Sour Apples (15 page)

Bree returned to the tractor and drove parallel to the tree line until she was about halfway along the row of dug holes.

“Okay, let’s set out the trees first, and then we can go along the row and plant them.”

“Works for me,” Meg said, grabbing a pair of trees.

They quickly fell into a rhythm, and the work went faster than Meg had expected. It took them until noon to
finish laying out the first row of plantings, and then Meg and Bree leaned on their shovels contemplating their work. “Looks good,” Meg said. “Doesn’t it?”

Jake walked up beside them. “Need anything else, ladies?”

“Nope,” Bree said promptly. “We’re good to go. Thanks, Jake. Send us the bill.”

“Will do.” He returned to the backhoe and headed down the hill.

“Now we’ve got to get the trees into the holes,” Bree said.

“How much do you think we can get done today?” Meg asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Half of the total plantings, if we’re real lucky. Too much for you?”

Maybe, but Meg wasn’t going to admit it. “Should we get some help?”

“Wimp! Let’s see how today goes. And hope the weather holds until tomorrow.”

“You’ve already gotten a lot done.” Seth’s voice startled Meg; she hadn’t seen him coming.

“We have. Meet the new orchard, or the start of it. Did you just come to admire it, or did you need me for something?”

“Just checking on plans for dinner. You talked to Nicky?”

“I did—we’re all set for seven.”

“You sure Lauren’s going to be able to make it? She’s been so busy.”

“She said she would. If she doesn’t, the three of us will still have a nice dinner, and it’ll be her loss. Bree, I’ll need time for a shower, okay?”

“We’ll see. Let’s go get the next batch.” Bree started up the tractor and pointed it down the hill toward the barn again.

“Duty calls,” Meg said cheerfully, waving good-bye to Seth.

By five o’clock they’d planted two full rows, leaving two for the next day. Meg felt blurry with exhaustion, and she could tell that her muscles, built up by the fall harvest, had missed their workout over the snowy winter months, and they were letting her know it in no uncertain terms. A hot shower sounded like heaven, and for a moment she considered calling off dinner. No, she couldn’t do that—although it was an open question whether she could stay awake through it. She’d made a point of roping Lauren in, and she did want Seth to get to know her a bit better, since Lauren was one of the few friends who hadn’t forgotten Meg entirely since she had moved to this end of the state. Besides, she loved the food at Gran’s, and she really didn’t feel like cooking.

At the bottom of the hill, Meg turned to contemplate the day’s work: little bare trees marched in file along the side of the hill above. They looked like tiny soldiers, all in a row. It was hard to imagine them as trees, but by the end of this year’s growing season, they should at least have added branches. Maybe by next year, or the year after, there would be apples.

A little while later, showered and dressed, Meg stopped in the kitchen to feed Lolly and say good-bye to Bree. “You going over to Michael’s tonight?”

Bree shook her head. “Nah, I’m too beat. He said he might come over here for a while, but when I told him I wasn’t going to cook for him, he kind of lost interest. Maybe tomorrow. You all have fun, and don’t stay out too late.”

“Yes, Mother. I don’t think I could stay awake too late anyway. Should I bring you a doggy bag from Gran’s?”

“You expect to have anything left? Sure, if you want to. See you later.”

Meg pulled on a light jacket and went out to her car. It was still getting dark fairly early, and she loved approaching Gran’s in the dusk. The restaurant, housed in a sturdy nineteenth-century house, sat proudly on a rise at the top of
the town green, and with all the lights glowing, it looked warm and welcoming. And that was even before Meg could smell the good food cooking. Once again she felt proud of having played a small role in creating the restaurant, although its subsequent success was due mainly to Nicky’s food and Brian’s management of just about everything else that kept things running smoothly. She turned into the parking lot and realized Seth and Lydia had pulled in right behind her. She waited for them to join her before going in.

Inside there was no sign of Lauren, not that Meg was surprised. The restaurant was comfortably filled—good news on any Friday night—and Nicky must have been watching for them, because she bounded out of the kitchen to greet them.

“Hi, guys!” she said breathlessly. “I saved a good table for you. I’m so glad you wanted to come here. Has your friend arrived yet?”

“Ah, there she is.” Meg waved at Lauren, hesitating in the doorway. Once she drew closer, Meg said, “Lauren, you remember my friend Nicky, the incredible chef? Nicky, my former Boston colleague, Lauren Converse, who was at your opening.”

