Home on Apple Blossom Road (Life in Icicle Falls) (2 page)

Yum-balls were only the tip of the company’s sugar iceberg. A variety of GF Markets goodies lined the shelves of grocery store baked-goods aisles, and some of them owed their continued existence to Mia. During a marketing brainstorming session on how to reinvigorate sales, she’d suggested simply acknowledging that, other than sensory pleasure, those goodies had no food value whatsoever.

“But people still love treats.” Herself included. “So why not appeal to that with a slogan like ‘Indulge Yourself.’”

“Go on,” Andrea had said.

So she had, outlining an ad campaign that would show happy food consumers on picnics in the countryside, their Fiats parked nearby, or soaking in a bubble bath surrounded by candles, drinking champagne, all of them consuming decadent GF Markets goodies.

Sales increased, everyone was happy, and she got a raise, along with a case of various GF Markets cake and cookie mixes.

The company also offered nutritious products, and Sprouted Bliss Bread was the newest addition to that family. The marketing department was under orders to give it a big push, and this one was Mia’s baby. She’d been excited about both the product and the opportunity. The news of Grandma Justine’s death had drowned the thrill.

“So you like it there?” Cass asked.

It wasn’t Icicle Falls, but then what place was? “I do.” She had a sweet little apartment, nice friends. No boyfriend. Who had time for a man, anyway, when you were working sixty-hour weeks?

“And Colin, it’s always good to see you back,” Cass continued. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. We hated to lose her.”

The reminder of why they were all there brought fresh tears to Mia’s eyes.

“Thanks,” Colin said. He looked as if he wanted to cry, too. But, of course, he wouldn’t. That guy thing.

“I guess I’d better get this pie over to the kitchen. See you later,” Cass said and moved on.

Mia was flying out on Sunday, but she’d make an effort to get to Gingerbread Haus and order a gingerbread boy for old times’ sake.

More people stopped by on their way to the pie pig-out. Harry Defoe clapped Colin on the back and gave Mia a big bear hug. Harry was several years older than they were, and he was one of Grandma Justine’s many success stories. He lived on the other side of the mountains in the wealthy community of Bellevue. Mia had once eavesdropped on a conversation between Grandma Justine and Harry as they all sat on Grandma and Grandpa’s front porch, Mia and Colin playing gin rummy, and Grandma and Harry on the front porch swing, having an earnest conversation about his future. It had been June. School was out and many of Harry’s friends had had plans to go away to college. Not Harry. His grades hadn’t been good enough.

She’d patted his shoulder and said, “Harry, college isn’t for everyone.”

“I just wish I was smart,” he’d mumbled.

“You are. You’re smart in practical ways.” Mia had peered over in time to see Grandma take his hands in hers. “You’re smart with your hands. You know how to put things together, how to fix things. That’s an important gift. Let me talk to Everett Jenson. I think he could use a strong young man with clever hands.”

Grandma had, indeed, talked to Everett Jenson, who owned Jenson Plumbing. Harry became a plumber. He eventually started his own business in Seattle and now he was a very rich plumber.

Harry was one of a dozen success stories standing in the church foyer; kids who’d been lost until Grandma Justine helped them find their way. Kids like Mia, who’d needed a mom. Now here they all were, related by grief.

Mia stood politely, hugging, fielding condolences. Colin disappeared. Good, she told herself. Now she could relax and enjoy reconnecting with people she hadn’t seen in ages.

But how did you enjoy yourself when such an important person was gone from your life?

* * *

If one more person told Colin what a great woman his grandma was and how lucky he’d been to have her, he was going to sit down in the middle of the church foyer and bawl. He got into his restored Corvette and peeled out of the parking lot. When he was a kid, he would’ve climbed the maple tree in his grandparents’ backyard and hidden in the tree house or run off into the orchard to lick his wounds. That wasn’t possible now. The old farmhouse on Apple Blossom Road had passed out of the family years ago. So the next best place was the river.

