The Orchard at the Edge of Town (22 page)

“It has a crack in it.” She poked a finger at a wide crack that ran the length of the vase. “According to my daughter, that's my fault.”

“Did you drop it?” He glanced out the front window. The rain seemed to be coming down harder, but he wondered if he might be better off out there.

“Of course not. I'm very graceful and coordinated. I simply did what Apricot asked me to do. I took the white feather back to the bakery—”

“Sweet Treats?”

“Yes,” she said with exaggerated patience. “Sweet Treats. Apparently the kitten has a thing for feathers. He stole one from the shop while he was there with Apricot. What in the world she was doing bringing a kitten into a bakery, I don't know. But she was there and Handsome was with her and the klepto kitty took the feather.”

“I can see that happening.” He could, and it made him smile.

“Then I'm sure you know what happened next,” she responded.

“Apricot insisted the feather be returned?”

“Exactly!” She slapped her hand on her thigh, her bracelets jingling. “Only she didn't want to make a jaunt into town to return it herself. We all know why that is, don't we?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe you should explain.”

She grinned. “I like you, Simon.”

“I like you too, but I'd probably like you a mite bit better if you got to the point of your tale.”

“Yes, right.” She held the vase up. “The feather was in this, and I took the whole thing to Sweet Treats, tried to return it, but Charlotte absolutely wouldn't hear of it. She said she had plenty of happiness and love, and she was happy for the feather to have a new home. So, of course, I brought the feather and vase back home.”

“Of course,” he agreed.

“And I set them right here.” She plopped the vase on the fireplace mantel. “And that devil of a cat knocked them down and cracked this priceless family heirloom.”

“Is it really a priceless family heirloom?” Because what it looked like to him was an arts and crafts project from the seventies.

“I have no idea, but it makes for a good compelling detail, which makes for a good compelling story. Which, by the way, I'm getting to the end of.” She took a deep breath. “Hubert heard the crash and thought the ghost of old man Schaffer had returned. He ran outside—”

“Let me guess. Handsome ran out with him.”

“That's right. And not only did he run out, he took the feather with him. I figured the kitten would return eventually. He's always slipping in and out of the house. But he's been gone for hours. Even the rain didn't chase him back home.”

“He might have found a place to hunker down until it passed,” he suggested.

“That's what I told Apricot, but she's worried. She loves that kitten. As soon as that good-looking deputy left, she headed out to look for Handsome. That was”—she glanced at her watch—“fifteen minutes ago. I'm not sure when she'll be back, but if you'd like me to give her a message when she returns, I will.”

“That's okay.” He headed to the front door, mulling things over in his head while he went. It was odd that all three kittens were missing. Almost as odd as Daisy's things being found on Apricot's property. “Did Max find anything while he was here?”

“Max?” She followed him to the front door, jingling and swishing the whole way.

“The good-looking deputy,” he responded, the words nearly choking him. Good thing Max wasn't around to hear him say them. He'd never let him live it down.

“Oh. Yes. Deputy Stanford.” She sighed dreamily. “He said there wasn't much evidence. Just the wallet and a phone.”

“Where were they found?”

“Out in the old shed. It's way back at the edge of the orchard. Apricot and Jet were working back there this morning.”

“They'd been in the shed before?”

“Yes, but today Jet knocked over a planter. It had a couple of inches of dirt in it. When that spilled out, the wallet and phone came out with it.” She paused. “At least that's the way Apricot described it. Had I been there, I'd have probably had a few more details to add to the account.”

“I'm sure you would have.” He wasn't able to keep the hint of amusement from his voice, and she grinned.

“One more little tidbit of information,” she said, obviously relishing each and every detail. “Apricot saw someone walking into the orchard the other night. She thought it was Dusty, so she didn't bother mentioning it to the police. I'd say it was either old man Shaffer's ghost or the guy who mugged your sister-in-law.”

“Sounds like some reasonable assumptions. How about you call Max and fill him in.” He opened the door, let cool wind blow in. It carried the scent of apples and a hint of winter, and he wondered if Apricot had brought a jacket and umbrella when she'd left the house, or if she'd gone out to search wearing one of those flimsy long skirt and tank-top combos that she seemed to favor. “I've got a couple of kittens missing myself, and if I don't find them before my girls get home, there are going to be a lot of tears.”

“Is that why you stopped by?” she asked, stepping onto the porch as he retreated down the steps.

“One of the reasons.”

“Did any of the other reasons have something to do with Apricot?”

“It's possible.”

“Humph,” she responded, the wind whipping her dress around her legs and making her hair fly around her head in a wild frenzy. “That is a very safe answer.”

“It's as much of an answer as I can give.”

“Be careful, Simon,” she said in a voice that had a hint of mystery in it. “Sometimes two people are meant to be together. Sometimes everything in their lives conspires to make sure that they are. When that happens, they really have no choice. They either walk the road side by side, or they live their lives wishing they had.” She grabbed a handful of her hair and frowned. “Now I've got to get inside. This weather isn't good for my hair.”

She walked inside, closing the door with a quiet snap.

He had the distinct impression that he'd disappointed her, and he was half-near tempted to apologize.

He glanced around the yard. No sign of Handsome. No sign of Apricot. No sign of the girls' kittens. King Henry was parked in the driveway, the Airstream right behind it. Wherever Apricot was, she'd gone on foot.

He rounded the side of the house, rain soaking through his jeans and sliding off his jacket. He could have gotten in the SUV and gone home, but he'd come for a reason. Despite what he'd said to Lilac, despite what he might even be trying to tell himself, he wanted to see Apricot. It was as simple as that, and maybe even as complicated.