“Hey, Lauren—glad you could come back,” Nicky said, offering her a hand.

Lauren shook it. “Good to see you, Nicky.”

“Why don’t you all sit down and have something to drink, and then we can talk about the menu.” Nicky led them to a round table near the working fireplace. “I’ll send someone to take your drink orders.”

Once they were settled and had ordered a bottle of wine, Meg said, “I’m forgetting my manners. Lauren, this is Seth’s mother, Lydia—you’ve met before, I think? And you already know Seth.”

“Mrs. Chapin,” Lauren said politely. “I’m so glad you could join us tonight.”

“Lydia, please. I’m always happy for an excuse to eat
here, and it’s a pleasure to meet a friend of Meg’s. She’s really had an impact on our community since she arrived. Has it been a year already, Meg?”

“Just past. Time flies, doesn’t it?”

Nicky reappeared and they spent several intense minutes discussing menu options, drawn out only because everything on the menu sounded wonderful. Meg beamed at her tablemates, but she noticed that Seth looked guarded.

When Nicky hurried back to the kitchen, Lydia picked up the conversational ball again. “I hear that you’re currently working on a political campaign,” she said to Lauren.

“Yes, I am—he hasn’t officially filed the papers yet, but Rick Sainsbury will be running for Congress from this district. You knew him in high school, right, Seth?”

Seth nodded. “I did.”

“Seth,” Lydia said, “I don’t know if you remember, but Rick’s father was in construction, back when your dad was getting started. They worked together on some projects. I’m sure I met him, years ago.”

“I think so,” Seth said. And stopped. Meg wondered again why he was being so taciturn. It wasn’t like him.

“Rick’s family left this area some time ago, if I recall correctly,” Lydia went on. “Is his father still in construction?”

“Unfortunately, Rick’s dad had some health issues and passed away a couple of years ago,” Lauren said. “But by then Rick had already gotten an MBA and was working for his father, so he took over the company. He really expanded it. It’s not just construction anymore—he added divisions for site management, remediation, project development, and more. Rick has always thought big.” Lauren spoke with the zeal of a true convert. “He’s been living on the other side of Springfield for a while. Now he’s hoping to renew old connections in the area. Like with Seth.”

Seth ignored that comment, so Meg said, “Sounds like a busy man. Why does he want to get into politics?”

“He wants to give something back to the community,” Lauren replied promptly, but Meg thought the line sounded canned—she’d heard it before. Lauren looked around briefly. “To tell the truth, I think he feels he’s taken the company as far as it can go, and he’s looking for a new challenge. Then the congressional seat came vacant unexpectedly, and he jumped on the opportunity. And of course his father-in-law was delighted to help out.” Lauren noticed that Lydia looked perplexed and added, “You remember Senator O’Brien, don’t you, Lydia? Rick’s wife Miranda is his daughter.”

Lydia nodded. “I see. Yes, of course I remember him—he made a point to stay connected with his constituents. So Miranda picked up political wisdom at her father’s knee?” Lauren nodded yes.

“Is Rick pulling out of the company to run for office?” Meg asked.

“No, not yet—but he will when he wins. He’s done well financially with the company, so he can bankroll the campaign to some extent, and the congressional delegation has been very supportive. I hope he’ll have your support.”

“That depends on what his positions are,” Lydia said. “James Sainsbury was a good man—honest, hardworking, fair to his employees. I have no idea what his political leanings were, because it never came up. If the son turned out anything like his father, he should do well. But I’ll reserve judgment until I see what Rick has to say on the issues.”

For a brief moment Lauren looked chastened, but then she rallied. “What issues do you consider important, Lydia?”

Lydia glanced around the table. “You know, I think this is a discussion for another day. I’m not sure political discussion and good food mix well, and I’d hate to slight Nicky’s cooking.” Lydia’s tone was firm, and even Lauren could tell that pushing the issue would only serve to antagonize her. Luckily the food arrived just then, and talk drifted in other, less controversial directions.

Meg tried to concentrate on her food—which was, as always, delightful—but she was troubled by some of the undercurrents that she sensed at the table whenever Rick Sainsbury’s name came up. By now she was used to Seth’s odd response, but Lydia had made a point of shutting down the topic of politics. Lauren was less than her usual bubbly self, probably picking up some of the same…what? Hostility? Points to Lauren for her quick read of the situation, but what had created it in the first place?

