The Peach Keeper

  Willa couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would plan a peach orchard at this elevation. If Tucker Devlin was who he said he was, he would have known that peaches wouldn’t grow here. He would have known it was a venture that was bound to fail.

  And yet he had convinced everyone that it was possible.

  He was a con man, just like Agatha said.

  But why kill him just for that? Who was he really hurting?

  Throughout the summer, Tucker, now the town’s golden boy, appeared in the newsletter, and his favorite escorts at parties were always the same young ladies, with one notable exception. Curiously enough, though Georgie’s friends were his constant companions, Georgie herself seemed to have disappeared from society. There were mentions of her feeling under the weather, but after May of that year, there wasn’t another photo of her to be found.

  Then, in August, Tucker Devlin disappeared as well. There was no explanation. There was also no mention of what had happened with plans for the orchard. Later, Willa found a short note that said the Jackson family had left the premises of the Blue Ridge Madam, per a court order. The government had seized the house for failure to pay taxes. That was October 1936, two months after the body had been buried, if the Asheville newspaper buried with the body was anything to go by.

  That meant Georgie and her family had indeed still been living in the Madam at the time of his death.

  That wasn’t what Willa had been hoping to find. And if the police had looked at these, as Fran had said, then they knew this, too.

  Willa printed out all the 1936 newsletters, then gathered the papers, turned off the lights, and locked the door behind her. She felt like she was the last to leave a party that no one really wanted to leave, but she had been hanging on the longest. As she walked across the parking lot to her Jeep, she thought she saw a few silver party streamers float into the night sky.

  But she blinked and they were gone.

  NINE

  Root Systems

  It was hard to ignore the big black Mercedes parked in front of her house.

  Willa pulled up behind it and got out, and found Colin sitting on the creaky swing on her porch. Moonlight was filtering through the trees, which made the air look like milk glass. Her grandmother used to say something about how the air around you will turn white when things are about to change. It gave her pause as she watched Colin glide slowly, one hand over the back of the swing. He was one of those men for whom all their fatigue went to their eyes in a sleepy, sexy kind of way. And he was exhausted, by the looks of him.

  So of course he was on her front porch?

  Surely he didn’t want to sleep on her couch again. What was it about her couch and Osgoods? She hadn’t even slept on it yet.

  “I like this neighborhood,” Colin said, when she reached the front porch. He’d watched her, silent, as she’d walked here. Maybe he’d felt it, too—that curious charge in the air. “It’s old and quiet.”

  “But they don’t appreciate Springsteen.”

  “Tragic.”

  Willa stopped at her door, keys in hand. “What are you doing here?”

  He stood. His knee popped. “The police finally cleared the scene at the Madam for the tree planting tomorrow. I wanted to make sure you were coming.”

  He’d asked her before, and she still didn’t understand. “What’s the big deal about planting this tree?”

  He shook his head as he walked over to her. “I’m going to bring out your inner nature girl if it kills me.”

  She unlocked the door. “You certainly have strong opinions about how I should live my life.”

  “I can be very persuasive,” he said from behind her, close enough to her ear that she realized he was only inches away.

  “Well, cross nature girl off your list. It’s already been tried,” she said, opening the door and walking in instead of turning around and facing him in that odd white air. She flipped on the living room light.

  “Tried? By whom?” he asked as he followed her in.

  She set her bag and the printouts from the library on the coffee table. “My friend Rachel. She came through here while hiking the Appalachian Trail. She’s tried to get me to understand it. I just don’t.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, as if there was some sort of compromise to be had. He looked around at all the boxes in the room. “What’s all this? Are you moving?”

  “No. These are my grandmother’s things I brought down from the attic.” She walked toward the kitchen, saying, “I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’m going to fix a sandwich. Do you want one?”

  “No, thank you,” he said as he joined her. “I’ve already eaten. Dinner together is still mandatory at Hickory Cottage. I don’t know how Paxton stands it.”

  It was clear he thought dinner with his family should have its own level in hell, but she thought it sounded nice. “Dinner together with your family doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

  “Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s residual resentment.” His voice sounded weary. He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat. He saw the photo that was propped against the peach bowl, and lifted it. She’d left it there because she was almost afraid to touch it, almost waiting to see if it would move on its own again. “This is a nice photo of your dad.”

  “Yes,” she agreed simply, not looking at it. She opened the refrigerator door.

  “He was proud of you, you know.”

  She recognized that for what it was, a platitude. Because how would he know what her father felt for her? “No, he wasn’t. But I knew he loved me anyway.”

  He watched as she brought out bread, turkey, bean sprouts, and cream cheese. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch since Friday.”

  Willa set the sandwich stuff on the counter, then reached to the open shelf above her and retrieved a purple plate. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

  “It was a shock, seeing that skull. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Of course.” She paused as she brought out a knife and smeared some cream cheese on two slices of wheat bread. Without looking at him, she added, “Woody Olsen came to see me on Sunday about it.”

  “He did? Why would he do that?”

