RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  Clover Hand, Clay’s sister and Megan’s store/café manager, had become a vegan. As a reformed junk food junkie, Clover was struggling. Everyone was trying to support her new lifestyle, even Alvaro, and although he never said a word, Megan noticed at least one appetizing vegan item on the menu every day.

  “What’s ‘Green Goddess?’” Bibi asked. They were sitting around the kitchen table, eating Bibi’s buttermilk pancakes. “I think Alvaro’s gone mad. Yesterday I saw him grilling tofu.”

  “He’s doing it for Clover,” Megan said between mouthfuls. She knew Denver was anxious to get Dillon, and she was eating as fast as she could without offending her grandmother.

  “I don’t know why that girl can’t do anything in moderation.” Bibi’s smile softened her words. “What’s in Green Goddess and does that mean the old man will have me chopping vegetables all day?” Bibi flexed her hand in front of her, running a finger along swollen knuckles. “I can’t handle a knife like I once could.”

  Denver, who had been unusually quiet throughout the meal, said, “I have no doubt you can still handle a knife, Bonnie.”

  Bibi graced him with the smile she reserved for angels and newborns. “Well, thank you…”

  Was her grandmother blushing? Megan shook her head. “Green Goddess is a mixed salad. Greens, avocado, green peppers, scallions, broccoli, some crunchy cabbage. Alvaro tops it with toasted walnuts and pumpkin seeds and a creamy avocado-ancho-chili dressing. He made a sample earlier this week.” Megan stood and placed her dishes in the sink. When she saw Bibi staring at her she said, “It was delicious.”

  “I’d be in the bathroom for a week if I ate all that fiber.”

  “Bibi!”

  “What? Denver’s a doctor. He doesn’t care. Right, Denver?”

  Denver smiled, but the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aye, I am a doctor and I know everybody uses the bathroom.”

  Bibi laughed. Megan shook her head. Her grandmother was feeling saucy today, clearly. That meant she and Alvaro would spend much of the day arguing.

  When the dishes had been cleared and the vegetables set out for Clay to bring to the café, Megan joined Denver in his 4Runner.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  Denver pulled out of the farm’s long driveway and on to the road. The trees were heavy with new growth, and the bright green leaves fluttered in the breeze. Megan rolled down her window, enjoying the scents of late spring. Denver was good about listening to others’ problems—he did it often enough while attending to the animals in his care, or while making his large animal rounds—but he wasn’t always one for sharing. He and Bibi had that in common.

  Finally, he said, “I don’t know about this charity thing, Megs. Chase texted me this morning. He was already complaining about the event. Doesn’t seem quite the attitude to have before even starting out. Is it really safe to have these kids out there in the wilderness with a bunch of people who don’t know what they’re doing and don’t want to be there? Ye know what I mean?”

  “I think it’ll be fine, Denver. It’s the Pennsylvania woods. Not a dangerous jungle.” Megan touched his arm. “They’ll never be too far from civilization. Or a cell tower.”

  “I guess.”

  “There’s a bunch of them. What can go wrong?”

  “Kids can get lost or hurt. Or they can come away hating nature for the rest of their lives because they were forced to spend a long weekend with a jerk who made them feel miserable.”

  “You really are worried. What happened to your optimism from last night?”

  “I got home, and Chase called me. He was drunk and surly.”

  “Oh.”

  “Ye don’t get drunk the night before something like this. There are kids to think about.”

  “And his company’s reputation.”

  Denver grunted. He turned the SUV onto a tree-lined road, breaking into a sharp curve. His aunt’s house was about five minutes away. Megan glanced at her phone. They had some time to spare. Dillon and Eloise weren’t expecting them until seven.

  “Do you want to pull over and talk about it?” Megan asked.

  “What’s there to talk about? Chase’s hung over and complaining and he’s going to go anyway because his boss expects it of him. Got to move up that ladder, right?”

  Denver looked more than angry. He seemed enraged.

  “Look,” Megan said, “he’s an adult. Barbara is an adult. These kids—Dillon included—will be fine. It’s not your fault Chase is an idiot.”

