My Kind of Christmas (20 page)

That took the starch out of her. Her chin dropped and she
briefly looked at the ground. Then she lifted her eyes to his. “Is there any
chance something might become available? Because there aren’t many job openings
around here.”

“Listen… Your name?” he asked, standing from behind his messy
desk and proving that he was taller than she even guessed.

“I’m Nora Crane.”

“Listen, Nora, it can be back-breaking labor and I mean no
offense when I say, you don’t appear to be strong enough for a job like this.
We
generally hire very muscled men and women. We haven’t ever hired kids or slight
women—it’s just too frustrating for them.”

“Buddy’s been working here since junior high….”

“He’s a great big kid. Sometimes you have to carry fifty
pounds of apples down a tripod ladder. Our harvesting season is grueling.”

“I can do that,” she said. “I’ve carried my nine-month-old in
a backpack and my two-year-old in my arms.” She flexed a muscle in her upper
arm. “Motherhood isn’t for sissies. Neither is being broke. I can do the work.
I
want
to do the work.”

He stared at her in shock for a moment. “Nine months and two
years?”

“Berry will be three before long. They’re beautiful, brilliant
and they have a terrible addiction to eating.”

“I’m sorry, Nora. I have all the people I need. Do you want to
leave a number in case something comes open?”

“The church,” she said with disappointment. “You can leave a
message with anyone at the Virgin River Presbyterian Church. I’ll check in with
them every day. Twice a day.”

He gave her a very small smile. “I don’t expect anything to
come up, but I know the number if something does.” He wrote down her name and
referenced the church phone number beside it. “Thanks for coming out here.”

“Sure. I had to try. And if you hear of anything at all,
anywhere at all…”

“Of course,” he said, but she knew he didn’t mean it. He
wasn’t going to help her get a job.

She left that little office and went to wait by Noah’s truck,
leaning against it. She hoped he had a nice visit with Mrs. Cavanaugh since she
had inconvenienced him for no reason. No matter what Tom Cavanaugh had said,
she
knew he had rejected her as not strong or dependable enough for apple
picking.

Life hadn’t always been like this for Nora. Well, it had been
difficult, but not like now. She hadn’t grown up poor, for one thing. She’d
never been what one could call financially comfortable, but she’d always had
enough to eat, a roof over her head, decent if inexpensive clothes to wear.
She’d gone to college briefly and during that time had had a part-time job, no
different from most students. She’d had an unhappy family life, the only child
of a bitter single mother. Then she’d found herself to be very susceptible to
the flirtations of a hot and sexy minor league baseball player with no earthly
clue he’d turn into a hard-core drug addict who would dump her and their two
children in a tiny mountain town with no money, their possessions having been
sold for his, um, hobby.

Even though times were about as tough as they could get as
income went, she’d been lucky to find herself in Virgin River where she had made
a few good friends and had the support of people like Noah Kincaid, Mel Sheridan
and her neighbors. It might take a while and a little more luck, but eventually
she’d manage to pull it together and give her girls a decent place to grow
up.

She heard the slamming of a door—it had the distinct sound of
a wooden screen door. There was laughter. When she looked up she saw Noah with
an attractive woman with thick white hair cut in a modern, short, blown-out
style. She was a bit roundish with a generous bosom and just slightly plump
hips; her cheeks were rosy from either makeup or sun and her eyebrows shaped
and
drawn on with a dark brown pencil. She wore lipstick and laughed, showing a very
young, attractive smile. Nora couldn’t guess her age. Fifty-eight? Sixty-four?
She looked like she should be hosting a country kitchen cooking show. And then
she let go a big laugh, leaning into Noah’s arm as she did so.

Nora straightened, since they were walking toward her. She
smiled somewhat timidly, feeling so unsure of herself after being rejected from
the job.

“Nora, this is Maxie Cavanaugh. This is her orchard and cider
operation.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nora,” Maxie said, putting out
her hand. Nora noticed that she had a bit of arthritis that bent her fingers
at
the knuckles, but her nails were still manicured in bright red. “So you’re going
to pick apples for us?”

“Well, no, ma’am,” she said. “Your son said he had enough
pickers already and couldn’t use me.”