  He sounded surprised. She looked over her shoulder at him. He didn’t know about Woody suspecting her grandmother. That probably meant Paxton hadn’t told him about Agatha claiming responsibility for the skeleton, either. She suddenly had hope that she and Paxton were on the same page about this—say nothing until they knew more. “He wanted to know if my grandmother ever talked about anyone being buried on the hill. She didn’t.”

  “Is that why you brought down the boxes?”

  “Yes,” she said, then changed the subject as she went back to constructing her sandwich. “You look tired. You must have had a rough weekend.”

  That made him laugh. “I’m still trying to get a good night’s sleep. It keeps eluding me. But my weekend wasn’t nearly as rough as Paxton’s. What exactly happened that night she slept over here?”

  “She didn’t tell you that, either?”

  “Either?” he said. “What else didn’t she tell me?”

  “Nothing.”

  Colin hesitated before he asked, “I know you and Pax aren’t exactly friends, but you didn’t get her drunk on purpose, did you? Like a prank?”

  She turned around. He thought it was her fault? “I didn’t even …” She paused, not knowing how to explain herself and not give Paxton away. She finally said, “No, it wasn’t a prank. And now I’m confused. I thought your belief in my latent wild nature was what you liked best about me.”

  “I like a lot of things about you.”

  She turned back around and finished making her sandwich, flustered now. “You shouldn’t come to see me when you’re so tired. I think you say things you probably wouldn’t otherwise.”

  She heard the scrape of the chair legs as he got up. “Did it occur to you that that’s why I come to see you when I’m tired?” he asked as he approached her.

/>   He appeared beside her, watching her as she put the lid back on the cream cheese and brushed some stray sprouts into the sink. He reached out and pushed some hair behind her ears. The gesture was tender, but it hit her with an unexpected force, like when you’re in the ocean and a wave hits you. It’s so soft and cool that it surprises you that it has such strength. Water seems so harmless that way.

  “Come to the tree planting tomorrow,” he said.

  She finally looked up at him. Bad idea. There were those tired, dark, sexy eyes, looking at her and seeing someone she didn’t think she was anymore. “Why?”

  He smiled. “It’s all part of my seduction.”

  She let that penetrate, thinking of the way he’d pressed against her that day the ground shook at the Madam. “So this is a seduction now?”

  Slowly, he leaned in to her, his eyes open, searching her face. Obviously, he found what he was looking for, because he leaned in farther and touched his lips to hers. She could feel herself sigh, immediately swept up in his current. It took no effort on her part. The force of whatever it was he was feeling overtook her. He angled closer, his hands cupping her cheeks as he deepened the kiss. She loved the rush, how it filled her, how it made her heart race in a way that wasn’t fear or anxiety—which was how she used to achieve this feeling—but simple, raw pleasure.

  She was now leaning back against the counter, her hands in his hair, trying to bring him closer, wanting more of this. She shifted slightly, and the knife she’d just used suddenly clanged to the floor.

  They broke apart at the sound.

  For a moment, they just looked each other in the eye. Colin’s hands were still on her face. His thumbs brushed along her cheekbones once before he stepped back. “Yes, this is a seduction now.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be seduced.” After what had just happened, they both knew she was lying, but he had the good grace not to call her on it.

  “Then what do you want, Willa?” When she didn’t answer, he smiled and said, “I’ll look for you tomorrow.”

  Then he left.

  Just days ago she’d had the answer down pat. She would have said that what she wanted was to put the past behind her and live a nice, quiet life.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  How exactly do you seduce a person with a tree planting? That, ultimately, was what made her go. Willa left Rachel to man the store, then she drove to Jackson Hill, only to have to park at the base of it and walk up, because the road had been blocked off to traffic. That was surprising.

  Even more surprising were all the people there. Lining the hill all the way to the Madam were onlookers, photographers, and even a television crew, waiting for the tree to arrive.

  How many people was he planning to seduce today? This was obviously a bigger deal than she’d thought.

  When she reached the top of the hill, she stopped and looked up at the house. She tried to imagine her grandmother at seventeen, living here in genteel poverty, when this charming con man moved in and promised to save them all. Had Georgie fallen in love with him? Had he gotten her pregnant? No, of course not. Her mind simply wouldn’t go there. But what if Agatha had fallen in love with him? What if she and Georgie had become rivals? Maybe that’s why she killed him.

  The mound of dirt where the peach tree had been was still clearly visible. It suddenly occurred to her that her grandmother had to have known what happened. Hadn’t the newsletters said she’d disappeared from society that summer? That meant she’d been here, watching everything. She knew what Agatha did. And she’d never said a thing.

  Still surveying the house, her eyes landed on Paxton, who was talking to a counselor from one of the surrounding summer camps subsidized by the Osgood charity trust. The camp kids were all waiting with banners they’d made, welcoming the tree.

  Paxton saw her there but turned away. Willa couldn’t look at Paxton now and not see a little bit of Agatha, not wonder what had happened between their grandmothers that summer.

