Season of Dreams (7 page)

Of course he was okay, better than okay. He looked great. And she couldn't think of a single intelligent thing to say. A new apprehension filled the space of the kitchen, making the air hum and her pulse beat harder. Could he hear the thumping going on inside her chest?

“I'm fine.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I'm glad you didn't fire me.”

“For what?” He gently tugged on a strand of her hair. “I can't fire you, Eva. I need you.”

The warmth in his voice made her breath catch. But he was talking about the orchard. He needed her experience. That was all.

But could he need more?

“T
his is awesome.” Eva ignored the tightening sensation of the skin on her shoulders from the hot Florida sunshine. Lying on a floatie in her parents' pool, she paddled close to her dad, also in a floating lounger with a thriller paperback in his hands.

He wore a floppy hat and white zinc oxide on his nose, but she couldn't tell if he
really
enjoyed living here. Her folks had rented a nice little home with a pool as a test of their aptitude for retirement. Eva wasn't sure they were old enough to retire. A fine-looking, healthy couple in their mid and late fifties, her parents seemed a little out of place in the land of cotton tops. But the Keys were different. Not so elderly, Eva mused.

“We're glad you're here, cupcake. And Beth, too.” Her father smiled.

Eva glanced at her friend snoozing on a lounge chair with her paperback novel draped across her middle.

“Bob?” Eva's mom stepped out onto the patio. “Phone call.”

“Who is it?”

Her mother gave him a pointed look, and Eva couldn't
begin to guess what that was all about. And then her mother finally said, “It's Adam.”

Eva's mouth dropped open and she rose up on her elbows, tipping her rubber mat in the process.

Her father slipped out of the pool and into the house.

“What's he want?” Eva asked her mom.

“I don't know, honey.”

A slice of worry cut through her. She hoped nothing was wrong. Slipping into the water, Eva swam to the ladder and got out. Grabbing a towel, she went inside to find out why Adam had called.

Her dad was just finishing the call by the time she found him outside on the front stoop.

“What's up?”

“Adam had a question about dewinterizing the well head.”

“Why didn't he ask for me?” Eva stared at two white birds walking around the corner of the house across the street.

“Could you answer his question about getting the water systems ready to go?”

Eva scrunched her nose. “Not really.”

“Well, there you go. Plus he didn't want to bother you on vacation.”

“Oh, so it's okay to bother you?”

Her dad laughed. “Yes. Now, tell me how he's doing.”

Eva sighed. Adam was doing better than she'd expected. He'd been focused on pruning, but would his interest fade when the work got tougher? “He seemed to enjoy dormant pruning.”

“But?” Her father seemed to sense her reservations.

She shrugged and nearly winced. She'd been in the sun too long. “But what's to keep him from bailing? I mean, what's a guy like him doing with our orchard?”

Her father chuckled as he gazed out over the tropical-looking neighborhood. “Do you think I would have sold the farm to someone I didn't think belonged there? To someone who wouldn't love it like we do?”

Eva glanced at her dad. Of course he still loved the farm, but Adam Peece? He wasn't one of them. He wasn't even a local who understood the risks of fruit farming. “What makes you think he's got what it takes?”

Her father shrugged. “Just a hunch when I watched him drink in his first view of the land. It had been after the harvest, Eva, when the trees aren't pretty like blossom time. The man's eyes glowed.”

Eva shook her head. With Adam's bright blue eyes, maybe her father had mistaken the play of light as something more. Or maybe it was greed. Adam wouldn't have bought the orchard if he didn't want it. But after a full season, would he still?

 

By the first full week in April, Adam understood why Eva called it the
mud season
. Slogging through the early April mess of melting snow, Adam experienced what she meant. Mud spattered his Jeep and covered his work boots, and the brown stuff congealed near the entrance of the pole barn. He found his farm manager inside peering into a big ole John Deere tractor engine.

Only a week had passed since he'd last worked with Eva, but she hadn't been far from his thoughts after she'd gone to Florida. Seeing her jump-started his pulse. Not a good thing when Adam knew keeping it professional was the sensible route.

