Page 54

“More or less.”

“Then I wish I’d been here. I would have written them down.”

Alan stood and took the tray from Kate before she could lower it awkwardly. “I’m beginning to regret sharing anything with my daughter.”

“No, you aren’t,” Janice said comfortably. “Move over.”

They settled around the old bench beneath the trees, Penny returning as soon as she saw food. She climbed onto the bench beside Alan and immediately leaned against him while Janice passed out sandwiches. Kate took her coffee and sat on the grass with her back against the trunk. This was more like the visit she had imagined before they arrived. Not checking measurements or thinking about repairs. Not helping with harvest or answering emails. Just sitting outside with her parents while Penny ate the cheese out of her sandwich first and left the bread until Kate reminded her it was supposed to be part of lunch.

Janice passed Kate a piece of pie. “I saved you one before your father found it.”

“I found the pie because it was in the refrigerator.”

“With my name on the container.”

Alan looked at Penny. “Your grandmother has very strict rules about pie.”

Penny nodded seriously. “Mom does too.”

Kate looked at her daughter. “I do not.”

“You say I have to eat dinner first.”

“That is not a pie rule. That is a dinner rule.”

Janice laughed and handed Penny the smallest slice. “You can have it after you finish your sandwich.”

Penny accepted this as a reasonable compromise and returned to her lunch.

Kate took a bite of pie and looked out over the trees. A light breeze moved through the upper branches, carrying the smell of leaves and ripe fruit toward them. She had become used to the orchard more quickly than she expected. At first it had seemed enormous, every row leading into another, every job revealing three more things she did not understand. Now she knew which track led toward Wes’s land without thinking about it. She knew where Penny liked to sit near the old tree and which kitchen window caught the late afternoon light. The orchard no longer felt like somewhere her parents had moved. It felt like their home.

A car door closed near the farmhouse. Janice looked toward the drive. A moment later, Eileen appeared between the rows carrying a small paper bag.

“Eileen!” Penny called out.

Eileen smiled as Penny ran toward her. “There you are. I was hoping I’d find you.”

“What’s in the bag?”

Kate started to remind Penny about manners, but Eileen was already laughing.

“I brought something for you, so I suppose you’re allowed to ask.”

She reached into the bag and took out a small corn-husk doll. Brown yarn had been braided into hair and tied with orange thread, and the skirt spread in stiff layers beneath the doll’s tiny arms.

Penny stopped dead. “For me?”

“For you. I saw her this morning and thought you might like her.”

Penny took the doll carefully. “She needs a name.”

“I thought she might.”

Penny looked at the doll’s face and began the serious business of deciding what kind of person she was. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eileen sat with them when Janice offered coffee and pie, and the conversation settled easily around her.