The Apple Orchard

by Susan Wiggs

  Sure, mister charming, married banker man, she thought. Let’s have a glass of wine together. She wondered where his wife was. And against her better judgment, she wondered what the wife was like. Lourdes. Was she as mysterious and exotic as her name?

  Taking her silence for assent, he handed her a glass and touched the rim of his to hers. “Welcome to Archangel.”

  “Thank you.” She sipped the wine. It was beyond delicious. “What is this?”

  “It’s from Angel Creek winery.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s a small label.” He pointed at a low spot in the distance, twined with the silvery stream she’d seen earlier. “Angel Creek is over there. The grapes are made from the vineyard on that slope and ridge.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had a glass of wine in sight of the vineyard it came from.” She took a sip of the Cabernet and another bite of the bread. It was as light as a cloud, the crust perfect, the wine smooth and flavorful. “This is heaven.”

  Most of the guests were eating and talking now; children chased each other around the central fountain, and the mariachis played on. People took turns greeting Isabel, offering hugs, some of them quietly consoling her. What a gift it was to have the kind of friends and neighbors who would gather in support in a crisis.

  And what an alien concept for Tess—the idea of a permanent home, roots, history. Her neighbors were strangers who shared a common trash pickup day, and her friends...they were as busy as she was with work. If a disaster were to strike, she assumed they would rally around her—but only if she reached out for help, something she was completely unaccustomed to doing.

  “I feel for Isabel,” she said to Dominic, unsettled by a strange, sharp yearning. “She must be so worried about her grandfather. Do you think I should try to visit him in the hospital? Magnus is allowed to have visitors, right?”

  “Sure. I’ve been going every day.”

  “Is it awful? I mean, does he look...?”

  “He’s in bad shape, banged up from the fall, now hooked up to monitors and pumps. The docs can’t predict when or even if he’ll emerge from the coma, but they say it can’t hurt to talk to him, hold his hand, that sort of thing. Would it be weird for you?”

  “Um, all of this is weird for me.”

  There was kindness in his face; she sensed he genuinely wanted to help. So now he was hot and kind. And married. So what was he doing seeking her out, extending his sympathy? She pushed away her plate.

  “You didn’t eat much,” he said.

  “I’d rather drink.” She finished her wine. “Good God, that’s delicious.”

  He moved the plate in front of her again. “Don’t let Isabel’s cooking go to waste.”

  She sighed and picked at the grilled vegetables. She wasn’t usually much for vegetables, but these were as delicious as they looked, perfectly seasoned with fresh herbs. “This could make me give up Cheetos,” she said. “Scratch that. Nothing could make me give up Cheetos. They’re like crack to me.”

  “For me, it’s strawberry Newtons,” he said. “How are you feeling, anyway?”

  She bridled. “I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?”

  “Better than you did in the city.”

  “Thanks a lot. A piece of roadkill would look better than I did in the city,” she said, trying a slice of herbed courgette. She fought against feeling drawn to this man. He had the sort of looks that infiltrated a woman’s dreams—polished fashion on the outside, brawny underneath. The black-rimmed glasses merely added interest. Everything about him attracted her. Except, of course, the married part.

  A boy and a girl dashed past, the boy ducking behind the leaf-clad frame of an arbor, then jumping out at the girl, who squealed with delight.

  “Ernestina mentioned you have kids.” Tess wanted to draw a clear boundary right away. He was too dangerously good-looking to do otherwise.

  “I do. Trini and Antonio. They’re with their mom today.”

  Something about the way he said “with their mom” tipped her off. “Oh. You and their mom aren’t together?”

  He shook his head. “We’ve been divorced for three years.”

  Now she felt slightly less guilty for lusting after him. But only slightly. This was not the time or the place to start a flirtation. Surely there was an unwritten social rule about hooking up with someone in the midst of a looming tragedy.

  “I see,” she said evenly. “It happens.” Lame, Tess. “I mean, I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.”

