At first Steffie was convinced she’d misunderstood. Nor was she entirely sure she could believe Charles. He might be making it up as he went along, she thought wildly, instead of actually reading the article. She reached for the newspaper and snatched it away from him.
It only took her a moment to locate the paragraph he’d just read. He hadn’t made it up! There, bold as could be, was the quote from her father, followed by two long paragraphs that reported the progressive measures Bloomfield Orchards had implemented over the years.
Her stomach plummeted, and she began to feel as though she were sitting in a deck chair on the Titanic. That feeling intensified as she finished reading the article. Because she soon discovered that not only was her father quoted—approvingly—several times, but their family orchard was used as a model for other local orchards to follow.
Steffie drew in a deep breath before she looked up at Charles. Once again, she’d made a fool of herself in front of him. She cringed in acute embarrassment and self-contempt. What a jerk she’d been. What a total jerk.
She’d known that meeting Charles again was inevitable. She’d hoped that on her return he’d view her—from afar, of course—as mature. Sophisticated. She’d wanted him to see her as cosmopolitan and cultured, unlike the lovesick twenty-two-year-old who’d left Orchard Valley three years before.
She’d imagined their first meeting. She’d step forward, a serene smile on her face, and hold out her hand politely. She’d murmur ever so sweetly that it was lovely to see him again, but unfortunately she couldn’t quite recall his name. Charles Something-or-other, wasn’t it?
“It looks like I owe you an apology,” she said instead, her voice quavering a bit despite her efforts to keep it even.
“Yeah, I’d say you owe me an apology!” he flung back. “I’d assumed you might have changed in three years. Instead you’re an even bigger…nuisance.”
His words felt like a slap across the face, and she flinched involuntarily. There wasn’t a thing she could say in her own defense, nothing that would take away the shame of what she’d done. No words would erase the way she’d stomped into his office and created a scene in front of his entire staff.
“So it seems,” she said as steadily as her crumbling poise would allow.
“You scared me, taking off like that,” he raged. “You might have killed yourself.”
Again, there was nothing she could say. Had she been in any other frame of mind, she would have recognized that with a horse like Fury, she was heading for trouble.
“You’re a crazy woman!” he shouted, his anger fully ignited now. “How do you think I would’ve felt if you’d been hurt? What about your father? You accuse me of causing his heart attack! What do you think would’ve happened to him if you’d killed yourself?”
“I—I…” Hating the telltale action, she bit her lip to stop its trembling.
To Steffie’s dismay, he reached down and pulled her to her feet. His hands clasped her shoulders and he drew her into his arms.
Before she had a chance to react, she was completely caught in his embrace, her hands trapped against his heaving chest.
One hand left her shoulder and slid into her long, tangled hair.
“Do you even have a clue what I was thinking?” he whispered. “Do you have any idea what was going through my mind?”
Her heart thundered. She should fight her way out of his embrace. She should demand that he release her, tell him he had no right to take her in his arms. But Steffie couldn’t make herself move, couldn’t make herself speak.
She didn’t try to stop him even when it became obvious that he was going to kiss her. Mentally she braced herself, closing her eyes.
When his mouth found hers, it was a gentle brushing of lips. Her eyes opened in wonder and surprise.
Charles kissed her again, longer this time, his mouth gliding over hers. Before she realized what she was doing, she moved her arms upward and timidly locked them behind his neck. Her lips parted to his and he pressed her closer.
But only for a moment. “No, Steffie,” he said in a raw whisper, clasping both wrists and breaking her hold. He stepped back. Their eyes met for several seconds before he turned and hurried away.
He left as abruptly as he’d arrived, his sports car spitting dirt and small stones as he roared off. She sighed and prepared to mount Fury for the long journey home.
Steffie took a nap that afternoon, waking sometime in the early evening. The sun was setting, dousing the orchards in a lovely shade of pink. Not knowing what time it was, she came downstairs to find Norah in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher.
“Hi,” Norah greeted her, smiling brightly when she saw Steffie. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever wake up. You must’ve been exhausted.”
Steffie nodded.
“There’s a plate for you in the oven. I bet you’re famished.”
The last thing she’d eaten had been that banana at breakfast. Murmuring her thanks, she walked across the room and removed the plate. Her sister had always been a good cook and Steffie gazed longingly at the broiled chicken breast, red new potatoes and fresh green beans.
“Where’d you go this morning?” Norah asked cheerfully, continuing to put the dishes away. “Valerie said you seemed upset about Charles Tomaselli.”
Steffie pulled out a stool at the counter and sat down to eat. “I needed to ask him something.”
“Did you get everything settled?”
Steffie lowered her gaze. “Everything’s clear now.”
