Rand experienced an irrational twinge of jealousy and cut her a searching glance. “Sounds like you’re fond of this Jeff.”
“I am. He’s married to one of my best friends. In fact, I was on my way home from their wedding reception at the farm when I first met you and Jared.”
The sun, high in the cloudless sky at their backs, cast a golden glow over the valley that seemed to float in the light green haze of early spring. To his left, the Piedmont River tumbled over rocks and boulders, creating a froth of white water. To his right, rolling meadows stretched toward the distant mountains. The deep green roof of a farmhouse, the peak of a red barn and twin grain silos were visible behind the crest of a hill.
“That’s a beautiful place,” Rand said.
“Joe Mauney’s dairy farm. He works it with his son. It’s been in their family for generations.”
Rand’s interest perked up at the Mauney name. The farm was one of the properties Farrington wanted. “Dairy farming must be hard work.”
“The Mauneys put in long hours, up way before dawn for the first milking, then going from one chore to the next until the last milking at sunset.” Brynn’s voice held no tinge of sympathy. She was merely stating facts. “And cows don’t know when it’s Saturday or Sunday. They still have to be milked.”
“Is it a big farm?”
“Almost a thousand acres,” Brynn explained. “Has to be to support that many cows.”
“The land alone must be worth a lot.” Rand kept his expression neutral. “Bet they could sell it and make enough to retire.”
“And do what?” Brynn’s voice shot up an octave in surprise. “The Mauneys are dairy farmers. That’s their life. They’d go nuts lounging on some Florida beach, twiddling their thumbs.”
Rand shrugged. “They could learn to play golf.”
Brynn hooted with laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You haven’t met the Mauneys. They’re big, quiet men who love the solitude of the land and their cows. They’d enjoy golf and the pretensions that go with it about as much as a pig does a barbecue.”
Although she’d just informed him how difficult this assignment might prove, he couldn’t help smiling at her description. And, he realized with a jolt, he was actually enjoying himself. When was the last time that had happened?
The Jaguar rounded a curve in the road and approached a low, log building on the right. A line of cars and trucks stood in the parking lot out front.
“That’s the veterinary clinic,” Brynn said, then flushed an attractive shade of coral. “But you’ve probably read the sign a dozen times passing by on the way to River Walk.”
“Looks like a busy place.”
Brynn nodded. “Grant Nathan and Jim Stratton are the vets. Grant’s the brother of Jodie, Jeff Davidson’s wife. And Grant’s wife Merrilee, Jim’s daughter, is another of my best friends.”
Rand shook his head in mock dismay. “I’ll never be able to keep all these people and their relationships straight.”
“Sure you—” Brynn stopped abruptly.
“What?”
“I started to say you’d get to know everyone after a while, but I don’t suppose you’ll be here long enough.” She fixed him with an inquisitive stare and inquired with her characteristic bluntness, “How long will you be here?”
“Maybe longer than I’d planned.”
Especially now that he knew the Mauneys wouldn’t be anxious to sell. And with Brynn beside him and the beauty of the land unfolding around him, he wouldn’t mind extending his stay. Remaining longer in the valley definitely held a growing attraction.
Chapter Six
“Ever thought about getting Jared a dog?” Brynn asked as they passed the vets’ clinic.
“Isn’t he a bit young for a pet?”
“Not if you get the right kind. A Lab is great with children. I had a Lab named Lucky when I was Jared’s age. After my mother died, I used to curl up against him to sleep. He’d lick my face when I cried. Next to my dad, Lucky was my greatest comfort.”
Brynn’s suggestion had its appeal. Rand and Patrick had begged for a dog when they were kids, but their parents wouldn’t hear of an animal in the house. Instead, the brothers first had ponies, then horses, kept in the stables at the Hamptons and ridden only under the most stringent supervision. The prospect of a dog, not only for Jared but also to accompany Rand on his treks along the riverbank, was tempting.
“Anyone raise Labs around here?” he asked.
“Not that I know of,” Brynn replied, “but Grant can find you one on the Internet.”
“Dogs by mail order? Do they ship them FedEx?”
