Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(56)

“Is she,” Tom said in passing. Many things about Darla made him wonder. And then at the risk of slowing the conversation again he said, “I have such a hard time picturing you as the wife of a career marine… .”

To his surprise, Darla laughed. “Career marine? What gave you that idea?”

“Well, Bob gave me that idea when he said that was his intention… .”

“Was,” she stressed. “When we got married he had pretty much given up that idea. I had a job all lined up for him—my dad has a golf buddy with a soft water conditioner manufacturing plant who wanted to add to his management team and Bob, being a smart, decorated marine, was perfect. Good salary, too.”

Tom wondered if Bob just talked about a career in the Corps in front of his boys to encourage them when in fact he was planning to exit and get a civilian job in a factory. But Bob didn’t seem like that kind of guy.

And the dinner arrived.

“Oh, my God,” Darla said, looking down at her Greek salad. “Have you ever seen so much food?”

Tom knew there would be a doggie bag, and not for Duke. But that was after he had a satisfactory taste of Darla’s uneaten dinner.

She lifted her fork, poised over her salad, and asked, “So, Tom, if you sold your orchard and looked for another line of work, what would you do?”

Tom had chicken kabobs—looked wonderful. He stabbed his fork into a wonderful cube of chicken and said, “Just out of curiosity, what do you have lined up for me?”

She laughed merrily. “You’re so funny.” She lifted one lovely light brown brow. “Well, there’s that manufacturing job, still open…”

He didn’t find that particularly funny. “There is nothing else I want to do.”

“But it’s exhausting,” she counseled.

“And if it ever becomes too much work at the harvest or the planting, there are lots of people around here looking for work. But if Maxie can last seventy-four years, I can last longer.”

“You could actually invest the money you earn from the sale of the orchard, watch it grow, take care of Maxie in high style and begin another career.”

He chewed and noticed that she grinned excitedly. What had her parents invested in that smile? It was simply beautiful. He was also curious about her br**sts, so large and high and delicious-looking—he wondered if he would touch them and find them not real. That wouldn’t be an issue if he was in love, but he was beginning to realize he was not even close to in love. Still, he was curious.

Finally he came back to the present. He looked at her levelly and said, “I’m going to work the orchard till I drop dead.”

“Why?” she asked almost desperately.

“Because I just love apples.”

She made a gak sound in the back of her throat. And Tom laughed.

* * *

The drive back to Virgin River was a revisit of the drive away—a lot of talk about vacations, bonuses, expense accounts, perks. There was a little about drug trials and prescriptions thrown in there. Tom thought about introducing the topic of national health care but frankly he was tired. So he drove.

She asked him if he was happy living in an older home; she had purchased her home new with lots of upgrades like granite countertops, slate floors, cherrywood cabinetry. She could open her garage and turn on her hot tub from blocks away.

He told her he loved that old house. “I’ve never seen a really proper porch on a new house.”

Then they came to the orchard. Tom jumped out of the car, opened the gate, pulled in, jumped out and closed the gate, and as they were driving between the groves Darla said, “Tom, I want you to know how grateful I am for your friendship. If I didn’t have these little escapes to the orchard on the weekends, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Huh?” he said.

“I’m lonely, so far away from my family. And with Bob gone…”

“Oh, man,” he said. He’d been so busy falling out of like with her, he’d forgotten she was lonely and widowed and all that. “Well, I’m glad it’s relaxing for you.”

“It’s a godsend, seriously. Like a rescue. And there’s all the other stuff—going out, which I haven’t done in so long. Home cooking. Fresh fall air. It’s all just wonderful. I look forward to it all week. I’ve been out on a few dates, but I hadn’t really expected to end up seeing a handsome, successful man with his own rather impressive business.”

“I grow apples,” he reminded her.

“Very popular apples,” she reminded him. “If you chose to sell that orchard to a commercial grower like Del Monte, you could really make a killing. But I hope not too soon—I love coming up here every weekend. It’s so lovely and quiet.”

He wondered if she knew his net worth. He didn’t, but he wondered if she did.

“Um, Darla. Next weekend might not be as relaxing. For a couple of weekends every October we open up the orchard for people to tour, visit, buy apples and other products. It might not seem like such a big deal, but the place is swarming. People come from everywhere. Typical of Virgin River—most of the town comes out. They shop, pick apples, bring their own ladders even. They bring their dogs, their kids, sometimes their grills. It’s big business.”

“Is it lucrative?” she asked.