“If I’m bothering you, I’ll just hang up and let you go on with your day!” Daisy said shrilly, the words drilling into his head.
He’d been up half the night working leads with Cade, trying to find the guy who’d mugged Daisy. He’d been up the other half listening to her moan about what she was sure was a concussion.
Sleepless nights, hyper girls, and an overly dramatic sister-in-law? Not a good way to start the week.
“You’re not bothering me, but I have an appointment in ten minutes.”
“A date, you mean. With Apricot.” She sniffed. “You could do a lot better than her, Simon. There are dozens of women in town who would be a better match.”
“It’s lunch. Not a lifetime commitment.” He bit the words out, his jaw so tight from not saying what he wanted to, that he was pretty sure it was going to snap. “She’s nothing like Megan. You know that, right?”
“I’ll be home at five. I’ll give you a ride back to your place. I think you’ll probably sleep better in your own bed, and a little more sleep will probably help with the headache.”
“Now you’re upset.”
“Actually, what I am is tired. I need sleep too. So do the girls. See you at five.” He hung up, and he felt a little like a bully who’d just tied a bunch of cans to a kitten’s tail and sent her out into a yard full of dogs. Daisy had helped him out more than he could ever repay her for, but he needed space. The girls needed space. And, honest to God, he didn’t think Daisy was hurt. Not a concussion. Not a bruise. Not even a scratch.
“So,” Max said, “Daisy is one crazy lady.”
“Thanks. Without you to keep me informed, I don’t know what I’d do,” he said drily.
“No need to be pissy. I’m just making a comment.”
“Why?”
“Because Cade asked me to run some prints that were on Daisy’s purse. No matches to anyone but her. And, she is in the system.”
“I’m well aware of that.” Daisy had been arrested for breaking and entering when she’d tried to steal the recipe for Charlotte Garrison’s famous chocolate cupcakes. Fortunately for Daisy, Charlotte had refused to press charges. Otherwise, Daisy would have a criminal record. Not good for someone who worked for the county.
“And you’re well aware she’s crazy. Has it occurred to you that she made this whole thing up?”
Yes. But he wasn’t going to admit it. Not out loud. “Why would she?”
“How should I know? She’s your relative.”
“By marriage.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What exactly do you want to say, Max? Because I’ve had a heck of a weekend, it’s not shaping up to be a very good week, and I don’t have the patience to wait while you beat around the bush.”
“Someone needs to ask Daisy if she’s telling the truth about what happened. I think that should be you.”
“I’m thinking that I’d rather listen to you blabber on for another six years,” he commented.
Max shrugged. “I don’t blabber. I get to the point, and my point is, you need to be the one to ask. She’s your relative, she trusts you, you have a relationship that allows you a certain amount of leeway when it comes to your dealings with her.”
“In other words, you don’t want it getting out that you bullied her?”
“Bullied? She’d end up accusing me of police brutality. I’ve got a kid, and I don’t need any smears on my reputation.”
“I think it may be too late for that.”
“Bullsh—crap,” he growled. “If there’s one thing I’ve never done, it’s anything that would tarnish my professional reputation.”
“It was a joke, Max. And I wasn’t talking about your professional reputation. I was talking more along the lines of personal things.” He rubbed his neck, tried to ease a boatload of tension from it.
Max glared at him for about three seconds before his expression eased and he shook his head. “Right. A joke. I’m not feeling all that amused this morning. The kid kept me up all night. Zuzu was puking from midnight to four. Must have gotten sick from one of those little demons she goes to day care with. Guess I’m a little on edge.”
That made two of them. “You need to take time off to bring her to the doctor?”
“Charlotte is bringing her in this afternoon. She said it probably wasn’t necessary. Zuzu has been bouncing off the walls and begging for cookies since she woke up. I still want her to be checked out. Just to be on the safe side.”
“Makes perfect sense.” Not really, but that was something a parent learned over time, and Max had only been parenting Zuzu for a few months.