  The beeping of some machinery drew her attention to the gigantic hole in the side yard of the Madam, and the scores of men and equipment surrounding it. She finally found Colin, pacing around the yard on his cellphone. At one point he said something into the phone, hung up, then went to the precipice of the hill.

  Willa followed his stare and realized he was looking out over the highway. The call was probably an ETA on the tree. Sure enough, the tractor-trailer soon appeared, slowly coming down the highway, which had been closed to traffic just to transport it here. There were actually police cars as escorts, their blue lights on. It was an unexpectedly resplendent sight, something that made her chest feel full. There was a majesty to this old tree, standing proudly on the back of a modified flatbed.

  It took almost forty-five minutes from the time she’d spotted it on the highway until the truck appeared at the base of Jackson Hill and heaved its way up, groaning with the monumental weight of its load. It was even more regal up close, this oak that had lived for more than a century. Nearly forty feet tall, with a branch span that had to be at least eighty feet, it evoked cheers and applause from the people lining the hill as it passed, people who seemed to be as affected by this as she was, this crazy, noble effort to save a tree that had probably been planted during the Civil War.

  The process from the time it reached the Madam and backed up to the hole was excruciatingly time-consuming. Most people left over the course of the next few hours. Willa was one of the few to stay. She couldn’t leave. She was riveted.

  Watching the actual planting was breathtaking, like watching a primitive battle between man and beast. The tree seemed like some great animal, fighting against the hunters trying to capture it. As the machinery lowered the gigantic root ball covered in burlap and wire, the men grabbed the ropes tethered to the limbs. They yelled, and the tree groaned and actually seemed to writhe against its restraints. The men holding on to the ropes moved in sync, running one way, then the next. They knew this animal; they knew its habits. They knew how to tame it.

  And then, finally, it was in.

  It was one of the most glorious things she’d ever seen.

  She was certain Colin had no idea she was there. He’d never once looked up from the site. When it was over, his color was high, his clothes were wet with sweat, and he was out of breath. He looked positively orgasmic.

  That’s when he finally looked up and around, as if searching for someone. He found Willa in the small crowd that was left. He slowly smiled, and bam, there it was, that lust she’d felt last night. It was heavy and elemental. It was connected to everything around them for one electric moment. It actually made her take a step back.

  How did he know the effect this would have on her, when she didn’t even know herself?

  It was too much, this feeling that she didn’t know her own nature, her own root system, anymore.

  She turned around and left.

  For the rest of the day, Willa felt jumpy, on edge. When she got back to work, she would give a start every time the bell over the door rang. When she got home, she kept expecting a knock on the door. She got in the shower because her skin felt hot, like a sunburn, as though she’d been exposed to something that day that had a lingering effect on her. She couldn’t get rid of it.

  The phone rang just as she got out of the shower. She ran to her bedroom to answer it. “Hello?”

  “I think that went well today,” Colin said in a low voice.

  This was what she’d been expecting all day. “Yes,” she said, swallowing, her mouth suddenly dry. “I think you accomplished what you set out to do.”

  “Take Saturday off and spend it with me.”

  Maybe the beauty of his being here for only a month was that she could get this itch he’d caused out of her system quickly. Then he’d leave, and she could go back to normal. That was her justification for finally giving in and saying yes.

  At dinner that night, Paxton’s father clicked around on his smart phone, which had replaced the news
paper he used to bring to the table, and her mother chatted happily about what good news coverage the tree planting had, and how it would make up for all the negative publicity the skeleton had caused.

  “I’m just glad that nasty bit of business is over,” Sophia said. “It didn’t reflect well on any of us. Paxton, you should hold a special meeting to tell the club that everything is fine with the Madam now. I heard a rumor that some members actually wanted to change the venue for the gala. Imagine! After the invitations have already gone out.”

  “Yes,” Paxton said. “I heard that, too.” She knew she shouldn’t have said it the moment it came out.

  “And you didn’t tell me? I had to hear about it from Shane Easton!” Twenty-five years ago, Sophia had been president of the club, and she’d groomed Paxton to be the same. When the time came for Sophia to leave the club, Paxton had had a difficult time trying to keep her mother from still trying to control things through her. She’d been so happy the day Sophia stopped asking for every single detail of meetings the moment Paxton got home. That’s not to say she didn’t still expect to be kept in the loop.

  Colin cleared his throat. “I’d like to make an announcement,” he said. “I don’t want anyone at this table setting me up with a date for the gala. I know you may be tempted to. But don’t.”

  “But Colin, I was thinking about that nice Penelope Mayfield,” Sophia said, immediately distracted.

  “Ha!” Colin said, pointing a finger at their mother with the hand holding his wineglass. “I knew you were planning something. No. I refuse.”

  “Oh, Colin,” Sophia said indulgently. Colin looked at Paxton and winked. He’d done this for her.

  After dinner, Colin retreated quickly to the patio, something he had taken to doing all week. Tonight, Paxton followed him.

  “I don’t get it,” she said as she took a seat in the lounge chair next to him.