Sunrise Point (13 page)

* * *

Nora knew that Tom Cavanaugh would come for her on Monday morning, so she waited out in front of her little house, leaning against her five-year-old gray Nissan. She couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face. He pulled up at the usual time and just sat in his truck for a minute, staring. It made her let go a big laugh.

He finally got out of his truck and looked at her quizzically. “Do you have company?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Jed gave me a car,” she told him. She opened the back door. “With
car seats!
”

He pulled off his cap and scratched his head. “Just gave it to you?”

“He’s trying to make up for lost time, I think. It belonged to his lady friend, Susan. And rather than trading it in for a newer car, she sold it to Jed, who wanted it for me. I was pretty shocked. I still can’t believe it. And guess what? It’s very nice.”

“I guess that means you have a driver’s license.”

“Of course I do. I just haven’t driven in a long time.”

“Maybe you should let me drive you to the orchard until you have a couple of test drives,” he suggested. “You can tell me about your visit.”

“I think you’re disappointed I don’t need a ride,” she said with a laugh.

“Nah. But I kind of got used to the updates… .”

“We can talk at lunchtime. If you’re not too busy.”

He looked uncomfortable. She thought he actually squirmed a little, looking briefly away. “I don’t want anyone to think—”

She was shaking her head. “Come on,” she coaxed. “This isn’t junior high, and you have a girlfriend!”

“Not quite yet.”

“Oh, boy—now we
have
to talk! I want to hear all about the red boots!”

“Did you get anything else from good old Jed besides the car?” Tom asked.

She put her hands on her hips and grinned. “Did you just change the subject?”

“I wondered, that’s all…”

“Walmart gift card for winter clothes, some toys for the girls and, get this, he brought dinner—roasted chicken, potatoes, vegetables. He bought it on the way.”

“I guess you don’t need much now… .”

“I need to know how your weekend went!” she said, laughing. “Okay, look—I’ll follow you back to the orchard. I’ll make your coffee. We’ll have a cup while we wait for the others to come—the ones you’re so careful to arrive before and leave after. You can ask me questions and then you’ll tell me all about your weekend with that magnificent woman!”

“Magnificent?” he asked with a frown.

“Well, Tom, I saw her! Let’s get a move on or we won’t have time to talk. Because God forbid old Jerome or Junior think we’re friends. Come on!”

* * *

Tom was completely unsure how this little spitfire did it to him, but he was grinning all the way to the orchard, following her as she carefully putted along the almost deserted road at dawn. And after they’d arrived and parked, he suggested they have coffee in the kitchen with Maxie.

“But Tom, I’m not going to get all the more intimate details if your grandmother is there,” she said quietly.

He leaned down, close to her face. “You’re not going to get intimate details anyway.”

“Oh,” she said, laughing, covering her mouth. “All right, then.”

When they walked into the kitchen, they found Maxie leaning on a hand, elbow braced on the table, her paper and coffee in front of her. She was dozing.

“Maxie?” he said.

She jerked awake. “Oh!” Then she smiled. “Morning, Nora.” And she yawned. “Good grief.”

“Oh, you’re tired,” Nora said. “Let’s go get coffee going in the office.”

“You okay, Maxie?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. “I think I didn’t sleep well the last couple of nights or something. So—are we having coffee?” She sipped hers and made a face. “Mine has gone cold.”

“Let me fix that up for you,” Nora said, taking her cup. She dumped it, dressed a new, hot one with cream and sugar while she fixed her own, then sat down at the table. “Tom has promised to tell me about his weekend.”

“That should be interesting—he hasn’t really told me,” Maxie said.

Tom cleared his throat. “You were here,” he said, pouring his own coffee.

“Yes, and I’m not sure if we had a good time or not.”

“We had a great time. Darla’s a city girl, a businesswoman. She loved the orchard, the redwoods, the coast. She just couldn’t appreciate our country lifestyle, I think. You know what I mean—not the type to get real excited about country-fried steak and gravy. But she wants to come back.”

“She does?” Maxie asked.

“She does,” he confirmed, narrowing his eyes at Maxie, trusting her not to carp about the strange appetite, the many outfit changes, the fact that Darla never got out of her chair to help with dishes.

“How wonderful.” Maxie looked at Nora. “She’s a very beautiful and successful woman. Widowed.”

“So I heard,” Nora said. “Her husband served with Tom, right?”

“What was her husband like?” Maxie asked Tom.

“A good guy,” Tom said.

“Oh, now I could pick him out of a crowd,” his grandmother said.

“He worked for me,” Tom said. “You can’t usually get real cozy with the men you command, but he was a sergeant and his boys would walk into hell for him. In the end, he walked into hell for them—he lost his life saving others. But let me tell you this—he was loyal, smart, brave…and he had a great sense of humor. When he wasn’t driving them hard for their safety and survival, he was making his boys laugh. Sometimes he thought rules were stupid and sometimes I agreed. He didn’t exactly cross the line, but man,” he said, laughing and giving his head a shake. “He ran right up to it—he was an edgy guy. He had common sense and terrific instincts. Unafraid. He didn’t talk about Darla too much, at least not with me. But then, we were kind of busy.”

