Chapter Twenty-Two
“Well, that was hot.” Callie handed Beth a bag of ice for her throbbing hand.
“Me punching a guy in the face?”
“No, Drew saving you like that.” She let out a breathy sigh, walking just a few steps behind Beth on her way back to the farmhouse.
“He didn’t save me,” Beth said. “I’m the one who punched that loser.”
Callie jogged ahead of her and opened the side door leading back to the kitchen table, where they probably should’ve stayed put all along. “He’s the one who got him out. For you. I think he likes you.”
“I’m sure he would’ve done the same thing for any of us, Callie. He’s a gentleman.”
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t have had that look in his eyes if it were me or Molly.”
“What look?”
Callie’s brows raised. “You must’ve seen it. I think it can only be described as passion.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “You read too many trashy romance novels.”
“I’m telling you. There’s something there.”
“Well, I disagree. Can we get back to work?”
Callie reluctantly agreed, and they spent the rest of the day figuring out the details of the barn sale and avoiding Drew and the rest of the workers. The only thing that mattered now was keeping her head down and getting stuff done.
Two more days went by. Drew had continued to cross chores off the list. Yesterday, Beth had worked at a table on the porch, as the floors on the main level had been sanded and stained and needed to dry. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought Drew might’ve pitched a tent out back and slept in the yard. They’d barely spoken since the moment in the barn, though he’d asked her twice about her hand.
She’d assured him it was fine, though she had to admit, it still hurt. She’d wrapped it tightly in white medical tape, but she’d bruised it pretty good.
And for what? Pride?
It hadn’t changed anything between her and Drew. Despite that hug, he was still as standoffish as ever, so she’d decided her best course of action was to treat him exactly the same way. Their interactions had been short, her tone purposely clipped.
It was the only way to protect her heart. She didn’t like the way his long embrace had knocked her off-kilter, and while she appreciated him coming to her aid, she couldn’t allow herself to revel in delusions of anything more than a professional relationship.
Even if she’d caught a glimpse of him working outside with his shirt off in the light of the late-afternoon sun. He’d looked like something out of Legends of the Fall. Her gaze might’ve lingered a little longer than it should’ve, but she knew there was nothing between them. She’d been misguided to even toy with the idea in the first place.
She considered her options and decided to spend less time at Fairwind. There wasn’t much she could do out here anyway, and her mom had made more than one passing comment about how little she’d seen of Beth lately.
She would become a silent partner, like Ben.
It was best.
Distance between her and Drew was best.
Should she tell him or just let him realize she wasn’t working from the kitchen table anymore?
She gathered her things and was heading out for the car when she spotted Roxie near the well, probably desperate for something to drink. The afternoons had grown warm as spring began its final curtain call and summer tried to come onto the scene early.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and headed out toward the well. The dog ran over to her, and Beth rubbed her head the way she knew Roxie liked.
“You thirsty, girl?”
Roxie turned in a circle. As Beth pumped water for her, Drew emerged from inside the small garden shed.
He lifted a hand, and she waved back, surprised when he started walking toward her. Her pumping slowed down at his approach. Standing in front of her, he almost looked like he didn’t know what to say.
“Good day?” She righted the bag on her shoulder.
He nodded. “We got a lot done.”
“Good.”
Awkward silence hung between them.
“I did some digging on the orchards, like you asked.”
The image of the crumpled note rushed back at her. She’d thought he’d forgotten all about that.
“Our trees actually look pretty good to me,” he said, “but apple trees aren’t my area of expertise.”
“Mine either.” She would hardly be able to tell a healthy tree from a dead one.
He kicked at the dirt underfoot.
She squinted up at him, took a fleeting moment to admire his well-defined cheekbones. She hadn’t thought real people had cheekbones like that, only Greek gods and marble statues.
“I set up a meeting tomorrow with a tree guy. Can you be here first thing?”
“Of course.” She gave him a curt smile, then stopped pumping the well. “Is that all?”
He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets with a nod. He’d done so much for them; he didn’t deserve her coldness.
But it had to be this way. “See you tomorrow, then.”
That night, Beth scattered receipts and papers all around her on her mother’s living-room floor. Her mom sat quietly in her favorite armchair, ignoring Beth’s heavy sighs.
She’d just written a big check for lumber so Drew could repair the stalls in the petting-zoo barn. She had to wonder if it would’ve been cheaper to tear the whole thing down and start over.
Beth threw her pencil down on the notebook filled with figures that weren’t adding up.
“When are you going to ask me?” Her mom turned the page of her book.
“Ask you what?” Lilian had a way of needling Beth, making her think about things she’d rather not discuss.
“For money.” Her eyes stayed on her book, but Beth knew she wasn’t reading.
