The Orchard at the Edge of Town (19 page)

“And yet she's turning up her nose at my offering.”

“Maybe she just doesn't like the way it tastes. Unless you're raised on the stuff, it can be a tough thing to choke down.” Simon had eaten his fair share of cow tongue, liver, and heart when he was growing up. He didn't hate it. That was about as much of a compliment as he could give.

“I
was
raised on the stuff,” Apricot said drily. “And that is exactly why I'm not eating it today. You can't cook, Lilac. Not tongue. Not pasta. Not rice. If you'd just accept that fact, the world would be a better place.”

“The people of Papua New Guinea loved my food!” Lilac argued, but her eyes were sparkling.

Perfect!
Apricot thought as she looked into her mother's gleaming eyes. Lilac was pushing her buttons.

Again.

The woman was an expert at it.

And, generally speaking, once the button pushing began it didn't end.

Which meant that Apricot was going to have to end it herself, because time was ticking away, her stomach was growling, and she needed to get away from her family and eat something in exactly that order or she just might be tempted to kill someone. Namely, Lilac. Or Rose. Or even poor Hubert, who was peering out the living room window probably wondering if he should come running to the rescue.

“Good. Great.” Apricot sighed. “Ship the sandwiches there, because they are definitely not what I feel like eating today.”

“This isn't about what you feel like eating. This is about what's healthy. Look at your skin!” Lilac jabbed a finger in her direction. “Pasty. You've been eating refined wheat again, haven't you? Is that a zit I see on your nose? You know how you break out when you eat processed food.”

Good gravy!
How in God's name had this situation gotten so completely out of control?

“I think she's got a bit of sun on her nose,” Simon drawled, his beautiful eyes skimming over whatever offending mark Lilac had noticed. “And I think it looks beautiful on her.”

“Cow tongue! That is the key to clear skin and energy. You're going to need the former if you're going to find yourself a new man, Apricot. You're going to need the latter if you really plan to bring the orchard back up to snuff,” Lilac proclaimed as if she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

Apricot had heard, and her heart was doing a funny little dance of happiness. Not so much because of his words, but because of the way he looked at her, as if she were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Even with her sunburned nose and wild hair.

“What
do
you feel like eating, Apricot Sunshine?” Simon asked, ignoring Lilac's lecture. For a moment, she was so caught in the deep green depth of his eyes, she wasn't sure what he was asking or why an answer mattered.

Then Rose started gesturing wildly from behind Lilac. Apricot wasn't exactly sure what the wild gestures were meant to convey, but they served to pull her out of the happy little spell she'd fallen into.

“A ham and cheese sandwich on rye would be really nice,” she said quickly, hoping her long pause wasn't too noticeable.

Based on the amusement in Simon's eyes, she'd say it had been. He was too much of a gentleman to point it out.

“I think that can be arranged,” he responded easily, smiling into her eyes with just the right amount of focus and interest and humor.

Dear God above, she liked him!

He made her feel . . . happy, excited, beautiful.

It had been a heck of a long time since she'd felt any of those things.

“Ham and cheese?!” Lilac leaned into the car, thrusting her upper body through the window. Simon had to lean back to avoid getting a face full of cleavage.

Apricot wanted to pull Lilac's V-neck closed, but that would just start a tirade about another one of Lilac's pet subjects—the beauty of the human body. It could even end with a full-out stripping off of the muumuu her mother was wearing.

Nope. Better to keep her mouth closed.

“They process the crap out of that stuff,” Lilac spat. “It's not even real food.”

“Give the kids a break.” Rose dragged Lilac out of the window. “They don't want your disgusting cow tongue sandwiches. Take this instead.” She passed a basket in through the window. “Huckleberry jam and homemade bread. Goat cheese and quinoa salad. Flaxseed crackers. A little wine. A nice cold ginger tea. Perfect picnic food.”

“Thanks, Rose.” Apricot set the basket on her lap. “We'd better go. Simon has a limited amount of time for lunch, and I have more work to do in the orchard.”

“If you're picnicking, why not just stay here? That will save Simon a drive into town and back and give you two a little extra time to enjoy . . .” Rose glanced at Simon and offered a sly wink. “The food.”

“What do you think, Apricot? The park or the orchard? I'll be happy either way,” Simon responded, ignoring Rose's obvious hint.

“Well?” Lilac pressed. “You going to drive around in the gas guzzler and contribute to global warming and the death of our beautiful planet? Or are you going to do the decent, the humane, the
right
thing and just stay right where you are?”

“You're not on the political circuit, Lilac. No need to get overly dramatic in your pitch,” Apricot said, sidestepping the question, looking out the window at the beautiful sunny day, the bright blue sky, and the clouds just kind of meandering across the horizon.

It
was
a good day for the park
or
the orchard.

The thing was, one idea seemed a heck of a lot more romantic than the other. The park was public, the chance of finding herself in Simon's arms slim to none. The orchard, though? She could picture herself sitting on the little bench with Simon, the soft rustle of leaves all around them, the quiet solitude, the sun just warming them through the trees. She could imagine eating cheese and sipping wine and listening to him talk about his girls and his crazy sister-in-law. Anything could happen in the orchard, and she had to admit, she kind of liked that.

“You're wasting precious time,” Rose pronounced, yanking open Simon's door and pulling him out of the SUV. “There's an absolutely perfect picnic spot in the orchard. A lovely little bench right in the middle of a clearing. You know it, right, Apricot?”

“Yes, but—”

“But what?” Lilac demanded, hands on her hips, the neckline of her muumuu still drooping a few inches too low.