  Neither spoke while they made their way up the steep, narrow road. The houses along this stretch were larger, grander, than the ones in other parts of Winsome. Stone farmhouses with stately barns and acres of pasture. New, multi-winged Colonials built to look like they were crafted in the 1700s—with all the amenities of modern life, and twice the square footage. And at the end of the road, on a ten-acre lot, sat Denver’s aunt’s property, with it’s gorgeous white Colonial, oversized barn, fenced-in pastures, and horses. It was an impressive, grand, and lonely place, Megan thought. One that could be overwhelming for an adult much less an unaccustomed foster child.

  “Let’s get Dillon,” Megan said.

  Denver placed a hand on her arm to stop her. “Sorry for being so morose.”

  “They’re your friends. You feel responsible.”

  “Megs, there’s—”

  But Denver couldn’t finish. His aunt rushed outside carrying a pile of camping gear.

  Breathless, Eloise Kent said, “You’re going to be late. Here are his things. Sleeping bag and pad. A backpack with snacks and water. A first aid kit. A journal.” His usually reserved aunt and Winsome’s retired pediatrician seemed flustered and out of sorts. “Extra chargers.” She threw up her hands. “Everything on the list and then some.”

  Denver slid out of the 4Runner and took the gear out of his aunt’s hands. “Did you send the good China and the fine silverware?”

  “No, but I did send a spork.”

  “I was kidding.”

  “I know.”

  “There’s no getting a smile out of you today, huh?” He placed the gear in the back of the SUV and gave his aunt a kiss on the cheek. “Relax, Aunt Eloise. Dillon will have a good time.”

  Eloise glanced behind her, toward the house. “He doesn’t want to go.”

  “Just the jitters.” Denver gave her a reassuring smile. “He’ll be fine.”

  Eloise nodded, but she looked unconvinced. Aside from Denver’s sister, who lived in Scotland, Eloise was his only living relative. Both Denver’s parents were dead. He was protective of his aunt, and Megan knew he didn’t want to let her down. The fact that she was stressed would only add to his worries.

  “Where’s Dillon?” Megan asked. “I’ll help him get the rest of his stuff.”

  “No need. There is no ‘rest’—this is it.”

  Even as she said the words, the front door opened, and a young man came lumbering out. Dillon was tall, over six feet, and heavy-boned, with the peach-fuzz mustache of adolescence. He stared at the ground as he made his way to the SUV, his face expressionless, size twelve feet shuffling along.

  “Dillon, you remember Dr. Finn. This is his friend Miss Megan.”

  Denver and Megan shook hands with the boy. His hand was sweaty, his grasp firm.

  “Okay, then,” Eloise said. “Do you have everything, Dillon?”

  Intelligent eyes seemed to focus inward on the question. “I think so, ma’am.”

  “If you need anything, Dillon, anything at all, please call me.” Eloise touched his arm tenderly.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  A bird flew overhead, circled, and landed on the fence. Dillon watched it, his expression softening. Eloise’s dog, an older Golden Retriever, trotted over and stood by the boy, tail wagging. Dillon bent down, gave it a
gentle rub behind the ears, and stood back up reluctantly.

  “Remember, Dillon, this is for your future. Make some connections. You never know where this will lead.”

  He nodded, then slipped silently into the backseat of the 4Runner. When he was belted and the door was closed, Eloise leaned in. Voice barely audible, she said, “He’s a sweet boy. Doesn’t show much emotional range, but that’s understandable.” She moved closer. “Poor boy. Mother is dead, father is in prison.” Eloise walked away, not even bothering to connect the dots aloud.

  “Hey there, champ.” A man slapped Dillon on the shoulder. “Looks like you’re paired with me.”

  The man shifted from Dillon and locked his gaze on Megan. “You must be Denver’s new flame. I’m Xavier Jones, former fraternity brother and long-time friend.” He held out an exceptionally hairy hand. His shake was damp and weak. “Nice to finally meet you.” He glanced at Denver and smiled. It was a great job, bro kind of smile—one Denver didn’t return.

