Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(58)

“Always a pleasure, dear,” she said. “Oh, by the way, the next two weekends? There will be lots of company. I hope you love a crowd.”

“Oh, yes,” she said.

“Staying over,” Maxie stressed. “Some of my girlfriends from around the mountains are coming. We’ll be packed in here.”

“It sounds like fun!”

“Good, then.”

Tom, chuckling and shaking his head, headed up the stairs. He managed the four designer bags in two trips, loading up her trunk. He drove her to the gate, opened it while she transferred herself to the driver’s side. She slipped her arms around his neck, stood on the toes of yet another pair of boots to give him a brief kiss. He was planning his email in his head—Darla, rethink this idea of spending the weekend during the apple festival. If Maxie’s friends are coming, you might end up on a cot in the cider works. And if you pick at your food, they might tie you down and feed you. They’re old, but they’re strong and bossy.

He went back to the house, to the kitchen, having been called by wonderful smells that he hoped weren’t being prepared for dinner.

“Whatcha got going there, Max?” he asked.

“Chili,” she said. “It’s getting so cold, so wet, I thought maybe I’d put it in the break room on a warming tray along with some disposable bowls. What do you think?”

“I think I’ll do that for you, after I’ve had a couple of bowls right now. Crackers? Shredded cheese?”

She lifted one thin brow. “Side of beef to go with that?”

“Make it a big bowl,” he said. “Then I’ll see if I can go pick the rest of your apples for you.” He waited patiently while she fished around in the cupboard for a large bowl, grabbed a bag of shredded cheddar out of the refrigerator and a box of crackers from the pantry. “I’m going to make corn bread to go with this but I sense you can’t wait for that.” She placed it in front of him with a spoon.

“Can’t wait,” he confirmed. “So? Company’s coming? Who?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet,” she said, sitting down at the table with him. “I never have any trouble rounding up friends.”

“I see,” he said, crumpling crackers on top of his cheddar-laced chili. “You haven’t invited them yet.”

“I’m going to do that straight away.”

“Why? We’re usually awful busy on apple festival weekends.”

“They’ll come early, help with baking, all that stuff.”

“That’s not why,” he said. “Damn, this is good, Maxie.”

“Thank you.”

“So? Why?”

“I’m getting tired of Miss Picky Pants. If you marry her I’m going to kill myself.”

His smile fought hard to get out, but he held it in. “What if I’m completely in love with her?”

She rolled her eyes and clasped her hands together as if praying for strength. “I’ve had a good life…”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed. He leaned toward her. “Maxie, do you ever think about retirement?”

“Of course. This is my retirement. I don’t work nearly as hard as I used to—Junior manages almost everything. At least he did until you came home.”

“Ever thought about selling the orchard?” he asked.

“No, I thought about you selling it after I was dead. I felt kind of bad for Junior and the others, but by the time I’m dead, they’ll be near dead anyway and I just can’t manage from the grave.”

“No doubt you’ll try,” he mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“My hearing is perfect,” she informed him.

“So,” he asked, deliberately speaking very quietly. “Have you ever considered one of those homes for seniors? When you’re, you know, senior?”

“I’m seventy-four,” she said. “How much more senior do you expect I’ll get?”

“I think some of your girlfriends live in fancy-dancy senior communities. Don’t they? Where they can have the lawn taken care of for them, the cooking pretty much done every day, a little housekeeping? Some fun and games?”

“Lorna is the karaoke queen at hers… . Ever hear of such a thing?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “You ever lust after one of those places?”

“You need a little more privacy, Tom? Because I have places to go if you want a weekend alone or something.”

He shook his head. “Darla mentioned they put her grandmother in one of those assisted-living places and she didn’t want to go at first, but now she’s happy about it. Loving it.”

Maxie’s face contorted into a very mean grimace. “Is that so?”

“So it seems.”

“You might want to tell Miss Picky Pants I have a shotgun and I’m a right fine shot.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back.

Tom roared with laughter. “Maybe I’ll just let you handle this whole thing your way.”

“What whole thing?” she asked. “Is she already putting me out to pasture?”

“Uh-huh. And selling the orchard and investing the money and getting me started in a new career,” he admitted. He thought about telling his grandmother what Darla had paid for her red boots, but then Maxie might stroke out and he was afraid Darla would move in to help him cope.