The Apple Orchard

by Susan Wiggs

  “I came out of the fog and realized the answer was right there before me,” Annelise continued. “I had nearly destroyed their marriage. There was no way to undo the damage. But I could save the child we’d made by giving him a family, a beautiful life. I wish Erik had been in the world longer, but wishes are sometimes not enough.”

  A long silence passed. Winery gardens, gorgeous even in winter, flowed past the car windows. “Thank you for telling me this,” Tess said. “It means a lot to me.” She was amazed at how her simple question had opened a floodgate of memories. Annelise, Eva and Magnus had become intertwined during the war years. They had suffered unspeakable losses, had fought and faced danger, ultimately escaping to a new life.

  But America, for all its opportunity, had not been a panacea after all. There was still struggle, still tragedy, still acts committed in the heat of passion and reconciled with cold precision. Annelise seemed almost relieved to talk about it.

  “I have one more question,” Tess said as she took the winding county road toward Archangel. “After Eva passed away, did you and Magnus ever see each other?”

  “No,” said Annelise. “We talked on the telephone. It’s funny, at our age, we acted as if we had all the time in the world. It was only when I saw you on the History Channel program that I began to think it was time to try to make things right.”

  When they arrived at the medical center, Annelise paused at the front door and placed her hand on Tess’s arm. “I lost the love of my life because I was too cowardly to declare myself. Make all the mistakes you need to in life, but try not to make that one, Theresa.”

  She took her hand away and moved with a brisk eagerness that belied her age. She didn’t even hesitate in the doorway of Magnus’s suite, but strode right to his bedside. Tess knew she would be forever haunted by the expression on Annelise’s face—a mixture of awe, regret, tenderness and love. She sank into a chair and took hold of Magnus’s hand as if it were the most precious of artifacts, and lifted it to her cheek. She whispered something in Danish, and though Tess didn’t understand, she felt shivers course down her spine.

  The love emanating from the old woman was as unmistakable as the sun breaking through the clouds. Love, Tess realized, didn’t always take a predictable course. Time and circumstances could batter away at it, like waves on a rocky shore, but for some people, love never died.

  With all her heart, Tess knew she was one of those people, too. She couldn’t turn off her feelings for Dominic, not even after walking away. Maybe the lesson to be learned here was that the price of letting someone into her heart was the pain of letting go. Or maybe the even harder work of holding on, no matter what the risk.

  Annelise turned to Tess and switched to English. “I’d like to sit with him for a while, if that’s all right.”

  * * *

  The anxiety Tess had felt upon first coming here had belonged to a different person, someone who was alone and uncertain, scared to jump into life. Now, as she wended her way along the highway to the turnoff, she simply felt a sense of bittersweet nostalgia, as if she were coming home.

  Isabel still hadn’t done anything about the egg. At one time, Tess would have declared the decision a no-brainer, but now she was not so certain. Perhaps it was time for Bella Vista to pass into someone else’s hands, after all.

  The old roadside market still stood suspended in time, its homey wraparound porch seeming to be waiting for the springtime. She wondered if the future owner of Bella Vista, whoever that might be, would ever do something with the place.

  Isabel rushed out of the house to greet her. Their embrace felt natural and comforting. “I missed you,” Tess said.

  “Same here. Come on in. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Where’s...? What do we even call her? Miss Winther? Annelise?”

  “She’s with Magnus. She’s anxious to meet you, too.”

  “In the meantime,” Isabel said, on autopilot as she put out tea and lemon bars, “we need to talk about the egg.”

  Tess smiled. “You know me well.”

  “You weren’t going to sit through a bunch of small talk.” She went to the freezer and took out an ornate case, a redwood box carved by Magnus. “I didn’t get a safe deposit box for it. I took your advice and stored it with the walnut pesto.” Setting the box on the table, she opened it up. The egg gleamed on a pillow of white satin.