He drove away from town and parked in a scenic pullout alongside one of the turbulent bends in the Wenatchee River and made his way down the bank. That roiling mass of water crashing past boulders in the riverbed perfectly reflected how he felt inside. Why did Gram have to die when she did? Even though he still had Dad and Aunt Beth and Uncle Mark, he felt...abandoned. He picked up a stone and tossed it into the angry rush of water. He was like that stone, sunk in the riverbed while his dreams raced past. While people he loved were rushed around the bend and out of sight.

His cell phone vibrated and he checked caller ID. Lorelei. He didn’t want to talk but he knew she’d keep calling until he answered. “Hi, babe.”

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Rotten.”

“You should’ve let me come up with you.”

“Nah. No sense both of us missing work.”

“I don’t mind,” she insisted. “It’s not like I can’t reschedule people.”

As a personal fitness coach, his girlfriend had a certain amount of flexibility. He could have taken her up on her offer. Somehow, and he wasn’t even sure how, it hadn’t felt right.

“That’s okay. We’ve got the reading of the will tomorrow, and then I’ll head back.” He almost added that he’d be home in plenty of time to do something. Except he didn’t want to do anything. Going for a bike ride or out dancing felt disrespectful of his gram. It seemed wrong to have fun now that she was gone. In fact, it all seemed a rather obscene mockery that the sun was out and the birds were happily singing, cars were driving by up on the highway, filled with people ready to come to Icicle Falls to hike and shop and enjoy themselves. He wanted to yell, “Don’t you all know my grandma is dead?”

Life goes on.
How many times had he heard that expression? Yeah, it did go on, but that philosophy seemed callous now.

“I’ll call you,” he promised vaguely, and then said goodbye.

He knew people would be coming to Aunt Beth and Uncle Mark’s place after the affair at the church for more talking and eating, but they’d have to talk and eat without him. The last thing he needed was to stand around and make nice when he wanted to hit something. Losing Gramps had been hard enough, but at least he’d had plenty of warning that Gramps was on his way out. Gram’s death had struck like lightning. She’d been the linchpin of the family and now she was gone.

He picked up another rock and hurled it. Then he sat down on a boulder and cried. And wished he’d come to Icicle Falls to visit Gram more often.

Too late. He’d have to do better in the future with Aunt Beth. And Dad, too, of course. Checking in via phone every once in a while really didn’t cut it. He needed to go fly-fishing with the old man, take him out for burgers at Herman’s, come see his aunt and uncle more than once in a blue moon.

He should probably go back to Aunt Beth’s. She’d expect him to.

He stayed on the boulder and watched the river roar past.

Late that evening, as night crept in to steal the last glimmer of daylight, he went back to town and slipped into the house where he’d grown up. All the lights were off and he assumed his dad was still over at Aunt Beth’s until he walked down the hall past his father’s office and a voice said, “You back, son?” scaring the crap out of him.

The door was slightly ajar and he pushed it open. “Dad? What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

“Just sitting and thinking.”

He heard a click as Dad turned on a lamp, revealing a lawyer’s lair. This was Dad’s private office, the inner sanctum his clients never saw. There was his big mahogany desk and the requisite green-shaded reading lamp. Tall barrister bookcases filled with legal tomes and literary classics lined the walls.

Dad was in his favorite leather reading chair in the corner. He looked sad and worn-out, like some John Grisham hero, ready to give up the fight.

Colin fell into the matching chair opposite him. “You didn’t go to Aunt Beth’s?”

“For a while.” Dad sighed heavily. “I needed to be alone. Your grandma was one of those people who...” He broke off and glanced away. “Of course, we all knew she couldn’t go on forever.” He shook his head. “Damn, but the heart attack came out of nowhere.” He swirled the remaining amber liquid in his crystal glass, then downed it.

Colin watched as Dad moved to his desk where the bottle of Scotch sat. “Care to join me?”

“I think I will.”

As Colin fetched another glass from the liquor cabinet he couldn’t help remembering the time he and his buddy Neal got into that cabinet and did some sampling. Dad caught them working their way through a bottle of brandy and just about broke it over their heads.