“The park may be—”

“Boring.” Lilac cut her off again. “I did not raise a boring child. You might live a boring life, but there's got to be a little bit of wildness in you. Embrace it for a change, Apricot Sunshine.”

“There is nothing boring about lunch in the park,” Apricot protested, but her mother and aunt had Simon by the arms and were jabbering away at him as they walked toward the house.

Simon didn't seem to mind being shanghaied. As a matter of fact, he smiled and waved at Hubert as they passed the living room window.

Hubert mouthed something that looked an awful lot like
you poor son of a monkey's uncle
and Simon laughed.

He didn't seem at all bothered by her family's intrusiveness. Which made Apricot's heart melt just a little. In all the time she'd been with Lionel, he'd never been comfortable with her family. When they'd come for their once-in-a-blue-moon visits, he'd moved in with his mother to “give them room in the condo.”

Her family hadn't appreciated the effort. As a matter of fact, Lilac had complained bitterly about it on more than one occasion.

Apricot had known
exactly
what she'd seen in him—the opposite of what she'd had with her family—predictability, order, manners, and a bit of polish. She'd wanted that for herself, because she'd never,
ever
wanted to be like Lilac and Rose or any of the rest of the clan. She'd wanted to be . . . normal, because normal had seemed like the easiest way to live her life. She hated the overwrought emotionalism, the extremes of passion. She wanted to raise her kids in an environment that embraced individuality but didn't thumb its nose at conformity.

She and Lionel had talked it all out, and they'd agreed on Montessori school for the first few years, then a private middle school and high school to polish things off. No one-room schoolhouse in the middle of a tiny little village where everyone knew everyone.
Their
children would be exposed to art and culture and sports.

Their children who would never exist, because she and Lionel no longer existed as a couple.

She should have known that was the way it would be. The women in her family weren't meant for long-term relationships. If she hadn't been so caught up in her dream of wanting one, she would have realized that and saved herself a little heartache.

Simon glanced over his shoulder as Lilac and Rose led him away.

“Help me,” he mouthed, and she couldn't help smiling. He had a sense of humor, and she liked that. She liked him. She liked his girls. She liked the way she felt when she was with them. As if all those years she'd spent with Lionel weren't a waste because they'd led her to Apple Valley and all the wonderful people she'd met here.

That had to mean something.

Didn't it?

Right then, she wasn't so sure, but she knew she couldn't just let Rose and Lilac drag Simon off. Lord alone knew what those two women would do with him.

She caught up with them quickly, Rose's basket slapping against her thighs, the little white sundress that Apricot had planned to wear in Aruba sliding up her legs. The weather in Apple Valley was almost too cool for the dress, but the eyelet fabric made her feel pretty and feminine, and for some reason that had seemed important while she was getting ready.

“It's going to be a little difficult for Simon and me to have lunch together if you two are around,” she said pointedly, hoping Lilac and Rose would take the hint and leave.

“We could all eat together,” Lilac suggested.

“I'd rather starve,” Apricot responded.

Simon chuckled.

Lilac scowled.

“I'm shocked at how inhospitable you sound, Apricot. You were raised on the idea of the communal meal, of breaking bread together as a sign of solidarity in mind and heart.”

“Right now, I'd just like to have a little solidarity in my stomach. I didn't eat much this morning, and I'm starving.” As if to prove the point, her stomach growled so loudly a couple of magpies flew from an apple tree.

Simon glanced her way and winked, and her heart thumped so hard in response she thought it was trying to leap from her chest.

“And what have I told you about that?” Lilac sighed. “How can you possibly keep your metabolism working properly if you refuse to nourish your body?”

“Lilac, how about you hold off on your advice for a while? I'm seriously going to tear someone's head off if I don't get some food in my stomach soon.”

“No need to get snippy. I'm simply informing you because I care.” Lilac thrust the second basket into Apricot's free hand. “Eat the tongue,” she whispered loudly. “It will help with the wrinkles you're getting on your forehead.”

With that, she grabbed Rose's hand and dragged her away.

There was a moment of silence, the day just kind of pausing as Lilac and Rose walked inside the house.

“Wow!” Simon breathed. “Just . . . wow.”

“Yeah. I know. Imagine being raised by those two.”

“And Hubert?” He took both baskets and used his hip to shove open the gate that led into the orchard.

“And with an entire gargantuan family of crazy people,” she responded.

He laughed, and the muted sunlight seemed a little brighter, the leaves a little greener.

That was not good, because she was not heading down the relationship path again. It wouldn't lead anywhere but heartache, and she'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“What's wrong?” Simon asked as she led the way to the clearing and the pretty little bench that had been placed there by a man who had loved his wife so much that he'd spent every minute without her mourning what he'd lost.

At least, that's what Apricot had been imagining late at night when she couldn't sleep, when all her dead dreams just kind of piled up in her mind and made her wish she'd made different choices.

“Just thinking that this probably isn't a good idea,” she responded honestly.

“What? Lunch?” He sat and pulled her down beside him, his arms somehow winding around her shoulders, his fingers playing in the ends of her hair.

“Lunch is fine. It's
us
I'm worried about. That's what this feels like to me. Not just lunch with a friend, lunch with someone I really like, someone I want to get to know better, someone I think I could spend a lot of time with and never get tired of.”

“Whatever kind of lunch we're having, it doesn't mean a lifetime commitment. It just means today, right now, this moment. Let's just relax and enjoy it.” He smiled, stretching his legs out in front of him, the sunlight dancing in his hair. She wanted to run her fingers through the soft strands, run her palm along the rough stubble on his jaw. She wanted to hold his hand and bask in the warmth of the day and just let herself enjoy the deliciousness of new . . .

Love?