  “I don’t want you to feel pressured, Isabel,” Tess said. “I used to be focused on separating people from their treasures, but I get it now. The egg belongs to Magnus and it’s a part of you. The decision to keep it or sell it is in your hands.” Tess felt good about saying it aloud. She wouldn’t blame her sentimental, impractical sister if she felt that keeping the egg would keep her closer to Magnus.

  “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” said Isabel. “It’s amazing to imagine Grandfather keeping it with him throughout the war, and after. It’s followed him through all of his days. I’ve thought and thought about it. There’s no price to be put on a man’s life, is there?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, Isabel.”

  She closed the box and pushed it across the table. “I’d like you to sell it to the highest bidder.”

  Tess nearly choked on a lemon bar. “Wait...what? You’re selling it?”

  “Didn’t you estimate it’ll fetch twenty million?”

  “I did. Jude thinks it could go higher.”

  “Then of course we should sell it.”

  “Isabel—”

  “The egg is not the treasure. The real value is... It’s this.” She opened her arms to encompass the room. “Us, Tess, and what we’ve found together. That’s what I think, anyway. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and selling the egg is exactly what we should do. We can pay off Grandfather’s debt and get the payroll straightened out, and you’ll have whatever you need to have the life you want.”

  The life I want can’t be bought with money, thought Tess. “What about you, Isabel? What are you going to do for yourself?”

  Her face lit up as she folded her arms on the table. “How does this sound to you? The Bella Vista Cooking School.”

  “You want to start a cooking school?”

  “Crazy, right? You were my inspiration for that, Tess. It’ll be a working farm and culinary school. I’ll have my beehives after all. I can convert the bedrooms to guest quarters, and turn it into a destination for people who need to get away and learn something new.”

  “That could have described me, when I first came here,” Tess admitted. She pictured the place filled with people who wanted to learn more about the earthly delights of food and the pleasure of preparing it well. “It is crazy. And you’re going to be fabulous.”

  They strolled outside together into the freshening breeze that was just beginning to smell of springtime. Almost reflexively, Tess checked her phone before remembering that she didn’t get a signal here.

  “Maybe if the auction goes well, I’ll put in a cell phone tower,” Isabel said.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Kidding.”

  Tess looked around, envisioning what the trees would look like in blossom. They walked along in silence for a bit. The auction was going to be the firm’s biggest event of the year. Tess wondered why she wasn’t more excited about that. Maybe the excitement would sink in later.

  “You haven’t asked about him,” Isabel said.

  Tess’s stomach dropped. “And I don’t intend to.”

  “You should,” Isabel insisted.

  “It’s none of my bus—”

  “She left,” Isabel said. “Lourdes. She moved to Petaluma. Jake Camden did, too, although I have no idea if they’re together. A lot of things have changed for Dominic. He, um—he was fired from the bank.”

  Her stomach dropped. “What?”

  “He broke some kind of rule, or did something wrong—for us, Tess. For Grandfather and Bella Vista. He committed some kind of technical foul to defer the forecl
osure, and they fired him.”

  “Oh, God. It was about the egg,” she said with sudden clarity. “He classified it as an unrecovered asset, something like that.”

  “Go see him, Tess. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder.”

  Tess regarded her, aghast. Go see him and say...what? “I’m scared,” she admitted.

  “People don’t die of fright,” Isabel reminded her. “My older, wiser sister once told me that.”

  * * *

  It was mid-afternoon on a weekday, but Isabel had said Dominic would be at home, probably working in the winery or vineyard. Tess drove too fast over the gravel road to his place, determined to get there before she lost her nerve. She kept hearing Annelise’s voice in her head, reminding her to live this day, and love like there was no tomorrow.

  As she got out of the car, she saw Dominic coming toward her, and her heart seized. She was not over him. She would never be over him.

  He looked...different. Gone were the banker’s suit and wingtip shoes, the frown of worry between his eyes. She noticed something else there, though. A deep hurt, one she recognized. One she had caused.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, yourself.” He stood firm, impassive.

