Sunrise Point (2 page)

“It’s irrelevant. I’m afraid I’ve already hired my max—all people with experience. I’m sorry.”

That took the starch out of her. Her chin dropped and she briefly looked at the ground. Then she lifted her eyes to his. “Is there any chance something might become available? Because there aren’t many job openings around here.”

“Listen… Your name?” he asked, standing from behind his messy desk and proving that he was taller than she even guessed.

“I’m Nora Crane.”

“Listen, Nora, it can be back-breaking labor and I mean no offense when I say, you don’t appear to be strong enough for a job like this. We generally hire very muscled men and women. We haven’t ever hired kids or slight women—it’s just too frustrating for them.”

“Buddy’s been working here since junior high… .”

“He’s a great big kid. Sometimes you have to carry fifty pounds of apples down a tripod ladder. Our harvesting season is grueling.”

“I can do that,” she said. “I’ve carried my nine-month-old in a backpack and my two-year-old in my arms.” She flexed a muscle in her upper arm. “Motherhood isn’t for sissies. Neither is being broke. I can do the work. I
want
to do the work.”

He stared at her in shock for a moment. “Nine months and two years?”

“Berry will be three before long. They’re beautiful, brilliant and they have a terrible addiction to eating.”

“I’m sorry, Nora. I have all the people I need. Do you want to leave a number in case something comes open?”

“The church,” she said with disappointment. “You can leave a message with anyone at the Virgin River Presbyterian Church. I’ll check in with them every day. Twice a day.”

He gave her a very small smile. “I don’t expect anything to come up, but I know the number if something does.” He wrote down her name and referenced the church phone number beside it. “Thanks for coming out here.”

“Sure. I had to try. And if you hear of anything at all, anywhere at all…”

“Of course,” he said, but she knew he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t going to help her get a job.

She left that little office and went to wait by Noah’s truck, leaning against it. She hoped he had a nice visit with Mrs. Cavanaugh since she had inconvenienced him for no reason. No matter what Tom Cavanaugh had said, she knew he had rejected her as not strong or dependable enough for apple picking.

Life hadn’t always been like this for Nora. Well, it had been difficult, but not like now. She hadn’t grown up poor, for one thing. She’d never been what one could call financially comfortable, but she’d always had enough to eat, a roof over her head, decent if inexpensive clothes to wear. She’d gone to college briefly and during that time had had a part-time job, no different from most students. She’d had an unhappy family life, the only child of a bitter single mother. Then she’d found herself to be very susceptible to the flirtations of a hot and sexy minor league baseball player with no earthly clue he’d turn into a hard-core drug addict who would dump her and their two children in a tiny mountain town with no money, their possessions having been sold for his, um, hobby.

Even though times were about as tough as they could get as income went, she’d been lucky to find herself in Virgin River where she had made a few good friends and had the support of people like Noah Kincaid, Mel Sheridan and her neighbors. It might take a while and a little more luck, but eventually she’d manage to pull it together and give her girls a decent place to grow up.

She heard the slamming of a door—it had the distinct sound of a wooden screen door. There was laughter. When she looked up she saw Noah with an attractive woman with thick white hair cut in a modern, short, blown-out style. She was a bit roundish with a generous bosom and just slightly plump hips; her cheeks were rosy from either makeup or sun and her eyebrows shaped and drawn on with a dark brown pencil. She wore lipstick and laughed, showing a very young, attractive smile. Nora couldn’t guess her age. Fifty-eight? Sixty-four? She looked like she should be hosting a country kitchen cooking show. And then she let go a big laugh, leaning into Noah’s arm as she did so.

Nora straightened, since they were walking toward her. She smiled somewhat timidly, feeling so unsure of herself after being rejected from the job.

“Nora, this is Maxie Cavanaugh. This is her orchard and cider operation.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nora,” Maxie said, putting out her hand. Nora noticed that she had a bit of arthritis that bent her fingers at the knuckles, but her nails were still manicured in bright red. “So you’re going to pick apples for us?”

“Well, no, ma’am,” she said. “Your son said he had enough pickers already and couldn’t use me.”

“Son?” Maxie asked. “Girl, that’s my grandson, Tom, and I raised him. Now what is it Reverend Kincaid told me? You have a couple of little daughters and only part-time work at the moment?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I think I’ll get more hours in the fall when they need almost full-time help at the new school. I’ll get a discount on day care, too. Thing is, it’s a brand-new school and still needs all kinds of certification so we won’t get help from the county for a while and I got all excited about a job that could pay pretty well for a couple of… But if there are already enough pickers…”

“I bet there’s room for one more,” she said, smiling. “Wait right here a minute.” And she strode off across the yard to the big barn and its small office.

Nora turned her eyes up to Noah’s. “Grandmother?” she asked. “How old is she?”

“I have no idea,” he said with a shrug. “She’s full of life, isn’t she? It keeps her young. She’s been a fantastic supporter of the church, though she doesn’t go to services very often. She says Sundays are usually her busiest days and when they’re not, she reserves them for sleep. Maxie works hard all week.”

“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.

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
lunch
room! 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?”

“I guess I got here too early and since I don’t know where anything is, I’m useless. Except for destroying his coffee.”

Maxie got a weird look on her face. “Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed. I’d be likely to admire that in an employee. The early arrival part, I mean. By tomorrow, you’ll know where things are. And he can make his own coffee.” She pointed to the counter. “There’s the cream and sugar. Which, by the way, Tom forgot to take with him.” Nora lifted the small pitcher and bowl and Maxi said, “I’m probably going deaf, but I didn’t hear a car or truck.”

Nora turned back. “I don’t have a car. Or truck.”

Maxie regarded her steadily. “I see. Quite a long walk, isn’t it?”

“Three-point-four,” Nora said. Then she smiled. “I made very good time. I won’t come so early tomorrow, since Mr. Cavanaugh isn’t in the mood for company first thing in the morning.”

Maxie grinned and said, “Fix the coffee like I told you. The first couple of days on a new job are always kind of sketchy. You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll try. And thanks for the job—I know it was your doing. I can’t tell you how much I—”

“A long, long time ago, many years before you were born, when I didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of, some old woman gave me a job picking apples and it was the best job I ever had. I hope it all works out for you.”

And that brought a very grateful smile out of Nora. “Thank you, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

“I’m Maxie, and that’s final. You’re entirely welcome.”