Five
Ross bounded down the stairs, hoping to see Fern helping with breakfast, but when he turned toward the dining area, Alissa was at the buffet. His pulse gave a jolt, sensing nothing had been resolved between them in their talk the past evening.
He stepped behind her and reached around for a coffee mug.
Alissa jumped, and when she looked at him, a smile lit her face. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
He gave a perfunctory nod, surprised at her bright smile. “How about you?”
“The best sleep I’ve had in a couple of days, thank you.”
His mind billowed with curiosity, but with other guests were sitting at the table, she’d shifted to a more businesslike manner. He filled a mug and eyed the fare for the day: cheese melted on English muffins and topped with a strip of bacon. Then he noticed a great-looking fruit cobbler. As he dished a muffin and some fruit on his plate, he heard his mother’s voice.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said, smiling at those seated as she headed Ross’s way. She veered past him and stopped beside Alissa. “Thank you for the wonderful restaurant suggestions. We enjoyed the steak so much. It was very tender.” She leaned closer and spoke in a hushed voice. “I’m sorry you couldn’t join us. We thought we’d try the other restaurant tonight. Any hope of—”
Ross pressed his hand against her arm, keeping his voice hushed. “Alissa might not have anyone—”
“I’d love to join you. Fern will take over tonight.” She gave Ross an arched-brow look followed by a grin.
His mother pressed Alissa’s hand in hers. “Wonderful. I’m so pleased.” She glanced at Ross. “About seven?”
Alissa nodded and slipped back into the kitchen.
Ross settled at the table and took his first bite. The muffin was excellent, and today he thought he might behave like the big dude who went back for seconds a couple of mornings ago. Before his second taste, his cell phone chimed. Disappointed, he let the muffin drop to his plate and grasped his phone. “Excuse me,” he said, flipping it open as he walked into the parlor. “Ross Cahill.”
He sank into a chair, hearing the manager he’d left in charge relate a contract problem with one of their largest distributors.
“Give me his number. I’ll call him from here. If we need to talk in person, I’ll have to drive back for a day.” He grabbed a notepad from the registration desk and jotted down the number. “Thanks, Hersh. Is everything else okay?”
He listened to his manager’s calm voice.
“Great. I’ll get back to you.”
After he hung up, he started to make the call then flipped the cell phone closed. No sense in ruining his breakfast totally. He might as well eat first and fight later. Ross slipped the phone back into his pocket and headed back into the dining room. When he’d settled down with his breakfast, his mother leaned closer, a worried look on her face.
“Problems?”
He shrugged. “Nothing a telephone call can’t resolve, I hope. I’ll call after breakfast.” He sank back against the chair, but the food didn’t sit well. Problems with distribution could be serious. The product made it to the market through distributors and no other way. Avocados needed to reach stores at their peak—not overripe.
His mother rose to refill her coffee cup and take a little more fruit cobbler then sat again. Ross sensed her watching him, and he tried to relax his expression. “Are you anxious to get to the sanctuary?”
“When you’re ready.”
“I shouldn’t be too long. If it’s a problem, then I’ll go to Plan B.”
“Plan B?”
“Let’s stick with Plan A for now, Mom.” He slid back his chair and carried his cup to the decanter. “I think I’ll take a walk outside and make the call.”
His mother gave an agreeable nod, but he spotted concern on her face. The sooner he resolved the situation, the better.
“Are you going to the sanctuary?”
Ross lifted his gaze to an elderly woman seated at the end of the table.
His mother’s concern shifted to an amiable smile. “We are once my son’s business is finished.”
“I’m heading that way. I’d be happy to take you over with me. I just have to get my binoculars, and I’m ready.”
“That’s so kind.” She turned to Ross. “Would that be helpful, Ross?”
He wanted to kiss the woman across the table. “That would be great, if you don’t mind.”
The woman smiled. “I’d be happy to have someone to go with. I’m Amanda Darling.” She shook her head. “I know. It’s a strange last name, but my husband was as delightful as the word. He was darling.”
“You’re a widow?” Maggie asked.
Amanda nodded. “For two years. It’s difficult.”
“Ralph’s been gone three years. We have a lot in common.”
Ross felt as if he were an onlooker in the female conversation. “If you’re settled, then I’ll go ahead and take care of business.”
“That would be wonderful, and you can pick me up about—” She eyed her watch.
“No need,” Amanda said. “I’ll be coming back. Are you on a time schedule?”
His mother waved him away. “None at all. I’m sure my son would be grateful.”
Ross leaned over and kissed his mother’s cheek then turned to Amanda. “Thank you. Have a great day, Mom, and I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be back by dinnertime,” she said.
He gave her a thumbs-up and headed outside, filled with a sense of freedom. He’d been a dutiful son the past few days, but today with the added problems at the ranch, he could use some breathing space. He strode to the gazebo and slid onto a bench. In the shade, the morning breeze drifted in and ruffled his hair. He pulled the paper from his pocket and eyed the number, but before hitting the buttons, he gave thought to the problem and how he might solve it. He had an ominous sense he was being more positive than he would feel when he ended the conversation.