  “Do you have time to talk?”

  “I’ve got nothing but time. I’m unemployed.”

  “Isabel told me about the bank, and I’m sorry about that. I know you put your job at risk for us. If I’d realized it could get you fired, I wouldn’t have let you do it.”

  He shrugged. “It was the nudge I needed. Nudged me right into irresponsibility and unemployment. Right into doing what I should have been doing all along.”

  “I wish you’d called, Dominic. I wish you’d told me what was going on.”

  “Why would I call you, Tess? You walked away.”

  “I had to leave. You have a family with her, Dominic—”

  “And we’ll always have that.”

  “She told me you were going to counseling.”

  “For Trini. Did she tell you it was to help Trini at school?”

  “I assumed it was to reunite your family.”

  “I tried to explain it to you that last day, but you didn’t listen. I wanted you, Tess. I thought you wanted me.”

  “You thought?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You thought? Did I not make it obvious enough?”

  “You walked away,” he reminded her again.

  She weighed all the possible facts she could reveal here, and settled on the raw, painful truth. “I was scared. And then you took down my walls, Dominic, and everything you see here—it’s all me. It’s all I have, far from perfect, but it’s all yours, if you’ll have me. Every minute I’ve been gone, I’ve missed you. I love your life, your kids, your dogs—and you. I love you.” She looked at him, and her heart sped up. “I’m still scared, but I won’t hide anymore. No more running. No more secrets.” She took a breath. “I...I stole a shirt.”

  “What?”

  “I stole one of your shirts, a soft, faded denim one that smells like you, and I sleep with it every night and I’ve been afraid to wash it because I don’t want to lose you.”

  For a moment, he looked angry or maybe baffled, but then he laughed softly. “Tess. Why steal my shirt when you can have the whole guy?”

  Part Ten

  BAKED HOT CHOCOLATE

  It’s crucial to use the best quality chocolate you can find. Don’t put anything in this dessert you wouldn’t eat directly. And don’t overbake. You want a delicate crust on top of a warm, silken interior.

  9 ounces of dark semi-sweet chocolate, chopped

  6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into cubes

  4 eggs

  1/4 cup sugar

  whipped cream or vanilla ice cream to taste

  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Arrange six small ovenproof mugs or custard cups in a baking pan.

  Melt the chocolate and butter together in a double boiler set over barely simmering water. Whisk until smooth and set aside.

  Whisk eggs and sugar together in a mixing bowl, then set the bowl over simmering water and stir constantly until warm to the touch.

  Remove from heat. Beat egg mixture with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Fold egg mixture into chocolate mixture.

  Spoon the batter into cups. Add enough hot water to baking pan to come halfway up sides of cups. Bake until the tops lose their glossy finish, about fifteen minutes.

  Serve warm or at room temperature with a scoop of ice cream or dollop of whipped cream that has been lightly sweetened and spiked with Cointreau.

  (Source: Adapted from a recipe by Heidi Friedlander, former pastry chef of the Cleveland bistro Moxie)

  Epilogue

  The mariachi band came to the grand opening of the shop. The refurbished building looked as fresh as a new bride, hung with flower baskets filled with May-blooming lilies and vines. Rose blossoms were scattered artfully on the lawn and walkways, their bright tones reflected in the polished windows.

  As the festivities ramped up, Tess was nearly giddy with excitement. The shop, once the place where Eva Johansen sold produce from the orchards, was now Tess’s very own domain. She had poured her heart and soul into transforming Eva’s place into her own. When she was ordering the sign that would arch over the front door, she had made a last-minute adjustment. Instead of calling the place Things Forgotten like her grandmother’s place in Dublin, she decided to rename it Things Remembered.

  Everyone came to check out Archangel’s newest establishment and to wish Tess well. Even her friends from the city had come—Neelie, the newlyweds Lydia and Nathan, and Jude, trying hard to maintain his edge of cynicism amid the music, the food and wine. There were pavilions set up outside the shop for the band and the food, and a big area of the parking lot was kept clear for dancing.