“Son?” Maxie asked. “Girl, that’s my grandson, Tom, and I
raised him. Now what is it Reverend Kincaid told me? You have a couple of little
daughters and only part-time work at the moment?”

“Yes, ma’am, but I think I’ll get more hours in the fall when
they need almost full-time help at the new school. I’ll get a discount on day
care, too. Thing is, it’s a brand-new school and still needs all kinds of
certification so we won’t get help from the county for a while and I got all
excited about a job that could pay pretty well for a couple of… But if there
are
already enough pickers…”

“I bet there’s room for one more,” she said, smiling. “Wait
right here a minute.” And she strode off across the yard to the big barn and
its
small office.

Nora turned her eyes up to Noah’s. “Grandmother?” she asked.
“How old is she?”

“I have no idea,” he said with a shrug. “She’s full of life,
isn’t she? It keeps her young. She’s been a fantastic supporter of the church,
though she doesn’t go to services very often. She says Sundays are usually her
busiest days and when they’re not, she reserves them for sleep. Maxie works hard
all week.”

“And that’s her grandson?” Nora asked.

“Yep. She must’ve gotten started early. I think Jack put Tom
at about thirty.”

“What’s she going to say to him? Because he doesn’t want to
hire me. He took one look at me and pronounced me not strong enough, which is
bull, but… But for that matter, you don’t want me to get the job because even
you think it’s too much for me.”

“It’s between Maxie and Tom now. And I might’ve been wrong
about this idea. Let’s see what happens.”

* * *

Tom Cavanaugh sat at the old desk in the cider press
office for a while after Nora left, completely stunned and disappointed. When
she first walked in, he thought she was a fresh-faced teenager and his immediate
prediction was that Buddy would be after her. She was so damn cute with her
ponytail, sweet face and petite body. When she admitted to being twenty-three
with two children, he couldn’t hide his shock. But worse than the shock—if she’d
told him she was twenty-three and not a single mother, he’d have followed up
with some kind of advance that would lead to a date. He wouldn’t have hired her
because that could have been problematic, hiring someone who sent little sparks
shooting through his body. It would eventually lead to love among the trees,
something that was strictly prohibited. Mostly.

Tom had spent a lifetime on this orchard and he was aware of
certain employees falling in love among the apple blossoms and harvest bins,
but
Maxie had always warned him about the foolishness of that sort of thing. She
said it could be pure bliss, unless it went wrong and turned into pure lawsuit.
But lectures or not, Tom’s first intimate experience with a girl had happened
in
this orchard on a sultry summer night right before he went off to college. The
memory could still make him smile.

And the smile turned to heat as he replaced the young girl of
his past with Nora in his mind.

Damn, that little Nora was lust at first sight. Her bright
eyes, soft, full lips, splatter of freckles across her nose… Just his type, if
she weren’t married, mothering a couple of kids and divorced by the age of
twenty-three. He was looking for a different kind of woman, a woman more like
his grandmother—settled, smart, a strong moral code. Maxie had been married
exactly once, to his grandfather. She’d been widowed since Tom was in college
and had never remarried, never shown an interest in men after her husband
passed. Not that there were many eligible men in Virgin River…. Maxie had long
been dedicated to the business, the town and her many friends.

The office door opened and speak of the devil herself, there
stood his grandmother, who he had always called Maxie rather than Grandma. She
tilted her head and twisted her glossed lips. “You didn’t hire that girl, though
she desperately needs a job. She has children to feed.”

“She probably weighs a hundred and ten pounds soaking
wet.”

“We don’t hire by weight. And we can afford to be charitable.
I’m going to tell her she has a job. When are you starting the harvest?”

“Maxie…”

“When?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Maxie. She could distract
the pickers. The men.”

Everything inside Maxie seemed to twinkle and Tom knew at once
she was on to him, that she knew exactly who Tom was worried about. But she
didn’t say anything. “Okay, we’ll dock her pay for being attractive. When?”

“I think August twenty-fourth. My best guess. But, Maxie—”

“It’s done. She’s a good girl, Reverend Kincaid vouches for
her and I bet she works harder than anyone. Young mothers can be fierce. Hell,
Tom, I still pick apples and I’m seventy-four! You can be a little more
generous.”

And then she left his office.

ISBN: 9781459244375

Copyright © 2012 by Robyn Carr

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