  Xavier bounced up and down on his heels. He was short and stocky, with an island of dark hair surrounded by a sea of sunburned scalp. He wore the confidence of someone whose life has always gone as planned, and he pinned that confident stare on Dillon, who seemed to shrink from his attention.

  “Ready for the fun?” Xavier asked.

  Dillon nodded, his focus once again on the ground. The event was starting at the Lyle Lake State Park main parking lot, and a dozen students were milling about. A few were talking to adults, but most, presumably residents of Pioneer Village School, were grouped next to a large white van. Every once in a while, one would sneak a furtive glance toward the adults standing by the park’s welcome display.

  “Do you know the other boy in the tent with us?” Xavier shared a name.

  Dillon mumbled something and nodded.

  “You do know him?” Xavier leaned down and tilted his head up, so he was peering into Dillon’s face. “Speak up. Rule number one in business. Use your voice or lose your voice.”

  Dillon swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, sir.”

  “’Yes, sir,’ you agree or ‘yes, sir,’ you know this kid?”

  “Both, sir.”

  Xavier stared at the boy for a long moment. He made an exasperated face and glanced at Denver, looking for agreement.

  Denver shot him a reproachful look, touched Dillon’s arm gently, and said, “Come with me.” To Megan, he said, “I’ll be back in a moment. Will you be okay?”

  Megan nodded. She watched as the two walked off toward the trail map that hung on a post by the bathrooms.

  Xavier also followed their progress before turning his attention to Megan. “That kid will be fun to have around.” He nodded toward the larger group standing by the school van. “Part-y time.”

  Megan made sure no one was in earshot. “You do realize these kids haven’t had easy lives. It’s the reason they need you to begin with. Social skills are not their thing.”

  Xavier’s expression darkened. “Hey, I get it.”

  Megan frowned. She’d just met Xavier and already she was ready to move on. “I hope so.”

  Xavier pointed at Denver, who was deep in conversation with Dillon. “So, you snagged Daniel. Nice.”

  “I wouldn’t say I snagged him.”

  “He’s a catch. Handsome, educated. Too bad about his wife.”

  Megan didn’t respond. This guy was supposed to be Denver’s friend, but his tone was anything but friendly. Jealous of Denver? Or just awkward himself? Megan looked around for someone else to talk to and actually felt grateful to see Chase and Barbara making their way in their direction.

  “Ready?” Barbara said. She wore black yoga pants, a tight, maroon performance t-shirt, and hiking boots. Her long, dark hair was held back with a scrunchie. A black sweatshirt was tied around her waist. She carried a water bottle and took small sips, watching Xavier over the rim.

  Xavier shrugged. “Sure. Why not.”

  Chase looked worse for wear, his lank hair greasy and a day’s worth of dark shadow on his face. He was carrying cooking equipment in an open box, including a small coffee pot, several plastic dishes, an aluminum pot, a tiny cast iron frying pan, and two ceramic coffee mugs. A utility knife hung from his pants.

  When he saw Barbara looking at his equipment, he said, “Boys have to eat.”

  Barbara shook her head. She reached down and touched her toes, stretching. “You’ll regret that. Stuff is heavy.”

  “Seriously? Look around. This isn’t exactly the Alps. I’m putting it in the backpack. I’ll make the kid carry some of it.” To Megan, he said, “Overdid it last night,” as though it were something to be proud of.

  “Who do you have?” Xavier asked.

  His question was directed to Barbara, but it was Chase who answered with the name of his charge.

  “Just one?” Xavier asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Xavier smiled. “Lucky you.”

  Barbara looked annoyed. “We’re here for Harriet and for BOLD.” Her attention strayed. She glanced across the parking lot, where Martine was talking with two teen girls and an older woman in jeans, who Megan assumed was a teacher or chaperone. “This is important to Harriet and for BOLD Pharmaceuticals.” Looking at Megan, she said, “Harriet owes everything to Pioneer. Her kid and all.”

  “Is Harriet from Pennsylvania?” Megan asked.

