by Caryl McAdoo
“Don’t let him hear you say that.”
“Why not?”
He unlocked the door, keyed the alarm then flipped on the lights. “Cute and macho don’t dance in my amigo’s book.”
She nodded. “I’ll remember that.” The offices had a few old metal desks pushed off to one corner, but no chairs.
He led the way through the deserted offices then stopped. “Wait here while I go turn on the lights.”
The sweet fragrance of apples pulled her through the opened door. It reminded her of Bath and Body’s apple-fragranced lotions and spritzes. She stepped inside and tried to follow him in the dark, but everything melded into blackish gray shapes and shadows and kept her near the entrance. A far bank of lights came to life then in rapid succession. The length of the warehouse lit up.
She strolled toward the closest pallet rack. From floor to ceiling, shelves were loaded with wooden boxes. When he joined her, she pointed toward them. “What’s in those?”
He pulled a large one down and opened it revealing a smaller wooden crate inside with six jars. “Apple butter, I believe.” He pulled a jar out and handed it to her.
“All those boxes have jars of apple butter?”
“No.” He pointed. “Those have jelly, those have juice.” He grabbed her hand and pulled toward the back of the building. “Check this out.”
She skipped along to keep up wishing the day would never end. No matter what happened, even if she was the next one to go, she’d always have this time with him to remember. He stopped in front of a stainless steel door with a long handle in the middle. “Can’t keep the door open long, so when I open it, scoot inside, okay?”
She leaned forward and balled her fist like she was about to run a hundred yard dash. “I’m ready.”
When he yanked the handle, she dashed inside. He jumped in and closed the door behind him in one swift motion. The room, a good fifty-by-fifty was half filled with apples, crate after crate of apples.
“You grow them all?”
He nodded. “Every single one. Right here on the place.” He gave her another nod to the west. “We’ve got two more warehouses on the property where all the jelly, jam, juice, and butter is made.”
She hugged herself. “Wow. Where are they?”
“Down the road a couple of miles. You can get to them the back way, too, though.” He wrapped his arm around her. “Come on, we can’t stay long.”
“Oh, it’s not that cold.”
He opened the door and pushed her out. “It’s low oxygen.” He filled his lungs. “Keeps the apples from spoiling.”
She pointed at another door. “Same thing?”
“Similar. It’s a chiller, but we don’t control the atmosphere in there.”
“Why not?”
“Because.” He held his hands up. “Don’t you ever get tired of asking questions?”
“You’re answering a question with a question, that’s against the rules.”
“Is it now? I thought I got to make the rules.”
She started to use her little girl voice but stopped herself. “Not all the time. That wouldn’t be any fun.”
He slipped his hand into hers. “Come on. I bet Audrey’s got supper ready.”
She didn’t say anything until he locked the door. “Promise me something.”
He looked into her eyes. “If I can.”
She nodded, knowing he’d not commit to anything blind. She swallowed what she really wanted to say and blurted, “If you don’t marry me, will you adopt me?”
He covered his mouth with his hand and closed his eyes, but she could see the grin anyway before he regained some control. “I guess I’m old enough to be your daddy. You got a mother picked out?”
She shrugged. “There’s several acceptable, but Marge would do nicely.”
“That she would.” He nodded toward the passenger side of the truck. “Come on. I haven’t eaten all day.”
CHAPTER TEN
Journal entry - April 19th
She’s grace personified. I could watch her all day.
Contrary to Preston’s prediction, the bloom didn’t commence until the second week of April. The Galas flowered first then the Empires’ fragrant five-fold blooms burst forth. A delicate, crisp white soon blanketed the orchard looking from a distance like a magician’s levitated sheet hovering a few feet above ground. The sweet-scented cover rippled in the spring breeze. The ladies loved it, and even took to bringing picnic lunches out everyday.
Though things appeared to be running smoothly, all was not as it seemed. For all the white spread over the orchard, the bloom was really just middling, and Preston couldn’t decide if he should cull now or wait for the natural drop that should start in May and continue with the later varieties through June.
And with the ladies, two issues needed handling. Holly—in the room next to Virginia’s—again voiced her concern for the lithe ballerina, and something was eating Audrey, too. Each day she slipped further into her funk.
By Friday afternoon, he made the decision to leave the trees be, but not the women. Something should be done for them. He found the former ballerina in the kitchen working a crossword puzzle. As more often than not, she sat with her right leg sticking straight out at an odd angle. He watched her a minute while she pondered a clue, her pencil poised for when the word finally came, but apparently it didn’t. She looked up. For a second, she stared, then her lips thinned into a weak smile. “Hi, Dub.”
“Hi, yourself.” He held out his hand. “Care to take a little walk?”
“I’d love to.” Her eyes carried no sparkle for proper punctuation.
He headed south toward his warehouse, but once past the first turn, pointed at a large boulder that guarded the footpath. “We can sit awhile if you’d rather.”
“Thanks.” She put her hand on the rock, pivoted on her left foot, then sat with her right leg sticking out straight.