“Good. He really has been wonderful through all this. Dad’s pleased with how well the article on migrant workers was received. You read it, didn’t you? The two of them spent weeks collecting facts, and Dad actually did a bit of undercover work. It was the first time since Mom died that he showed much interest in anything. I don’t think even Charles knows how much Dad put into that piece. He must’ve gone over every detail a dozen times.”
Steffie, who was just about to begin her meal, promptly lost her appetite. “I—I didn’t realize that.”
“I was planning to mail you the article, but then Dad had the heart attack and everything else fell by the wayside,” Norah explained conversationally, leaning against the counter.
“Where’s Val?”
“In the den. She’s working. You know Val. She’s got a mobile office set up there. Although I have to admit her mind hasn’t been on the job lately.”
“Oh?” Steffie made an effort to taste her meal. The chicken was tender and delicious. She took a second bite.
Norah wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a romance brewing between Val and Dr. Winston.”
“There is?” Steffie asked, fork poised in midair. “What about Valerie’s boss? Every time I got a letter from her it was Rowdy this and Rowdy that.”
“I don’t know about Rowdy, but I do know what I saw the night of Dad’s surgery.”
“Which was?” Steffie asked anxiously.
“Valerie fell apart after we were allowed to go in and see Dad. She didn’t realize I knew how upset she was, but I figured she needed a few minutes alone. I hadn’t seen Dad myself, and when I did, I could understand Valerie’s concern. He was very close to death. I don’t know how much anyone’s told you about Dad’s condition, but it’s a miracle he survived the open-heart surgery. Anyway,” she said with a sigh, “when I went in to see Dad I wondered if he’d last the night. I know Colby didn’t think he would. Neither did any of the others on the surgical team. Naturally, they didn’t say that, but I could tell what they were thinking. I’ve worked in surgery often enough myself to know who’s likely to survive and who isn’t. One look told me we’d be lucky if Dad lasted another few hours, although I was encouraged because he’d survived the surgery itself. There were plenty of complications, with the fluid in his lungs and all.”
“Tell me about Valerie,” Steffie urged.
“Oh, yeah, Valerie. Well, after she’d been with Dad she went out onto the patio outside the surgical waiting room. She was crying, which we both know is rare for Val. I could tell she needed someone. When I got back from seeing Dad, I started to go out to her, thinking we’d be able to comfort each other, but I stopped when I saw that Colby was with her.”
Steffie had heard wonderful things about Dr. Winston already, but his compassion for her sister confirmed everything she’d come to know of him. She said so to Norah, who nodded.
“They were sitting together and he was holding her in his arms. I don’t know how to explain it, but he had this…look. As though he would’ve done anything within his power to take away her pain. I thought right then that he had the look of a man who’s just discovered he’s fallen in love.”
“And Valerie?”
“I think she might have realized they were in love with each other before Colby did. You know how strong Valerie is, how she never wants to let anyone do anything for her. Well, for the first time since I can remember, she needed someone and Colby’s the person she turned to.”
“Valerie and Dr. Winston,” Steffie said slowly. She’d often wondered what it would be like when her oldest sister fell in love. Valerie had always been so pragmatic, much too sensible to get involved in a relationship while she was in college. She was there to be educated, not to find a husband, she’d told Steffie.
“Then Dad began to improve,” Norah went on, “and he started all this talk about the three of us marrying and having kids. I’m afraid Valerie’s taking it much too seriously, worrying about it too much. But then, she’s in love for the first time in her life and she’s frightened half to death that Colby’s the wrong man for her. Or more to the point, that she’s the wrong woman for him.”
“Love is love, and if they both feel so strongly, what’s the problem?”
Norah’s smile was sad and a bit hesitant. “Colby’s as traditional as they come. I think he wants a woman straight out of the 1950s.”
“Valerie knows this?”
“Of course she does. Colby’s well aware of what Valerie’s like, too. Her calling isn’t the kitchen, it’s the boardroom.”
“I say more power to her.” In Steffie’s opinion, Colby Winston should appreciate her sister’s God-given talents.
“Exactly!” Norah agreed. “But if Valerie marries Colby she’d probably have to quit her job. For one thing, CHIPS doesn’t have an office in this part of the country. And she’s worked too hard and too long to let go of her career.”
“In other words, they’d both have to compromise—and they can’t?”
“Exactly,” Norah said again. She sighed. “No one ever told me love could be so complicated. I feel sorry for them both. They couldn’t be more miserable.”
Steffie finished off the last of the small red potatoes, not wanting her sister to guess how curious she was about her father’s “chat” with her mother. “What do you think of all this talk about Dad’s…experience?”