A Killer Crop (24 page)

“Why are you farming, then?” Elizabeth asked with what looked like genuine curiosity.

Meg took a moment before answering. “I suppose because it makes me feel connected—to a place, to our past. You’re looking at the genealogy—do you know how many generations of our ancestors lived and worked right here? I mean, I’m an only child, you’re an only child, and Daddy’s got only the one brother. We don’t have a lot of family, near or far. But here, we have roots. And that’s not all: working with my hands is something I never really considered before, much less tried. I like it, at least some parts of it.” Meg ran her fingers through her hair. “Look, I haven’t made any final decisions about this place. I thought I should get through one apple season and then take stock, think about it. We can still sell the house if it comes to that. Nothing’s final.”

Elizabeth looked around the kitchen. “You know, I feel different about the house, now that I’ve spent some time in it. I think I know what you’re saying, about having a history with a place. Nothing woo-woo like talking to our ancestral ghosts, but knowing that their hands made this, that they lived out their lives here—it changes things. I’m glad you’re not in any hurry to sell.”

Bree chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. “You’re selling?”

“No, no,” Meg assured her. “Actually Mother was saying she was less inclined to sell, now that she’s gotten to know the place.”

“It grows on you, huh?” Bree grinned.

“It does. Breakfast, Bree?”

Bree dropped into her seat. “Sure. Sounds good.”

Elizabeth turned away toward the stove, but not before smiling and adding, “See, Meg? Somebody thinks breakfast matters.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Bree, what’re we picking today?”

“I’m thinking the Empires and the Cortlands are ready.”

“We’ve got a lot of those, do we?”

“We do,” Bree replied. “They’ve got a long shelf life. You looking to finish early?”

“Mother and I were planning to have dinner at the restaurant tonight. I’d like time to clean up.”

“What, and you didn’t invite me?” Bree feigned indignation. “Well, as it happens, I made plans with Michael for tonight, so you’re off the hook anyway. You two go and do that mother-daughter bonding thing. Good food helps.”

“Yes, boss,” Meg said.

Elizabeth set full plates in front of Meg and Bree. “There you go!” she said. “All set. Do you think it’s too early to call Patricia?”

“It’s, what, nine? I think that’s safe enough,” Meg said.

“Then I’ll see if I can run over there sometime today.” Elizabeth picked up the handset of the phone and disappeared into the privacy of the dining room.

Bree dug in with a healthy appetite. “You know,” she said between mouthfuls, “I could get used to this.”

“What, someone fixing you breakfast every day?” Meg said, eating more slowly. “Don’t get any ideas, because I’m not volunteering. What we need is a housewife.”

Bree gave a snort of laughter. “I hear you. Who could maybe dust and vacuum and do all that stuff, too.”

“In your dreams. But it is nice, isn’t it?” They both ate in contented silence for a few minutes. Finally Meg said, “How much more picking do we have to go?”

“The last apples should ripen by mid-November, but the peak period will be the next month or so. But this cast should be off long before that.”

“You wait until the doctor tells you it can come off,” Meg said sternly. “I can handle my end of things. Is it going to rain today? It looks cloudy out there.”

“Forecast says no. You won’t get off that easy,” Bree said.

Elizabeth returned, looking troubled. “Patricia’s house was broken into last night.”

“Oh, no!” Meg said. “I wonder if it’s connected with Daniel’s death? Somebody saw the announcement and figured a woman living alone might be vulnerable? What was taken?”

“Not much, she said. A television, some small electronics, but no jewelry. But Daniel’s home office was trashed. The police already had his laptop, but maybe the thief was looking for something else?”

Meg shook her head. “Poor Patricia. That sounds much more troubling. I guess there’s no point in your trying to check it out now?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe after things have settled down a bit.”

“Did she call the cops?” Bree asked.

“Of course.”

“When did this happen?”

“Last night sometime. Patricia was out with friends, and didn’t get home until midnight, and when she saw the mess, she called them immediately. Poor woman—she must be having a hard time right now, with all this happening at once.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Meg asked.