He leaned his back against a tree on the other side of the path and put his hands in his pants pockets. “So, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Absolutely not a thing. Everything’s wonderful.”
He nodded toward her stiff leg. “That doesn’t seem so wonderful. Well, it looks fine. I mean, exceptional actually, but –” He tried to extract his foot from his mouth. “What I’m trying to say is that your leg looks like it’s giving you problems. Is it painful?”
She smiled and shrugged. “Oh, I just ignore it.” She rubbed her thigh just above the knee. “It’s been worse.”
“Is that why you quit dancing?”
She nodded.
“Tell me about your mornings.”
She looked away, shook her head ever so slowly, then looked back. “Have I done something wrong?”
He slipped in beside her aware of touching her shoulder to thigh. How long had it been since he’d enjoyed the feel of a woman’s body so close? Virginia wasn’t as soft as Nancy, but felt good just the same. He couldn’t let her continue to suffer.
“No, of course not. But I don’t like it that you hurt so bad. Some of the others hear you moaning. They’re concerned—as I am.” He put his arm around her. “Let me help you.”
* *
Audrey had been sitting on the back porch when Virginia and Preston strolled out. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that she shouldn’t spy on them, but once they disappeared around the bend of the path, she couldn’t stand it. Like she was going that way anyway, she eased on after them chiding herself for being a nosey-rosy. She rounded a cedar, spotted them sitting on the rock together, then jumped back behind the thick evergreen and peeked through the branches.
Why hadn’t he taken her on any walks? It seemed he liked her more than just for her cooking, but the relationship appeared to be stuck on a plane of friendship and trust, and she wanted it to move to a more romantic level. She longed for walks alone with him and watching sunrises and moonlit dancing on the patio that lasted into the wee hours.
She could
n’t hear their words, but when the talking stopped, he put his arm around Virginia, and she rested her head against his chest, cuddled into the crook of his shoulder. Audrey couldn’t stand the sight of him and the dancer. She spun and raced to her room.
She hated this place and the conflicting emotions struggling within that kept her spiraling toward depression. Why were she and the other women playing this stupid game of his? And why had she grown to care one way or the other? Never thought she would. She signed on to get away from her boring life, collect her money, and spend the six months figuring out what she wanted to do next.
But who was she kidding? A man like Preston didn’t come along every day. She wanted him in her future. Somehow, she’d been swept into the competition.
Whatever led her to believe he would want someone like her anyway? And even if he ever did, he’d find out about Butch and… She threw her arms out to the side. All she could do was cook, and contrary to what the old wives claimed, the way to a man’s heart obviously wasn’t through his stomach, at least not if he had Preston’s kind of money. But then he did tell her personal things. Oh, give it up, she told herself.
After sixteen teary dabs and two good nose blows, she pushed herself off her bed and trudged down the hall. If she didn’t get something going in the kitchen, no one else would, and then he’d hate her for sure when supper time rolled around with nothing on the table.
She reached the foyer then froze. Preston sat in his chair at the head of the table - alone. He stared at a folded piece of newspaper. She wiped her eyes, pinched her cheeks, then strolled in like nothing was a amiss. “Hey, Dub.”
He looked up, tossed what appeared to be a half-worked crossword puzzle aside, then nodded. “Wondered where you were.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” She grabbed her apron from the kitchen hook and wrapped the strings backwards around her waist.
“Figured we needed to talk.”
She fumbled with the bow, decided it needn’t be perfect then stepped closer. “What about?”
He nodded toward the chair next to him. “I was hoping you could tell me, Audrey.”
Great. He had seen her spying. Now he would think she was a busybody, and she really wasn’t. She’d only wanted to see where they were going. She started to blurt out a sorry, but he didn’t look mad, concerned maybe, but not angry. Could he be referring to something else? Dear Lord, it was almost the last of the month again. Surely, he wasn’t going to tell her -
“I’m in the dark here. What do we need to talk about?”
“You, or more precisely, your state of mind. For the last couple of weeks, you haven’t been yourself.”
Slipping into Vicki’s chair, she sat silent a moment and studied her fingernails. What could she say? She hated lying to him, but that’s exactly what she’d done. And now her sins had found her out. Why had she been so stupid? She never dreamed it would be an issue. But if anything ever… Well, he’d find out. Maybe she just hoped by the time he did, it wouldn’t matter.
She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Preston.” She scooted the chair back. “If you’ll be so kind as to call me a cab, I can be ready to leave in a half hour or so.”
He grabbed her forearm and eased her back into her chair. “What in the world are you talking about?”
She grimaced. “The lie on my application. Isn’t that –”
“You lied?”
“Yes. I have a tattoo, and I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Really? Of what?”
She ducked her head. “A guy’s name.”
He smiled. “How old were you?”
“Twenty.”
He patted her hand. “I’m not going to send you home because of that.”
“But you are sending me home?”
Just then Charlotte walked in with an armload of dirty bed linens. She must have heard. “Ooops, sorry y’all. I was just on my way to the laundry room. I surely didn’t mean to interrupt.” She ducked back out.
“So are you? Sending me home?”