His father filled the glass, then lifted his own. “To your grandma.”

“To Gram,” Colin said, and they solemnly took a drink.

Dad returned to his chair, crossed one long leg over the other and downed some more booze. He was fit and lean and still pretty good-looking. And still single.

Colin knew his father’d had a few dealings with women—a short-lived fling with someone in Seattle, a date or two here and there—but he’d mostly kept his life female-free. Colin had once asked him why he’d never remarried after Mom left. “No reason to,” he’d said. Not exactly a shining testimonial to marriage.

Colin got it, though. Dad had gambled on love with Mom and lost. He could hardly be blamed for not wanting to throw the dice again.

Mom certainly wasn’t much of a poster girl for the wedded state. She’d been through a couple of husbands and had given up. Now she was in the process of moving to Italy to live with some business shark who owned a villa in Tuscany. A “relationship of convenience,” she called it. Colin didn’t expect to hear from her again anytime soon. Not that he’d heard from her very much in the first place.

“Don’t get married young,” she said one of the few times she’d met up with Colin for a visit, hoping to earn some good-parent points. “It never works out.”

Gram and Aunt Beth took a different view. As far as they were concerned, everyone’s life should be like a Vanessa Valentine romance novel. They’d considered Dad’s single state a condition in need of curing, throwing various women at him. Dad had remained incurable. It left the women in his family mystified, but after his own experience Colin understood.

“I’m glad you came, son,” Dad said. “It means a lot to your aunt Beth.”

Colin perched on the edge of the desk and took another slug of whiskey. “I get having to be here for the funeral, but I still don’t see why I have to be here tomorrow. What could Gram possibly have to leave to me? I already got Gramps’s coin collection and that signed Babe Ruth baseball.” Uncle Mark had inherited the tools and Dad had Gramps’s classic Ford truck. What else was there that a guy would want? Colin had no interest in Hummel figurines or quilts or jewelry.

Dad shook his head, a look of disgust on his face.

“What?” Colin prompted.

“It’ll all be clear tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’ve got a mother of a headache. I’m going to bed.” Dad tossed down the last of his drink, stopped to lay a hand on Colin’s shoulder as he passed then walked out of the room. “Turn off the lights when you come up.”

And that was that.

All this mystery. Why couldn’t Dad just tell him what Gram had left him and be done with it?

Oh, well. A few more hours, then he’d be out of here. He’d go back to Seattle and recover his equilibrium.

At least he wouldn’t have to see Mia again. She’d be gone, too. And that was fine with him.

April 26, 1986

Dear Mother,

I’m sorry to have to tell you that Bethie lost another baby. This is the third miscarriage, and I don’t think she and Mark will try again. Two boys and now this one a girl. She’s heartbroken. I feel so horrible for her. I remember how swamped you feel by sadness, how your arms ache to hold that child. It’s a cheat, a horrible, evil cheat.

Her best friend, Anna, had her little Mia earlier this month and she asked Bethie to be Mia’s godmother. I do hope that will turn out to be a blessing and not a constant reminder of what Bethie herself almost had. Anyway, please pray for Bethie and Mark.

On a happier note, the orchard is in bloom and it’s beautiful. If all goes well we should have a bumper crop of Gala apples this year.

Well, that’s it for now. I have to go restock the information booth.

I hope you’ve finally resolved the issue with the neighbor’s tree overhanging your fence. There’s the advantage of living in the country like we do. No fences!

Mother’s Day is right around the corner and I’m looking forward to coming out and spending it with you.

Love,

Justine

Chapter Two

“A
re you sure I need to be at the reading of the will?” Mia asked Aunt Beth as they sat at the vintage red Formica table in Beth’s sunny kitchen, enjoying coffee and blackberry scones with homemade boysenberry jam for breakfast.

It was probably the hundredth time she’d asked, but Beth nodded patiently and said, “Yes, you really do.”