  “She was originally. Her kid did some stupid things. Was going to go to juvie but Harriet worked this out so she could go here. She had serious emotional and behavioral issues. Paranoia. Poor judgment. Other stuff. Harriet says her daughter literally wouldn’t be alive now without Pioneer Village.” She took another sip from her water bottle and locked her gaze onto Megan’s. “Sometimes things do work out.”

  “Looks like this will work out too.” Megan tilted her head up toward the cloudless sky. “You couldn’t have asked for better weather.”

  “For sure,” Barbara regarded Chase with an apprising stare. “Go take two Excedrin and get back out here. Look alive. Please.” She shifted her attention to Xavier, taking in his button-down plaid shirt and pleated shorts. “And you look like you’re going to a church picnic. Don’t you have anything more practical to wear? Martine will be taking photos.”

  “I have a t-shirt.”

  “Put it on. Lighten up. We will have a good time.” It was an order, and Xavier responded with military salute.

  When both Chase and Xavier had left, Barbara sighed. “They mean well. They really do. I’m afraid I roped them into this. Harriet was so gung-ho about the idea, and I couldn’t very well tell her that no one wanted to give up a weekend to traipse in the woods of Pennsylvania with delinquents.”

  Megan said, “No, I don’t imagine she would have appreciated that.”

  “They’ll benefit in the long run. Especially Chase.” She glanced around. “Have you seen Jatin?”

  “No.”

  “I wonder where he is.” She looked at the large watch strapped to her wrist. “He should have been here twenty minutes ago.”

  “Traffic?”

  Barbara made a face. “In this Podunk town? I don’t think so.” Realizing she’d just insulted Megan’s home, she added quickly, “I wish I lived here. Fresh air. No traffic. It’s awesome.”

  “What’s awesome?” Denver had returned. He put his arm around Megan and pulled her close. “Ready, Megs? I think we can head out. The kids are in good hands. Staff have arrived, and Barbara here will keep everyone in line.”

  Megan searched the lot for Dillon. She spied him near the white van, standing with two other teens. “Dillon’s feeling better?”

  Denver said, “He’s fine.”

  “Okay, then.” Megan said goodbye to Barbara, although she was already on her phone, searching, Megan assumed, for the missing Jatin.

  When they reache
d the 4Runner, Denver started the vehicle. “Don’t you wish you were going with them?”

  “Honestly? Yes. I wish I could take the kids instead of them.”

  Denver smiled. “At least then they’d have fun. You and Clover? Much better than this crew.”

  Four

  “How’s the construction coming along?” Merry Chance, the owner of Winsome’s only nursery, took a dainty bite of an omelet, dabbed at her mouth with a paper napkin, and placed her hands in her lap. “When will the inn be ready?”

  Megan wiped the long counter at the back of the Washington Acres Larder & Café. Merry asked regularly about the progress on the former Marshall property. Megan wasn’t sure if she was genuinely interested—or if she was tired of looking at the town eyesore.

  Megan said, “If not this year, hopefully next.”

  “Have they broken ground yet?”

  “They started on the new barn, which will house the educational center. The old Marshall house is in pretty bad shape. We had hoped to renovate it and use it as the inn and kitchen, but we’re waiting on reports from the inspectors and structural engineer.”

  Merry pursed her lips, forehead knitted into a matrix of thinker’s creases. Well into middle age, she had the sort of ageless quality some women retain, with clear ivory skin and jade-green eyes. Today she seemed tired. “Is it a good idea to build the barn? What if the house has to be torn down?”

  The old Marshall place had sat abandoned for decades. Megan had wanted to buy it for years, but it was only last year that she found the funds to afford the property. Only years of neglect had taken their toll on the house that was once, long ago, part of the Washington Acres farmstead, and Megan was afraid fixing the impact of that neglect would take time and more funds than Megan had.

  She leaned against the counter, dishrag in hand. “If it has to be torn down, we’ll tear it down. We can still use the barn for the farm and educational outreach. I’m hoping some portion of the house can be saved, but if not, we will rebuild it when funds allow.”