After thinking it through, he punched in the number and waited. “Chuck Conklin, please,” he said when the secretary picked up. Silence reigned over the line except for ghostlike voices far in the distance echoing from other calls somewhere along the cables. Finally a gruff “Hello” cut through the sound.
“Chuck, this is Ross Cahill. I understand—”
Ross’s eyes blinked when he heard Chuck’s contentious tone that followed.
“I know what our contract says—”
With his mind spinning, Ross listened to threats from his largest distributor. “You know weather conditions affect our crops. Who else has met their contracts this year in California?”
More intimidation followed.
“So what’s our solution?” Ross already knew. The guy wanted to raise prices and at the worst time when his crop had been affected by things out of his control. “We all have to make a living, Chuck.”
Ross realized the conversation was going nowhere. He needed to look at the books and see the guy in person. A telephone conversation wouldn’t resolve this issue to his satisfaction at all. When Chuck quieted, Ross took over. “I need to talk with the manager and see what we can do to resolve this. We’re happy with your service, and I understand you have employees to pay, too. What works best for you, San Luis Obispo or Paso Robles?”
Though he grunted a response, Ross sensed a face-to-face meeting was what Chuck wanted. Chuck had made it clear he expected Ross either to meet the contract or to provide him with some compensation. That would mean a new contract, which was what the guy was hoping for, Ross realized. “How about tomorrow afternoon at my office in San Luis Obispo? Say around one.”
Chuck agreed, and Ross ended the conversation, knowing he needed to call his manager before giving any thought to contract concessions. He slipped his cell phone into his pocket and rose from the gazebo bench.
The morning held the promise of another beautiful day, and instead of worrying about his business, Ross wished he could head to a park or walk on the wharf, anything but have stress follow him here. The surroundings of Pacific Grove offered nature in all its glory—the rolling waves dashing against the seal-laden rocks, the bay’s white foam spreading along the beach, and the colorful monarch butterflies clinging in clumps on the eucalyptus and pine trees. But the beauty didn’t linger in Ross’s thoughts. Instead his mind settled on his problem and clung to the hope that he could find the wisdom to deal with Chuck.
He trod across the yard, and as he reached the house, the back door opened and Alissa stepped out. “I see you escaped visiting the butterflies today.”
“And I’m grateful. A woman at breakfast—Amanda, I think—offered to take Mom to the sanctuary with her. It was perfect timing.”
Alissa’s smile slipped to a frown. “Perfect timing? What’s wrong?”
He patted the pocket holding his cell phone. “Business problems. I have to go down to my office in San Luis Obispo tomorrow for a few hours.” He raised his brows. “I haven’t broken the news to Mom yet.”
Her frown changed to what appeared to be disappointment. “I’m sure your mom will do fine. Amanda’s staying with us for at least a week of sightseeing and visiting the sanctuary, so I’m sure your mother will be in good company even if you have to go.”
Ross studied her face a moment. “How did it go with Fern?”
“Better than I thought.” Her eyes turned heavenward. “Praise God, well, really. I think we were open and honest, and we have a place to start with some long-overdue healing.”
“You don’t look as happy as you should.”
The beginning of a grin touched her lips. “Fern’s going to work tomorrow for me all day. I hoped to get away and—”
“And join us for some sightseeing and dinner.” Personal disappointment sailed over him.
She nodded. “But I can still go along with your mother. She was the one who—”
Ross held up his hand. “I was looking forward to your coming along, too, Alissa. It’s not just my mom.” Though feeling ill at ease, he charged ahead. “I enjoy your company. I really like you, and that’s unusual for me.”
The scowl returned. “Unusual? Why?”
“My business is different from yours. You have to be a people person, so you have skills to be genial and friendly even if you don’t want to. My business is business. I deal with produce. Avocados and. . . I don’t have to smile at or chat with an avocado.”
She chuckled. “I suppose not.”
“My life is geared to judging people’s honesty and intentions. I’m hesitant with new people, and it carries over into my social life. I’m always looking for an ulterior motive.”
“My guests usually don’t have those. They’re on vacation and want to enjoy the sights.”
“That’s what I mean. You provide a service. I offer a product. I suppose that’s the difference.”
She thought for a moment. “What’s the problem at your ranch? Anything you can solve by telephone?”
“I tried that.” He shook his head. “No go.”
She only nodded and lowered her gaze.
The tingle of an idea rose up his back. “If you have the whole day free, why not come with me? I can show you the ranch, and while I’m doing business, you can relax or take a look at the orchard. We could have dinner on the way back. What do you say?”
