Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(37)

She did say she was comfortable around him because she felt as though he knew her, having served with her husband. Tom nodded, but in fact he didn’t feel like he knew her at all. Bob hadn’t talked about her much, just to say things like he couldn’t wait to get home, that his wife was gorgeous—no argument there. But Tom hadn’t known anything more about her. Tom was a captain, Bob was first sergeant. They weren’t exactly old friends, but Tom served with him in the sandbox and had a lot of respect for the guy. Bob was looking at a military career while Tom had been pretty sure he was heading out after that deployment.

Twenty-four hours into Darla’s first visit to the orchard, Tom already had a very hard time picturing her as a marine sergeant’s wife, especially a career marine. She was very proud of her job, loved what she did. She was passionate about her career.

He asked her if she and Bob had hoped to have children and she said they had barely talked about it. But over dinner on Saturday night, they managed to talk about more personal things. He told her about growing up an orphaned only child and she told him about growing up with one older sibling and devoted parents. It sounded like she had led a charmed life until choosing to marry a marine and being suddenly widowed. He felt bad about that; everyone had tough stuff to carry, but this pretty and successful girl shouldn’t have had to go through that trauma. It made him think about how many happy, pretty young women lost their men and how many fine young men had buried their wives because of the same war.

On Sunday morning they found that Maxie had managed to provide granola and plain yogurt for Darla, something that brought a bright smile to her lips. After his usual hearty breakfast, Tom kissed her forehead and told her he’d be back after doing a quick check of the orchard.

“Please do be quick,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I have to leave by noon and I don’t want to go without saying goodbye. And planning when we can get together again.”

And so Tom was back at the house in plenty of time. He found Maxie in the kitchen and grinned at her. “You’re something, you know,” he said. “How far did you have to go to find granola and yogurt?”

“Not that far,” she said. “But I can’t have her on my conscience. I saw her eat one asparagus spear all weekend.”

“I saw her eat more than that,” he said with a laugh.

“Thank God. She might not eat much, but she’s got an ensemble for every hour of the day.”

“I think that’s the reasoning behind staying slim,” Tom said, giving his grandmother a little tap on the nose with his index finger. “She’d have to file bankruptcy if she grew out of those clothes.”

At least Maxie laughed. “She’s packing up,” she said. “Go see if you can do anything to help. And offer her lunch, although I have no idea what she’d be willing to eat. I could mow the lawn and offer her a plate of grass… .”

“Don’t be mean,” he said, frowning. But then, chuckling to himself, he mounted the stairs and found Darla gently folding things away.

She smiled at him but he frowned. “Darla, are you folding your clothes with tissue paper?”

“Yes,” she said proudly. “It absorbs any odors, helps keep wrinkles out and if there’s any kind of luggage malfunction, like a hairspray or perfume spill—tissue paper is one more layer of absorbent. But really, I do it for odors and wrinkles.”

“Amazing.”

“I’m guessing you don’t go to this much trouble,” she said.

“No. A couple of clean drawers and a shaving kit—that pretty much does it for me.”

“Such a guy.”

There were three suitcases open on the bed. She was wearing her fourth pair of boots for the weekend—these were black with thick heels—and her fourth soft, sexy sweater. Since she was wearing boots, he assumed the fancy red boots that sat on top of the largest suitcase were traveling back to Davis. He picked one up. “Tell me about these boots,” he said.

“Tell you what?” she asked.

“Well, they look like they might be special. Are they special?”

She broke into a wide smile. “You could say so. They’re Jimmy Choo.”

“Jimmy Who?”

“Choo. A very high-end designer.”

“Okay, now tell me—do you have them because you need them, like them, love them, what?”

“What an odd question,” she said, taking the boot out of his hand. “Bob used to ask questions like that, but he still liked looking at me in those boots. They’re very special and they make me feel special. Isn’t that really enough?”

“I guess,” he said, “if you can afford it. I bet they’re expensive. They look expensive.” In fact, he thought, she looked expensive all over.

“I can afford it, Tom,” she said, laughing.

“Well,” he started, pushing over a suitcase to sit on the bed, “here’s a question, since I have absolutely no idea what it takes to make a beautiful woman like you feel special—how expensive?”

“You don’t really want to know,” she answered, folding away a scarf that he’d never seen.

“I do. I do want to know.”

She shook her head. “It’s really not something you’ll ever have to worry about. I never buy anything extravagant that I can’t completely afford.”