ultimately came to the conclusion he was a scoundrel, then she would not tell him about Scotty. Times might be tough, but she would manage somehow.
That morning, as soon as she got Scotty fed and bathed, she called information in Snow Hill and asked if there was a listing for Nick Starke. When told there wasn’t, she asked for the number of Starke Groves.
A woman cheerily answered. Carlee took a deep breath and asked, “Does Nick Starke work there?”
“Indeed he does. He’s the owner.”
“The…the owner…,” Carlee whispered in stunned echo. She’d thought he might be a family member, but not the actual owner.
“Would you care to leave a message? He’s not here right now.”
Now that she had found him, Carlee wanted to quickly learn as much as possible. “Can you tell me how to get in touch with Mrs. Starke?”
The receptionist paused, then crisply replied, “There is no Mrs. Starke.”
So much for him quietly paying child support. Now to plan B, which was finding out what kind of person he was.
“I’m Elaine Streeter,” the woman on the other end of the line said. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
When Carlee hesitated, not knowing what to say at that point, Elaine continued, “If you will leave your name and number, I’ll have Mr. Starke call you back. But I should tell you that if this is about a job, he doesn’t do the hiring. You’ll have to see the grove manager, Mike Thurston. But he’s not in right now, either, and he doesn’t hire over the phone. You’ll have to come in and fill out an application.”
Carlee was surprised. “You mean you’re hiring now? But the season doesn’t start for months.” Then she cried, “Valencias! You’re harvesting Valencias.” They were a late-season variety of oranges that matured from March to June, and she had often wished Ben Burns had grown them so Jupiter Groves would have stayed open longer.
“Well, isn’t that why you’re calling?” Elaine Streeter sounded as though she was becoming annoyed. “If not, then what—”
“Yes, yes, of course I am.” It was the answer to a prayer. Working at Starke Groves would give her the opportunity she needed to find out everything she wanted to know about Nick Starke before letting him know Scotty was his.
“Good. Because we’re desperate. The regular migrant workers don’t show up this time of year. They’ve already gone to California, where they’ve got steady work till fall. We’re short of women on the packing lines, but the pickers get paid more, if you think you’re up to that.”
“Of course I am.” It sounded wonderful, but there was Scotty to be considered. “I have a baby that’s a little over a year old. What kind of facilities do you have for child care?”
Elaine sounded pleased to tell her that they probably had the best of any grove in the state. “The Starke family has always taken care of their workers, whether year-round or migrant. We have a wonderful day-care center and one of the caretakers is even an LPN—licensed practical nurse. You won’t have to worry about your baby at all. Just come on in today.”
“It will be tomorrow morning. I have to pack.”
Nick Starke stared at the stack of mail on his desk. He hated being inside doing paperwork, preferring to be in the groves. He enjoyed the whole process of growing fruit, from standing on a ladder and handpicking to watching the oranges roll along the assembly line for grading and stacking in boxes. He was a grower through and through and could not imagine any other kind of life.
Elaine peered through the open door to say she was going to lunch. “I’m going to Newt’s place on the river. The word’s out he’s got fresh alligator tail. Want me to bring you a basket?”
“Do I ever.” He loved the delicacy, which tasted like fried chicken but was sweeter, more succulent, and not nearly as greasy.
“Oh, by the way—some woman called this morning, and when she found out you weren’t here wanted to know how she could get in touch with Mrs. Starke. I told her there was no Mrs. Starke.”
He frowned. He and Gina had been divorced almost five years. He didn’t even know where she was and no longer cared. It was strange that any of her friends, old or new, would try to contact her at the groves. “Did you get her name?”
“No. Actually, she was looking for a job. Maybe she thought your wife would hire her since you weren’t around. I told her she’d have to talk to Mike.”
“Good.” He took out his wallet and gave Elaine the money for his lunch.
When she left, he leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the edge of the desk.
Hearing that someone had asked to speak to his wife stirred up memories of Gina.
Bad memories.
He had met Gina in college, when he was attending Florida State to get a degree in agriculture. She was two years younger and studying to be a teacher, but when his father passed away right before Nick graduated, she bluntly said she wanted to marry him, quit school and help him with the family business. He was not resistant to the idea. Gina was pretty, and the sex was great. His mother had died a few years earlier, and he had not looked forward to going home to live alone.
But there was an obstacle—a painful, embarrassing secret he had kept to himself till the time he felt he should tell Gina. The sad news was that he could not father a child. Childhood mumps had left him sterile. But she said it didn’t matter. They could always adopt.
And so they had married and everything had been fine—for a couple of years. Then Gina began to complain about living in a rural area. She didn’t like the family home and complained it wasn’t modern enough. Nick’s grandfather had built it more than fifty years ago, and though it had withstood savage winds from several hurricanes, Nick agreed that maybe it was somewhat old-fashioned. So he’d given her free rein to redecorate, and she’d spent a fortune doing so, even putting in a swimming pool.
But it hadn’t been enough. She was still miserable and began spending more and more time in Orlando, shopping, she said, with girlfriends from college days.
Then when they had been married about four years, Gina dropped a bombshell. She had been having an affair, had fallen in love with the man and wanted a divorce so she could marry him. Fool that he was, Nick asked her to reconsider, suggesting they go to a marriage counselor and try to work things out. Nick was not the sort of man to take marriage vows lightly.
Gina quickly dashed all his hopes and smashed his heart into little bits and pieces with the news that she was pregnant. To twist the knife, she cruelly reminded him that all the marriage counseling in the world couldn’t change the fact he couldn’t father a child.
At least he could be grateful Gina had not taken him to the cleaners financially. Florida was a no-fault divorce state, and, ordinarily, she would have been entitled to half of everything. But all of his assets had been premarital. They owned nothing jointly, so there had been nothing to divide. Still, she had asked for a mind-staggering sum of alimony. But when it was revealed that she was pregnant by another man, the judge had denied her.
Nick swiveled in his chair to look out the window at the rows of orange