“Right.” Max snorted. At least he knew he was being a little nuts. “So, how about we stop talking about my craziness and get back to your crazy sister-in-law? You need to ask her. Flat out. If she made this up, she needs to admit it now before things go any further. Otherwise, she is going to be in a lot more trouble than she was when she tried to get her hands on Charlotte’s recipe. Speaking of which”—he glanced at the clock—“Charlotte and Zuzu are dropping cupcakes off at the front desk. I want to make sure I’m there when they arrive.”
“Want to get first dibs on the cupcakes?”
“I can have cupcakes any day. I want to find out how my kid is doing. If she looks pale and listless, I’m calling an ambulance.”
“You know Charlotte would have called you if she had any worries, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m worrying anyway. Plus, I want first dibs on Charlotte. As soon as she walks into a building, every single person around comes to visit with her. When she’s with Zuzu, it’s even worse. You’d think a guy could spend five minutes with his lady and his kid, but I’m lucky if I get five seconds with them. See you around.” He tossed the last few words over his shoulder as he hurried away.
Which left Simon alone in the office area, Max’s words ringing through his head.
He’d been trying, really trying, to convince himself that Daisy wouldn’t have made up the story about being mugged. He hadn’t been successful.
He needed to talk to her. That much was for sure, but approaching Daisy about the matter wasn’t going to be easy.
Basically, he’d be accusing her of fabricating a lie to get attention. She wasn’t going to like it. Whether she’d actually lied or not, their relationship was going to be changed.
Why that bothered him, he didn’t know.
He cared about Daisy, the girls cared about her, but she had some really weird ideas, lots of superstitious beliefs. The older the girls got, the more worried he became about her influence over them. A little less time together might not be a bad thing.
He grabbed his jacket and headed toward the back exit. He didn’t have the energy to field a hundred questions about the mugging or to explain to anyone who happened to be around why Jet hadn’t been arrested. No evidence. No arrest. Simple as that, but the good citizens of Apple Valley didn’t see it that way. The town seemed divided, half of them siding with Daisy and the other half siding with Jet. Not good, and if Daisy was responsible for the squabbling . . .
Yeah. Not good.
He stepped outside, watery sunlight painting the blacktop gold. The air held a hint of rain and just a touch of cold. Soon the foliage would start changing color and the days would shorten. Fall would usher in winter and then spring again. Summer would come. Just like it always did, the girls closing in on another full year of life, and Simon just kind of drifting along with them. He’d been content to do that. He liked the way one day flowed into the next, time just kind of unfolding, dawn to dusk and back again. Sure, there were times when he missed the hustle and bustle of Houston life. There were days when he longed for the kind of case that made his pulse pound and his heart race, the kind that made adrenaline pump through him, made his brain function at such a high level, he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest until he solved it.
Those days were few and far between, though.
He didn’t miss the crazy schedule, didn’t
miss not seeing the girls in the evenings and mornings. He didn’t miss his marriage, either. Though there were moments when he missed what he’d thought he and Megan were building together.
A house of cards, that’s what his dad had called it. His parents had come and stood beside him during the funeral, waiting with him while the casket was lowered into the ground. Simon had been sobbing. He wasn’t too macho to admit it. He’d missed the boat, not seen the signs that Megan desperately needed help. He’d lost his wife because of it and the girls had lost their mother. They’d been tiny little things, and he’d been thinking of that. Of how they’d have the birthday presents Megan had been buying for them, but they wouldn’t have her.
“My fault,” he’d said as the first scoop of dirt fell onto the casket. “I did this.”
“You loved her like the morning loves the sun, and you thought you were giving her what she needed, because she let you think that you were. It was a house of cards, son,” his father had said. “One built by Megan and maintained by Megan until she just couldn’t maintain it anymore.”
Maybe so, but that didn’t make Simon feel better about his failure. Megan had died and he’d gone on, but the weight of responsibility? It never left.
