Audrey set her alarm for six but needn’t have bothered. Ferdinand started crowing just after five and didn’t let up. A myriad of birds joined in and any hope of more sleep evaporated. People griped about noise in the city, but the traffic outside her apartment had nothing on this.
She hauled herself out of bed, making a beeline for the coffee pot instead of the shower. Matilda sniffed her impatience, so Audrey abandoned that task to let her out. She’d barely managed to grind beans when Matilda returned. Another sniff. “Soon. I promise. Just let me get it started.”
She got the old percolator going, got Matilda her breakfast, and considered drinking her coffee on the porch. Then she remembered she’d come downstairs wearing nothing more than a cami and a pair of boyshorts. She grumbled about inefficiency and backtracked to the bedroom to get dressed. After a disappointing survey of the clothes at her disposal, she selected a pair of jeans she could bear to part with and a tank top. If she borrowed one of Ernestine’s flannels and work boots, that should do until she could buy some of her own.
Where did one buy farm clothes, anyway?
She made a mental note to ask Rowan and tamed her bedhead into a ponytail. After a quick brush of her teeth, she deemed herself presentable enough for the animals and headed back downstairs. Since the sun was shining already, and she was properly clothed, she decided to have her coffee on the porch after all.
Matilda joined her, settling onto the wide wood planks with a contented sigh. Audrey took a sip of coffee, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh of her own. There, that was better. If she had to be up and running around at this hour, she could at least be civilized about it.
“Good morning.”
She sloshed her coffee, swore, then looked up to find Rowan offering her a sheepish smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Audrey waved a hand. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour and I’m maybe not fully awake yet.”
Rowan grinned and, awake or not, Audrey couldn’t ignore how hot she looked in a pair of jeans and a blue Ithaca Beer T-shirt that matched her eyes. “I thought I’d stop by on my way to work. You know, earn my dinner.”
She made a mental note to find out what Rowan did for a living. “That’s nice of you. I hope you didn’t get up extra early.”
“No earlier than usual. Figured I’d check in here instead of puttering at my place.”
Audrey shook her head. “I so wish I was a morning person.”
“Spend a few months here and you might turn into one.”
The comment was innocent enough, but it set her thoughts racing. What if Ernestine needed her here for months? She’d do it—no hesitation. What it meant for her life, not to mention Ernestine’s, was another matter entirely. “I will in a few days if the rooster has anything to say about it.”
“If it’s any consolation, Ferdinand wakes me up most mornings, too.”
She wouldn’t say consolation, but it made her laugh. Like the country version of bonding with your neighbor about the weirdo down the hall. “I’m not sure if I should say thank you or sorry.”
Rowan laughed. “Neither. Ferdinand and I made our peace.”
With Rowan standing there looking ready to tackle the day, she sort of felt like she should jump off the porch and tromp to the barn, but she couldn’t quite muster the momentum. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“I don’t think I’d ever say no to coffee.”
“A woman after my own heart. How do you take it?”
Rowan waved her off. “I can get it.”
Right. Because Rowan spent more time here than she did. Rowan disappeared into the house, returning a minute later with a steaming cup. She gave Audrey an expectant look. Audrey closed one eye. “We don’t get to sit and enjoy it, do we?”
“We can. I thought you might like to walk through the garden. I know most of what’s growing.”
And she didn’t know peas from parsnips. Well, not the plants that grew them. Or if Ernestine grew either of those. “That would be great.”
“And it’s more hands-free than the animals. That way you can ease in.”
She imagined a leisurely stroll to admire beautiful flowers and perfect vegetables just waiting to be picked but knew enough to know better. “Let me grab my phone so I can take pictures and notes.”
Twenty minutes later, her cup was empty and her camera roll had at least a hundred new images. With the exception of early lettuce and spinach, nothing was even close to being ready to pick. More a relief than disappointment, really, since it meant all she needed to do was weed and water. Not her idea of a good time, but decidedly within her skill level.
Rowan walked her through feeding and watering the animals again. With the benefit of both a decent night’s sleep and a whole cup of coffee, it felt a lot less daunting. She tweaked the notes in her phone and took more pictures—everything from the correct way to feed the chickens to letting the sheep out to graze. The goats were a new addition from the last time she’d visited, rescued from a bankrupt petting zoo. Ozzie and Harriet had big mouths and even bigger personalities. Audrey found herself equal parts intimidated and smitten. Well, smitten with their personalities. The amount of manure they seemed to produce? Not so much.
“I’ll see you for dinner?” she asked when they’d finished.
Rowan smiled. “I’ll be here.”
