Dandelion Wishes (Harper's Mill Book 3) Read online

  Violet frowned, staring at the back-of-the-neck view of her driver. “Duncan?” she finally said, placing the view. “Hey, I didn’t know you were back in town.”

  “Yeah, just doing odd jobs over the summer,” Duncan Simpson said.

  They chatted for the twenty-minute drive but Violet kept things light between them. Everyone knew Simpson men never fell in love. At least not in the last hundred years. Amy had told her once the family was cursed. No wives would stay and they all fled after the birth of their first-born son.

  For a moment, Violet felt a wave of sympathy for the sons. The dads. The moms. The families all broken by a long-ago curse. Duncan pulled up in front of the old farm house her aunt had inherited after Luke and Gemma had retired and gone to Arizona.

  “Thanks, Duncan” she said, handing the driver a tip and climbing out of the air-conditioned back seat. “Hopefully we’ll see you at the Solstice Celebration.”

  He waved a cheery goodbye. “Depends on how much alcohol your aunt is serving this year,” he said with a cocky grin. “I might be driving all over town!”

  Avoiding the house, she walked back to the pond, determined to have a moment with First Daughter.

  Violet sat on the bench, shaded by the four-hundred-year-old apple tree, and took a deep breath. Redolent with the deep scents of earth and summer and sun-warmed fruit, the shade of the old apple tree felt like coming home.

  An apple fell and rolled towards her foot, nudging her damp sneaker.

  She smiled and gently pushed it gently away.

  She bent down to pick up a dandelion that had long since gone to seed. The silver wisps swayed in a gentle breeze. Knowing it was silly, knowing it would impart no new knowledge she still took a deep breath, thought about Brick, and blew for all she was worth.

  Silvery white fluff scattered to the wind but when she looked back at the stem in her hand, she counted five which had remained stubbornly intact.

  Brick didn’t love her.

  The apple, not to be ignored, bumped her shoe again. Absently, she reached down and picked it up.

  “Violet Race, what do you think you’re doing with that apple?” her aunt demanded, approaching from the side.

  Violet jumped, guiltily. Had her aunt seen her wishing on dandelions? “Nothing yet, Aunt Eden,” she said with a smile. She turned the apple over in her hands, contemplating its smooth skin and plum like skin. “Are the stories true?” she asked, handing the apple to her aunt. “About the Daughter,” she clarified.

  Eden stared at her, her golden brown gaze questioning. Concerned. “Most apple trees are only in fruit for about thirty years,” Eden began.

  Violet groaned. “You’re Eden-splaining again,” she said with a grin. “Can you get to the point?”

  Eden chuckled. “Have patience, grasshopper. I am answering the question.”

  “Well, could you answer it quicker?”

  Eden pursed her lips in mild annoyance and continued with her story. “According to Grandpa Elijah’s diary, this tree was fully grown and in fruit when he got here. I’ve had three pomologists out to look at her and they all have said the same thing. It’s impossible for an apple tree to stay in fruit this long. According to them, this tree is probably close to four hundred years old and yet, somehow remains in fruit. It’s even been estimated that First Daughter here has roots in every back yard in Harper’s Mill.” Eden paused and tossed the apple in the air before deftly catching it. “And then there’s this. The rest of my trees are all in flower but not First Daughter. She goes from flower to fruit almost immediately. She sits here in full fruit all summer and her apples stay firm and ripe until harvest.”

  Violet smiled at her aunt. “That doesn’t really answer my question, Aunt Eden.”

  “No, I guess it doesn’t.” Eden bit her lip as a breeze blew and a second perfectly ripe plum red apple rolled towards her, nudging her booted foot. Bright flashes of crimson caught in the sunlight and the shade only emphasized the dark ruby skin. “As near as I can tell, she’s the daughter of a Surprise apple and an unknown variety, possibly a Mac or a Black Arkansas. Deliciously sweet with skin as dark as a fine Burgundy wine with flesh the color of a blush pearl. A beautiful hybrid.”

  “But no one eats the apples from the First Daughter,” Violet pointed out, growing impatient with her aunt’s rambling tale.

