Sunrise Point (Virgin River #19)(70)

“Right,” she said, taking a sip. She glanced up at the waiter. “This is very nice. Thank you.” And then she took another sip and a deep breath. He was right; he was going to some trouble. She should be cordial.

She relaxed as much as possible, put her glass down and said, “I apologize. This is very special. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Great. Now tell me, how’s it going with Jed?”

“Going well,” she said. “I keep trying to not be swayed by his generosity and he keeps admiring me for that. He offered to help me finish school if I’m interested. Being a professor at Stanford, I guess he can get me in and I qualify for family housing. If I wanted to do that, he could help.”

“Do you want to?”

She looked down. “Eventually,” she said. “Right now I have a few loose ends to work out. But that’s a very good destination, don’t you think? Good for my girls, too. The best thing I can do for them is set an example.”

After appetizers, a little more wine and some talk about going back to college, Tom asked about those things she had to work out. Well, she wasn’t about to tell him she’d like to be sure Maxie wasn’t retired before she was ready.

“I haven’t told anyone but Noah,” she said. “Can you keep it to yourself?”

He made a face. “If it isn’t going to cause death or injury,” he said.

“It’s about my house,” she admitted. “When Chad brought me to Virgin River, I thought he’d rented it, I thought he had plans like he said. Fay was barely two weeks old and it was winter, I wasn’t into asking a lot of questions. When he left us there and took off with the truck and most of our things, I expected to be evicted right away, but nothing happened. I just kept quiet and let the neighbors and the town help me out—bringing me supplies, sealing off the doors and windows so we wouldn’t freeze, offering me part-time work as the snow started to melt. But months passed and no one sent me bills for rent. I paid what I could on the gas and electric bills—bills addressed to some unknown tenant. After a few months I realized Chad must’ve known the house was abandoned or something. I’ve been squatting. I owe a lot of money—to the power company for sure, though I don’t exactly use much in that tiny house. And someone is due rent or something.”

He stared at her in wonder.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, God, I’ve told you something you just can’t imagine. Please don’t lose all respect for me—I plan to make it right. I’m saving every cent I can. I’ll pay the back rent, I swear I will.”

“Nora. Stop. I’m shocked all right—that he didn’t even take care of the safety of his own children.”

She shrugged. “He’s not a nice person, Tom. But before you waste any more anger on him, remember, I got myself into this mess.”

“You were vulnerable. Homeless with small children. Don’t let him off that easy.”

“At the end of the day, he’s not off easy. Last I heard, he’s going to spend a long time in prison. I wish I hadn’t told you so much… .”

He reached for her hand across the table, giving a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you told me. You’ve come a long way, you should be proud of yourself, not beating yourself up. Is there some way I can help with this?”

A gentle smile came to her lips. “Tom Cavanaugh, you’re such a good and generous man. Thank you, but no. I’m going to be fine. I have lots of options.”

The salad was delivered and when the waiter left, Tom said, “I have a feeling about some of those options. You aren’t going to stay here, are you?”

She thought briefly and then said, “Less than a year ago I lived in a little house that wouldn’t keep out the wind, no food in the house and two babies. I wanted so little then—I just wanted to keep us warm and safe. And now I want so much more. I can get it, too, as long as I work hard and stay positive.”

“What do you want, Nora?”

She bit her lip for a second. Then very quietly she said, “I want to be like Maxie.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’m going to do whatever is best for my children. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“And that, Nora, is probably more like Maxie than any other thing.”

“What was it like? Growing up with her?”

He gave a little laugh. “Probably not as easy as you might think. She was strict. I got real tired of hearing about the virtues of hard work and sacrifice. I’d complain to my grandpa about how hard she was on me and he told me she’d mellowed by the time I came along. She could really drive a person hard. I think the only one she didn’t get after was Grandpa. He was the sweetest man who ever lived. I don’t think he ever had a bad day—not that I could tell, anyway. And Maxie adored him. But she loved me in a much tougher way—if I didn’t do my chores, I didn’t get a pass. If I didn’t eat the green stuff on the plate, I could sit there till it grew mold. When I was sixteen, all I wanted in the world was a car so I didn’t have to take the bus to school or be driven by my grandmother and you know what she said? ‘I guess you’ll be wanting more hours in the orchard, won’t you, Tom?’”

“She paid you to work in the orchard?”

“Not the first twenty hours a week—that much was considered rent and food and clothes. I used to complain constantly about how hard she worked me. I couldn’t wait to get out of Virgin River and off that tree farm. I wanted to see the world—and boy did I see it. I should’ve thought that through—I saw a lot of ocean and desert. And look at me, back home.”