  She dropped the subject, even though a host of questions crowded into her head. What was the ex like? Why had they split up? Who in her right mind would split up with a guy like this?

  None of your business, she told herself.

  * * *

  By the time everyone took their leave, full dark obscured the hollows of the surrounding hills, and indigo twilight twined between earth and sky. A line of glowing taillights from departing vehicles curved along the drive toward the main road.

  In the kitchen, helpful neighbors or workers finished the last of the cleanup. Tess couldn’t keep track of everyone. She observed a bewildering number of Navarro relatives who had been associated with the estate for years. Tess was fast developing a fascination with this place and people here. Despite her discomfort at being the outsider, she wanted to learn more.

  After the cleanup, she and Isabel sat together in the courtyard, with a single votive candle burning on the table between them, and a rangy German shepherd named Charlie lying at Isabel’s feet.

  Tess felt completely enveloped by the deep and silent darkness and the scent of night jasmine and drying leaves on the breeze. Stars pricked the sky, the sweeping array overwhelming to Tess. The abundance of the night, unimpeded by city light, made her dizzy. The darkness added a sense of intimacy to the moment. It was too intimate. Too quiet. So quiet, she was at risk of hearing her own loneliness.

  “I never see this,” she said, tipping back her head. “The night sky, I mean. I spend all my time in cities, for the most part.”

  “What cities?” asked Isabel.

  “I live in San Francisco.”

  “What do you do there?”

  “I research and value things for a boutique auction house. We have offices in New York, Brussels and Berlin. Work takes me all over the place.”

  Isabel sighed. “I always thought I wanted to travel.”

  “You should, then. What’s holding you back?”

  There was a slight pause, maybe a heartbeat. “There’s always something keeping me here. I was away at cooking school for a while. But I needed to come home when Bubbie got sick. After she was gone, I never went back. Turns out it wasn’t for me. Without Bubbie, Grandfather was like a lost soul, so I couldn’t leave him.” She brushed an imaginary crumb from the tablecloth. “While he’s in the hospital, I have no idea who I’m supposed to take care of.”

  “How about yourself?”

  A smile flickered across her face and disappeared. “Actually, in his absence, I’ve got my hands full with the apple orchard. Grandfather isn’t the most organized when it comes to running the business....”

  Tess sensed more to the story. But Isabel didn’t seem inclined to share.

  From the kitchen, Ernestina called out a good-night. She and her husband, Oscar, made their way down the lane to their bungalow. Lighting the way with a lantern and silhouetted against the stars, they looked dignified and romantic, an older couple, almost identical in height.

  Tess drummed her fingers on the table, craving a cigarette. Then she noticed Isabel watching her. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m a reformed—reforming—smoker. A stupid habit, I know. Trying to get over it.”

  “I wish I could help you with that.”

  “You are, just by sitting there and looking all calm and healthy.”

  “I look calm and healthy?” Isabel offered a glimmering smile.

  “Everybody around here does. It’s freaky.”

  That
elicited a brief laugh. Then Isabel’s expression turned thoughtful. “So, what do you suppose happened?” she asked. “I mean, I can’t say I’m sorry we found each other, but why do you think it took so long?”

  “Good question. I’ve been trying to get hold of my mother to ask her just that,” said Tess. “I assume you’ve done the same?”

  “I never knew my mother. She died in childbirth.”

  “Oh.” Tess hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m really sorry. No wonder you’re so close to your grandfather.”

  “He and Bubbie raised me.”

  “Here’s what I don’t get. How long has Magnus known about me, and why didn’t he tell anyone?”

  Isabel’s gaze shifted to the votive candle on the table. “That’s something to ask him after he gets better.”

  Assuming he does get better, thought Tess. “Would it be all right if I visited him in the hospital?”

  “Absolutely,” said Isabel. “You don’t need my permission. I mean, I want you to. I thought maybe, I don’t know, it might help him to get better, having you here. Just so you know, I have some questions for him, too.” She looked exhausted, wrung out as she rose from the table, leaned forward and blew out the candle. “It’s getting late. I’ll show you to your room.”