“Never.” Beth gathered the paperwork, regretting her decision to work on the budget here. She could feel her mother’s eyes drilling into her. Finally, she looked up.
“What if I want to be a part of this new adventure?” Lilian set her book in her lap. “Would you really deny me that joy?”
Beth thought about their options. The barn sale would bring in some money, and she’d asked Ben to kick in a little bit more. She hadn’t been able to get the loan, but she had her trust fund—she could pull from that if they needed to.
Her eyes found Davis Biddle’s business card clipped to the inside of her notebook. While she was curious about the man, she’d yet to reach out to him. Even if he did want to buy the farm or become a silent investor, the thought of taking it outside the family still didn’t sit well. And they knew almost nothing about this man.
“Your health is the most important thing right now, Mom.” Beth neatly stacked her pile of papers on the coffee table.
“No, my kids are the most important.”
Beth looked at her, sitting in that chair with the afghan over her legs, book in her lap. Would her mom feel that way about Beth if she knew her actions had led to her dad’s heart attack?
“Beth?”
She made eye contact but said nothing.
Her mom gave her a kind smile. “You’re not as alone as you think you are.”
A lump swelled in Beth’s throat. She looked away. Finally, she gathered her pile, kissed the top of her mother’s head and retired to the solitude of her room.
Would the guilt ever go away? When would she be able to sit back and say, “Now I’ve done enough to make up for the pain I caused”?
Another year? Two? An eternity?
In the morning, as she drove out to Fairwind for her meeting with Drew and the tree guy, Beth tried not to think about the tears she’d shed in the dark of night. Her mother’s love was almost too unconditional. Beth certainly didn’t deserve it.
She pulled into the same space she’d parked in since day one. The farm looked pretty today, bathed in the morning sunlight.
She’d gotten a late start but still managed to pick up coffee for Drew. And when she met him on the front porch, Roxie at his side, she could see he needed it.
“Hey.” He wore gray cargo pants and a red T-shirt with that same baseball cap and five o’clock shadow he wore every day. His eyes looked tired.
“Did you get any sleep last night?” She handed him the cup.
“Is it that obvious?” He took the coffee, drank. “Thanks for this.”
“The bags under your eyes are a dead giveaway.” She wanted to ask him why he never slept. Why his bedding was folded neatly on the end of the couch in the living room rather than in one of the bedrooms upstairs. Why he seemed intent on using work to distract him from whatever it was he didn’t want to think about.
Instead, they drank their coffee in silence.
Silence, they were good at.
Moments later, a white Ford F-150 appeared on the gravel road. Roxie sat at attention.
“What do you know about this guy?” Beth stood.
“Not much. He called me. He must’ve heard we were asking around about the trees.”
Beth frowned. “That’s odd. Why wouldn’t he call me?”
He smirked.
“What?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, sending the faint smell of his musky soap in her direction. She’d have to ignore that.
She watched the truck park next to Drew’s. Roxie barked.
“You think he called you because he heard you were the brains out here,” Beth said, keeping her tone light.
“No, he heard I’m the brawn.”
Her attempt to hide her smile was unsuccessful.
“Haven’t seen one of those in a while.” Drew stood. “The smile, I mean.”
She faced him. “I could say the same to you.” His stony expression had come to define him in her thoughts. In all the time he’d been there, she’d hardly seen any genuine happiness in his eyes. Instead, he always seemed to carry a burden just a little too heavy for his shoulders.
“If I looked as pretty as you do when I smiled, I’d probably never stop.”
Her jaw tensed as she forced herself not to babble the first thing that came to her mind, which wasn’t difficult, as one quick search revealed her mind was hopelessly empty.
When he walked away, Roxie followed, leaving Beth speechless on the porch.
He thinks I’m pretty.
Reminding herself to remain in control, she stopped the nonsensical ideas from filling her head. He worked for her. In the business world, she could be sued for even looking at the man.
And she’d never admit how much looking she’d actually done.
She strolled toward Drew, Roxie and an older man wearing tattered jeans and a threadbare maroon T-shirt that fit snugly over his round midsection.
“Thanks for meeting us out here,” Drew said. “Beth, this is Walter Sherman.”
Beth shook his hand.
“I understand you’re the new owner?” Walter asked.
“My sister and I.” Molly had declined the meeting in favor of taking her new dog to the vet now that the puppy was ready to come home. Last Beth heard, she was trying to land on a name for the animal. Beth imagined they’d end up with a black Lab called Sparkles.
“Good to meet you. You’ve got yourself quite a project.” Walter surveyed the farm, taking in the barns, the acres, the work left to be done.
