Bring Me Home for Christmas (Virgin River #16)(48)

She shrugged. “I’m not going anyplace fast. I don’t see the doctor until Friday. I’m not going to be walking without crutches for another five weeks. Plus, I started a little homework club. I’m not good for too much, but I’m a whiz at helping with homework.”

“Really? How’d that happen?”

“I was headed for the bar this afternoon, looking for something to do or some company, when I saw a couple of the little girls from our craft party going in the church. I followed them in. Ellie Kincaid told them to work on their homework while she finished up in the office, and I helped. We had a good time and decided to get together regularly. Every day till vacation, anyway.”

“Aw, Becca. That’s great. That’s so generous of you.”

“I used to stay late at school almost every day in San Diego. There were always a few kids who needed a little boost. But…” Her voice trailed off when she didn’t continue.

“But what?” Mel asked.

“Well, I taught at a private school. I stayed late some days because I wanted to, but the families of most of my kids could afford tutors or shorter workweeks, so they had time to help their kids at home. The families around here seem to put in some long days and weeks…”

“Indeed,” Mel said. “In this town, it really does take a village.” Then she smiled. “We’re so lucky to have so many on board with that notion.”

Denny roused Becca early to give her time for her morning grooming and breakfast so he could get to the farm by eight. Even though Denny had made a pot of coffee, she was moving pretty slow until she got a cup of Jack’s high octane in her. “How do you do it?” she asked Jack. “You had to stay late last night with all the people who came to town to see the tree and you’re downright perky this morning!”

“I could comment on getting a good night’s sleep, but I won’t say anything about that….”

Becca looked at Denny and they both got a little rosy. Jack laughed. “I’ll get your omelets. Today it’s Spanish. One of my favorites.”

She leaned closer to Denny. “Does everyone in town know we’re doing it like bunnies all night?” she asked him.

“No, honey. They don’t know. They assume. And they assume right….”

“Ew…”

“Ignore it. One of the things you’ll find about this place—nothing goes unnoticed. Or unsaid!”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked.

He laughed. “You get used to it. In fact, you get to like it.”

Becca contemplated this over breakfast. Then they drove out of town to his farm. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but certainly not what she found. Denny drove up a long drive through the trees, toward an enormous old Victorian that was in pristine condition. The snow had been falling on and off for a few days but it was a light snow and melting off the roads quickly. “What is this?” she asked as they approached the house.

“Jilly’s house,” he said. “She bought it because of the acreage. It just has ten acres, but she’s growing fancy heirloom fruits and vegetables—not a huge crop, but a unique crop. And it’s only been in development a year and a half. We have greenhouses for winter plants and seedlings. Growing never stops around here, but it does go heavy and light.”

“And who lives in the house?”

“Jillian and Colin—they’re a couple. He’s a painter. He used to be an Army helicopter pilot, but now he’s retired and paints wildlife portraits. Jilly used to be a big-shot marketing exec. She escaped to Virgin River and started a garden. When she was a kid, her great-grandmother showed her how to grow rare and amazing things. I have no idea what she was like as an executive, but as a farmer she’s miraculous.”

“And she made you into a farmer?” Becca asked.

“A little bit at a time. I started out by helping with the heavy work around here, but every day she showed me something new and now I’m a junior partner in this place. She grows the stuff, ships some of it to high-end restaurants and the rest goes to the kitchen where her sister, a chef, manufactures relishes, sauces, salsas, chutneys…all kinds of stuff. The label is Jilly Farms.” He pulled along the side of the house and parked. There was a golf cart with a flatbed back sitting in front of the back porch. “I don’t know how far we’ll get in the snow, but let’s give it a try.”

He carried her to the golf cart. As he was propping her in it, the back door opened and a couple came onto the porch.

“Hey there,” the woman said. She was young and pretty, wearing overalls and boots with a ball cap on her head. Standing behind her with a hand on her shoulder was a very tall, handsome man.

“Jillian, Colin, meet Becca,” Denny said. “Am I going to get very far in the gardenmobile?”

“I hope so,” Colin said. “I fixed her up with some studded tires.” Then he grinned. “Nice to see you again, Becca.”

“Oh! It’s you! From that first night we arrived!”

“It’s me. You weren’t on crutches then. How are you feeling?”

“Clumsy,” she said with a laugh. “Thanks for letting Denny give me a tour.”

“It’s a pleasure. He knows how much we love showing off the farm,” Jillian said. “After you’ve had a little twirl around the grounds, we’ll show you the house—it’s the most wonderful old house.”