Adam couldn't run this farm by himself, not yet anyway. Getting romantically involved with Eva would make working together difficult. Eva had already demonstrated that she didn't take breakups lightly, so why go there? He wasn't
about to risk losing not only his teacher but also the needed guidance from her father. Nope, there was too much riding on his breaking even at the end of the season.

He noticed that Eva had dressed for working outdoors—jeans and a sweatshirt. Even her mud-speckled rubber boots had cherries on them. His sister would label them farm-chic. To him, Eva was farm-girl cute.

“Problems?” he finally said.

She dropped a wrench on the cement floor and then looked up with a grin. “Must you sneak up on a person?”

“You knew I'd be here at nine.” Adam picked up the tool and handed it over without taking his eyes off her face. She'd been in the sun and the results were mesmerizing. Tanned farm girl registered way higher than cute.

Eva shrugged. “I wasn't watching the clock and I certainly didn't hear you.”

“Small wonder.” He reached for a radio sitting on the workbench and turned down the blaring pop song.

She made a face and wiped her hands on the back of worn jeans that hugged her figure. “After all this time off, is nine o'clock too early for you?”

He laughed. “I didn't take time off.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You didn't?”

“Nope. I organized the barn by setting up an office space, dewinterized the water systems—”

“You really should call me and not my dad, you know. I'm the one you're paying.”

He'd paid her father a pretty penny, too. Or rather his father, Leonard Peece, had. If Adam succeeded this season, his father would sign off on Adam cashing in his shares to pay off that note. If he failed, his dad took the orchard. And Leonard Peece had no intention of farming it.

“I'll keep that in mind.” But he had no intention of cutting communications with Bob Marsh. Adam needed all
the help he could get. “I also pruned those young sweets with Ryan's help.”

“They're done?”

“Done.” He expected her to be pleased, but Adam got the distinct feeling that she wasn't, as if he'd done something special without her. Left her out on purpose and overstepped a boundary, which was ridiculous.

“Good. So, what kind of music do you like?”

He didn't get the sudden change of subject. “You're okay that I pruned the trees?”

Eva shrugged, but she glanced at the floor. “Yeah, sure. Absolutely.”

Did he misread her? He didn't think so.

She looked back up at him with a challenge in her eyes. “Big-city boy like you, I'd say jazz.”

He'd play her game. “Not even close.”

Eva chewed her plump bottom lip for a second. “Hmm. You don't look like the country type, definitely not heavy metal…”

He turned the radio dial until he found what he was looking for and upped the volume. Spreading his hands wide, he sighed with pleasure. “Classic rock.”

Eva pretended to yawn. “Bo-ring.”

“You're crazy. Those bands had distinction instead of the sound-just-like-everyone-else fluff you were listening to.”

“You can't dance to rock.”

“Sure you can.” He'd never have guessed that Miss Prickly Prim liked to dance. Eva swaying with the music would be worth seeing. This time he changed the subject. “So, how was your trip?”

“Relaxing. My parents send their hellos, and my dad asked how I thought you were doing.”

“How'd you answer?”

“I said it was still wait-and-see but I gave you a B-plus for pruning.”

Adam laughed. “You're pretty tough on grading, especially since I earned extra credit by pruning the young trees.”

She gave him a saucy smirk. “I don't dole out As on easy activities.”

Hard-nosed. She didn't like it that he pruned faster than her. “So, what's the deal with the tractor?”

Eva shrugged. “It won't start.”

“Let me see.” It was his tractor. He might as well get to know it. He'd purchased most of the heavy equipment that went with the orchard, but the three ATVs belonged to Eva.

Adam climbed into the cockpit and turned the key. Nothing. The engine turned over, but no spark of ignition. Plugs? He stepped down and peered under the hood.

“Do you know what you're doing?”

He flashed her a grin. “A motor's a motor.”

“And you know a motor from where? Your magazines?”

Was there ever a sharper tongue? But the twinkle in Eva's eyes gave her away. She was baiting him. Throwing down another challenge he wasn't about to back away from. “I tinker.”

“If your tinkering doesn't work, I'll call someone.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Adam called out to her departing back.