Beth hated the way he’d said it, like they’d bitten off more than they could possibly chew. And they had. She just didn’t like the reminder.
“We want to get a handle on the orchards,” Drew said. “I’ve done some reading, and our trees actually look pretty good.”
Beth admired the way he took ownership of the farm. Her dad would be impressed by Drew’s solid work ethic.
And he thinks I’m pretty.
“They should,” Walter said. “I’ve been pruning and harvesting them for years now.”
Beth looked at Drew, who appeared as surprised as she felt. “You have?”
“Harold probably didn’t leave much information behind, did he?” Even this early in the season, the man’s dark skin suggested hours of work out in the sun.
The photograph of Jess and the little boy sprang to Beth’s mind. “Actually, he left plenty, it’s just that we’re still sifting through everything.”
“That’s a job, I bet,” Walter said. “We’ve been caring for the trees going on twenty years now.”
Just after Jess had gone missing.
“Even after the farm closed?” Beth asked.
“Sure. After that, we harvested the apples for Sonya. Made a nice profit selling them at the farmers’ markets and the like. I imagine those apples kept them afloat for a while.”
“And after Sonya passed away?” Beth imagined all the prayers Sonya hadn’t written down but simply whispered into the wind. Had she strolled through the orchards, begging God for answers?
Why, God?
“Same thing. We’ve never stopped with the orchards. They’re valuable.”
“I’m surprised Harold kept up with your bills,” Drew said. “From what we can tell, he let everything go.”
“Oh, he didn’t pay us.”
“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” Beth said. “Did you take your pay out of what the apples made at the markets?”
Walter’s face warmed into a tender smile. “No, Harold and Sonya weren’t the ones who hired me.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pressed a business card into her hand. “This man hired me to take care of the orchards for them. I’m not sure they ever even knew.”
Davis Biddle.
“This man approached my sister,” Beth said. “Does he want to buy the farm?”
Walter’s smile broadened. “I don’t know about that, but Mr. Biddle has always had a soft spot for Fairwind. Or maybe for Mrs. Pendergast, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
Beth glanced at Drew, who said nothing.
“So he took care of the farm all these years because he was sweet on Sonya?” Beth asked.
Walter scratched the side of his mustache. “I couldn’t say for sure, ma’am. But he and Sonya were high school sweethearts.”
“Why didn’t he just buy the farm after Harold died?” Drew asked.
“He was in the Caribbean,” Beth and Walter said in unison.
“You say this started about twenty years ago?” Drew asked.
“Just after the girl went missing. Mr. Biddle got a bad reputation. He’s a shrewd businessman, and people don’t always understand his choices. He’s not known as a compassionate man, but when he heard what happened, he wanted to help.”
“There must’ve been something in it for him, some financial motive,” Beth said.
“Maybe he really loved her,” Drew said.
“So he spent twenty years taking care of her land? Even after she died?” she asked.
“People do crazy things for love,” he said.
Had Drew ever done something crazy for love?
“Maybe there was money in it for him,” Walter said. “I couldn’t really say. I don’t ask Mr. Biddle questions, I just do what he tells me.”
“I did a little digging on him when Molly gave me his card,” Beth said. “He owns property that meets up with ours.”
“I take care of his property too,” Walter said. “He’s hardly ever there—always traveling for business.”
Maybe that’s why Beth didn’t know the man. Willow Grove was a small town; if Davis Biddle had spent any amount of time there in the last ten years, Beth would’ve known him.
“He doesn’t talk about it,” Walter added. “So, keep this between us, if you don’t mind.”
Nothing about this made sense.
“Should we take a walk through the orchards?” Drew asked, probably tired of Beth’s suspicions. They were here to talk about trees.
“Sure. And I’ll tell you what it takes to keep it going, write you up an estimate just in case you want to keep us on, at least till you get your bearings.” Walter followed Drew toward the main barn, Beth and Roxie bringing up the rear. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you the family discount,” he said over his shoulder. “I love this old farm.”
Apparently, for some unknown reason, so did Davis Biddle.
And something about that didn’t sit right with Beth.
Drew drove a golf cart he’d found in the garage from the main barn to the orchards, with Roxie running close behind. He’d seen the business card on the table among Beth’s mess of papers, but the name hadn’t meant anything to him until Walter said it aloud.
Davis Biddle.
If he had a bad reputation—if he’d been Sonya’s high school sweetheart—maybe Drew had overheard his parents talking about him. Maybe Drew had even seen him at Fairwind sometime.
Or maybe Beth’s suspicious curiosity had rubbed off on him.
The only thing he knew for sure was that the name struck a chord in his gut—a chord telling him to pay attention—and left him wondering if Davis Biddle might be the key to filling in some of the blanks in his spotty memory.