  They went into the house together, Charlie at Isabel’s heels. The kitchen was spotless, the sink and surfaces gleaming in the dim light. A hallway led to a big family room with a high cathedral ceiling crisscrossed by ancient-looking beams and a massive fireplace. In addition to the mission-style furnishings, there was an upright piano and a wall of bookcases. Tess could easily picture family gatherings here, candlelit holidays and parties. Yet she pictured it from a distance, as though studying a foreign culture.

  “It’s nice to have you here,” Isabel said.

  Tess couldn’t take it anymore. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Seriously? You can be honest with me, Isabel. We’re strangers, and I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you completely resented me.”

  “I don’t resent you.” She looked mystified. “And for the time being, I’m not going to think about what happens if he doesn’t make it.” Her expression was studiously earnest.

  “No one would blame you for feeling that way, either. Least of all, me.” Tess felt drained and confused. “Let’s talk again in the morning.”

  “All right. I meant what I said, though, when I said I’m glad you’re here. This place feels much too big for just me.” She led the way up the stairs. “Sorry, I don’t mean to complain.”

  “That didn’t sound like complaining to me. I could give you lessons in complaining.” Tess looked up and down the hallway, orienting herself the way she did when checking into a hotel. Like the rest of the house, there was an old-fashioned feel to the upstairs, with its hall tables, the sconces on the walls.

  “Charlie and I will give you the full tour tomorrow. He’s new here, too.” Isabel ruffled the dog’s ears. “A gift from Dominic.”

  “He gave you a dog?”

  “Charlie needed a home.” She stepped into a room at the end of the hall and stood aside, motioning for Tess to go ahead. “Is this okay with you?”

  Tess looked around the spotless room, with its high tester bed and huge armoire, tall windows, adjacent bathroom with lavender-scented soaps and lotions. “Are you kidding? This is lovely.” This was the most comfortable, most peaceful place in the world. What she didn’t say was that this room felt like a place where she could drown.

  “Okay, then.” Isabel stood uncertainly in the doorway.

  “Okay.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will, thanks.” Tess studied Isabel in the soft light from the table lamp, this stranger who was her sister. “I don’t mean to stare,” she said, but she continued staring.

  “No problem. I keep catching myself doing the same thing. Sometimes when I look at you, I see Grandfather, but that might be my imagination.”

  “Hmm. That would be a first for me, being compared to an old man.”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know, I know.”

  “You’re really pretty, Tess.”

  No, she wasn’t. Tess knew that. She wasn’t vile, but she wasn’t truly pretty, either. Men tended to think she was sexy, but that was different from pretty. “Thanks. I was thinking the same about you. Only I was thinking you’re really not pretty, the way Sophia Loren or Isabella Rossellini aren’t pretty. You’re gorgeous. Like fashion magazine gorgeous.”

  Isabel’s gaze dropped. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

  Tess felt wildly out of place in this too-cozy, too-quiet, too-neat room. And Isabel—what in the world was she thinking? “Listen, I didn’t come here because I expect anything. I mean, this is your world, not mine, and just because Magnus put me in his will doesn’t mean I’m entitled to anything.” Tess wanted to be very clear on this. “I’m here because...because this is all so new, and even though what happened to your grandfather is awful, it’s kind of amazing to meet you.”

  Isabel edged toward the door, a bashful smile hovering on her lips. “Have a good night, Tess.”

  The linens were lightly scented with dried lavender, and a cool breeze drifted in through the window, but Tess felt discomfited by the pervasive quiet. She was accustomed to the night sounds of traffic and foghorns, streetcars, the occasional crescendo of a siren. Here, the peeping of a single cricket drove her nuts. She paced the room. She tried a piece of the nicotine gum Dominic Rossi had given her, wincing at the bitter taste, barely disguised by the cinnamon flavoring. Then she thought about Dominic some more, debating with herself about whom he more closely resembled, a movie idol or a star athlete. With glasses. And a well-cut suit.

