Seeds of Deception (2 page)

“Of course not. I'm not planning to go anywhere. How long?”

“We haven't decided.”

“When you leaving?”

“We don't know yet. Soon.”

“Well, obviously you have the planning thing under control. Let me know when you make up your minds. I can handle the animals.”

“Thank you, Bree,” Meg said formally, with a smile. “Look, Seth, we have Bree's permission to take a honeymoon. There's no stopping us now!”

Of course, after that nothing was quite as easy, Meg found quickly.

“Can we leave today?” Seth asked, after they'd finished eating breakfast and cleaned up. Bree had vanished up to her room over the kitchen.

“Seth, it's going to take me a couple of hours to sort out the laundry,” Meg protested. “That's one of those things I'd been putting off because of the wedding.” And the end of the harvest. And trying to help solve an old crime. “Can we leave in the morning tomorrow?”

“All right. If you insist.” He tried to look aggrieved, but Meg suspected that leaving the next day had been his intention all along. He certainly should know there were limits to her spontaneity, and she wasn't about to take off for a week or more without clean clothes.

“How long would you like to take?” she asked.

“You're serious about Monticello?” he asked.

“Yes. I've always wanted to see it, even more now that I know about Jefferson's orchards.”

“Okay. I figure round-trip to Monticello and back is maybe fifteen hundred miles, all in. Maybe more if we make any side trips. If we drive about four hours a day, figuring an average rate of sixty miles per hour, allowing for a combination of highway and local roads, that would be . . . eight to ten days. That sound all right?”

Four hours a day in a car sounded reasonable. At least he wasn't one of those guys who insisted on driving all day. “Did you really just figure all this out in your head?” When Seth nodded, Meg added, “That sounds like it would work. I can't remember the last time I was away from the orchard and the house for that long.”

“Meg, I think the place will survive without your presence for a week or two. It's not like anything's happening with either of our jobs. Your trees are all dormant, and it's too cold for me to do any kind of serious construction. The indoor projects can wait, and most people aren't in a hurry to tear up their houses when they can't get away from the mess. And Christmas isn't that far off. Relax, our schedules are clear.”

“Excellent points, sir. I must really need a break if I feel guilty about going somewhere for a week.”

“Meg, this is our honeymoon. Please tell me I'm more important to you than your trees are,” Seth said.

“You are. Maybe ten percent more. Okay, twenty. Should we book ahead?”

“I don't think it's essential—this isn't exactly prime travel season for most people, what with the holidays and
kids in school and stuff. I might have some ideas . . . but I'd rather surprise you.”

“Ooh, nice,” Meg said. It was kind of fun to see a different side of Seth. Usually he was so . . . dependable. Predictable. The idea of just taking off without a detailed plan was surprising, coming from him.

“I should call Mom and let her know what we're planning. You going to call your parents?”

“No need. We just saw them yesterday, right? They're off having fun on their own. We can call once we know when we might show up at their house. You know, it's encouraging that they still enjoy vacationing together. Gives us hope, doesn't it?”

“We haven't taken our first one yet.”

“Well, yes, that's true. Are you worried that we'll be at each other's throats by the end of it?” Meg asked.

“I don't know. Do you kibitz when somebody else is driving? Do you insist on stopping every two hours like clockwork for a potty break?”

“A potty break?” Meg started laughing. “I am not six years old. I don't get carsick. I don't whine that I'm bored, nor do I ask ‘are we there yet' starting five miles from home. I am a reasonable adult person. I will read your maps, and I will hand you change if need be—you don't happen to have E-ZPass, do you?”

“Shoot, no. I seldom go anywhere by highway so I don't think about it. Should we cancel the whole trip?”

“No, of course not. Most tollbooths still take money, or at least one of them does at each toll plaza—usually the most inconvenient one all the way at the end. Although even that may not last long. Or maybe they scan your license plate and send you a bill.”

“Ain't modern technology grand? Well, then, do you eat a lot of junk food and leave crumbs and empty bags in the car?”

Meg cocked her head at him. “You sure you know who you're married to?”

“I think so, but this is uncharted territory.”

“Uh-huh.” Meg took their coffee mugs to the sink and washed them. If she was leaving for a week, she didn't want to leave dirty dishes sitting around. Make sure there was enough cat food and dog food for a couple of weeks. Ask Bree if she planned to stay in the house or whether she expected to spend time with her boyfriend, Michael, in Amherst. Remind Bree to turn down the thermostat if she was going to be out of the house for long. Find her spare charger for her cell phone. Find her AAA card, in case something went wrong on the road. Empty her wallet of seldom-used credit cards—no need to tempt fate.

“Meg?” Seth's voice interrupted her mental merry-go-round.

“Yes?”

“Relax. This is supposed to be fun. You aren't planning the invasion of Normandy.”

“Hmm. How many planes do you think I'll need? What about ammo supplies?”

“You are kidding, aren't you?” Seth asked.

“Of course I am. But you're right—I'm overthinking this. See? You do know me well. Go call your mother so we can check one thing off the to-do list.”

“Yes, ma'am!” Seth located his cell phone and strode off to the front of the house to talk to his mother.

He came back five minutes later with a peculiar expression on his face. “Everything all right?” Meg asked.

“Apparently. She applauds our decision to leave town and says she'll be happy to walk Max if Bree doesn't want to do it every day.”

“Then why the odd look?”

“Christopher was there.”

Christopher was by now an old friend: Meg's mentor for her orchard enterprise, Bree's former university professor, officiator at the wedding by special license, and an all-around delightful person. And . . . Meg finally put two and two together: early in the morning, Christopher was at Lydia's house. Oh-ho.

“Well, good for them. Okay, I know, she's your mother, but they're both lovely people and both unattached, so why not? Tell me you're actually surprised.”

