Her eyes narrowed.
For a slow count of five, he wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but then she squared her shoulders. “I can’t pretend I don’t need help right now.”
Her admission took a weight off him. “I’ll keep my distance.” That wasn’t what he wanted to do, but what right did he have to court a woman like Libby when he had so much unfinished business of his own? “I’ll start by bringing more Pinks and Braeburns over.”
“That would be great. Yesterday’s rain slowed down the few pickers we have this week.”
Weather was a safe topic. He touched a finger to the brim of his cap, climbed into his truck and headed up the road. He purposely didn’t look back, because if he did, he wanted to see her looking after him. Watching him.
If that wasn’t the case, he didn’t want to know. Right now she needed a friend to help her finish the season. If that’s all he could be, he’d live with it.
He wouldn’t like it.
But he’d deal with it, because for the first time in a long while, her happiness was more important than his.
And in an odd kind of way, it felt good.
* * *
“Gramps, you were amazing this weekend.” Libby offered her arm to Cleve as they climbed the short flight of stairs into the kitchen on Monday evening. “I think we broke every record in the book, and I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“I know my apples,” he boasted as they stepped into the kitchen.
“You sure do.” CeeCee had dashed upstairs to get cleaned up. The quiet of the old house came as a respite after three days of nonstop work, but it was wonderful work. The very best. “Soup’s ready. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll bring some to you?”
“Sounds good. Smells better.” He walked forward, a little stooped, as if too tired to hold his shoulders up.
She washed her hands, took the lid off the slow cooker and ladled piping hot soup for all of them. It needed to cool, so she loaded the dishwasher, then went and checked on Gramps.
She thought he’d fall asleep the minute he sat down.
He hadn’t. He was sitting upright, and when she came into the room, he gave her a quick smile. “There’s my Libby girl.”
She took the quiet, cognizant moment and ran with it. Not because she wanted to, but because she needed to ask him about that signed contract. He might remember doing it. He might not, but O’Laughlin Orchards was his farm. His legacy. If he truly wanted to sell it, who was she to stand in his way? “Gramps, do you remember signing a contract for Central Valley Fruit?”
His expression went dark. His right hand thrummed a finger beat on the arm of his recliner. “I do what I have to do to take care of my girls.”
His quick reply made no sense. She knelt down next to his chair. “You’ve always taken care of me, Gramps. CeeCee and I will be just fine, I promise, and we’re so grateful for all you’ve done. You and Grandma blessed us in so many ways. We love you.” She leaned over and gave him a hug. “But if you want to sell the farm, it’s okay to do it. I just wanted to make sure that was your intention.”
He grabbed her hand and held on tight. “This is your place, Libby.”
She hesitated, confused, because did that mean he didn’t mean to sign and send those papers?
“I don’t want anyone fightin’ you for anything, Libby. Not now. Not ever. When I’m gone, I’m gone, but if I just give you the money now, your mama can’t say a thing. No one can say a thing. Your grandma will skin me alive if there’s trickery around.” His grip was strong and the concern in his voice matched his expression.
Her mother.
Had she approached Gramps? Or had just hearing her voice in the hospital pushed him to mail that contract? He’d wanted her to come. He’d made that clear to Mortie, but in his ramblings did he remember that? Did he see her as a threat?
She might never know, but at least now the signed documents made more sense.
“I don’t want no one making trouble for you,” he went on, and his voice grew more agitated with every word. “And if I have to sell the farm to do it, that’s what we do. Your grandma and me had one hope. To make sure you came out okay. And you did.” A sheen of tears brightened his eyes as he gripped her hand. “You surely did.”
She hugged him. “No worries, Gramps. You don’t have to sell the farm to take care of us. No one’s going to bother us ever. I promise. You raised me to stand tall and strong and I won’t disappoint you. Not ever again. I love you, Gramps.”
He hugged her back.
He didn’t do that often anymore. This time he did. And when he pulled back he sniffed the air. “That soup’s smelling mighty good, ain’t it? Ask Mother to bring me a bowl, would you? I’d be right grateful.”
Evening fog was settling in outside and in his mind, but she’d gotten the answer she needed. For whatever reason, real or imagined, he was trying to protect her from her mother’s greed. She was sorry that he felt that need, but grateful for his faith in her. She’d lost faith in herself for a while.
Not now. And not ever again.
* * *
Libby noted the weekend’s record sales in her online bookkeeping software on Tuesday morning and couldn’t believe the numbers. At this rate, they might not be able to stay open until mid-November like she planned. She might be out of stock earlier than that, and wouldn’t that be an amazing turn of events?
“I can’t believe my whole class is coming here today!” CeeCee did her version of a happy dance as she skipped across the kitchen. “It will be the most fun ever!” She twirled twice, hands out, and almost knocked her mother’s coffee to the floor. “Can I just have a cereal bar for breakfast, Mommy? My tummy is too excited to eat a lot of stuff and it’s even more excited to come back here and eat donuts with my best and bestest friends!”