“I can’t imagine what Grandma Justine would leave me that you couldn’t have sent me in the mail.” This was going to be awkward.

“Trust me when I say you need to be here, not just because of what’s in the will but because you’re family.”

Mia felt the same way. The Wrights were the only family she had. Unless she counted an aunt and uncle and some cousins in Mexico whom she’d never met and a father who wasn’t a father.

“I hope you know how much you all mean to me,” she said. “Taking me in after Mama died, raising me like your own.”

“Honey, you make it sound as if that was a hard thing to do. You were already part of the family. You’ve always been like a daughter to me.”

Mia studied Beth over her coffee mug. She was in her early sixties now, but she’d aged well, with laugh lines around her eyes and a few threads of gray mixed in among the blond hairs. She’d put on some weight but not much, and to Mia, she looked the same as she had when Mia was a child. She’d been a great second mom, and Grandma Justine had been a perfect grandma.

“You’re not about to start crying on me, are you?” Beth demanded. “I just put my contacts in, and if I start crying again they’re going to get glued to my eyeballs.”

Mia wiped at the corners of her eyes and smiled. “Not me.”

“We’re all going to miss her, but she wouldn’t want us being unhappy.”

“It’s hard not to be. Without you and Grandma, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“Oh, you’d have managed,” Beth said with a knowing nod. “Grandma was very proud of your success. We all are.”

Career success—the merit badge she’d worked so hard for. Once upon a time, it had been a means to an end. Now it was important, because it had become her identity. The only identity she had these days.

She took the last bite of her scone, savoring the combination of flavors and textures. “These are so good.”

Aunt Beth beamed at the compliment. “My latest creation.”

Aunt Beth truly was a domestic goddess.

Spending time in the kitchen with her and Grandma Justine had always been an experience that combined culinary artistry and female bonding. The Wright women took what happened in the kitchen seriously. “We’re not simply feeding the body when we make a meal,” Grandma Justine liked to say, “we’re feeding the soul, as well. So many important conversations take place around the dinner table. So much love is shared.”

A lot of love had been shared teaching Mia how to cook. She remembered a particular Saturday afternoon when her mom was still alive. The three women had gathered in Grandma Justine’s kitchen and were making apple pies to put in the freezer. She’d been five, but Grandma Justine had given her the rolling pin and leftover pie dough to roll out. She’d been wearing the apron Aunt Beth had made especially for her—red fabric with a teacup print. It was both her Wright family uniform and her magic cape that turned her into a grown-up, doing grown-up things.

“Never overwork your pie crust,” Grandma Justine had told her. “That makes it tough. Roll from the middle out.” She’d put her hands over Mia’s and helped her get a feel for it, wrinkled hands with veins that stood up like miniature blue mountain ridges covering small, smooth hands. Practiced hands guiding a beginner into a new world of taste and texture and camaraderie.

Mia still liked to play around in the kitchen when she had time. Maybe that was because it brought back such good feelings.

Beth glanced at the rooster clock hanging on the kitchen wall. “We’d better get going. Dylan wants us all present and accounted for by ten.”

They put their dishes in the dishwasher, then walked down the street and around the corner to the old Victorian that housed the offices of Dylan Wright, attorney at law, specializing in elder law and wills. He was the attorney of record, and Aunt Beth was the executrix of Justine Wright’s will.

Uncle Mark wasn’t mentioned in the will, and he had his sand and gravel company to run, so the only ones present were Beth, Dylan, Mia and, yep, here came the awkwardness. Colin. The look he gave Mia as Dylan’s secretary showed them into the conference room said, “What are you doing here?” She was asking herself the same question, but she raised her chin and reminded herself that Grandma Justine had wanted her here and that was all that mattered.

A long wooden table occupied the center of the room, which had originally been a dining room. A couple of plants took away the severity of the space, and the view outside the window showed them a well-maintained yard with plenty of shrubs and flowers and, beyond that, the mountains that held Icicle Falls in their craggy hands.

