Sunrise Point

“And that’s her grandson?” Nora asked.

“Yep. She must’ve gotten started early. I think Jack put Tom at about thirty.”

“What’s she going to say to him? Because he doesn’t want to hire me. He took one look at me and pronounced me not strong enough, which is bull, but… But for that matter, you don’t want me to get the job because even you think it’s too much for me.”

“It’s between Maxie and Tom now. And I might’ve been wrong about this idea. Let’s see what happens.”

* * *

Tom Cavanaugh sat at the old desk in the cider press office for a while after Nora left, completely stunned and disappointed. When she first walked in, he thought she was a fresh-faced teenager and his immediate prediction was that Buddy would be after her. She was so damn cute with her ponytail, sweet face and petite body. When she admitted to being twenty-three with two children, he couldn’t hide his shock. But worse than the shock—if she’d told him she was twenty-three and not a single mother, he’d have followed up with some kind of advance that would lead to a date. He wouldn’t have hired her because that could have been problematic, hiring someone who sent little sparks shooting through his body. It would eventually lead to love among the trees, something that was strictly prohibited. Mostly.

Tom had spent a lifetime on this orchard and he was aware of certain employees falling in love among the apple blossoms and harvest bins, but Maxie had always warned him about the foolishness of that sort of thing. She said it could be pure bliss, unless it went wrong and turned into pure lawsuit. But lectures or not, Tom’s first intimate experience with a girl had happened in this orchard on a sultry summer night right before he went off to college. The memory could still make him smile.

And the smile turned to heat as he replaced the young girl of his past with Nora in his mind.

Damn, that little Nora was lust at first sight. Her bright eyes, soft, full lips, splatter of freckles across her nose… Just his type, if she weren’t married, mothering a couple of kids and divorced by the age of twenty-three. He was looking for a different kind of woman, a woman more like his grandmother—settled, smart, a strong moral code. Maxie had been married exactly once, to his grandfather. She’d been widowed since Tom was in college and had never remarried, never shown an interest in men after her husband passed. Not that there were many eligible men in Virgin River… . Maxie had long been dedicated to the business, the town and her many friends.

The office door opened and speak of the devil herself, there stood his grandmother, who he had always called Maxie rather than Grandma. She tilted her head and twisted her glossed lips. “You didn’t hire that girl, though she desperately needs a job. She has children to feed.”

“She probably weighs a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet.”

“We don’t hire by weight. And we can afford to be charitable. I’m going to tell her she has a job. When are you starting the harvest?”

“Maxie…”

“When?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Maxie. She could distract the pickers. The men.”

Everything inside Maxie seemed to twinkle and Tom knew at once she was on to him, that she knew exactly who Tom was worried about. But she didn’t say anything. “Okay, we’ll dock her pay for being attractive. When?”

“I think August twenty-fourth. My best guess. But, Maxie—”

“It’s done. She’s a good girl, Reverend Kincaid vouches for her and I bet she works harder than anyone. Young mothers can be fierce. Hell, Tom, I still pick apples and I’m seventy-four! You can be a little more generous.”

And then she left his office.

Chapter Two

It was three-point-four miles to the Cavanaugh Orchard. Nora did a dry run, which was when she learned that some of what she thought were her best ideas were her worst. She had considered saving for a used bicycle. It was over three miles down to a lower elevation where the trees were happier, closer to the river. And then it was three-point-four up. She could make it to the orchard in just over an hour, but getting back to town, uphill, was another story. The idea of a bicycle wasn’t going to be that helpful on the way home, especially if her legs were tired.

Rather than a used bicycle, she spent what little money she could scrape together for some of the rubber boots Maxie suggested. She had a small, used umbrella stroller she could give to Adie for the baby. Adie Clemens wasn’t strong enough to carry Fay around in the backpack; Fay weighed eighteen pounds already.

They had worked out a system for babysitting—Adie would walk three houses down to Nora’s in the early morning and stay with her sleeping children, give them breakfast, dress them and walk them down to day care, pushing little Fay in the stroller. “This will help you commit to your walking everyday even if I’m not here to remind you and walk around town with you,” Nora said. “Your blood pressure and cholesterol is so much improved since we started walking.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Adie teased.

The early hour was no strain on Adie because she was an early riser; she’d come at 5:00 a.m. with her book or morning paper and her cup of tea. It was perfect as Nora wanted to be extra early at the orchard to prove a point—that she’d do everything possible to do a good job. By Nora’s calculations, she could afford day care, barely, plus give Adie twenty dollars a week for her help. Adie was just squeaking by on her Social Security income. She said she didn’t want any money, but Nora knew it would help. Adie could use a little more money each week for necessities.