Her laughter floated through the car, and when she shook her head, her light floral fragrance teased his nostrils. For a woman who could probably take down a two-hundred-fifty-pound drunk and cuff him, she had an alluringly feminine side, from her seductive scent and sensual curves to the magic shining in her eyes and the charming timbre of her voice.
“Most breeds have rescue programs,” Brynn was saying. “If a dog’s been abandoned or needs a new home when it’s owner dies, rescue volunteers sometimes drive the animal cross-country in relays to its new owner. Grant found Mrs. Weatherstone—she’s an elderly widow in town—a chihuahua through a rescue service when her old pet died. The dog came all the way from North Dakota.”
“Doggie?” Jared said.
Brynn turned toward the back seat. “You like doggies?”
“Uh-huh…and Ossifer Fwienly.”
“A dog would be great here at River Walk,” Rand said, “but a Lab’s a big pet for a city apartment.”
“Aren’t there dog walkers you could hire?”
“True,” Rand conceded, still hesitant. Jared’s arrival had made a major impact on Rand’s formerly uncluttered and regimented life. The addition of a dog pushed him further toward domestication.
“I’ll be glad to talk to Grant,” Brynn said, “if you’re interested.”
“Do they ever rescue puppies?” Shoving aside his reservations, Rand relished the prospect of Jared with a puppy. Hell, he’d buy a whole zoo if it would make the boy laugh again.
“Grant will know.”
“Maybe you can introduce me to Grant.”
Brynn nodded. “Puppy or not, you should meet him and Merrilee. They’re your nearest neighbors. And you and Merrilee have something in common. She lived six years in New York City.”
Brynn launched into a description of Merrilee Nathan’s photography career and her book of photos of country vets that was about to be published, but Rand was only halfway listening. He kept glancing at Jared in the rearview mirror and noting the welcome change in the boy’s demeanor.
When Rand had taken custody five months ago, Jared had been withdrawn and miserably unhappy. He hadn’t whined or cried, except for whimpering in his sleep. His chubby little face had held no animation, and nothing and no one had sparked the boy’s interest. He’d been terrified of strangers but had accepted Lillian without protest, and seemed to find her presence comforting. But only Rand—and now Brynn—had been able to coax the occasional smile from the child.
Jared’s unhappiness broke Rand’s heart. He’d never spent time around children, barely knew his own nephew when Patrick died, but in the past few months, Rand had been amazed at the strength of his growing love for this little guy, who reminded him of Patrick at that age. More than anything, Rand wanted to see Jared run and laugh and play like a normal kid, to enjoy all the activities Rand and Patrick had been sheltered from as children, and above all, to know that he was safe and loved.
Something about Brynn had clicked with Jared. He sat in his car seat now, head cocked, eyes shining, engrossed in the sound of her voice. And earlier, miracle of miracles, she had made him laugh. Although she held little resemblance to Joan, maybe she reminded Jared of his mother. Whatever the reason, Rand was gratified to see Jared lose his little-boy-lost expression and was glad Brynn had insisted on bringing him today
.
Rand drove past the turnoff that led to River Walk, and Brynn pointed to a road on the opposite side of the highway that took off to the right. “That’s the entrance to Grant and Merrilee’s house,” she said.
Jared gazed out the window with apparent interest.
“Our neighbors live up that road, tiger,” Rand said. “We should visit them soon.”
“Okeedookie,” Jared said unexpectedly. “Go visit.”
“When you do,” Brynn said, “just be alert for Gloria. Her size can be intimidating, but she’s a sweetheart.”
Rand pictured an Amazon in an apron. “Is Gloria the housekeeper?”
“Hah! More like the housewrecker, but only before Grant trained her. Besides, you’ll soon learn that most folks around here don’t have hired help. No, Gloria’s another of Grant’s rescues. An Irish wolf-hound. Jared can ride her like a pony.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” He thought for a moment. “If people in the valley don’t have hired help, who took care of you while your father worked?”
“Usually the desk sergeant,” Brynn said. “Dad fixed me a play area and a cot in a corner of his office and took me to work every day. If he had to go out, the duty officer kept an eye on me. Later, when I was older, I’d go to the station after school, until Dad was ready to go home.”