Rowan left for work, wishing her luck with her first full day of farming. She smiled with more enthusiasm than she felt, then watered the vegetable patch before tackling the animal stalls. It took a good hour to muck them out and lay fresh bedding—enough time for the pungent aroma to seep into her clothes, her pores, and she’d swear her hair. Oof. People made fun of accountants, but give her a spreadsheet over a poop shovel any day. She told the goats as much before heading in for a shower and breakfast.
Though she usually had yogurt or a smoothie at her desk, she opted for an omelet and more toast. One, because she’d gathered the eggs and picked the spinach herself and it felt ridiculously satisfying. Two, because farming was hard work and she was famished.
On the drive up to Rochester, she imagined telling Ernestine about the things she’d learned and all the ways Rowan was helping out. Of reassuring Ernestine everything was safely in her committed, if not entirely capable, hands. She didn’t need Ernestine to be proud of her, but she wanted her to feel like things were taken care of. She wanted Ernestine to be able to rest easy and focus on getting better. Mostly, though, she wanted Ernestine to wake up.
* * *
Rowan showered—because she always showered at the end of the workday, not because it was a date. Sure, thinking about whether or not it was a date in the first place might imply otherwise. As did the amount of time it took her to pick a clean shirt and pair of jeans from her closet.
Ridiculous? Yes. Did she still take a few extra minutes to work some product into her hair and style it just so? Also yes.
She stopped at the fridge on her way out for a bottle of cider. They’d released the first batch from last year’s press, but it wasn’t her absolute favorite. She snagged a bottle of the Russet from the year before—super dry but drinkable with almost anything. It was her favorite of that season, for its versatility as much as its flavor.
Since the evening promised to be cool, clear, and damn near perfect, she walked the quarter or so mile to Ernestine’s house. The crickets hadn’t started yet, but the frogs were in full force. The peepers had given way to the chirp and thrum of tree frogs, creating a chorus to accompany the red-wing blackbirds sending their final calls for the day.
She studied the spindly rows of her orchard on one side of the road and the stately branches of Ernestine’s on the other. Old and new, tradition and innovation. It’s what Forbidden Fruit was all about. Really, what she was all about.
She chuckled at the sentimental turn of her thoughts and picked up her pace, preferring to be a minute early over a minute late. Audrey answered the door in a wrap skirt and dark green tee with a deeply scooped neckline. Not dressy, exactly, but it made Rowan glad she’d put some effort into her appearance. Even if Audrey’s look had more to do with going to town than having dinner with her. “Hi.”
Audrey smiled. “Hi. I hope you didn’t get all spiffed up for me.”
Oh well. “More cleaned up than spiffed. It was a particularly dirty day at work.”
“Was it? I have no idea what you do. You’ll have to tell me all about it over dinner.” Audrey took a step back. “Come on in.”
She held out the bottle of cider and told herself not to be self-conscious. “For the record, I don’t show up empty-handed when Ernestine makes dinner, either.”
Audrey accepted the bottle and nodded her approval. “Noted.”
“It’s cold but we don’t need to have it with dinner. If it doesn’t go with what you made.” She cleared her throat, failing epically at the not self-conscious bit. “Or if you don’t drink.”
“It’s lovely. Thank you. And I think it will go better with what we’re having than the chardonnay I have chilling.”
She had no way of knowing if Audrey meant that or was merely being gracious, but she’d take it. “What are we having?”
“Nothing fancy. I roasted a chicken with some potatoes and the asparagus I picked this morning.”
It might not be fancy, but it promised to be better than the rotisserie chicken that made up her dinner at least a couple nights a week. “Sounds delicious.”
“You’re easy.” Audrey’s tone was more teasing than critical.
“Yep.” She followed Audrey to the kitchen and watched her putter around finishing the meal. She got the update on Ernestine—in a regular room and semi-awake, but not enough to talk or communicate at all really. Not enough to determine how much residual impairment she’d be facing. Audrey seemed more optimistic, though, so that lightened the mood.
“The doctor talked about moving her to a rehab facility in the next week.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” She tried to focus on that and not how difficult it might be for Ernestine to get back to the life she loved.
“Definitely. Still a lot of unknowns, but progress.”
“Are you going to be able to stick around for a while or will you have to get back to your job?”
Audrey tipped her head from side to side. “I’ve got some time. My company doesn’t hesitate to demand sixty hours a week, but the policies around sick time and family leave are generous.”
Such a safety net would be nice, even if she wouldn’t trade being her own boss to have it. “I think Ernestine mentioned you’re an accountant?”
Audrey carved the chicken and arranged it on a platter. “I am. Super glamorous, right?”
