Devil's Lady
Page 37
“The apples in question were the result of years of experimentation lost to me because of your childish prank. There were only three on the tree. You did not need pick all of them. That is not to the point.”
Cassandra simply smiled at Merrick’s scold. “Any tree that bears only three apples cannot be worth much. And there is always the next year. Presumably it bore a great many more then. How did the experiment work out?”
“The tree bore a great deal too many while I was away, and the gardener failed to prune it adequately. The tree split in half and died.”
Cassandra laughed as he whirled her around in the pattern of the dance and brought her back to him. “All those apples wasted! That’s a terrible pity. Now, had I been there, I would have taken enough that the tree might be standing still. The Widow Jones always thought your apples were the best in the county.”
“Is that what you did with them? I always thought there were far too many missing for one little girl to eat. You could have told me who they were for. I would gladly have helped you pick them. She always sent me the most excellent pies.”
“Telling you wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” Cassandra granted him a radiant smile.
Merrick merely raised an eyebrow at her lack of character.
She made a slight moue of resignation. “Besides, she died that next year and we moved away.”
Pages of explanation could have disappeared into the gulf created by that statement. Six years ago she had been a child pulling a foolish prank on her neighbor, who happened to be a happily married man at the time.
A year later her home was gone and so was his wife, not to mention the Widow Jones. A momentous year, indeed.
Copyright © 2013 Patricia Rice
First published: New American Library 1992
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portion thereof, in any form.
First published by New American Library, New York. This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
www.bookviewcafe.com