Audrey set the plate of grilled chicken on the table and sat. She picked up the glass of wine next to her plate and took a long sip. The kind of sip that said she had something on her mind. Rowan eyed her and debated asking or waiting for Audrey to come out with it.
“Thank you. This looks amazing.” It never hurt to open with a compliment, right?
“Thank you for pouring wine.” Audrey took another sip and let out a sigh. “I told Ernestine we were, you know, involved.”
Rowan slathered butter on an ear of corn so sweet it didn’t technically need it. “You did?”
“I didn’t mean to, really. She was giving me this look like I was holding out on her and I don’t know if she suspected it, but it came tumbling out.”
“I’ve been the victim of that look.” About her business plan, her love life, and her fertilizing techniques. Among other things.
“You’re not upset?”
Upset that Audrey told the most important person in her life that they were involved? The truth of the matter was she was more inclined to do a happy dance. But something told her that wasn’t the answer Audrey wanted. “Not at all. She’s close to both of us. It’s actually felt a little strange keeping it a secret.”
Audrey frowned.
“Not that we’ve been actively lying or anything. Just weirdly omitting, you know?” She cleared her throat. “I think it’s great.”
Audrey tapped her index finger on the table. “You don’t even know how she responded.”
It hadn’t occurred to her Ernestine might not take it well. The possibility landed in her gut with a thud. Was she overly protective of Audrey? Or, what if she thought they were selfishly fooling around while she was slogging through her recovery? That didn’t seem like Ernestine, but then again Ernestine didn’t seem to think all that highly of romantic entanglements in the first place. “Was it not good?”
“She was fine, but after that keeping it a secret comment, I thought you deserved to squirm a little.”
“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” Even if part of her wanted anyone and everyone to know Audrey was her girlfriend.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I mean it. It didn’t bother me, I’m used to Ernestine prodding me about the women I date.”
“Oh, really?”
Why was she digging such a hole? “Not the specific women, exactly. Just whether or not I was dating.”
“Ah. I suppose I’ve gotten my share of that, too.”
“I’m kind of surprised she never tried to set us up.” The second she said it, about a thousand reasons why Ernestine wouldn’t flooded her mind. If the look on Audrey’s face was any indication, at least a few of them were valid. Why would Ernestine want her super successful niece hooking up with a fledgling entrepreneur who had more dreams than savings?
“She said she knew better than to play matchmaker with people who lived so far apart.”
A perfectly valid reason, but it seemed like there was more to it. But Audrey didn’t elaborate. Probably for the best. As good as things were, she had her moments of wondering what was next. And then putting aside that wondering because the possibilities might be nice, but the more probable subset left her cold.
“Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?” Audrey asked.
The abrupt shift left Rowan almost as confused as the question itself. “Is that a trick question?”
“Why would that be a trick question?”
Audrey seemed genuinely confused, too, so Rowan gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Requisite family dinner. All the family. Much chaos. Even more food.”
“Aw.” Audrey smiled. “That’s nice.”
Rowan loved her family. Really, she did. She just loved them more in small doses—both in terms of number and time. In spite of that—or maybe because of it?—she suddenly found herself wanting Audrey to join her. “You’re more than welcome to come. They can be overwhelming, but they mean well. I’m sure they’d be happy to give someone new the third degree.”
“Um.”
As counterintuitive as it might be, the idea grew on her. “No pressure, obviously. I’m sure you’ll want to visit Ernestine, but we tend to eat on the later side.”
Audrey stabbed a salt potato with her fork but set it down without taking a bite. “I was actually thinking I’d see if I could spring her for the day so she could have Thanksgiving at home.”
“Oh. Wow. That’s a fantastic idea. Can you do that?”
Audrey shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, she’s there of her own free will, so I’d think she could come and go.”
“Do you think she’d be up for it?”
“She tires easily, but she doesn’t need round-the-clock care like she did. I’m worried about the stairs more than anything. I confess I’ve wondered if she’d deign to be carried into the house.”
Rowan laughed before she could stop herself.
“Exactly.”
“What if we built a ramp?”
Audrey’s whole face lit up. “Could we?”
“A temporary one at least. I’m sure we could find some plans. It’s only three steps.”
“She’ll probably grumble, but it might be worth looking into making it more permanent. Like the lift chair I’ve been researching for the main stairs.”
“Grumble?” Ernestine was a practical woman but stubborn as a mule. Even if she accepted there were some things she wouldn’t be able to do anymore, Rowan imagined she had a line she would refuse to cross. A line that had geriatric written across it in big bold letters.
“I know. But if it’s the compromise that gets her home sooner, maybe she’ll go for it?”
She blew out a breath. “Maybe. Because she might hate the prospect of being difficult even more that the prospect of being infirm.”
Audrey glared. “Let’s not get in the habit of using that word, okay?”
She laughed. “Fair enough. So, build a ramp and spring her for the day.”
“Yes. I thought it might also be a way to test the waters of her being at home.”
“Yep, yep. It will help you and her get a handle on what kind of assistance she’ll need to transition back.”
“Exactly.” Audrey drummed her hands on the table. “Because as much as I might like to, I can’t stay here forever.”
If a small part of her wanted to ask why not, she shoved it aside. It wasn’t her place to question Audrey’s life choices. “Well, count me in for both. Just don’t ask me to make a pie.”