Libby had ordered dozens of donuts from Wenatchee. She’d need to pick them up once CeeCee was on the bus. Cleve wasn’t up yet, so while CeeCee munched a granola bar, she crossed over to Gramps’s room. She tapped softly on the door. “Hey, sleepyhead. You awake?” She peeked in the door. “Gramps?”
He was tucked into bed, snoring softly. One shoulder rose slightly, as if shrugging her off. She looked at her watch and frowned, but couldn’t justify waking him to make a donut run. If he was tired out from the successful weekend, it was the best kind of tired ever. She closed the door softly and texted Jax.
Gramps is still asleep and I need the donut order picked up. Are you available? I’m on my own here.
Consider it done. Glaze Donuts?
Glaze Donuts was a popular donut shop in Wenatchee.
Yes. Gramps’s favorite.
See you soon.
She put the phone away and walked CeeCee out to the bus. A chill wind had come through overnight, but the day’s forecast was seasonably lovely, an ideal day for a field trip. She jotted a reminder to approach schools about field trips for the next year. Classroom outings would boost weekday business. If they could produce more of their own products for the next season, the thought of making a living wage off the farm was no longer a pipe dream.
She peeked in at Gramps. Still sleeping.
She grabbed a hoodie and a hat. When Mortie walked in the door a few minutes later, she walked out. “Gramps is still in bed, and I’m going to meet Jax at the apple barn and set up for the kids. Then I’ll come back over here to meet the buses.”
“In bed?” Mortie lifted a brow as she unzipped her sweater. “Not surprising after a three-day weekend at the apple stand. I’ll check in on him and get some oatmeal going. He does love his oatmeal and brown sugar on cool mornings.”
“With chopped apple.” That had been a mainstay when she was growing up here. Others might have thought it to be a common thing, but to Libby, it was the best meal, anytime of day. “Call me if you need me.”
“I will.” Morti
e slung her sweater over one of the kitchen hooks.
Libby crossed the drive and took the hatchback down the road. Jax pulled in about ten minutes later.
He looked wonderful.
She didn’t want to think that. She didn’t want to ponder knights in shining armor and heroes on horseback when he came around, but that was exactly what she did every time he showed up, only in a white pickup truck and a faded army cap.
He’d picked, wrapped, bagged and toted apples, cider, pumpkins and squashes all weekend. And when the crowds thinned late Monday afternoon, he began restocking everything with a little help from Cleve and more from the two pickers.
He moved her way with the strong, easy gait she’d come to know and probably admire too much. In his arms he held two commercial-size boxes of fresh donuts. “Can you get the door?”
Oh, man. She’d let the sight of him jumble her thoughts after she promised herself that wouldn’t happen. “Of course.” She swung the door wide. “I’ve got folding tables set up beneath the overhang. It should be nice enough by eleven to have donuts and cider outside.”
“Then I’ll set these there.” He moved through the barn and put the big boxes on the first table. Swaying branches whispered in the cool morning breeze. Leaves of bronze, rust, green and gold created a kaleidoscope of color against the clear blue sky. Backdropped by the orchard, Jax looked like an advertisement for the Washington fruit industry. A square-shouldered, rugged farmer, getting the job done day by day.
He slipped one box open and reached in. When he turned, he had a small wrapped pastry in his hand. He crossed the apple stand floor and held it out. “I’m going to guess you didn’t stop for breakfast.”
“Guilty. What did you—” She paused when she saw what he held in his hand. “One of their famous cinnamon rolls.”
“Frosted,” he noted, smiling.
Her favorite treat. She looked up. Big mistake because once she started gazing up, she didn’t want to stop. “How did you know?”
“Cleve told me. I was hoping he was right,” he admitted with a slight smile. “His confusion could have made things interesting. Was he too tired to come over?”
“I think the weekend wore him out,” she replied. “And, hey, I’ll be happy to share that with you.” She indicated the cinnamon roll. “That would save me half the calories.”
“No can do,” he told her. “A gentleman would have waited and eaten one with you, but I admit to wolfing mine down in the truck so I could get to work here. This one’s yours. And I don’t think calories are a problem.” He gave her a cowboy kind of grin. “Not from where I’m standing.”
Heat rushed into her cheeks as she reached her hand out. What could she say to that? Nothing that wouldn’t get her in deeper, so she settled for the obvious. “Thank you.”
He set the pastry into her hand with the merest touch of his palm to hers and it still felt wonderful. As if, somehow, they were connected. “You’re welcome. Can’t have the boss getting run-down, can we?”
The boss.
The words made her smile. “I can’t deny I like being in charge. Even more because it’s unexpected.”
“Or maybe because you’re really good at what you do,” he supposed as he started to move away. She was a little annoyed that he didn’t stay to flirt longer. But why would he when she’d sent him packing the week before?