Nora was in a trance, listening. “Busy,” she repeated. Though he hadn’t said, what she imagined he meant was that they were under fire. She tried to shake that off—he was home safe now. So she asked, “What’s Darla like?”

“Like?” he asked, frowning. “Nice.”

Maxie and Nora exchanged looks. Maxie lifted her brows.

“Okay, she’s very smart and sells drugs for a pharmaceutical company,” Tom said. “She has to travel a lot. She seems to like clothes and I think she must make good money. And she… She watches her weight.”

Nora laughed and shook her head. “Men,” she said in exasperation. “So—what does she like to do for fun? Does she hike or surf or go duck hunting? Or does she play chess, or read or paint? Is she kind to animals? What are her big goals and what are her impossible dreams? Does she have religion, speak more than one language, cook, bake, sew? Is she on Facebook? Does she tweet? Would she like to have children, and would she rather be a working mother or stay-at-home mom? Who is her best friend, and worst enemy? Who is her idol? When she lists her five most important things, what are they? And what are the three things she’s most grateful for? And if she could have dinner with any famous person, dead or alive, who would it be?”

When she finished, both Maxie and Tom were staring at her, openmouthed.

“Nora, I can’t answer those questions about myself,” Tom said.

“I can answer four or five of them,” Maxie said. “The orchard is important—my second priority after family, who is Tom. I bake and work out walking the orchard and I think canning, baking, cooking and cleaning this big house qualify as much as exercise. I was a working mother and grandmother and hope to be a working great-grandmother. I’m on Facebook—”

“You’re on
Facebook?
” Tom asked, shocked.

“A little thing for me and my friends…to share pictures and news…”

Nora was fascinated. “And the famous person you’d have dinner with?”

She looked at the ceiling for an answer. Finally she said, “Hillary Rodham Clinton.”

Nora was fascinated. “And what do you want to know?”

Maxie smiled. “It will have to be a long dinner…”

“Aw, jeez,” Tom said. “I think it’s time to harvest apples.”

“Maxie, I have some news,” Nora said just as she stood to leave. “I have a car! One with car seats so I can drive myself around for errands and to work. It’s going on my list of the three things I’m most grateful for.”

“That’s such good news,” Maxie said. “So—dinner on Friday? With the little girls?”

“Maxie, I think Darla will probably come up on Friday… .” Tom said.

“Oh. Well, then, how about Wednesday? Can you run home and get them? Take off a couple of hours early—you always come early and stay late. Go home, change, bring the little ones. I’ll make a big pot of…” She looked at Tom. “What should I make? Spaghetti? Chicken soup? Meat loaf and mashed potatoes? We don’t want steak or roast for little mouths, little teeth.”

“I vote for any one of those,” Nora said. “That would be so much fun. I’ll bring Fay’s booster chair. Thank you, Maxie!”

Hank Cooper had a top-of-the-line toy hauler, perfect for a bachelor sportsman. He had parked on the RV slab behind Luke’s cabins, hooked up, then lowered the rear hatch so he could remove his motorcycle, wave runner and Rhino. Once the toys were out and the hatch put up, the roomy living room furniture was pulled down from the ceiling and out from the walls. He also had a full kitchen, large bathroom and master bedroom. He never had to pack as he’d lived in this RV for a couple of years—his closets and drawers were full. The kitchen was appointed—he didn’t always go to a lot of trouble, but he cooked for himself more than he went out.

His next order of business was erecting a small shelter from pipe and plastic tarp under which he could park the vehicles.

Then he pulled out an awning and set up some of his outdoor furniture. His refrigerator was still stocked—food, beer, sodas. There was a satellite dish on top that he could extend into the trees for decent TV reception and internet connection.

And he reclined on his outdoor lounge in the midst of the forest with the sound of the rushing river nearby. Those people who rented the cabins didn’t know what they were missing. He had helped Luke around the cabin compound in the morning, then with a beer at his side and laptop perched on his knees, he did a little surfing.

First he checked Devlon Petroleum to see if they were in trouble. The stock had gone up since yesterday and there were no EPA investigations or crew mishaps and while there was a part of him relieved by this, he had no regrets about quitting. There had been a couple of minor spills that hadn’t made big news, a couple of injuries that could’ve been avoided if safety measures had been followed. His last standoff with his chief pilot was when he refused to fly to drilling platforms in the Gulf during a hurricane watch that was soon to turn into a hurricane warning. If they’d been asking him to fly out there to pick up rig workers and bring them in, he would have done it. But they wanted to take more men out there even though the weather was taking a bad turn. His chief pilot was only following orders when he said, “You take this flight or take a walk.”

Coop had walked.

This was probably his own damn fault. When he’d left the Army after six years in a helicopter, he had taken on high-risk jobs. After a couple of years as a mercenary in a Black Hawk in countries without their own armies, he moved on to flying between offshore oil rigs and land and found that could sometimes be as questionable. But the money had drawn him. At the time he’d merely asked himself what the difference was between flying a Black Hawk in Iraq or Mozambique, getting fired on, and flying off Costa Rica or in the Gulf of Mexico back and forth between the continent and drilling platforms.