  “Not directly, no,” Eden conceded, grinning. “Ever wonder why my All Hallows’ Eve cider is pale pink?”

  “I thought you used skin or food coloring or something.”

  Eden raised an eyebrow at her niece. “Seriously? You thought I colored my cider? I’m hurt.”

  Violet shrugged in apology.

  “No, honey. My brothers and I collect her apples ourselves and use them for cider in the fall. A single batch we sell every thirty-first of October. The skins and anything left over I put out for the deer.”

  Violet’s mouth parted in shock. “It’s not the same thing as eating it?”

  Eden reached a slim finger out and shut her niece’s mouth. “Rumors are sometimes good for business,” she said sagely. She shrugged. “The apples have some special properties that make people feel young and giddy but it’s not really magic,” she said. “And meanwhile, my cider sells out every year, especially Eden’s Brew. Most people wait in line for our cider. As for the legends? Hard to say. No one in my lifetime has ever admitted to eating one of Daughter’s apples, so I can’t tell you what would happen. Maybe nothing. Maybe something earth shattering. We all accepted that her fruit was as forbidden as Eve’s Apple.”

  “But if you take a bite, you see your true love, right?” Violet asked a trifle desperately. What if Brick wasn’t her true love and she needed to let him be with Mandy? The desire for knowledge burned within her.

  “That’s what some people say,” Eden said. Her golden brown eyes met her niece’s hazel ones. “But would you really want to know? What if you had been gloriously married for 30 years and found out the boy in your kindergarten class was your true love? Or what if you never met him? Or met him so long ago you don’t remember?” Eden rose and smiled at Violet. “No, sometimes we need to learn these things in our own way. On our own path.” She absently juggled the two apples in her hands. “And these two beauties will make a fine bit of Eden’s Brew, don’t you think?” she asked.

  Violet sighed. “Maybe I do want to know,” she said to Eden’s retreating back. She continued to enjoy the shade and soft breeze blowing across the pond but her sense of ease had been disrupted. She eyed the tree skeptically. She did want to know. Didn’t she?

  Eden turned back to Violet. “Why don’t you come up to the house and tell your old aunt what brought you out to visit with First Daughter?” she invited. “After tea, you can help me set up tables in the old barn for the Solstice Celebration Saturday night.”

  Violet’s laugh was one part tears one part giggle, but it was still better than feeling sorry for herself. “You aren’t old, Aunt Eden,” she said, chasing after her aunt. “You’re Dad’s youngest sister. You can’t be much older than I am.”

  Eden laughed and looped their arms together. “I’m more than a few years older than you,” she said with a grin. “But if you want to think so, who am I to argue?”

  This time, Violet’s laugh was less forced. “Maybe instead of finding your true love, one bite of Daughter’s apples leaves you younger and younger,” she accused. “And you want to keep them all to yourself.”

  Eden’s eyes widened and for a moment, Violet wondered if she had accidently stumbled onto a deeper truth about the Daughter. Was she really an Apple Tree of Youth?

  Curious, Violet thought, eyes narrowing in thought.

  “What blockheaded thing did Brick do now?” Eden asked, interrupting Violet’s thoughts.

  “How do you know it has anything to do with Brick?”

  “Honey, please. You’re frowning and crying and seeking advice from an old apple tree. Of course, it’s over Brick.”

  Violet
unloaded, telling her aunt everything. The past decade of low-level bullying, prom, his upcoming date with Mandy, and the kiss.

  Or, as Violet now thought of it, The Kiss.

  “What are you going to do about it?” Eden asked.

  “Talk to you, for starters.”

  “I just can’t believe you let her do those things to you.”

  “Are you taking her side?” Violet asked, realizing she was whining a bit.

  “No, baby. She shouldn’t have teased you and told lies about you. But when did you turn into a mouse, unwilling to stick up for herself?”

  Violet shrugged.

  “Have you ever told Brick how you feel?”

  Violet paused and blushed. “No, not really. I was hoping this summer. Maybe. But shouldn’t he have known, Aunt Eden?”

  “Not unless he’s picked up a new skill since Christmas and can now read minds. And how do you know Brick is destined for you? Isn’t that up to him and you to decide?”

  “But I want him!”