“Heavens, no.”
She sat in the chair relieved. He wasn’t making her leave. But he probably would now because she couldn’t stand not coming totally clean since the door had been opened. “It’s worse.”
He laughed. “How’s that?”
“The guy was my husband - well, for a few months, anyway. I lied about never being married, too.”
“I see. So is there anything else I need to know?”
She shook her head. “I figured you’d never pick me, so you’d never find out, but then how could I explain about having Butch tattooed on my derriere if we ever…” She shrugged and grimaced. “Got naked together.”
“That would have been a problem.”
Did she detect a twinkle in his eye? Or more? She would assume nothing. “So will you call me that cab now?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Whew. She jumped to her feet. “Fabulous. What do you want for dinner?”
He smiled. “When I came in and found the oven cold, I ordered pizza. It should be here any minute.”
Sure enough, seventeen minutes later, a young guy balancing four large steaming boxes appeared at the front door. Fifteen minutes after that, Audrey had rounded up the other ladies, and the junk-food chow-down commenced. Once the leftover pie was stored, Preston asked everyone to return to their seats.
“Ladies, there are two things you need to know. One, Virginia will be leaving in the morning.”
Several tried to talk at once. He cleared his throat and got everyone’s attention. “She’s taking a medical leave.”
Holly held up a hand like she was in school or something, but the others quieted, so she pulled it back down and spoke. “What does that mean?”
“She’s going to Dallas to have her knee fixed and may or may not return. Depends on how long the rehab takes.”
“Oh.”
“Also I’ve decided how the next one to leave will be determined.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a wrapped deck of cards, and tossed them on the table. “Everyone but Virginia claimed to be a game player on their application. So now that she’s on medical leave, we’re going to play some cards to see who’s the next one to be laid off.”
Vicki grabbed the deck. “So that’s what we’re calling it now.”
“Why not? That’s what’s happening.”
She pealed off the cellophane. “I wonder if Dorothy filed for unemployment.”
“I don’t think she worked long enough to qualify, but I could be wrong.”
Several spoke at once, some to him, some to Virginia.
He held up his hands. “Unemployment doesn’t matter.” He took the now opened deck from Vicki. “A week from next Monday will be the last day of April. In addition to your check, there will be another five hundred cash in your envelope. At noon, we’ll start playing poker. At the stroke of midnight, if no one’s lost all their money, we’ll count up. Whoever has the least will leave at seven the next morning.”
The women checked each other’s reactions. Holly lowered her forehead to the table then looked up. “So what? We should all pack just in case? I mean from a game that lasts until midnight to leaving at seven in the morning doesn’t give a gal much time.”
“Okay, then. We’ll make it first one out or count up at ten.”
Marge took the cards from him. “We as in just the ladies, or we as in you, too?”
He chuckled. “I’ll be playing. Wouldn’t miss this game for all the apples in Washington State.”
“What happens if you’re the first one to go broke?”
“Won’t happen.”
“But what if it does?”
He nodded and smiled. “Then no one goes home this month.”
Natalie shook her head. “This isn’t fair, Dub.”
“Why not?”
She twirled her ponytail. “I don’t want to sound like a horse’s patoo, but Virginia’s leavi
ng, yet may be coming back. She doesn’t have to play at all, and that doesn’t seem right—at least to me.” The pixie glanced around the table obviously looking for support.
“Seems fair to me.” He eyed the other women. No one else appeared to have an objection. “I suggest between now and then you practice, but on the other hand, that might tip off how good or bad you are to the other ladies.” He shrugged. “Your call.”
Vicki did a little dance “What’s the game? What rules?”
“Dealer’s choice and ante.”
“Limit?”
“None.”
“So if I want to play Dr. Pepper or baseball or high Chicago with low hold card wild, that’s fine?”
He nodded. “If you must, but as I said it’s dealer choice, and dealer ante, so if you make it too wild then no one will play with you.”
She flicked her eyebrows ala Groucho Marx then smiled. “Do we get to keep our winnings?”
“Yes, darlin’, we’ll be playing for keeps.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Journal entry – April 27th
Got to watch her some today while she was working. I love the way she can focus on the task at hand. Remarkable. I was hoping she’d notice me watching, but she never did.
The plumbago Marge picked up in Canton flowered profusely with blue clusters that brought a little heaven right down to those front entrance beds. Holly agreed with her that Preston hadn’t bothered with the looks of the entrance because he never left the place since Nancy’s death, so didn’t see how bad it looked. Jorje, on the other hand, knew better, so why hadn’t he said something to his boss?
With the recent cultivation and a fertilizer, she’d managed to coaxed fragile lime green growth to cover the dwarf nandinas that thrived behind the delicate blue flower balls. Having another resident gardener made the work all that much more enjoyable. The green blue contrast proved interesting, especially with the bright Gerber daisies.
And Dub’s leased bees loved it, too, darting in and out as though ten acres of apple blossoms weren’t enough to pollinate. Between the tiny buzzers, butterflies fluttered by kissing all the flowers and delighting the ladies.