“That must have been tough.” Rand tried to imagine Brynn, just a couple of years older than Jared, spending her days in a police station.”
“I loved it,” Brynn said with genuine feeling, “being with my father all the time, plus a whole department of uncles in blue. Not to mention the women in town who’d drop in during the day to check on me. I had more attention than most kids with two parents.” Her expression sobered and her voice dropped. “But I still missed my mother.”
“No wonder you became a police officer.”
She grinned. “Guess you could say I never wanted to leave home.” She pointed up the road. “There’s another neighbor around the next curve you’ll also enjoy meeting.”
“Who’s that?” Rand asked.
“Eileen Bickerstaff.”
Bickerstaff’s was the other property Farrington wanted Rand to acquire. He slowed the Jag as it approached another road leading off to the right and marked with a weathered sign.
“Blackberry Farm?” he queried. “Ms. Bickerstaff grows blackberries?”
“Not exactly. See those brambles on the fences along the road?”
Rand nodded.
“They grow wild, all over her property. In a few months, they’ll be covered with plump ripe blackberries. Eileen picks them and makes jams, jellies, even wine.”
Rand tried not to sound too interested. “Are blackberries her only crop?”
Brynn shook her head. “She also has apple and peach orchards, and she leases a few of her fields to the Mauneys for cultivation. At ninety-six, she’s not as active as she used to be.”
At that age, Rand thought, the woman would either be anxious to sell and move, maybe to an assisted living facility, or, worst-case scenario, determined to live out her life on her farm. “Does she live alone?”
“Yes. She’s a remarkable woman. Her husband died in World War II. They had no children, and she’s operated Blackberry Farm pretty much on her own for the past sixty-some years.”
“She sounds fascinating.” Rand kept his eagerness from his voice. “I’d like to meet her.”
“Better slow down,” Brynn warned. “The road to Archer Farm is coming up on your left.”
They had reached the western end of the valley, where the highway began its climb into the mountains. Rand almost didn’t see the entrance to the gravel drive, partially hidden by the arching branches of rhododendron and mountain laurel, heavy with dark, glossy leaves and tight buds. He turned onto the road Brynn indicated and shifted into low gear to navigate the series of steep, sharp switchbacks that led up the mountainside. The drive passed through a thick forest of hardwoods, the brown and silver bark of their bare limbs glistening in the morning sun.
“Talk about the middle of nowhere,” Rand muttered.
“Keeps the boys away from trouble,” Brynn explained. “No cars to steal, no drugs to buy, no gangs to join. No dangerous temptations. The middle of nowhere has its advantages.”
“You have a point.”
At the next rise, the land flattened out where a multiacre plateau had been carved into the mountainside. Sunlight flooded the clearing and sparkled on the fresh white paint of a two-story farmhouse, the deep red of an ancient barn and a massive log building that dominated the space. An assortment of pickup trucks and SUVs filled the gravel parking lot.
An attractive, petite young woman in jeans and a pullover sweater and a tall muscular man in olive drab slacks and a sweatshirt emblazoned with USMC stepped off the farmhouse porch and headed down the walk as Rand parked.
Brynn climbed out of the car, and the woman greeted her with a hug. The man came around the Jag as Rand got out and offered Rand his hand.
“Welcome to Archer Farm,” he said. “I’m Jeff Davidson. And this is my wife, Jodie.”
Jeff with his bone-crunching grip was one hundred percent Marine, exuding strength and discipline, but his toughness was tempered by the love and pride in his eyes when he introduced his wife.
Jodie waved from the other side of the vehicle. “Glad you could come.”
“Okay if I take Jared out?” Brynn asked him.
Rand hesitated. Jared was shy around everyone, particularly strangers, but one look at the excitement shining on the boy’s face quelled Rand’s doubts. “Sure.”
Brynn reached into the back seat, unfastened the restraining straps on the carrier and lifted Jared in her arms. “Jared, this is Jodie.”
“Hi, Jared,” Jodie said in a gentle voice. “Who’s your friend?”