Then came the real miracle. Reverend Kincaid told her he had arranged a partial “scholarship” for day care for Fay and preschool for Berry. It nearly brought tears to her eyes and she couldn’t believe it, but apparently the church had taken on the challenge of helping some of the local working mothers to afford help with the children so they could work. It was a healthy discount and made Nora’s challenges so much more manageable. “There’s no question in my mind, once you’re on your feet, you’ll be joining the cause and helping others,” Reverend Kincaid said.

“You can count on that,” she said. “I just can’t believe every break I get from this town. I know I don’t deserve it.”

“We’re going to work on that attitude. You deserve it as much as anyone,” he said.

That first morning of work, as she left Adie before dawn, she said, “I’ll get a phone number at the orchard that you can call if you have problems.” But she wasn’t sure what she’d do if a call came. Where would she be? Out in the trees somewhere, far away from the house and office? And if it was important, was she going to run home? Uphill? “Of course if you have an emergency, you’ll call Mel Sheridan at the clinic, right?”

“I wish you wouldn’t worry so much,” Adie said. “I’m not as wimpy as I look. I have phone numbers for people in town. I’ll take the girls to the school at 9:00 a.m. and Martha and I are going to pick them up at five and bring them home for a snack. You’ll be along about that time or soon after, I expect.” Then she smiled. Adie had the sweetest smile. “We’ll be fine.”

Sometimes Adie seemed so old and frail, unlike Maxie Cavanaugh who looked like she would probably live forever. Just the news that Martha was going to pitch in gave her a little more peace of mind.

It was her plan to arrive at the orchard before the sun was up, before any of the other workers, and it hadn’t been easy. It was scary descending the mountain in the darkness, the fog gathering around her as she got lower and lower. She heard lots of rustling, hooting, squeaking—the birds were just waking up and she wasn’t sure who else was out there, concealed in the trees, thinking about breakfast. She was terrified of being eaten by some wild animal, so she kept her head down and her feet moving rapidly.

Finally the gate and orchard came into sight and she relaxed for a moment. There were some lights on in the back of the big house when she got there, but no movement anywhere else. Nora went to the building that held the office and sat on the ground, leaning against the door. She wanted to make a point to Mr. Cavanaugh, that she’d go the extra mile. And she got her wish—he came tromping out of the back porch of his big house followed by a golden dog, appearing through the morning mist as he walked toward the barn. She stood up from the ground.

He stopped short when he saw her. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“Did you change the starting date?” she returned.

“It’s today. But we don’t pick apples in the dark unless there’s threat of a freeze.”

“I… I wanted you to know I was serious about the job.”

“Well, it looks like I can count on you to stand around doing nothing until the others get here, since you haven’t worked the harvest before and don’t know where anything is.”

Oh, he was so ornery, she thought. Very difficult to please. Well, thanks to her mother, she knew how to deal with that type. “Is there anything I can do to help out until they get here?”

“Do you know how to make coffee?” he asked.

“I do,” she said. But she wasn’t sure she could make good coffee. “Where’s the pot?”

“In the break room. Behind the office.”

And she immediately thought, I’m such an idiot. There was a break room, a lunchroom! And lunch had never even crossed her mind. Well, she’d sneak an apple or two and tomorrow she’d bring a sandwich. In the break room was a large thirty-cup pot and she tried to remember how many scoops per cup of water, hoping for the best.

“Holy crap!” Tom Cavanaugh exclaimed. “Think you got enough coffee in this brew? My spoon could stand up in it!”

“My dad used to like it strong,” she said, squaring her shoulders, though she had no idea if her father even drank coffee.

“Go to the house,” he ordered. “Maxie is in the kitchen. Ask her for cream and sugar.”

No please. No if you don’t mind. “Sure,” she said.

And rather than walk, she jogged. Then she knocked on the screen door. “Come on in, Nora,” Maxie said. She was still wearing her robe and slippers, sitting at the kitchen table with her own coffee and a paper folded open to a crossword puzzle. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been sent for cream and sugar for the coffee. So far today I’ve failed in arrival time and coffee that’s too strong.”

Maxie laughed. “Is that right? Drain a cup or two and add water. That should shut him up. What was wrong with your arrival time?”