“I doubt it. She must have some people in the area that she can call on for support. Anyway, I guess I’ll dig into the genealogy stuff today. “

Bree stood up quickly. “Then let’s go, Meg, and let your mother get some work done.”

Meg stood up more slowly, feeling far more than ten years Bree’s senior. “Lead the way.”

 

 

As Meg was dumping yet another bag’s worth of apples—by her estimate, her seventieth—her cell phone rang. It was Seth.

“Hey, we still on for tonight?” he asked.

“If I survive another day of picking, we are. Shall we meet at the restaurant?”

“Sure. Have you told your mother I’d be there?”

Meg swallowed a spurt of guilt. “No.”

There was a moment of silence from Seth’s end. “Okay. You sure you want me there?”

“Yes. Yes, I do. I’m sorry, Seth, but there just hasn’t been a good moment ...” Her voice trailed off.

“We can work it out at dinner,” he replied neutrally.

“Of course. And did you hear that there was a break-in at Daniel Weston’s house in Amherst?”

“How did you hear about that?”

“Mother called Daniel’s widow to see if they could get together today to look at his home office, and Patricia told her then.”

“I see. Why are you interested?”

“Well, doesn’t it seem kind of odd that it should happen now?”

“Not necessarily. Some people prey on the bereaved.”

“Yes, but isn’t that usually during the funeral, when they know the house will be empty? Patricia could easily have been there last night, but luckily she was out. And she told my mother that not much had been taken, but that Daniel’s office was trashed. Doesn’t it all seem a little strange to you?”

“Don’t read too much into it, Meg. These things happen, even around here. Look, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you at seven . . . unless you change your mind.” He hung up before she could respond.

As she approached the next tree, Meg promised herself that she’d do right by Seth tonight. Over a nice, civilized dinner. Finally. This was getting ridiculous.

In the end, Seth scotched her plans by showing up early at her place—with Max on a leash. Meg had come back down the hill from the orchard in time to shower and change, and was in the kitchen chatting with Elizabeth until it was time to leave for dinner when he knocked at the back door.

“Hi, Meg. Hi, Elizabeth. Look, is it all right if I leave Max here for now? Mom’s not home or I’d ask her, and I haven’t had time to dog-proof my place yet.”

Meg wondered briefly—and unkindly—if Seth was just making up an excuse to force the issue. “Sure. You want to leave him in the kitchen here? I can shut Lolly in a different room. What with all that polyurethane, there’s not much he can do to the floor. Does he need food or anything?”

“No, he’s good. I thought we could drive to the restaurant together.”

Seth’s words hung in the air while Meg scrambled for an explanation. Elizabeth said, “So you’ll be joining us for dinner? Lovely. I’ve been looking forward to getting to know you. Meg, are we ready to go?”

Blushing, Meg avoided her mother’s eyes. “Just let me get a coat. I’ll go out the front and meet you by the car. Don’t forget to latch all the doors if Max is in the kitchen.” She fled.

At Gran’s they were greeted at the door by co-owner Brian, looking harried but happy. “Meg, Seth—great to see you.”

“Something here smells wonderful!” Elizabeth said appreciatively.

“My wife’s the chef—you met her on Saturday at the festival. I just keep doing everything else so she can do what she does best, which is cook. Let me show you to your table.”

Brian proudly escorted them to a table in a quiet corner, and Meg was happy to see that the room was well filled, even though it was a Wednesday night. Better yet, all the diners looked happy. The room glowed with candlelight and discreetly placed indirect lighting, emphasizing the rough (and original) plaster and exposed brick. Meg felt herself begin to relax as Seth pulled out a chair for her mother, and Brian did the same for her.

“Something to drink?” Brian asked.

“A bottle of wine?” Seth looked at Elizabeth and Meg. They both nodded. “What’s on the menu tonight, Brian?”

“You’re wondering what kind of wine to order? Why don’t you let us put together a meal for you and pick the wine to go with it?”

“Sounds good to me,” Seth said.

“Just as long as we can taste a variety of dishes, please,” Meg added.

“Of course,” Brian said. “I’ll just be a minute.” He retreated toward the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone.

