"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.

He paused before he said, "It works for us. But it's madness. And there is no home-cooked meal, no going out to dinner, no walk in the moonlight between the groves."

"Oh, it must be so exciting!"

"You would hate it. It's not fancy. It's not prestigious. It's a bunch of county people on ladders, picking, tasting cider and pies and throwing softballs around. It's barking dogs, small children, shouting and laughing people, swarming all over the orchard, in the barn, in the house..."

"In the house?" she asked.

"They're our friends," he said. "They're the town."

"Wonderful!" she said. "Well, if the invitation stands, I'll see you Friday late afternoon."

Tom was up and in the orchard office by five-thirty and even though it wouldn't be light for some time yet, Nora was there by six.

"Good morning," she said. "I guess I thought you'd be sleeping in or enjoying one of those big country breakfasts. You do have company."

"I'm sure she's having sweet dreams," he said. "What are you doing here so early on a Sunday morning?"

"Getting an early start. I'm planning to leave right at lunchtime if you're sure you can spare me. Jed will be coming to the house. We were talking about a picnic, but with this weather..."

He smiled. "Still Jed, is he?"

"I'm working up to Dad, but it doesn't come easy."

"I knew about your plans, Nora-we're all ready to back you up. We might have an issue with the next two weekends. If you're not going to be able to work, tell me now-we're opening up the orchard to the public. It gets chaotic."

"So I'm told. I wonder-would it be all right if Jed and Susan come and bring the girls? I promise not to get too distracted."

"Absolutely, tell them about it. Maxie would probably love it."

"I'm going to get moving before I'm caught burning daylight." She zipped up her jacket and pulled on gloves. She went past him to the break room to grab a rain slicker off a set of hooks on the wall that held a dozen or so.

"Don't you want a cup of coffee to get your engine started?" he asked her when she passed back through the office.

She grinned at him. "Now that I'm wealthy, I have coffee at home. With cream!" And off she whirled. He heard her outside as she said, "Hey, Duke, old pal-how are you this morning? Gonna be another wet one, but you like it that way, don't you? Doesn't that wet dog smell make it all worthwhile?" And then she laughed.

She was just the cutest damn thing, he found himself thinking. He wondered what she'd think of stuffed grape leaves... .

It was a few hours later, the morning fog and mist beginning to give way to a bright morning sun, when Tom heard the bell from the back porch. He had asked Maxie to ring it when Darla was ready to have her luggage carried downstairs. The bell had almost never been used. Tom's grandfather had installed that bell when Maxie was very, very pregnant. It was one of those old-fashioned things with a strip of rawhide attached to the clapper. He wanted her to use it if she needed him for anything rather than walking up and down a couple of acres of trees looking for him. And what had Maxie done? She had walked through the entire orchard to find Grandpa to tell him, "I didn't want to bother you, but I've been in labor all day and now I think I have to call the midwife. Can you get her for me?"

Tom laughed to himself. He'd heard the story so many times while growing up. His grandpa had swept his grandmother up in his arms, carried her to the house, up the stairs to the bedroom and sent someone for the midwife. The midwife was from another town, of course-that long ago Virgin River wasn't much but a few farms. And the midwife didn't make it, which at the end of the day had been something of a tragedy because Maxie had a few complications that left her unable to have more children. Of course there was no guarantee that getting the midwife there on time would have mattered.

Even though his grandparents, dead in love till the day Grandpa passed away, said they'd love to have had a baker's dozen, they were also quick to say they were grateful for the bounty God gave: a son, an orchard and a woman who could bake a decent pie.

He trudged across the yard to the house. For some reason he had a picture in his head of Nora tromping through an entire orchard rather than just ringing the bell. And then, unsummoned, an image of Darla being carried on a litter by a group of Nubian slaves... .

He found himself ridiculous-stuck in a box of his own making, rejecting the one who appealed and spending every weekend with the one who was not right for him, though he had desperately wished she could have been. But it was hopeless. She was hopeless.

She was waiting in the kitchen. "Going to get an early start?" he asked Darla.

"Since you'll be busy all day, I'll get the drive behind me. I look forward to next weekend. It sounds like such fun."

Tom mentally tried to calculate how many more weeks she'd be in Davis, close enough to spend every freaking weekend at the orchard. "Let me go up and grab your bags," he said. "Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Long ago," she said with a smile. She turned to Maxie, who was stirring a giant pot on the stove. "Thank you once again, Maxie. Your hospitality is unsurpassed."

"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?"