He splashed through a couple of puddles as he crossed the backyard and made his way into the orchard. The scent of apples hung thick in the air, the rain creating a rhythmic melody that the girls would have danced to if they'd been with him.

He headed toward the clearing in the center of the orchard because he wasn't sure where else to go, and because he figured that if Apricot had any thinking to do, that's where she'd be.

He found her there, sitting on the bench, her head bent, her hair plastered to her head. Her black T-shirt was soaked, her jeans coated with mud. It looked like she'd been tromping through the orchard for hours rather than minutes.

He was sure she heard him coming, but she didn't look up as he approached.

“It's a little wet for a picnic,” he said, settling onto the bench beside her.

She met his eyes, a soft smile curving the corners of her lips, rain streaming down her face. There were goose bumps on her arms, and her teeth were nearly chattering, but it didn't look like she had any intention of going back inside.

“I thought you were Lilac,” she said.

“Are you disappointed that I'm not?”

“Relieved is a better word for it,” she responded. “She is driving me batty.”

“Is that why you're sitting out here in the rain?” He took off his jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders. His knuckles brushed her jaw as he tugged it closed, and it was all he could do not to lean in, taste her rain-soaked lips.

“I'm out here because Handsome is missing. I've been looking for him. I'm sure Lilac told you all about it.”

“She did.”

“Did she also give that bunch of blarney about people who are meant to be together?” She made a good show of being disgusted, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes.

“She did.”

“Silly, isn't it?” She laughed, the sound echoing hollowly through the clearing.

“I didn't think so.”

“Oh, come on!” She stood and paced to the edge of the clearing, her work boots slapping against the wet earth. “You're not the kind of guy who buys into that sort of stuff.”

“Why wouldn't I be?” he responded, closing the distance between them.

Sheets of rain were falling all around them, but he couldn't see anything but Apricot, think of anything but how he felt when she was in his arms. “I'm standing in the rain with you, looking in your eyes, and I'm thinking that every day I don't spend with you is a day with just a little less sunshine in it. I'm not sure if that means we're meant to be together, but I know for damn sure that it means I don't want us to be apart.”

“I think,” she said, her cold hand settling on his jaw, “that is the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

She levered up, her lips brushing his, her hands sliding into his hair, his jacket falling off her shoulders and landing in a heap on the ground.

He didn't care about the jacket or the rain. He just cared about this moment and this woman and making up for the three days they'd been apart.

He pulled Apricot closer, inhaling flowers and rain, his palms sliding up her narrow back.

His cell phone rang, and Apricot jumped back, her breath heaving from her lungs, her T-shirt and jeans clinging to her slender curves.

“The universe is conspiring to keep us apart.” She laughed shakily, brushing wet strands of hair from her cheek.

“Not according to your mother.” He dragged the phone from his pocket, glanced at the number.

“Daisy!” he muttered.

“She's got a sixth sense when it comes to the two of us.”

“What she's got is the ability to piss me off faster than just about anyone I know,” he ground out, hitting talk and pressing the phone to his ear. “If this is about Jet—”

“The girls aren't at school!” she wailed. “They're missing and it's all my fault!”

“What do you mean, they're not at school? Didn't they get on the bus?” He tried to stay calm, tried to tell himself that she was wrong.

“They did, but I forgot to give them lunch money. It was in my pocket when I got to work. I decided to bring it to them. When I got here, their teacher said they never showed up! The office was just getting ready to call home to see if they were sick,” she managed to say through nearly hysterical sobs.

“Are you at the school now?” He needed to speak with someone who wasn't frantic.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Let me talk to Principal Snyder.”

“Okay.”

There was a murmur of voices in the background, and he hoped to heaven it meant that Daisy was handing over the phone.

“Simon? Angie Snyder here.” A crisp, clear voice carried through the phone. Angela had been principal at the Apple Valley Elementary School for two decades. She didn't panic. Didn't get overly excited. After so many years of dealing with kids and their parents, she had a steady calmness that Simon had always appreciated. Today, it was going to be invaluable.

“What's going on?” he asked, hoping that maybe Daisy had it wrong, that maybe the girls were sitting in their classroom working on math or reading or whatever they spent the first hour of the day doing.

“Good question, and it's one I'm trying to find an answer to.”

That didn't sound good. As a matter of fact, it sounded pretty damn bad.

“If you can't answer that, maybe you can answer this. Where are my girls?”

“At this moment, I'm not sure.”

“What do you mean, you're not sure?!” he nearly bellowed. “They were on the school bus. They've got to be at the school.”

“They
were
at the school,” she responded. “At some point, they must have left.”

“With who?” He was gripping the phone so tightly, he thought the thing was going to explode, but he couldn't make himself loosen his hold.

Apricot grabbed his arm. “We need to get to the school,” she whispered, scooping up his jacket, and dragging him through the orchard as Angie tried to explain that the bus driver had let the girls off at the school, that the hall monitor had seen the girls enter the building, that they'd never made it to their classroom.

What she was really explaining, what she should have just come out and said, was that the girls were gone. That somehow they'd gotten off the school bus and disappeared.

“Did you call the sheriff?” he asked as he and Apricot ran out from between apple trees and into Rose's backyard.

“My secretary just did. They're sending someone out.”

“I'll be there in five.” He disconnected and sprinted across the backyard and around the house, Apricot right beside him.

His phone rang again as he reached the SUV. He ignored it, knowing it was Emma, Cade or Max, wanting to touch base, come up with a plan, discuss options.

He didn't want to talk, didn't think he could. There was a cold, hard knot in his throat, a thousand-pound weight on his chest.