Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(44)

When she finished, both Maxie and Tom were staring at her, openmouthed.

“Nora, I can’t answer those questions about myself,” Tom said.

“I can answer four or five of them,” Maxie said. “The orchard is important—my second priority after family, who is Tom. I bake and work out walking the orchard and I think canning, baking, cooking and cleaning this big house qualify as much as exercise. I was a working mother and grandmother and hope to be a working great-grandmother. I’m on Facebook—”

“You’re on Facebook?” Tom asked, shocked.

“A little thing for me and my friends…to share pictures and news…”

Nora was fascinated. “And the famous person you’d have dinner with?”

She looked at the ceiling for an answer. Finally she said, “Hillary Rodham Clinton.”

Nora was fascinated. “And what do you want to know?”

Maxie smiled. “It will have to be a long dinner…”

“Aw, jeez,” Tom said. “I think it’s time to harvest apples.”

“Maxie, I have some news,” Nora said just as she stood to leave. “I have a car! One with car seats so I can drive myself around for errands and to work. It’s going on my list of the three things I’m most grateful for.”

“That’s such good news,” Maxie said. “So—dinner on Friday? With the little girls?”

“Maxie, I think Darla will probably come up on Friday… .” Tom said.

“Oh. Well, then, how about Wednesday? Can you run home and get them? Take off a couple of hours early—you always come early and stay late. Go home, change, bring the little ones. I’ll make a big pot of…” She looked at Tom. “What should I make? Spaghetti? Chicken soup? Meat loaf and mashed potatoes? We don’t want steak or roast for little mouths, little teeth.”

“I vote for any one of those,” Nora said. “That would be so much fun. I’ll bring Fay’s booster chair. Thank you, Maxie!”

Chapter Ten

Hank Cooper had a top-of-the-line toy hauler, perfect for a bachelor sportsman. He had parked on the RV slab behind Luke’s cabins, hooked up, then lowered the rear hatch so he could remove his motorcycle, wave runner and Rhino. Once the toys were out and the hatch put up, the roomy living room furniture was pulled down from the ceiling and out from the walls. He also had a full kitchen, large bathroom and master bedroom. He never had to pack as he’d lived in this RV for a couple of years—his closets and drawers were full. The kitchen was appointed—he didn’t always go to a lot of trouble, but he cooked for himself more than he went out.

His next order of business was erecting a small shelter from pipe and plastic tarp under which he could park the vehicles.

Then he pulled out an awning and set up some of his outdoor furniture. His refrigerator was still stocked—food, beer, sodas. There was a satellite dish on top that he could extend into the trees for decent TV reception and internet connection.

And he reclined on his outdoor lounge in the midst of the forest with the sound of the rushing river nearby. Those people who rented the cabins didn’t know what they were missing. He had helped Luke around the cabin compound in the morning, then with a beer at his side and laptop perched on his knees, he did a little surfing.

First he checked Devlon Petroleum to see if they were in trouble. The stock had gone up since yesterday and there were no EPA investigations or crew mishaps and while there was a part of him relieved by this, he had no regrets about quitting. There had been a couple of minor spills that hadn’t made big news, a couple of injuries that could’ve been avoided if safety measures had been followed. His last standoff with his chief pilot was when he refused to fly to drilling platforms in the Gulf during a hurricane watch that was soon to turn into a hurricane warning. If they’d been asking him to fly out there to pick up rig workers and bring them in, he would have done it. But they wanted to take more men out there even though the weather was taking a bad turn. His chief pilot was only following orders when he said, “You take this flight or take a walk.”

Coop had walked.

This was probably his own damn fault. When he’d left the Army after six years in a helicopter, he had taken on high-risk jobs. After a couple of years as a mercenary in a Black Hawk in countries without their own armies, he moved on to flying between offshore oil rigs and land and found that could sometimes be as questionable. But the money had drawn him. At the time he’d merely asked himself what the difference was between flying a Black Hawk in Iraq or Mozambique, getting fired on, and flying off Costa Rica or in the Gulf of Mexico back and forth between the continent and drilling platforms.

Then he’d experienced his first major spill and it all hit him pretty hard. The carnage was horrible. Coop hadn’t paid that much attention to seagulls, pelicans and fish until he’d seen them covered with oil. Hadn’t worried about where he was going to get his fish until he’d seen all the fishing boats moored and unable to work. That’s when he started to notice things, like a half-assed effort at cleanup, like regulations shaved too close to the bone, high fuel prices so the consumer could pay for their mistakes and company suits and stockholders wouldn’t take a hit.

He’d worked for a total of four oil companies. He left each one for what he considered irresponsible drilling and transporting. He’d look around for yet one more, but he needed a change. A break. And, although it made him feel a little guilty, the same companies he disapproved of had paid him well and given him stock bonuses. He had a healthy bank account; it would afford him some time to think about what to do next. If he thought it would make those oil companies more responsible, he’d have refused the money. Instead, he made donations to nonprofit organizations dedicated to cleanups and animal rescue.