Jared held up his bear. “Ossifer Fwienly. Bwynn bwinged him to me.”
Brynn held the boy as naturally as if she carried children every day, and for once, Jared didn’t hide his face but glanced eagerly around him.
“Do you like animals?” Jodie asked the boy.
“Uh-huh. Gots any beahs?”
“No bears,” Jeff said, “but cows, horses, goats and chickens. Here comes Gofer now. He’ll show you around.”
A tall, blond man with friendly blue eyes and the same military bearing and apparel as Jeff hurried toward the group from the direction of the log dormitory.
“Hi, Brynn. Good to see you again,” he said before turning to Rand. “I’m Jack Hager, but my friends call me Gofer.”
“Rand Benedict.” Rand shook his hand. “And that’s my nephew, Jared.”
“We have a ton of work to finish this morning,” Jodie said in apology, “so I hope you won’t mind if we don’t accompany you. But we’d love to visit over lunch if you can stay.”
Brynn looked to Rand. “It’s your call.”
Rand couldn’t resist the exhilarating mountain air, the farm’s serenity and the Davidsons’ warm welcome—or the fact that remaining for lunch would extend his time with Brynn.
“If you’re sure it’s no trouble,” he said to Jodie.
She laughed. “We always feed a crowd here. Believe me, three more mouths are no problem.”
“Now,” Jeff said, “if you’ll excuse us, we’ll see you at lunch.” The couple went back into the house.
“Jeff’s up to his neck in the end of the month paperwork,” Gofer said. “The wedding and honeymoon put him behind, but with Jodie’s help, he’ll meet our deadlines. There’s a lot of governmental red tape involved in running a place like this.”
Rand grinned. “I’m an expert in red tape. I’m an attorney.”
“Really?” Gofer slanted a look of surprise toward Brynn, who avoided his gaze. Apparently Brynn’s aversion to lawyers was well known. “Ready for the fifty-cent tour?”
Brynn hoisted Jared higher on her hip and flashed Gofer a smile that caused a hitch in Rand’s breathing. “You take the point, Gofer,
” she instructed. “Isn’t that how you Marines say it?”
The big Marine grinned. “Yeah, but I doubt if we can sneak up on the goats. We don’t have any cover between here and the meadow.”
Rand and Brynn, carrying Jared, fell in step behind Gofer as he crossed the parking lot, skirted the barn and led them to a fenced pasture. The enclosure held a herd of goats, including several kids just a few weeks old. The adults munched contentedly on the lush grass and the kids frolicked on spindly legs. Watching, Jared giggled and clapped his hands with delight. At the far end of the meadow, ducks and ducklings waddled along the edge of a pond.
Rand soaked up the peacefulness like dry ground absorbs rain. With the warmth of the sun on his face and air with the crispness of fine wine filling his lungs, he felt the knot in his gut disappear entirely. Jared was smiling, the most intriguing woman he’d ever met stood at his side and all was right with the world.
The peace disintegrated briefly when a loud clatter emanated from the barn, followed by a stream of curses that turned the air blue.
“Excuse me,” Gofer said. “Sounds like there’s a problem in the dairy.” The psychologist double-timed it toward the barn.
“I was wondering where the teens were,” Rand said with a wry smile. “That one has quite a vocabulary.”
Brynn set Jared on his feet, and he poked his hand over the lower rail of the fence. “C’mere, goats.”
Holding Jared’s other hand, she propped an elbow on the top rail and gazed back toward the buildings. “Daniel works Saturdays at Jodie’s Café and Jason does chores for Mrs. Weatherstone in town. The other boys are here getting ready for Daffodil Days next weekend.”
“Daffodil Days?”
“Pleasant Valley’s spring festival. Piedmont Avenue, the main street, is blocked off Saturday and Sunday, and people come from all over the county to set up booths. They sell crafts, folk art, food and just plain junk. It’s the Upstate’s biggest flea market. It’s even advertised on HGTV.”
“What do the Archer Farm boys sell?”
Brynn nodded toward Gofer, who was hurrying back from the barn. “You’ll find out during the rest of the tour.”
Spring in the Valley Page 7
