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Authors: Cara Lynn James

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BOOK: A Path Toward Love
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She sent him a wry smile. “You mean a man, don't you?”

He had the grace to look flustered. “I think a man is better suited to run a large operation, although I'm sure you do the best you can.”

“I've been doing the best I can for two years, Papa.”

He shifted. “And you learned the business from scratch?”

“I did. Mr. Herne, my foreman, is an excellent teacher, and he taught me everything I needed to know. We're on the verge of turning a profit and I'm very optimistic about the future.” She looked away, embarrassed at her exaggeration. “Naturally I don't really know what lies ahead, but I'm certainly hopeful our situation will improve. Soon.”

She ought to confess that Mr. Herne had quit and her situation was dire. But she couldn't quite bring herself to reveal the entire, brutal truth, at least not yet. She would before he and Andrew left. “Papa, it would break my heart to sell.”

“Yes, but I daresay, after a while you'd recover. You'd have plenty of distractions in New York.”

Just the idea of selling the business stole her breath away. Katherine shook her head. “No, Papa. I don't want to sell my business.”

Papa cocked his head. “It's obvious you love running this place.” He looked toward the green groves dotted with small, developing oranges. “I understand your attraction to having a company of your own, but surely you can come home for a good, long visit and see how much you've missed.”

Katherine knew a
good, long visit
in her father's mind could mean six months or more. “I'm sorry, Papa, but I can't. We begin harvesting the navel oranges and grapefruit in the fall and continue until the winter freezes. And then in March we begin again, harvesting the Valencias and finishing in June. It's crucial that I'm here most of the year. You wouldn't be able to walk away from your railroads for six months, would you?”

For a second Papa was taken aback, but then he smiled. “No, I couldn't. But this is different. You don't need to work to support a family. I do.”

Katherine nodded slowly. “I have a family of my own to support, in a sense—the workers. They depend on me. But I also have another reason for staying.”

Her father's eyebrows lifted. “And what's that?”

“I want to restore the orange groves to the way they were before the Great Freeze. Mr. Osborne was devastated, but he stuck with it and started over. He was a determined but very kind man and I admired his tenacity. I feel—I feel I owe it to him.”

Her father peered outward. “That was a devastating time. Perhaps this area isn't best suited to avoid another such disaster, though.”

“Many of the growers left or moved farther south. But Mr. Osborne replanted. I'd like to make his citrus groves prosper again.”

“But you haven't yet recovered,” he said, gently probing for the truth.

“No, but in another five years we should be producing as much fruit as before the freeze. It takes about fifteen years for new trees to grow to full maturity. Every year we make gains. I'd like to plant even more trees and in a few years open a citrus packing plant near the railroad depot. We already ship most of our fruit up north.”

Papa reached over and squeezed her hand. “I hear the enthusiasm in your voice. But, princess, will you be happy ten or twenty years from now when all you have is a citrus company? Don't you want to marry and have a family? Family can bring great joy, you know.”

She'd already thought this through long and hard, and she knew her mind. “Papa, I plan on staying a widow for the rest of my life.” She'd ruined her one opportunity for marriage by choosing unwisely. It pained her to accept that she'd never have children. It created a gaping emptiness she'd have to fill with something else. But she'd never risk love again. “I'm content, here in Florida.”

Her father drew out a sigh. Like Mama, he wasn't used to any opposition and didn't seem to know quite how to handle it. Katherine's heart contracted. How she hated to let her beloved papa down, the parent who'd spoiled her and loved her with his every breath. But she was an adult now, and this was her home. Nothing he said would convince her to leave the place she loved and had made into a home for herself.

“If you change your mind, I'd be glad to help you find a buyer for your groves. I have plenty of contacts in Florida.”

“Thank you, Papa. But no. I love my independence and the satisfaction of working hard every day.”

He nodded grudgingly. Papa understood, though she knew he wouldn't change his position or give up his quest of taking her back north. He tried again. “Maybe you could direct your energy toward society.”

Katherine chuckled. “I hardly think presiding over tea and gossip would fulfill me. It suits Mama, but society life never interested me. You know that.”

“I understand.” He smiled. “Nevertheless, working such long hours isn't good for you. You look exhausted.”

Katherine shrugged. She couldn't disagree with the truth.

“Couldn't you at least consider coming home for a spell, before fall harvest? Perhaps Mr. Herne could manage things on his own. Or maybe you could hire someone else. Then you'd be free to visit Camp Birchwood for the summer and decide if you'd like to stay on.”

A summer vacation at the family camp deep in the mountains did indeed tempt her after such a long stint of ceaseless work. “I'm afraid Mr. Herne couldn't help out,” she hedged. “And I don't know of anyone else who'd manage the groves short-term.” Papa's crestfallen face saddened her. “Well, I would love to see Camp Birchwood again . . . But it's highly unlikely a competent manager will just come along.”

Papa heaved himself from the wicker chair with a quiet groan. “Thank you, Katherine. Would you like me to make some inquiries?”

She shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but I can see to it.”

He said good night, kissed her on the forehead, and sauntered into Buena Vista, quietly closing the door behind him.

Katherine gently rocked back and forth on the swing, inhaling the fragrance of nearby roses mixed with the earthy smell of approaching nightfall. A grand summer on the shores of Raquette Lake appealed to her far more than remaining here in the blazing heat of summer. But what if her formidable mother pressured her to move home permanently and ruined the season with incessant nagging? Mama could be incredibly irritating.

Her mind skipped from Mama to Andrew, a much more pleasant subject. She imagined him settling into the guest room beside Papa's. She still wasn't sure why Papa had brought Andrew to Florida unless it was for companionship, or . . . maybe her parents expected she'd be willing to sell the citrus groves and return home without a fuss. Perhaps Andrew accompanied her father in order to do all the necessary legal work concerning the sale of the property.

Regardless of the reason for his visit, a frisson of happiness raced through her. Andrew and Papa were here at her home, the only friends and family who'd come to visit in eight years. A little of the loneliness that clung to her like a second skin fell away.

After breakfast the next morning, Katherine led Andrew and Mr. Wainwright through the orange groves. Andrew heard the pride in her voice as they strolled down the rows of bushy trees with tiny, green oranges clinging to the branches. They were planted on a rise, the best location.

“During February and March the orange blossoms cover the trees and smell heavenly. You must come back this winter to see for yourselves,” she said. “It's quite lovely. And I'll even give you some fresh squeezed orange juice from our Valencias.”

Andrew bit the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning at Katherine's enthusiasm and constant chatter, despite her apparent fatigue. Was she trying to prove to her father—and possibly to herself—that she could manage these groves with little assistance?

Two years of work and instruction by her foreman had undoubtedly given her a burst of confidence in her own management skills, but was this enough training for her to succeed?

“These are the trees Charles's father replanted after the frost wiped out the groves. It takes years for trees to grow to full size.” She gestured toward the rows. “But they're producing
good
fruit, and that's the most important thing.”

Andrew glanced around and noted empty acreage. He pointed to the fallow hillside. “Are you going to plant more over there?”

She nodded. “Just as soon as I get more money to buy the plantings. Charles left me enough land to eventually make this one of the largest citrus groves in Florida.”

That she could forge ahead with optimism impressed him. If her breadth of knowledge also impressed her father, he'd never admit it. Mr. Wainwright was bound and determined to take Katherine back to New York and her mother.

“Our navel oranges are seedless and delicious to eat,” she went on, “but not very good for juice.”

Andrew couldn't pull his gaze from her smile. She almost glowed beneath the sunshine and clear blue sky. She deserved to spend the rest of her life living on her land, regardless of what her parents thought about women working, without a husband or father's supervision. Anyone with her dedication ought to be allowed to live where she was most happy.

But did he dare share his opinion with Mr. Wainwright? Judging from his frown, he didn't understand—or wish to understand— the extent of his daughter's love and commitment.

They turned around and started strolling back toward the white clapboard house.

“I must admit you're doing a remarkable job. I could never imagine you'd take to business so well,” her father said, his smile brimming with pride. “But running orange groves is just too massive an undertaking for a woman without a partner to share the burden.”

She halted and turned toward her father, her expression serious. “No, Papa. I can handle it by myself.”

He shook his head, unconvinced. “By the way, I haven't seen your Mr. Herne. I'd like to speak to him, if he's available.”

Katherine blanched and then flicked a tight smile. “I'm afraid he's taken a job up north. He's packing his things, so I imagine he'll be too busy to talk to you today.” She spun around and hurried toward Buena Vista.

Mr. Wainwright narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a replacement for him?” he called after her.

Katherine shook her head and increased her pace. “No, he only gave me the news yesterday, so I haven't had a chance to look for anyone else.”

Her father murmured, “I see.” He hastened to catch up with her and asked, “Can I help you with the business in some way? I like to keep busy, even on vacation.”

“No, Papa, but thank you all the same. If you'll excuse me, I have to get back to my office. I'll see you at luncheon. Enjoy the morning.” With that, Katherine hurried off for her office, while Andrew and her father stood in her dust.

Mr. Wainwright stared after her and then shook his head. “My daughter worries me, Andrew. She won't admit she's fighting a losing battle. Anyone can see she needs a lot of money to make improvements. I'm afraid the gossip I heard about the groves is all true. They're going under.”

He looked genuinely distressed and sorry for Katherine's plight. But Andrew knew enough not to suggest Mr. Wainwright loan her money or just give her the funds as a gift. Her father loved her, but he didn't intend to prolong a dying dream.

He reached up and touched a thick limb of the nearest tree, laden with fruit, then turned back to the lady of the orchard, hurrying away from them. Katherine Wainwright Osborne wasn't the same girl Andrew remembered. And yet she was more intriguing than ever.

BOOK: A Path Toward Love
6.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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