Dylan had set out water bottles, and they all took a seat, Colin slouching in one to his father’s left and Aunt Beth opposite them, with Mia settling in next to her. Right across from Colin. Mia focused on her water bottle.

“For the most part, this is a pretty straightforward will,” Dylan said. “So.” He adjusted his reading glasses, shuffled the official-looking papers in his hands and then began to read. “I, Justine Wright, being of sound mind...”

It
was
pretty straightforward. Tesla stock to Dylan and a hundred shares of Apple to Aunt Beth. The money in savings to be divided equally between the two siblings...

* * *

When did Gram get together enough money for stocks and savings? Colin was under the assumption that all she had was her house and her social security. She’d always lived so frugally.

Dad read on, “The house at 23 Pine Street is to be sold and the profits from said sale divided equally between my children, Elizabeth Ann Mallow and Dylan Hartman Wright.”

Okay, so what else was there? Why was he here? And why on earth was Mia here?

The contents of the house were also to be equally divided with the exception of Justine’s jewelry...

Ah, she’d probably left a necklace or something for Mia. Maybe she had some old ring of Gramps’s for Colin.

The jewelry went to Aunt Beth.

“I still don’t get why we’re here,” he grumbled.

“Because your grandmother has left an unusual bequest to you and Mia jointly,” his father told him.

“Jointly?” Colin echoed.

“Jointly?” Mia said faintly.

Dad sighed. “Yes, and it gets more...interesting.” Dad’s euphemism for
weird.

It sure did. As Dad read, it quickly became clear that Gram expected the two of them to go searching for their inheritance.

“Searching?” Like in some goofy movie?

His father pinched the bridge of his nose, and Aunt Beth grinned like a kid about to go on a neighborhood scavenger hunt.

“I don’t get it,” Colin muttered.

“Oh, come on now. This is just the sort of thing you kids loved to do at Easter,” said Aunt Beth. “You remember those Easter basket hunts Grandma and I made up for you.”

Did she think he was still twelve? He frowned. “I’m not a kid anymore, Aunt Beth.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t be hunting for Easter baskets,” she assured him. “This is on a slightly grander scale.”

“Grander scale,” Colin repeated dubiously.

“A treasure hunt,” Aunt Beth said.

Colin envisioned himself and Mia running around Icicle Falls dressed like pirates, searching for buried treasure. All they needed was Johnny Depp. “Okay, this is seriously whacked out. And what’s left that’s worth searching for?”

“I promise you, there
is
something of value at the end of your search,” Aunt Beth told him.

Dad frowned at her. “If I can continue?”

She shrugged. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Dad looked sternly at her over his bifocals, rustled his papers and then said basically the same thing. “There’s another stipulation. Both parties must still be single with no serious commitments. If either is married or engaged at the time, then the bequest goes to whichever one is single to do with as he or she sees fit.” He stopped and asked Mia, “Are you engaged?”

Her cheeks turned rosy. “No.”

Dad asked Colin the same question, even though he knew Colin was nowhere near popping the question. Gram had known it, too.

“No,” Colin said firmly. In a way, he would’ve loved to say yes, just to see Mia’s reaction.

Dad nodded and continued. “If one of the beneficiaries refuses to participate for reasons other than the aforementioned, then the other is free to search alone and will become the sole beneficiary.”

That worked for Colin. “You probably have to get back to Chicago,” he said to Mia.

“This shouldn’t take long,” she said. “But maybe you’d like to return to Seattle and...whoever.”

As if on cue, his cell phone pinged. He checked the screen. He had a text message from Lorelei.

Mia raised her eyebrows as he put the phone in his pocket. “Are you sure you’re not with someone?”

“Being with someone isn’t the same as being engaged,” he fired back. “And how do we know
you’re
not with someone?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” she said almost bitterly.

No way was Colin letting her push him out of the picture. “Me, neither, so I’m in.”

“Me, too.”

Dad continued, still looking as if he’d been forced to suck on a bushel full of lemons. “There is one more condition. Neither participant may bring in outside help. That means if either of you brings in another person and goes looking with that person, then you disqualify yourself from continuing the search. It must be done by both of you—together.”

