hated the anxiety in the voice of the woman who’d slipped effortlessly into the place of the favorite aunt he’d never had. “Still thin, I think,” he said, “but not like she was at your sister’s funeral. She’s not wearing a wig and her color’s good. Her hair—it’s about the color of maple syrup with gold stuff in it—is pretty. About this long.” He shelfed his hand just below his ear and squinted at the woman who’d sat across her kitchen table from him. “I thought she had your eyes, but they’re more green than blue.”
“They’re like her father’s. Marynell’s were darker, like mine.”
Luke thought of Seth, of Rachel and their sister, Leah. They’d been fighting each other all their lives. Their parents made a practice of professing amazement that they could have four so completely different children. Yet the siblings had never stopped speaking to each other, even when most verbal communication was done in shouts.
“What happened?” He didn’t want to pry, but the sadness in her expression prodded him.
Zoey shrugged, staring past him out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the dining area of the farmhouse kitchen. “Just one of those family stories they make TV movies about.” She lifted her cup, then set it down without drinking. “I was engaged to Ken when he discovered he preferred my younger, prettier sister. While I was covering the afternoon shift for her one day at the orchard, he picked her up in his snazzy convertible and they eloped.”
“Ouch.” Luke remembered when Rachel and Leah had argued over a friend of his they’d both liked. It hadn’t gone well for the guy. Afterward, the girls had sneaked cheap wine into their room and played the “Sisters” song from White Christmas until they’d emptied the bottle and nearly wore out the videotape.
He needed to call his siblings.
“Marynell came back here with Cass when they divorced two years later. She left her with me and married a navy pilot. It was a pattern. She was married several times, lived in different places. If Cass couldn’t spend her summers with Ken or if he or Marynell just needed time with a new spouse, they shipped Cass back here.” She stopped, as if gathering her thoughts, and regret deepened the lines in her face. “The last time, when Cass came for her junior year, I had said no, she couldn’t come. The folks had retired and weren’t well, and I was working half the time at the orchard and half of it as a phlebotomist in Indianapolis. Marynell brought her anyway and left her with our parents, even though dementia and rheumatoid arthritis were severely limiting their ability to take care of themselves, much less a teenage girl. My sister told Cass I didn’t want anything to do with either of them and I was too exhausted to argue the point.”
“And that was it? Seriously? A whole family split asunder over that?”
She sighed. “Pretty much. Marynell and I made up, of course. She came and visited and helped when our parents’ illnesses progressed and later when they died. She created no difficulty with the management of the orchard after we inherited, although she chose to remain uninvolved.” Zoey chuckled almost soundlessly. “Oddly enough, the thing she never quite forgave me for was introducing her to Ken. He’s one of those men who is ethically and maybe even morally good, but is an emotional empty shell.”
“What about Cass?”
“She and I always exchange birthday and Christmas cards. I sent a gift when she got married right out of high school, but I never really connected with her again until her mother died. I know she was ill, that she had chemo, but that’s all I know. I thought I should go and help then, but she said she was all right, that it would be better if I helped with her mother. It probably was—Cass could take care of herself, but taking care of her mother at the same time was too much. We would see each other in passing, but that was all.”
Luke heard all that she said, but his focus stayed on one point. “She’s married?”
“Not anymore.” She raised her hands, palms up. “I sent money when she got the divorce, just in case she needed it. She sent it back with a very nice thank-you.”
“Children?”
“Not that I know of. Her little sister’s a sweet one, though. I think I know her better than I do Cass, and I only met her when Marynell died.” Zoey looked away from him again. A tear crept unchecked down her cheek. “There’s this part of me that says Cass should have been my child and that failing her is like failing as a mother.”
“That’s crazy, Zoey.”
She smiled at him, just a little curve of lips that had thinned and paled over the years. “You have a problem with crazy?”
“No.” He tilted his head, looking at Zoey’s long neck and the shiny white sweep of her short hair. “It wouldn’t be much of a stretch. I think Cass favors you more than she did her mother.”
“You’ll let me know if she needs anything?”
“I will. Or you could let her know yourself. You come to the orchard nearly every day. Are you going to stop because your niece might be there?”
Zoey frowned. “I don’t know.” She filled his go-cup and gave him a push. “But you have given me something to think about.”
“WHERE ARE ALL the fall colors we’re always hearing about?” Royce peered out the windows as they drove along Lake Road toward the turnoff onto Country Club Road, where the orchard was.
“It’s only the first week of August. The fall colors start up next month and peak in October.” Unless something stilled the restlessness in Cass’s mind, they wouldn’t be here. They’d be back in California with Royce in her old high school and Cass going to the coffee shop every day to sit in a corner booth and work.
“You can do what you do anywhere,” Royce had remonstrated when Cass had informed her they were making the trip to Indiana.
It was true. She could. Being the author of a bestselling mystery series gave her a lot of residential latitude; however, if they stayed at the lake, someone would eventually find out that Cass Gentry and Cassandra G. Porter were one and the same. While it was true that neither of her personas had anything to hide, keeping them separate had worked for a long time, both personally and professionally. “We’ll see,” she murmured, braking for the turn.
“See what?”
Cass started. She hadn’t realized she’d spoken until her sister replied. “Oh, nothing. Well, yeah, we’ll see how you feel about hayrides. I went on a few when I was here. They were fun.” They’d been at night, though, under starry skies and the harvest moon, and she’d had a boyfriend—that had made all the difference. Not that she and Sam had ever been serious, but they’d had a good time.
“He owns the hardware store,” Holly had said last night, holding onto Cass’s hands as if she’d been afraid she’d disappear again. “He’s married to Penny and they have three little Sams—all that’s missing is the eye patch.”
They’d sat together on the park bench while Holly had filled Cass’s mind and an empty place in her heart with reports of the friends from that year of her contentment. Arlie and Jack had married in June. Libby and Tucker were engaged and so were Holly and Jesse. Gianna had been dating Max Harrison, the high school