  Tess was startled by the arrival of a black town car, sending up a rooster tail of dust as it pulled into the parking area. “Excuse me,” she said, her stomach tightening in anticipation as she headed for the car.

  “Oh, baby, I hope I didn’t miss the festivities,” Shannon said, exiting the town car on a swirl of colorful scarves, an oversize handbag on her arm.

  There were a hundred things Tess could say to that, but she let go of her exasperation and hugged her mother close. “You’re just in time, Mom.”

  “That’s wonderful,” said Shannon. “I’m so excited for you, Tess.”

  “That makes two of us. Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Tess took her mother’s hand and led her to the front of the building.

  The VIP of the day was Magnus Johansen. He was in a wheelchair and could only be up a short time at a stretch, but he was getting stronger every day. Just as the doctor had predicted, he’d emerged gradually from the coma. Tess liked to think the main turning point had occurred when Annelise had visited him, taking his hand and speaking in Danish, sitting with him for hours.

  “Magnus,” said Tess, putting a hand on his shoulder. “My mother’s here. Shannon Delaney.”

  The old man looked up, dignified with his snowy froth of hair and the new shirt Isabel had given him. His lap was covered by a plaid woolen blanket. “I’m glad to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

  Shannon and Tess sat with him for a few minutes. “Erik told me about you,” he said.

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “I wish I’d listened better. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s no need to apologize,” said Shannon.

  “He didn’t take the egg,” Magnus said.

  “What?” both Tess and her mother asked in unison.

  “Erik,” Magnus explained. “He didn’t take the egg. My son was far from perfect, as are we all. But he was no thief. I sent him to sell it. That was the last I saw of my son—and the treasure.”

  Tess leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for telling us.”

  “Now everything is as it should be,” Magnus said. As Tess rose t
o resume her hostess duties, he reached for her hand one more time. “I dreamed of you,” he said. “When I was in the hospital, I dreamed of the day you’d come to Bella Vista. But this...” He gestured at the colorful gathering, the beautifully restored shop with its freshly painted sign. “It’s better than I could have dreamed.”

  Her heart was full as she posed for pictures in front of the new shop. There was so much more of Tess here, objects that represented her taste and her values, but it wasn’t just her. Isabel’s jams, sauces and baked goods were offered, and she’d promised jars of honey from next year’s harvest. The gorgeous rare wines of Angel Creek Winery were featured—of course. There were some fine antiques, but they were mixed in with vintage items, as well—time-worn enamelware, vintage glassware, handmade soaps and candles, crafts from local artisans, anything that caught Tess’s fancy. Things Remembered already felt like home to her, a place filled with history and meaning for the Johansens, and now for Tess, as well. She thought her grandmothers, Nana and Eva, would approve. She knew for certain that Annelise did; she was a frequent visitor to Archangel, spending most of her time in quiet devotion to Magnus. She never failed to lift his spirits, and some of her best rummage-sale finds were now for sale in the shop.

  The delicate chords of the vihuela heralded the mariachis’ signature song, “Cielito Lindo,” and nearly everyone danced. These days, she saw everything through a gauzy dream of happiness. It was Dominic’s doing. She had completely changed her life for him, and her every instinct told her she was finally on the right path. When he arrived with his kids, she felt a flood of emotion that underscored those instincts.

  “Listen,” he said, “I need to talk to you. I know you’ve got a lot going on today, but it’s making me crazy to wait.” He took her hand and led her into the shop, which was closed off to the public until the ribbon cutting. Everything inside had been restored and arranged, the antiques and collectibles beautifully curated on shelves, the local produce, including Isabel’s preserves and Angel Creek wine, displayed in abundance. In the center of the place, as grand as a church organ, sat Nana’s desk, from where she had presided over Things Forgotten in Dublin. Tess ran her hand across the top of the massive piece, suddenly filled with memories. Nana had never really left her.