Toward the end of the meal Nicky came back out of the kitchen to check on them. “Everybody happy?”

“We are—we all but licked the plates,” Meg said “That mushroom side dish was amazing.”

“Oh, good. Although I will say I’ll be very glad when we get some new season crops. There are only so many things you can do with butternut squash, and I swear I’ve done them all!”

“I had your pasta with squash and blue cheese a couple of weeks ago and it was wonderful—great contrast of flavors,” Meg said loyally.

Nicky beamed. “Thank you! I love making pasta. And that was some of Joyce Truesdell’s first batch of blue.” She turned somber. “What a sad thing about Joyce. Do you know what her husband plans to do?”

“I haven’t heard anything.” Meg turned to Seth. “Seth, have you?”

Seth shook his head. “No. I think Ethan is still reeling, and just trying to keep the cows milked. I don’t know that you’ll see any cheese from him soon, Nicky.”

“That’s a shame,” Nicky said. “But come back in a couple of weeks and I’ll give you spring peas and asparagus, if the Hadley crop comes in early.”

“I for one can’t wait,” Lydia said, smiling. “There’s no such thing as too much asparagus. Seth, you look as though you’re ready to fall asleep, and I need my rest as well.” Meg looked sharply at her: it was unlike Lydia to play the “old
lady” card. “Lauren, it was nice to see you, and I wish you luck.” Lydia stood, permitting no further discussion, and Seth followed suit.

“Lauren,” Seth nodded. “Meg, I’ll take Mom home. See you tomorrow?”

“We’ll be finishing up the planting, so you know where I’ll be. Good night, Lydia.”

When they were gone, Lauren turned to Meg. “Was it just me, or was there something odd going on here?”

“The second one. Lauren, I have to tell you, Seth doesn’t much like Rick. I don’t know the story, but I know it goes back to high school.”

Lauren snorted. “For goodness’ sake, that was decades ago. They’re grown men. Can’t Seth move past it and see that Rick can do a lot of good for this district?”

Meg bit back a quick answer. She had to admit that she wasn’t sure what the basis was for Seth’s animus, but knowing him as she did, it had to be significant. Seth wasn’t a petty man. Lydia, too, had cut off discussion about Rick Sainsbury. Why?

“Lauren, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I respect the Chapins, and I’m not about to try to change their minds. I’m the new kid here, remember?”

“Rick’s going to be disappointed—he had hoped to have Seth’s endorsement.”

“Why? Seth’s just a local selectman. He doesn’t have a lot of clout.”

“I think you underestimate Seth, Meg. He’s respected, he’s well liked locally. His opinion counts. To be honest, Rick needs to make a showing of support in what he perceives as his home community, Granford, if he’s going to be successful with this campaign, and having Seth on his side could make a difference. Can you find out what’s bugging him? Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t make any promises.” Meg really didn’t want to be in the middle of this. She
didn’t feel she had any right to press Seth, and she trusted his judgment. And, if she was totally honest, she really didn’t like Rick Sainsbury much herself. He was too polished, too calculated, too obviously groomed for this position. Maybe that’s what it took to be a successful politician these days, but that didn’t mean that Meg had to vote for him, much less push her friends to do so. But she couldn’t say that to Lauren, whose whole life was currently wrapped up in the necessary enthusiasm for her candidate. “So what’s your schedule now?”

Lauren gave her a long look before answering. “Rick’s wife and kids are doing a breakfast event in the morning, with lots of photo ops. Then we’ve got some things lined up in Springfield and Holyoke, and then next week we go to DC to talk to some movers and shakers. And I have to make sure we’ve got our paperwork straight and all the signatures we need.”

“So you’re still leaving tomorrow?”

“Trying to get rid of me, Meg? Yes, I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” Lauren’s tone was cool.

“Lauren, I didn’t mean it that way. But you’ve had events all over the place, and then I had this delivery of trees that have to get into the ground fast. Bad timing, is all—it’s not personal. But if Rick gets the party nod and wins the primary, you’ll be back out this way again, won’t you?”

“Probably. Here, let me get the check. I can call this a political meeting and bill it to the campaign.”