  And two kids and an ex-wife he seemed loath to talk about.

  She decided to take a shower and was surprised to discover there was no shower, but a claw-footed tub. A bath, then. When was the last time she’d had a bath? Who had time?

  What the heck, she thought, and turned on the tap. Spying some bubble bath, she poured in a little. More lavender, she observed, closing her eyes briefly as the scent wafted from the froth. While the tub filled, she hung her belongings in the armoire, wondering how long it would take to get this business sorted out.

  As she sank down into the scented bubbles, she mulled over the conversation with Isabel. It was hard to get a read on her half sister, especially now, when Isabel was dealing with her grandfather’s terrible accident. Isabel was clearly no fool. No doubt she had assumed she was the sole heir to this vast and beautiful property. Despite her protests, it could not have been a welcome surprise to discover that she would one day be sharing the legacy with a stranger.

  Tess wondered why Isabel didn’t seem more upset by that.

  Seven

  “We’re broke,” Isabel said the next morning. She set a platter of butter croissants in front of Tess. The two of them were seated on a flagstone patio adjacent to the kitchen, where an iron and tile table was set up, shaded by a broad umbrella.

  Tess had woken up with her heart racing, her head aching, having tossed and turned most of the night. She’d done the breathing exercises the doctor had given her, but those only reminded her of Dominic Rossi, and the thought of him was hardly a calming one. And now this. She set down her coffee cup. “By ‘we’ you mean...”

  “All of this.” Isabel made a sweeping gesture to encompass the estate. “The commercial accounts and Grandfather’s personal funds have run out.”

  “And this is something...you weren’t aware of?” Tess searched this stranger’s face but could detect no sign of deception. Which either meant Isabel was being straight with her, or Tess didn’t know her well enough to detect deception. Tess did know herself, however. When Dominic had explained that she would one day inherit half of everything from a guy she’d never known, she already knew on some level that it was too good to be true. To escape the hurt of loss while at the same time being given an in
heritance—that just didn’t happen. This was something she had discovered in her line of work as well, recovering people’s treasures. It was just as she’d initially thought—there was always a catch. Strangers didn’t simply materialize out of nowhere, offering a fortune.

  “He’s always been really private about his accounts,” Isabel explained, her voice subdued but completely guileless, “so I didn’t find out until yesterday morning, when the bank called about some checks I’d written from Grandfather’s account. I did more research last night when I couldn’t sleep. His personal account and all the business accounts are virtually empty.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Tess. “I’ve been broke before, and it’s no fun.”

  “Have something to eat,” said Isabel. “Please.”

  Tess bit into a croissant, which was still warm from the oven. “You made these?”

  Isabel nodded. “I do love baking.”

  “It’s so good, it tastes like something illegal.”

  Isabel laughed softly. “It’s just a matter of training.” Then her smile faded, and she pushed her plate away.

  Tess tried to imagine what her sister was feeling, discovering that her beloved way of life was in peril. It was hard to reconcile the look of this place with the concept of being broke. The estate looked vast and prosperous—on the surface, at least. Bella Vista was stunningly lovely, the orchards well tended and clearly productive. If there was a place in the world that was closer to heaven, she wasn’t aware of it. Bella Vista—Beautiful View. A panorama view of the orchards, herb and flower fields radiated outward from the patio. The scents of ripe apples, lavender and roses rode the breeze, mingling with the mind-melting aroma of Isabel’s fresh-baked croissants. But even with her mind melting over the glistening, flaky rolls, Tess couldn’t dismiss the stark reality of what her sister had just told her.

  Nor could she dismiss the fact that heaven was outside her comfort zone.

  “What did you do when you were broke?” asked Isabel. “If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”

  “I don’t mind. I got busy working and dug my way out. Juggled a deck of credit cards. I even used those crazy blank checks they send you to pay bills.”