  “Honey, you don’t have a right to the cards you think you should have been dealt. The only thing you can do in this life if play the ones you have to the best of your ability.”

  “He just feels so right,” Violet said, but even she could tell there was no more passion in her words. He aunt was right.

  “Then you have to decide. Do you love him enough to let him make that decision?”

  Violet’s shoulders slumped, realizing she couldn’t have it both ways. If he chose Mandy or anyone else, was she going to abandon her best friend? Or was she going to grow up and accept she wasn’t always going to get everything she wanted? “I want what my mom and dad have,” she finally whispered.

  Eden nodded and pushed a stray curl away from her face. “Baby girl, everyone wants what your parents have found.”

  Violet looked at her aunt – really looked at her as a woman and not just her aunt. Had there been a lost love in her life, too?

  “Stop running and face the difficult. Start making your own decisions. That’s what growing up is. You’ll probably find out your problems aren’t nearly as fearsome as you’ve made them out to be.”

  Violet nodded, deep in thought over her aunt’s words. Maybe she did need to mature and start facing the obstacles in her life instead of fleeing from them.

  They entered the warm, homey kitchen and Violet felt a pulse of peace pass over her. Bright gingham curtains hung over the windows overlooking the original orchard and well. Flat after flat of bright strawberries crowded the island. “That is a lot of strawberries,” she said. “What are you going to do with all these strawberries?”

  Eden scoffed. “These are for Honor,” she said, referring to their cousin Spence’s wife. “She’s making a few desserts for the Solstice.”

  “Oh, yummy! I love Honor’s baking.”

  “Girl has a gift, that’s for sure,” Eden said. “Are you heading that way? Can you take them for me?”

  “Well. I kinda took a ride share up here. Can I borrow one of the trucks and deliver them? Then Amy and I are having a sleepover tonight.” She thought about Amy’s late night text and couldn’t wait to discuss it with her.

  “Sure sweetie,” Eden said, distracted by the collected items in front of her.

  Violet watched as Eden performed the age-old ritual of tea preparation. The beautiful old teapot that had been handed down for generations sat in a place of honor. Eden’s work-hardened but comforting hands assembled the tray with floral tea cups, delicate spoons. Thick napkins, cream and sugar, and a small plate of cookies rounded out their tray.

  While they worked, Violet told her aunt about Amy’s mysterious late night text.

  “That could be about anything,” Eden said reasonably. “But if Brick has been on your mind lately and in light of your fight and kiss, you’re probably right,” Eden said, finally looking up from her tray. “See? You don’t need First Daughter when you have friends like Amy.”

  Violet’s fingers caressed her phone. “Maybe,” she said softly. “Maybe.”

  The sound of a car approaching the driveway made Eden frown. “Now, who’s here? I swear, the Orchard is becoming a regular bus stop these days,” she muttered, walking to the window. “Huh. Look at that. It’s your mom.” Violet stood up and opened the door.

  “Mom, what are you doing here,” Violet asked, greeting her mom with a hug.

  “You needed me,” Diana said simply.

  “Have you been taking lessons from Amy and Emma?” Violet asked, but held onto her mom a few beats longer than strictly necessary. It felt good to be hugged.

  “Moms don’t have to have Evans blood in them,” she said softly. “Now, talk to me.”

  “What’s wrong with me, Mom? Am I too short? Too tall? Too much a crazy ginger?”

  “You’re beautiful, baby.”

  “You’re my mom,” Violet argued. “You have to say that.”

  “Maybe, but it helps when it’s also true,” Diana Race said. “You have lovely hair, baby.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That sounds like when Dad says ‘It is what it is’, Mom. It doesn’t really help.”

  You can’t unbreak a bottle and you can’t make someone fall in love with you.

  Violet sighed and began playing with her long hair, pulling it into a messy updo and secured it with a few random bobby pins from her pocket. “I don’t get it, Mom. Brick was supposed to, you know, see me this summer.”

  “Give him time, honey. You haven’t seen him in months and you’ve done a lot of growing up and filling out this year.”

  “He’s on a date with Mandy Jones,” she said.

  “Isn’t she the girl who made fun of you all through middle school?”