“Well,” Meg began tentatively, and then realized that both of her companions were smiling at her. “What?”

“Seth stopped by this afternoon while you were in the orchard,” Elizabeth began with a small smile.

Meg shot an angry glance at Seth.

“Margaret, don’t blame him. Did you really think I couldn’t see what was going on between you? I may be old, but I’m not dead—or stupid.”

“Shoot,” Meg said. She could feel herself blushing again. “Okay, Seth and I are seeing each other. We have been for a while. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”

“Why on earth would I disapprove? Seth, you seem like a nice person, you’re gainfully employed, and it’s obvious that you care for Meg. I’m happy for you both. That is, if you’re happy about it, Meg?”

Meg swallowed, and glanced briefly at Seth, who didn’t offer any help. “Yes, I am.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Well, then, Seth, I really would like to get to know you better, if you’re going to be part of Meg’s life.”

“Thank you. And I hope I will be.”

Much to Meg’s relief, Brian chose that moment to appear bearing two bottles of wine, white and red, and he and Seth engaged in a mock-serious ritual of tasting. She was glad for the respite, because she needed a moment to sort out her chaotic thoughts. Her mother
liked
Seth. She had been worried for no reason. But was her mother’s opinion the main sticking point, or did she herself harbor reservations about her relationship with Seth? And why? Because she didn’t trust herself? Or because she had doubts about Seth?

Food appeared, one course following another, and it was all good, and between that and the wine, Meg could feel herself relaxing. Her mother made cheerful small talk and smoothed things over. This was exactly what Meg had imagined and hoped that the restaurant would be—a place with good food and good company. She felt proud that she had had a part in making it happen. The fact that her mother and her boyfriend were getting on like a house afire was just icing on the cake. Hmm . . . better slow up on the wine, since her metaphors were becoming increasingly muddled.

Dessert and coffee appeared. “You’ve been quiet, Meg. Tired?” her mother asked.

“A bit, but I’m enjoying the moment. I’m so glad that Nicky and Brian are doing well. She really can cook, can’t she?”

“Indeed she can. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed a meal so much,” Elizabeth said. “Oh, by the way—we haven’t had a chance to talk about the genealogy, and I found something interesting today.”

“What?”

“We’re related to Emily Dickinson! Well, it’s not exactly a close relationship. More like distant cousins. But I was tickled to figure that out. Actually, there were quite a few Dickinsons living in Granford in the nineteenth century, and most of them are related to her in some degree, if you go back up the tree a bit. And to us, then, I guess.”

“You’ll find that happens a lot around here,” Seth volunteered. “In fact, I think the Chapins and the Warrens are some kind of distant cousins, too. You look at the road signs in Granford, which were usually named because they led to someone’s farm, and most of those names are kin, too. It’s a small community—always has been.”

“That’s so rare these days,” Elizabeth said, and Meg thought she could detect a wistful note in her mother’s voice. “My generation and our parents’ moved around so much, and it’s hard to create that kind of connection now. I must say I’m glad that Meg asked me to look into the family history. It has certainly been enlightening. Not to mention addictive.”

Nicky emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She looked tired but happy, her dark curls damp with sweat and springing wildly around her head. “Hi, guys—great to see you here! Did you enjoy dinner?”

“It was delightful,” Elizabeth answered. “I can see why Meg was so excited to help you get this started. How has business been since you opened?”

“Booming! Oh, I know it’s barely been a week, and there’s a lot of curiosity because we’re new. But we’re trying to keep prices reasonable, and some people from Granford have been back. And we’ve got plenty of bookings for the next couple of weeks. Your idea of a cooperative was just brilliant, Meg. I don’t know how we can ever thank you!”

“Just stay open, so I can keep eating meals like this. But I think you’ve got a winner here, Nicky.”

“I think so, too. Well, I won’t keep you, and I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. Night, all!”

“I wish I had half her energy,” Elizabeth murmured at Nicky’s retreating back.

“I wish I did, too,” Meg agreed.

“What did she mean by a cooperative?” Elizabeth asked.