Twenty minutes later when the tractor roared to life, he spotted Eva in the doorway with a basket over her arm. “You did it.”

He shut it off and wiped his hands on a rag. Feeling pretty proud of himself, he bowed. “There you go, ma'am.”

She gave him an odd look. “Great, let's hook up the wagon and get to work.”

Back to business. No fawning, no pat on the back. He craved a little praise here. “What're we doing today, field boss?”

“Picking up the branches from pruning. Once that's done, we usually have a big bonfire with some neighboring growers. Kind of like a kickoff to the growing season. Are you interested?”

He loved the idea. “Absolutely. What's in the basket?”

“Coffee and muffins.”

“With dried cherries?”

She looked away. “And chocolate chips.”

Something about the way her cheeks flushed confirmed that she'd baked those muffins for him. Eva was a person of action. Her gratitude popped out of the oven instead of her mouth. “After clearing the brush, what's next?”

“Applying nitrogen fertilizers throughout the whole orchard, and then dormant spraying for bacterial canker. There's also a section of old trees you need to decide what you're going to do with.”

She might be more comfortable talking work than anything else, but there was something softer about Eva. Maybe it was her vacation or the mild spring weather. Whatever the cause, he liked it. And he liked her. A lot.

 

After hours spent gathering brush and branches, Eva was worn-out. Dropping a large bundle onto the trailer, she stretched her back.

“Ready to call it a day?” Adam leaned against the tractor tire looking like a city boy on a country field trip. His leather jacket was dirty and the cuffs of his jeans were mud-splattered. He wore a Detroit Tigers hat and his dark hair curled up at the ends.

She wanted to touch that hair and feel its texture. Eva released a weary sigh. “We'll finish the brush tomorrow and then start fertilizing the orchard. How's Friday night for the bonfire?”

“Friday's perfect. Hey, you said something about old trees. Where are they?”

Eva shook off her wayward thoughts. “I'll show you.”

Adam held the tractor cockpit door open for her. “You drive. I'll hang on.”

She climbed in and lowered the window to give Peece something more substantial to grasp while he balanced on the tractor step. Did he find the closeness in the cockpit uncomfortable, too?

In no time they were at the back of the orchard where trees planted before she'd been born grew. Her father had never gotten around to removing them. She shut off the motor. “This is it. Might as well be seven acres of firewood.”

Adam jumped down from the tractor step and looked around. “These are big trees.”

“Worthless.”

He gave her a swift look. “So, they're old.”

“They no longer produce much fruit. They served their purpose, but it's time to uproot them, refurbish the soil and let it sit a couple years before replanting.”

“More Montmorency?”

At least he knew the name of the tart cherries they grew. “Whatever you prefer.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what would you do?”

Without a moment's hesitation, Eva jumped in with her opinion. “Sweets—I'd plant more sweet cherries. I think that's where the money's at for a small orchard.”

“How so?”

“There are more retail outlets for selling sweet cherries.
Fruit stands, farmers' markets in Traverse City, U-pick.” Eva had tried to convince her father of this very thing, but he was used to doing business his way. The same way for years and look where it had gotten him. Forced to retire because he couldn't compete with the big commercial orchards.

Adam took off his hat and fingercombed his hair. “I don't have to decide this year.”

Eva disagreed. “Leaving unproductive crop in the field wastes time and money.”

He smiled. “These trees are the least of my worries. Come on, let's head back and unload this brush where you want it.”

Eva followed Adam to the tractor, wondering why he didn't recognize the urgency of setting up a plan now so they'd be ready to plant when the time came.

If only the orchard were still hers. Then she'd have a stronger voice on how things were done. As an employee, she was no better off than she'd been as a daughter trying to convince her father of her ideas.

An idea blossomed in her brain of sheer genius. With the right approach, would Adam consider taking her on as a partner? She couldn't afford much of a buy-in, but even a small percentage of ownership might go a long way toward protecting the orchard. She had her B and B to consider. Other than her unique baking with cherries, comfortable lodging on a working cherry farm was her plan to draw guests.

She smiled. A partnership offer was definitely worth a shot.

 

“When's Adam coming to the bonfire?” Beth asked.