Then he’d experienced his first major spill and it all hit him pretty hard. The carnage was horrible. Coop hadn’t paid that much attention to seagulls, pelicans and fish until he’d seen them covered with oil. Hadn’t worried about where he was going to get his fish until he’d seen all the fishing boats moored and unable to work. That’s when he started to notice things, like a half-assed effort at cleanup, like regulations shaved too close to the bone, high fuel prices so the consumer could pay for their mistakes and company suits and stockholders wouldn’t take a hit.

He’d worked for a total of four oil companies. He left each one for what he considered irresponsible drilling and transporting. He’d look around for yet one more, but he needed a change. A break. And, although it made him feel a little guilty, the same companies he disapproved of had paid him well and given him stock bonuses. He had a healthy bank account; it would afford him some time to think about what to do next. If he thought it would make those oil companies more responsible, he’d have refused the money. Instead, he made donations to nonprofit organizations dedicated to cleanups and animal rescue.

Enough. He flipped over to his email. There was one from Ben Bailey, the guy who was supposed to meet him in Virgin River. He was up to his eyeballs in mess; his septic system had died, but it had gotten real sick first. He was trying to get everything taken care of so he could make at least a fast trip to the mountains, maybe at least aim at a deer if not shoot one. It was only a five-hour drive from his place in Oregon.

Coop shot back an email. Come when you can. I’ll be here awhile. I’m between jobs. Again. If you don’t get down here, I’ll come up. Never have seen this little business of yours.

“Ah, the infamous Coop,” a voice said.

He looked over the top of his laptop. The guy was a little taller than Luke, but the resemblance was unmistakable. He winced before he said, “Does it have to be
infamous?
”

“Your reputation, like my brother’s, precedes you.” He stuck out a hand. “Colin Riordan. Same DNA as Luke, and roughly same locale. We’re neighbors. How you doing?”

He slapped the laptop lid closed. “Doing a little relaxing. It just doesn’t get any better than this.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how he lucked into this,” Colin said, hands on his hips, looking around. “He and our brother Sean came up here hunting, found this compound all broken down with the elderly owner bedridden and dying. He stayed dying for years. But Sean and Luke put together a deal that would take care of the guy. Eventually Luke came up here and put on a restoration show—fixed everything up. I thought he’d flip it, sell, but he stayed on.”

“Shelby,” Coop said.

“Isn’t she something? I have definitely lucked out in the sister-in-law department. Have two more winners—Aiden and Sean both married up, as my mother says.”

“How many of you are there?” Coop said, standing to face Colin.

“Five Riordan sons. Luke says you flew for the Army.”

“For a few years. And if I have it straight, you flew Black Hawks, too.”

“I did,” Colin said. “Until a freak accident retired me. We were in an exercise at Ft. Hood and a civilian plane out of control took me down.” He shook his head. “All that damn war and then it was some poor bastard with a heart attack that damn near killed me. But, I ended up here for my recovery and found Jillian, a very interesting little farmer. We’re not married, but we’ve been together over a year. And there’s no end in sight.”

“Does this place just spew pretty girls?”

Colin laughed. “Wouldn’t you wonder?”

“Beer, Colin?” Coop asked.

“No, thanks—but I’d like to see your digs, if you don’t mind. Luke was telling me about this setup… You haul your gear and still have a house.”

“It’s a good little operation,” he said. “Come in, look around. Plenty big for me, plenty of storage and a moving garage.”

Colin stepped inside, looked right toward the kitchen and a set of stairs toward the master bedroom and bath and left into a spacious living room. “Push these chairs back against the window, fold the tabletop against the wall, raise that long sofa bed to the ceiling and the entire back wall opens—it lowers into a ramp so I can drive in the toys. The wave runner is on wheels—I push it up the ramp.”

Colin took it all in and laughed. “How’d I live this long without knowing about a contraption like this?”

“I originally bought it for camping, but when I took my last job in Corpus Christi, I just rented a space and lived in it. That wasn’t exactly a radical move for me—I lived on my boat for a few months, and it wasn’t a big boat… . But I do have a long history of not staying in one place for long.”

“Or with one job? Luke mentioned something about your difference of opinion with the way the suits run things.”

“Yeah, that,” Coop said with a laugh. “Luke thinks I turned into a tree hugger. I’m not, I don’t think. Just hate rape and pillage.”

Colin laughed. “Well, I think I am a tree hugger… I only shoot animals if they’re about to eat me. And Jilly? She won’t even use pesticides on her vegetables. I wanna see the rest of this place.” He pointed to the stairs. “What’s up there?”

“That’s the part of the trailer that sits over the truck bed,” Coop told him. “Bedroom and bath. Go ahead.”

Colin took the steps and looked into a large bathroom that contained a shower and then a bedroom with a queen-size bed and a long wall of drawers and closets. There was a nice flat screen on the wall opposite the bed. “I might have to get me one of these,” Colin said.

“Have a lot of toys, do you?”

“Not yet,” Colin said with a grin. “Let’s fire up that Rhino of yours and I’ll take you on a tour of the forest. We might even end up at Jilly’s farm—really something to see.”