“Depends. Do you have a collection of pocket protectors?”
“I do not.” Audrey brought the remaining dishes to the table and pointed to the cider. “Would you open that for us?”
“Sure.” She focused on the task and hoped the joke hadn’t landed the wrong way.
Audrey took her seat. “I do have a designer laptop case, though, that I spent way too much money on. That might be the modern equivalent.”
“If it brings you joy in your work, I have no doubt it was worth it.” She’d made that exact argument to Dylan about the Japanese grafting knife she’d splurged on over the winter.
Audrey offered a playful bow. “Thank you.”
“You do live in Manhattan, though. That seems pretty glamorous.”
“I’m not sure about glamorous, but I like it.” Audrey gestured to the food. “Help yourself.”
She put a piece of chicken on her plate and probably more potatoes than was polite. “I don’t think I could handle it. All that concrete, the traffic.”
“I work in midtown and it’s certainly the case there. But where I live is pretty quiet.” She lifted a hand at Rowan’s look of disbelief. “In relative terms at least. My whole street is lined with trees.”
Yeah, growing from holes cut in the concrete. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the restaurants and museums and stuff. But a few days once every year or two is plenty for me.”
“I’m always trying to get Ernestine to visit, but she’s the same way.” Audrey’s shrug seemed thoughtful rather than dismissive. She picked up her glass and took a sip. Rowan may have held her breath. “This is fantastic, by the way. Thank you for bringing it.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Glad, of course, being an understatement.
“So, what about you? What do you do?”
“I’m a cider maker.” Five years in and it still gave her a rush to say it.
“Like, hard cider?”
She nodded. “Yep.”
“Wait.” Audrey gestured to her glass. “Is this yours?”
The surprise in Audrey’s voice had Rowan’s shoulders straightening with pride. “It is.”
“Oh, wow. That’s so cool. I know I said it was fantastic, but it really is fantastic.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have your own orchard?”
She took a sip, glad she’d gone for the Russet. “Yes and no?”
Audrey set her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her fist. “What does that mean?”
“My partner and I planted five acres when we were starting out, so we have that, but they’re just starting to produce, so we also source apples from other orchards in the area. We need the volume, but we also want the variety that comes from older and more diverse trees.”
Audrey’s eyes got big. “Do you buy Ernestine’s apples?”
“I do.”
Audrey nodded with enthusiasm. “I knew she had someone taking care of the orchard and managing the harvest. I hadn’t put the pieces together.”
She wasn’t sure why, but Audrey knowing about the arrangement made her feel better. “Our production space is across the street and up a little ways. I bought my house shortly after to be close by and that’s how Ernestine and I met.”
“I remember how relieved she was to find someone to tend the trees and not just buy the apples once they were harvested.”
“She’s got some amazing heritage varieties. It’s been a boon for us.” A godsend, really.
“I love that.”
She loved the way Audrey reached across the table and squeezed her hand. The way her eyes sparkled. And maybe more than anything, the way she seemed to appreciate the unlikely bond she and Ernestine had forged from what could have been a basic business arrangement. “I feel really lucky to have Ernestine. For so many reasons.”
“You’re not the only one.” Audrey looked down for a second. When her gaze returned to Rowan, her eyes were glassy with tears. “She’s going to be okay, right?”
Rowan wanted nothing more than to offer every reassurance. But the truth of the matter was she didn’t know and pretending she did felt too close to lying for her comfort. “I hope so.”
“Yes. Hope. Hope is good.” Audrey nodded brusquely and picked up her glass. “Until then, I’m glad we’re neighbors.”
Neighbors. Accurate, even if it fell a little flat. She picked up her glass and lifted it. “To neighbors.” Then, taking a chance, added, “And new friends.”
Audrey’s smile told her it wasn’t too much. “New friends.”
When they’d finished eating, Audrey let her clear the table but brushed off help with cleanup. She wrapped up the lion’s share of the leftovers for Rowan to take home. “Ernestine would insist.”
Since she would, Rowan didn’t argue. She did, however, join Audrey for evening chores. They got the animals fed and tucked into their stalls for the night, made sure all the chickens were accounted for and safely secured in the coop.
She made the walk home as dusk set in. She let Jack out and gave him his dinner before stripping down to boxers and a T-shirt and putting on the Mets game. She let her body relax from the work of the day, let her mind wander. It didn’t take long for her thoughts to turn to Audrey. She was pretty sure the spark of attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided, even if the conversation hadn’t carried them beyond friends and neighbors territory. No matter what she’d told herself beforehand, for an evening that absolutely wasn’t a date, it sure as hell felt like one.