Seth was honest enough to look sheepish. “Uh, no, I guess not. But I was doing my best not to think about it.”

“Looks like you'd better get over it. See what weddings do to people? Is she going to tell Rachel about the honeymoon, or should we call her?”

“I'm sure they'll have lots to talk about—let Mom have that pleasure. Is that everyone who needs to know?”

“I'd better update Bree. I don't think she has any plans, but she doesn't always share when she does. And I'd better get started on that laundry!”

Meg made her way upstairs and started collecting what needed washing. She really had been neglecting that chore, because her basket overflowed before she was half-finished. She set it down, wondering how much was really necessary for their excursion. They'd probably be gone for at least a week. Better to be prepared.

But before she started the long trek to the basement, she went down the hall and rapped on Bree's door. “Bree?”

The door opened quickly. “You need something?” Bree asked.

“I just wanted to fill you in on our brand-new plans. We think we're leaving tomorrow morning, but it's still not clear how long we'll be gone—probably at least a week, maybe longer. Seth talked to his mother, and she says she can help out with Max if you're busy, or if you just want a break. Just be sure the goats have enough feed and the water line doesn't freeze up, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. We've kept them going this long, so I think they can survive another couple of weeks. Listen, I—” Bree started, then stopped herself. “No, it can wait. While you're gone I'll run the final numbers on the orchard income for this year, maybe get a head start on taxes. Catch up on all the paperwork and stuff.”

“That would be terrific, Bree,” Meg said, and meant it. The business side of running the orchard was an ongoing source of friction between the two of them, and it was great to hear Bree volunteering to get started without any nagging. She had definitely matured professionally in the two years she'd been working for Meg. Or Meg had been working for her—it wasn't quite clear. When she had begun, Bree had the technical expertise and knowledge to manage an orchard, but little to no experience. Meg had had neither, so she had willingly followed Bree's instructions. Her first solo effort had been to open up a new section of orchard, using a piece of Seth's adjoining land and choosing trees that were a mix of dependable producers and some less common heirloom varieties that were appealing to local foodies. They wouldn't be bearing fruit for a couple of years, but it made Meg feel good that they were
planning for a future, not just lurching from crisis to crisis.

“Nice party,” Bree commented, and Meg wondered if she was deflecting Meg's praise. “Not too fussy.”

“That's what I wanted. I could never see myself walking down the aisle in a poofy white dress, watched by a couple hundred of my parents' dearest friends, who I'd never even met. I think it worked out, didn't it?”

“I thought so. Lydia and Christopher seemed to be hitting it off.”

Bree was more observant than Meg usually gave her credit for. “You okay with that? I mean, you don't think it's weird? He was your professor, after all.”

“Sure. Why wouldn't I be? I think it's great. They're both good people. Was there anything else?”

“No, that's all I wanted to say right now. I've still got the rest of the day to nag you.”

“I wondered if you'd go somewhere, after,” Bree said. “You were acting like everything stopped once you threw that party.”

“Well, in our own defense, there were a couple of distractions.”

“Yeah, like Aaron Eastman and his problems. But you got them worked out in good time. He looked a lot better, too, last night.”

“I agree. I hope things will work out for him. Anyway, I guess planning a honeymoon wasn't high on our list of things to do. Is that odd?”

“You're asking me? I've got zero experience. But I'm guessing going someplace is different from just sitting around here making gooey eyes at each other.”

“We don't do that!” Meg protested.

“Now and then you do,” Bree countered, smiling. “Not too much. But being stuck with each other in a car for hours at a time isn't the same. Tell me there aren't things you haven't talked about.”

“Well, I guess. We'll just have to figure it out.”

Meg left by the hall door to sort out laundry in the bedroom. Bree hadn't even mentioned that Seth had managed to install not one but two new bathrooms in the house in the days leading up to the wedding, on schedule. She herself hadn't even had time to get used to the fact they existed.

As she sorted laundry, Meg reviewed the past twenty-four hours in her mind. It had been a nice party. Nicky Czarnecki had done a terrific job with the food, using local products—not easy to do in December. The restaurant, a former house, had looked lovely. Christopher had managed the service with dignity and warmth, not an easy combination to pull off. It had seemed like half the town was there, which was altogether possible, since the town wasn't very big and Seth had lived here all his life. Even better, she had recognized most of the people at the wedding, and had been able to greet them by name. Of course, Seth had helped her out when she'd drawn a blank on a few. There hadn't been many unfamiliar faces, but even if they had been crashers, it was a community celebration as much as a personal one, and she wasn't going to begrudge anyone a meal and some human company on a winter's evening.

She had finished sorting the laundry into towering piles on the floor when her cell phone rang. To her amazement she found it quickly, and saw her mother's number.

“Hi, Mother,” she said.

“Hello, darling. I just wanted to say what a lovely event your wedding turned out to be.”

Had she been surprised?
Meg wondered. “I thought so, too. I didn't want anything too fancy—I wanted everyone to feel welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it. When are you headed home?”

“In a couple of days—no rush. Phillip cleared his work schedule so we could take our time and enjoy ourselves. Are you and Seth doing anything?”

“Do you know, we were so caught up in sorting out the wedding and all that we never even thought about a honeymoon. We were kicking ideas around this morning, and I think we've decided to take a road trip, with Monticello as the end point. It combines history, architecture, and apples—what more could we ask?”

“That sounds perfect.” Elizabeth Corey hesitated, which was unlike her. “Would you like to have dinner with us tonight? Please say no if you'd rather have the time to yourselves. But we see you so rarely these days. Oh, drat, listen to me! I promised myself years ago that I'd never be a whiny parent, or worse, an in-law. If you'd like to get together, we'd love it, but if you have other plans, I won't guilt-trip you.”