He moved toward the coolers. “I’m going to restock here so you can meet the kids at the orchard when they come. Are the buses stopping there first?”
“Yes, then we’ll come down here.”
“Go ahead, then.” He motioned toward the O’Laughlin house. “I’ve got this. We’re looking good for today. And there was nothing nicer than to see Cleve’s happy face all weekend, was there?”
Gramps had been in his element all three days. Smiling. Laughing. Helping folks to their cars with bags of fruit and jugs of cider. “It was the best,” she admitted. “So if rain moves in now, or the weather turns, it doesn’t matter because O’Laughlin Orchards had the best weekend ever and Gramps was a part of it.”
“He sure was.” He crossed the display area as she moved toward the door, and when his familiar whistle came back to her, she paused, smiling.
“Don’t sit under the apple tree...”
The notes danced like the leaves on the autumn trees. As she backed up her little hatchback, her heart felt strong and good. They’d get through the busy season, get things straightened out with the farm and life would move on, but with one notable difference.
She and CeeCee were right where they should be. Home. On the farm.
* * *
“CeeCee, you live on the coolest place ever! Do you have any horses or cows?” Nathan Moyer skidded to a stop in front of CeeCee and Libby two hours later. They’d tramped through the orchard, each child had picked an apple and now they’d gathered at the barn for snack time, consisting of cider and donuts. “I think farms always have horses and cows, right? Like black ones, maybe. Or brown, too.”
“We don’t even have one animal, Nathan,” CeeCee explained in a despairing voice. Then she put her hands on her hips and sighed. “I can’t even get a dog, like, just one big old dog to be my friend, so I don’t think my mommy is going to buy me cows. And maybe they’d be too messy anyhow.”
“And they would eat all of our apples and pears and we wouldn’t have any to sell,” Libby noted. “Cows need a lot of space and we’ve taken up most of our space with fruit trees. So that would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”
“Then we can’t ever, ever get a cow because we love selling apples so much, don’t we?” CeeCee’s eyes went round and she gave the apple store—her apple store, she liked to say—a quick look.
“Just like my gramps did when you were little and now you and me do it because we’re family, right?”
“That’s what makes it a family farm,” said Jax as he drew close. “If you guys are all right here, I’m going to take my truck back up the road so we can load some more fruit.”
“Thanks for showing us so much stuff, mister.” Nathan clapped his hands together in excitement as he gazed up at Jax. “And for giving us donuts. They were really good!”
Jax palmed the little boy’s head. “You’re most welcome. Thanks for being such a good boy.”
“Bye, Mr. Jax!” CeeCee gave him a quick hug as the teacher blew three soft toots on a small whistle. “We’ve got to go back to school now. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Very okay.”
“Is that gonna be your father, CeeCee?” The petulant little girl from the classroom sidled up alongside CeeCee and Nathan. “Like, with your mom or something?”
“Just a good friend,” Jax assured her. And as Libby’s heart scrunched in her chest, he met her gaze across the trio of youngsters. “It’s real nice to have a good friend and it’s even better to be a good friend.” He sent her a lazy smile, capped it off with a wink and walked away.
Oh, he was good. That hint of amusement and affection, just enough to draw her in. And she wanted to be drawn, which meant her resolve was weakening. Again.
“So you’re never going to get a horse or a cow or maybe a pig?” Nathan seemed truly disappointed about the lack of animals. “Not even just one?”
Libby brought herself down to his level and smiled. “We’re a fruit farm, Nathan. Like your grandpa used to have. This is actually your grandpa’s barn.”
The boy arched his brows, surprised. “When did my grandpa get a barn?”
“This used to be his farmland,” Libby explained. “He sold it a few years ago but he kept this barn and let us borrow it.”
“I didn’t even know you could let people borrow buildings.” The boy clapped a hand to his head, astonished.
The next toot on the teacher’s whistle sent all three children rushing toward the waiting teachers. “Do we have something to
say to Ms. Creighton?” asked CeeCee’s teacher when they’d all gathered together.
“Thank you!” they shouted, then scrambled up the bus steps. Within five minutes the buses were rolling onto the road. Libby stood in the driveway area, waving goodbye. Samantha had come over to run the apple store so she could concentrate on CeeCee and the schoolkids.
Her phone suddenly buzzed. She ignored it until the last bus was up the road. Then she pulled her phone from her pocket to read the text.
The phone rang in her hand instead. Mortie’s number appeared. And when she answered the phone, the nurse’s voice meant business. “Cleve’s slipping, Libby. Quickly, too. Come right home, honey. There’s not much time.”
Slipping?
He couldn’t be. He’d been fine the past few days. Happy and more alert than usual and so excited to see the farm doing well. He couldn’t be...
She swallowed hard.
Dying? Could he? Now? Today?
No.
She called out to Samantha, then raced to her car and made it up the road faster than she should have.
A Hopeful Harvest Page 16