Audrey laughed and the sound made Rowan want to gather her up and kiss her senseless. And, well, more than kiss her, too. “I’ll put you in charge of drinks.”
“See? That I can do. Though, to be honest, I could probably bring pie. Bake My Day has a whole holiday menu and the caramel apple crumb pie is to die for.” It was one hundred percent what she’d be bringing to her parents’ house.
“No, no. I’ll cook. I know most of Ernestine’s recipes and I want her to feel like it’s a real, almost normal, Thanksgiving.”
The prospect of a holiday meal with Audrey and Ernestine made it easy to set aside her worries about everything else. The harvest would be pretty much done by then and the pace of life would slow a bit. And whatever her long-term intentions or plans, Audrey seemed set on being around. She’d worry about the rest when the time came.
* * *
Audrey rarely wanted to extricate herself from bed, especially now that most mornings included waking up with Rowan. On this particular morning, that desire to burrow for a few more minutes was exacerbated by a distinct chill in the air. To be honest, it wasn’t a chill. It was fucking freezing.
“Why is it so cold?” She pulled the covers over her face and snuggled harder against Rowan.
“Because it was so nice last night I forgot to close the windows.”
She groaned her displeasure.
“What if I get a hot shower running for you?”
The prospect of a hot shower appealed, especially if it included Rowan and the possibility of coaxing her back to bed. But that wouldn’t happen today. Today was what Rowan referred to as the big haul—she’d invited people to come and help and they’d do most of the picking in Ernestine’s orchard and have a big party after. She’d been looking forward to it, actually. But it still didn’t make her want to get up. “No.”
She hadn’t bothered to keep the poutiness from her voice and Rowan tutted and kissed her. The top of her head, her shoulder, and her neck before settling on her lips. “What’s wrong, love?”
The sweetness made her smile. The pet name did, too, even though they’d both steered very clear of using the word between I and you. “I’m fine. I just want to stay in bed all day.”
Rowan gave her a squeeze. “You can. I wanted you to experience today, but I never want you to feel like I’m putting you to work.”
“You love putting me to work. Fortunately, I like it.” In a lot of ways, they put each other to work. But it also wasn’t like that at all. She’d never had the experience of working with someone the ways she and Rowan worked together. At the cidery, at the farm. She’d always imagined getting sick of a person. But even as she tried, she couldn’t imagine getting sick of Rowan. Was it because she knew the arrangement had an end point? Maybe. Though a little voice somewhere deep in her mind—or was it her heart?—told her that wouldn’t make a lick of difference.
Rowan propped on her elbow and frowned. “You know what I mean.”
She slid her arm into the open space under Rowan’s side and used the gained leverage to pull Rowan on top of her. “I’m just being lazy. And also a sex hound.”
“Sex hound?”
“Yeah.” That was a phrase, wasn’t it? She hadn’t had a lot of occasion to use sex lingo. Until now.
Rowan shifted her weight and grabbed Audrey’s wrists, pinning them lightly over her head. “You’re adorable.”
“Are you making fun of me?” Not that she’d necessarily mind.
“Not even a little.” Rowan kissed her.
“Because if you are, I might have to tickle you in retaliation.”
“I said I wasn’t.” Rowan’s assertion was as quick as it was adamant.
“Okay, okay. I believe you.” Though now, she kind of wanted to make Rowan laugh and squirm. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Rowan kissed her like she might be willing to stay in bed all day. “We could skip breakfast.”
She gave in to a single poke at Rowan’s side. “Tempting, but you’re not cute when you’re hangry.”
Rowan sighed. “Truth.”
They climbed out of bed together. Rowan made coffee while Audrey threw together egg sandwiches, then she headed home for morning chores while Rowan went across the street to get everything ready for the harvest. It sort of made her feel like the farm version of a fifties housewife, which should have been weird but wasn’t.
By the time she took care of the animals and made her way into the orchard, at least a dozen people milled around. Since Rowan was already on the tractor, Dylan did introductions. She knew better than to think she’d remember all their names, but the group included one of Rowan’s siblings, college friends, and the woman Dylan was dating. Even Jamal, the intern who’d been at the cidery for the summer, came.
There were bushel baskets and crates, tarps and bungees and elaborate ways of coaxing ripe apples to fall. Since everything would be pressed in the next few days, there was no need to be delicate about it. They moved from row to row, collecting the windfalls and picking clean every tree Rowan deemed ready.
It was hard work but fun. A lot of fun. Part of it was how communal it felt, how nice Dylan’s and Rowan’s friends were. Part of it was how sexy Rowan looked in a Carhartt jacket and Forbidden Fruit ball cap, riding the tractor around.
Rowan and Dylan had packed coolers with water and soda and sandwiches. Since it was such a gorgeous day, pretty much everyone plopped themselves right on the ground for lunch or when they wanted a break. They moved quickly, but it didn’t feel rushed.
Like so many moments of the last few months, it was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. When she said as much to Rowan, Rowan promised that she’d proven herself and would be summoned from the far corners of the globe for any and all future haul days. Though it was hard to think about leaving, and even harder to think about Ernestine recovering enough to stay on the farm alone, she let herself imagine being here, with Rowan, next year. And the year after that. And, maybe, just a little, for a lifetime of harvests.