He’d parked in the back lot, and he walked to his SUV, trying to brush off the mood he’d fallen into. September was always hard, but this year, Daisy was making it even more difficult.
He needed to find her a man.
One who didn’t mind a little craziness.
One who could overlook Daisy’s high-strung nature.
One who was . . .
A saint?
Or desperate. That might work too.
Even if it was only for a few weeks or months, a little distraction would do Daisy good. Problem was, he couldn’t think of anyone. Not off the top of his head. Not anyone who was good enough, anyway, because he sure as heck didn’t want her with another loser.
He thought about it all the way to Apricot’s house, was still thinking about it as he pulled into her driveway.
Apricot came running out, a look of abject desperation on her face. He planned to open the door for her, but she jumped in, her skin dewy from heat, her cheeks pink from sun. She wore a white sundress that revealed smooth muscular shoulders and long slender legs.
“Go! Go, go, go!” she nearly shouted, her short hair flying around her face as she slammed the door and reached for her seat belt.
“That hungry, huh?” he asked mildly, and she blinked, her hands stilling on the belt as she met his eyes.
Slowly, her lips curved, her frantic expression faded.
“You asked for it.” She sighed, the smile on her lips and in her eyes.
“For wh—?”
He didn’t finish the question, because Lilac swooshed out onto the porch, her long dress touching the ground as she made her way down the steps. Rose followed, dressed in white slacks and a bright pink shirt that fell almost to her knees. Both held baskets. Both looked like trouble waiting to happen.
Lilac knocked on Simon’s window, and he unrolled it.
“Afternoon, Doctor,” he said, and she smiled the same beguiling smile as her daughter’s.
“It is a beautiful one. Not meant for ill-prepared food filled with GMOs and preservatives. I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“I don’t suppose you’re wrong,” he responded.
“Lilac,” Apricot broke in, “I told you. We are not—and I’m going to repeat this to make sure you’re hearing me—not eating your cow tongue sandwiches.”
“The native people of every land know the importance of using each and every part of their natural resources. To turn up your nose at a particular food because you are too highbrow—”
“Ma’am,” Simon cut in. He was hungry and tired, and he didn’t want to spend fifteen minutes of his hour lunch break listening to Apricot being lectured. “With all due respect, a woman who makes her living out of using what nature has provided in abundance probably isn’t too highbrow to eat cow tongue.”
“And yet she’s turning up her nose at my offering.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t like the way it tastes. Unless you’re raised on the stuff, it can be a tough thing to choke down.” Simon had eaten his fair share of cow tongue, liver, and heart when he was growing up. He didn’t hate it. That was about as much of a compliment as he could give.
“I was raised on the stuff,” Apricot said drily. “And that is exactly why I’m not eating it today. You can’t cook, Lilac. Not tongue. Not pasta. Not rice. If you’d just accept that fact, the world would be a better place.”
“The people of Papua New Guinea loved my food!” Lilac argued, but her eyes were sparkling.
Perfect! Apricot thought as she looked into her mother’s gleaming eyes. Lilac was pushing her buttons.
Again.
The woman was an expert at it.
And, generally speaking, once the button pushing began it didn’t end.
Which meant that Apricot was going to have to end it herself, because time was ticking away, her stomach was growling, and she needed to get away from her family and eat something in exactly that order or she just might be tempted to kill someone. Namely, Lilac. Or Rose. Or even poor Hubert, who was peering out the living room window probably wondering if he should come running to the rescue.
“Good. Great.” Apricot sighed. “Ship the sandwiches there, because they are definitely not what I feel like eating today.”
“This isn’t about what you feel like eating. This is about what’s healthy. Look at your skin!” Lilac jabbed a finger in her direction. “Pasty. You’ve been eating refined wheat again, haven’t you? Is that a zit I see on your nose? You know how you break out when you eat processed food.”
Good gravy! How in God’s name had this situation gotten so completely out of control?