What the hell was Gram up to? “Together, as in...”

“If you don’t want to do this,” Mia began.

“You are not making off with my inheritance,” Colin snapped.

“Our inheritance,” she corrected him.

“Let’s try and focus here,” Dad said, returning their attention to the will. “Once you two find your inheritance, it’ll be up to you to decide what to do with it. As executrix, your aunt will be able to guide you when the time comes, and I’ll handle the necessary legal matters.”

What the heck did that mean? Who knew? All Colin knew was that he wasn’t going to back out and leave whatever
his
grandma had left for Mia to make off with.

“So, do you both accept the conditions laid out in the will?” his father asked.

“Yes,” said Mia.

“Yes,” said Colin.

“Then I need you to sign this.” Dad pushed a piece of paper loaded with legal gobbledygook Colin’s way.

He scrawled his name and returned it. “You sure you don’t have to get back to Chicago?” he asked Mia. “You’re something big and important now, right?” At least according to Aunt Beth.

“I’m not leaving,” she said as Dad passed the paper to her. “Anyway, I can’t think of a better place for a minivacation than Icicle Falls,” she said, smiling at Aunt Beth. “I’ll check into the Icicle Creek Lodge.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Aunt Beth told her. “You’ll stay with us.”

And Colin would stay with Dad. Just like the old days, when everything he ever wanted was here in Icicle Falls, when life consisted of neighborhood baseball games, playing hide-and-seek in his grandparents’ old apple orchard and snarfing down Gram’s apple crisp loaded with whipped cream. He’d ridden his bike around the corner and down the street to his aunt’s place to hang out with Mia and Gram’s various foster kids about a million times when they were growing up. They’d both logged in a lot of holiday meals and Sunday suppers at Gram’s. Hanging out had been simpler when they were kids.

“So what do we do now?” he asked his dad.

“I’m to give you this,” Dad said, producing a long pink envelope. “We’ll leave you two to read it. Take your time. Come on, Beth,” he said, and they left the room.

Colin tapped the envelope. “Whatever this is, it can’t be much. Seriously, if you want to get back, I can find whatever Gram hid and buy you out.” That would be so much easier than traipsing around together, stumbling over the past.

Mia frowned. “That’s not how she set this up. And besides, I don’t care what it is. It’s from Grandma Justine, and that makes whatever she’s left is valuable to me. I loved her, too, you know,” she added softly, and he could see tears in her eyes.

Colin suddenly felt about two inches tall. “Okay.”

He opened the envelope and took out what looked like a letter. Mia walked around the table and took the chair next to him to read over his shoulder. She was wearing a black T-shirt and a little white sweater, and white shorts that showed off just enough leg to tempt him to run a hand up her thigh. He got an up-close whiff of her perfume—something spicy that whispered, “Sex.”

No, no! No thinking of sex, not when he had a girlfriend in Seattle, and not with Mia. Especially not with Mia. He forced himself to focus on the spidery writing on the pink notepaper.

Dear Ones,

You are both very special to me, so I’m leaving you something equally special, which I hope you will appreciate. I have fond memories of those treasure hunts your Aunt Beth and I sent you on when you were children. And I won’t mention a certain little boy being afraid to go in the henhouse.

“I remember that,” Mia said.

Or a certain little girl running so fast that she tripped and fell in a mud puddle one rainy Easter.

“And I remember that,” Colin retorted, pointing to the sentence in case Mia had conveniently missed it.

I also remember two happy children working together to figure out clues, swapping jelly beans after they’d found their baskets and posing for pictures with their arms around each other.

This made Colin squirm.

You two were so close. I’m sorry that, for some reason known only to the two of you, things changed when you got to college. But I hope you work well together on this final hunt your aunt and I designed for you. I love you both and want you to find that valuable treasure you deserve. I wish the best for each of you. And now, let reminiscence lead you to your first clue.