even more so since Dennis had flown the coop. Just like her sister, she had a tendency to see what she wanted to see. Usually what Daisy wanted to see amounted to monsters in the closets and boogeymen under the bed.

  “Give us a little time, Jet. We’ll sort it out.” Cade stretched, barely hid a yawn.

  “A little time is just enough time to get me hung in this town,” Jet muttered, pushing away from the table and standing. “If you don’t have any more questions for me, I promised my grandmother I’d drive her to church service. My granddad isn’t feeling too hot. Thanks to dingbat Daisy, he’s going to be feeling even worse when Grandma gets home from church.”

  “I’m sure people won’t be gossiping about this at church,” Apricot said as she set the coffee mugs on a wooden tray.

  Simon couldn’t help himself. He laughed.

  She frowned. “What’s so funny?”

  “When was the last time you were in church, Apricot?”

  “Easter.”

  “Ah,” he responded. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Why you don’t understand that church is the best place for the blue-haired ladies of any community to gossip.”

  “Wrong,” Cade said. “That would be the diner. Church is second, only because gossiping there requires a good bit of whispering and none of those ladies hear that well.”

  Apricot laughed, and even Jet cracked a smile.

  “Come on.” Cade slapped the kid on the shoulder. “I’ll give you a ride home so you can get your grandma to church.”

  “I’m not sure my grandparents are going to be happy to see me coming home in your squad car,” he muttered, but walked out of the kitchen with Cade.

  “I should probably head out too. Want to walk me out after we bring these to your folks?” Simon took the tray from Apricot’s hands and was more than pleased to see a hint of pink spreading across her cheeks. “You’re cute when you blush,” he said, and the pink deepened to red.

  “Cut it out, Simon.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my family is here, and I don’t have time to think about anything else.”

  “Like us, you mean?”

  She stomped from the room, and he followed, feeling better than he had since he’d gotten the midnight phone call from Cade. Honest to God, Simon didn’t know what went through Daisy’s head sometimes. She’d been at his house, sleeping in his guest room. She could have easily gotten him out of bed and shared her sudden epiphany about who her attacker was. Instead, she’d called Cade at home, talked his ear off for about fifteen minutes before Cade had finally ended the conversation and called Simon. He’d dealt with Daisy, convincing her to go back to bed, assuring her that they’d pursue the new lead, cautioning her to keep her suspicions to herself, all
the while knowing she wouldn’t.

  More than likely, she was already at church with the girls, the tiny little Band-Aid she’d covered her scratches with on prominent display.

  He stepped into the living room, the tension so thick he could have cut it with a knife. Hubert stood at the front windows, looking like he was plotting a way to escape. Rose was smiling into poor Dusty’s eyes, and the guy looked like he was about to float off the sofa and straight through the ceiling. Lilac was studying a painting that hung above the fireplace. A landscape scene, it depicted the Shaffer place several decades ago. It looked like it had been painted by an amateur, the proportion of the house, trees, and grass all slightly off.

  “This is lovely,” Lilac crooned. “Just lovely. Don’t you think so?” She looked at Simon instead of Apricot. Probably because Apricot was making a show of handing out the coffee mugs.

  “I think it looks like someone who loved it painted it,” he responded.

  Lilac raised a brow and nodded. “You’re honest. I like that.”

  “I’m not sure he cares, Lilac.” Apricot sighed, handing her mother some coffee.

  “I care,” he responded and was rewarded with a warm smile from Lilac and a scowl from Apricot.

  “Don’t encourage her, Simon.” Apricot left the tray. “I think I’ll bring this back to the kitchen and . . . wipe it down.”

  “Or you could stay here and talk to the people who traveled thousands of miles to see you.” Hubert sipped coffee and stared at his daughter over the rim of the mug.

  “Twenty-five hundred, but who’s counting.” Rose stood and yawned. “Speaking of the trip, I know it’s early hours, but I’m exhausted. I think I’ll tuck myself in for a nap. Thanks for taking care of things for me, Dusty.”

  Dusty nodded mutely, following her with his eyes as she made her way upstairs.

  “What a woman,” he whispered, then walked out the door without a second look at anyone else.

  “Maybe you two should rest too,” Apricot suggested. “It was a long trip, and I’m sure you’re exhausted.”