“I think she’s got a bit of sun on her nose,” Simon drawled, his beautiful eyes skimming over whatever offending mark Lilac had noticed. “And I think it looks beautiful on her.”
“Cow tongue! That is the key to clear skin and energy. You’re going to need the former if you’re going to find yourself a new man, Apricot. You’re going to need the latter if you really plan to bring the orchard back up to snuff,” Lilac proclaimed as if she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
Apricot had heard, and her heart was doing a funny little dance of happiness. Not so much because of his words, but because of the way he looked at her, as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Even with her sunburned nose and wild hair.
“What do you feel like eating, Apricot Sunshine?” Simon asked, ignoring Lilac’s lecture. For a moment, she was so caught in the deep green depth of his eyes, she wasn’t sure what he was asking or why an answer mattered.
Then Rose started gesturing wildly from behind Lilac. Apricot wasn’t exactly sure what the wild gestures were meant to convey, but they served to pull her out of the happy little spell she’d fallen into.
“A ham and cheese sandwich on rye would be really nice,” she said quickly, hoping her long pause wasn’t too noticeable.
Based on the amusement in Simon’s eyes, she’d say it had been. He was too much of a gentleman to point it out.
“I think that can be arranged,” he responded easily, smiling into her eyes with just the right amount of focus and interest and humor.
Dear God above, she liked him!
He made her feel . . . happy, excited, beautiful.
It had been a heck of a long time since she’d felt any of those things.
“Ham and cheese?!” Lilac leaned into the car, thrusting her upper body through the window. Simon had to lean back to avoid getting a face full of cleavage.
Apricot wanted to pull Lilac’s V-neck closed, but that would just start a tirade about another one of Lilac’s pet subjects—the beauty of the human body. It could even end with a full-out stripping off of the muumuu her mother was wearing.
Nope. Better to keep her mouth closed.
“They process the crap out of that stuff,” Lilac spat. “It’s not even real food.”
“Give the kids a break.” Rose dragged Lilac out of the window. “They don’t want your disgusting cow tongue sandwiches. Take this instead.” She passed a basket in through the window. “Huckleberry jam and homemade bread. Goat cheese and quinoa salad. Flaxseed crackers. A little wine. A nice cold ginger tea. Perfect picnic food.”
“Thanks, Rose.” Apricot set the basket on her lap. “We’d better go. Simon has a limited amount of time for lunch, and I have more work to do in the orchard.”
“If you’re picnicking, why not just stay here? That will save Simon a drive into town and back and give you two a little extra time to enjoy . . .” Rose glanced at Simon and offered a sly wink. “The food.”
“What do you think, Apricot? The park or the orchard? I’ll be happy either way,” Simon responded, ignoring Rose’s obvious hint.
“Well?” Lilac pressed. “You going to drive around in the gas guzzler and contribute to global warming and the death of our beautiful planet? Or are you going to do the decent, the humane, the right thing and just stay right where you are?”
“You’re not on the political circuit, Lilac. No need to get overly dramatic in your pitch,” Apricot said, sidestepping the question, looking out the window at the beautiful sunny day, the bright blue sky, and the clouds just kind of meandering across the horizon.
It was a good day for the park or the orchard.
The thing was, one idea seemed a heck of a lot more romantic than the other. The park was public, the chance of finding herself in Simon’s arms slim to none. The orchard, though? She could picture herself sitting on the little bench with Simon, the soft rustle of leaves all around them, the quiet solitude, the sun just warming them through the trees. She could imagine eating cheese and sipping wine and listening to him talk about his girls and his crazy sister-in-law. Anything could happen in the orchard, and she had to admit, she kind of liked that.
“You’re wasting precious time,” Rose pronounced, yanking open Simon’s door and pulling him out of the SUV. “There’s an absolutely perfect picnic spot in the orchard. A lovely little bench right in the middle of a clearing. You know it, right, Apricot?”
The Orchard at the Edge of Town Page 21