  Violet nodded, miserable. “I don’t even know if I’d be happy if he were in love with my best friend. But the fact that it’s her really hurts, mom.”

  “One date doesn’t mean he’s going to marry her, you know,” Diana Race said sagely.

  “It was supposed to be us, Mom,” Violet said softly, acutely aware she was whining. “And instead, he wants to be with someone else. I wanted to follow in your steps with Daddy. I wanted to marry my high school sweetheart. But what if he isn’t my soul mate?”

  “Oh, honey, no matter when you find your soul mate, it will be okay. Your dad and I found each other early but,” she shrugged helplessly, “it’s not a competition.”

  “I know,” Violet said, shoulders dejected.

  Her mom nodded to her sister-in-law. “Is that what the visit with Eden was about?”

  “Maybe, but Aunt Eden wouldn’t let me have an apple.” She spared a glare for her aunt.

  Diana and Eden shared a glance and a quiet, sad grin. “That was probably for the best, baby.” She patted her daughter’s knee. “Do you want me to cancel the Garden Club meeting?”

  Violet smiled. “No, Mom. You and Mrs. Decker and the other ladies have fun tonight. I appreciate you finding me. I did need you. Thank you.” She hugged her mom and wiped at the tears. “I’m heading to Amy’s tonight for a sleepover and then helping Eden with the Solstice. Sunday is the opening party at the lake and then I’m heading down the shore for a week.”

  Eden teased gently. “Oh, to be that young and that busy!”

  Diana got a third tea cup and the gentle, ageless ritual of tea and conversation was complete.

  Violet swallowed the last of her tea and placed the delicate cup on its saucer. “Thank you.” She leaned over hand held hands with both her mom and aunt. “I have to be prepared to deal with my jealousy, no matter what Brick decides. His friendship means the world to me and I don’t want to make it weird.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Eden said, tightening her grip slightly on Violet’s hand. “Now, let’s clean the dishes and get you off to deliver the strawberries and your mother off for Garden Club.”

  An hour later, armed with several flats of strawberries, Diana dropped Violet off in the parking lot of The Breakfast Club. Violet paused for a moment
to admire the shiny chrome, bright red décor, and 1950s Americana charm it screamed from every corner. “Emma and Thorne did such a great job, didn’t they?”

  Diana looked up. “You’re right. They did. Now, let’s get these out of my car, sweetie. I’m sorry I can’t help you get them all inside but I’m running late.”

  “I got ya,” Violet said and together, they put the cartons of fruit in the shade.

  “Have fun, sweetie!”

  “Love you, Mom!”

  “Love you, too, Violet,” Diana said.

  “Hey, Vee,” Emma greeted as she walked in the door. “Can I get you anything?” David Nguyen, her on again/ off again boyfriend, sat at the counter, his dark chocolate brown eyes following Emma.

  “Hey, Emma. Hi, Nuge,” Violet greeted them. Emma flitted around the counter, filling coffee while Nuge held out his own empty cup with a teasing smirk. Violet watched for a moment as Emma studiously ignored the handsome customer in front of her in order to help the ones further away.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Emma asked Violet.

  “You can get me a drink,” Nuge said, looking pitifully at his empty mug.

  “Drink slower,” Emma said with a sniff.

  Violet blew Emma a kiss and held up the armful of strawberries. “I’m just here to drop these off, Em. Aunt Eden has turned me into a delivery service. I saw Amy’s car out front. Is she in the kitchen?”

  “Vee!” Amy greeted, rounding the corner and skidding to a stop seconds before reaching for a hug around the stacks of strawberries. Her brilliant blue eyes danced with delight. “Take those in the kitchen. Honor will be here any minute. I’ll get the rest.”

  “There’s a lot,” Violet warned with a laugh.

  “Just put them in the far sink,” Emma ordered, continuing to pour coffee for one of her regulars. “Did you bring the invoice or is Eden getting generous in her old age?”

  Violet turned so Emma could see the invoice sticking out of her back pocket. She grabbed it and put it in the register. “David, if you want a refill, go help the girls bring in the strawberries.”

  “It’ll be cold by then,” he protested.

  “Then be quick about it,” Emma returned with an arched eyebrow.