Her eyes shifted, and a hint of color tinted her cheeks. “I don’t know. You’re going there for business, and what if it takes longer or you have to stay overnight? Then—”
“That won’t happen. The meeting is with one of the companies that distribute our product to the stores. The man won’t stay that long. I’m guessing he’s harassing more ranches than mine, so he’ll be anxious to move on.”
“Harassing? Why?”
“Bad weather last spring caused ice damage to some of our crops and slowed the growth of others so we haven’t been able to keep up with the guaranteed amount of produce leaving the ranch. But we should have a good harvest from now on, and I have to convince him of that.”
She seemed to think it over.
“What do you say about joining me?”
“I’ll check with Fern and make sure she has no qualms about my being away from the area for that long. I’ll have my cell phone so I can answer most any question. I can’t see why—” She paused. “Sorry. I’m thinking aloud.”
He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a friendly hug. “I’m getting used to that.”
She grinned, and a deeper flush rose to her cheeks.
❧
Alissa slipped out of Ross’s car, her hair windblown and her cheeks ruddy from the ride. The morning was glorious, and the warm sun had encouraged her to roll down the window and let the autumn air surround her. The air smelled different in San Luis Obispo. A distance from the ocean, the aura of salty water and fish had been replaced by pungent soil and foliage—rich soil that produced grapes, olives, and avocados.
Her interest grew past the fragrance to the rambling buildings in front of her—long buildings with forklifts and long trailers parked nearby, and Cahill Avocados painted everywhere. From inside she heard rumbling and the echo of voices.
“My office is in here,” Ross said, heading toward a door with Office printed on the glass. He held it open, and she stepped inside, noticing the beige walls and dusky brown carpet—so nondescript she would never find a hint of Ross reflected in the decor. He strode through the small waiting room with a couple of tweedy beige chairs and a desk behind a five-foot counter. In this room, one wall was covered by a huge relief map of land—the orchard, she guessed—and two larger prints of avocados filled the other walls, along with smaller photographs of men standing on long ladders, picking the fruit.
“Are these photos old?”
“A few years,” he said, eyeing the one she’d been looking at.
“They must use machinery to pick them now.”
He chuckled. “No. They’re still picked by hand. I’ll show you in a minute.”
A middle-aged woman appeared from a doorway and smiled. “Mr. Cahill. Good morning.”
He eyed his watch. “I guess it still is morning, Val.” He motioned to Alissa. “This is Alissa Greening. I thought I’d show her what we do here.”
“Welcome,” Val said.
Alissa smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Ross’s voice broke through the greeting. “You know I have a meeting at one?”
Val nodded. “Yes, Mr. Hershel left the information on your desk, and I’ve copied what you’ll need for the meeting.”
“Great. I’ll take a look.” He took a step forward. “Do you have any coffee?”
“Coffee and tea, if you prefer.” She looked at Alissa.
Alissa felt as if she were watching a tennis match. She swiveled her head in one direction then another, seeing Ross in a new light—the owner of a big company. Today in this environment, he seemed more like the Ross she’d met the first night he arrived at the inn.
Ross looked at Alissa. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Coffee’s fine. . .with cream,” she added, speaking to Val.
“Coming up.”
Val strode back into the room she’d come from, and Ross opened a door and motioned Alissa to follow.
His office was filled with files, a large desk, three chairs in front of the desk, and a credenza beneath some windows. As she moved closer, photographs on the credenza caught her eye. She spotted Maggie with a gentleman she guessed was Ross’s father by the resemblance. “This is your father?”
Ross glanced at the photo and nodded his head. “It was taken about a year before he died.”
Another photo caught her eye, a picture of a younger Ross with an even younger man. His brother, no doubt. “Is this your brother?” She drew the photo closer, looking for a resemblance. She saw it in the shape of his face and the coloring, but otherwise she saw Maggie’s features, except for the eyes. Ross had his mother’s sparkling eyes that glinted when he laughed yet couldn’t cover the sorrow beneath. Losing loved ones could do that.
Ross didn’t respond, and she realized he’d sat in his chair behind the desk and was studying the reports the manager had left him.
Instead of bothering him, she moved on and lifted another photo where the sun filtered through the trees at what appeared to be a picnic. They were seated around a picnic table, smiles as wide as the blue sky above the tree line. From the other photos, she recognized Ross’s father and mother, his brother, a younger woman, and an older couple. She looked more closely and noticed Ross’s hand on the woman’s shoulder.
Her heart tripped as she looked at Ross again. He appeared more relaxed in the picture than he did now. His smile was bright, his eyes glinted, and. . .he just looked happier. A sensation rolled through her, as if she had dug too deeply into something she shouldn’t see.
“That was a Fourth of July picnic.”
Ross’s voice penetrated her guilty rumination, and she jumped.
“Sorry,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She managed to laugh. “I guess the photo took me away for a moment. I recognize your parents and brother.”
He took the photo from her hand and pointed. “These are my aunt and uncle. My dad’s brother. Those were happier days.”
“I’m sure they were.”
She waited, hoping he’d identify the woman. “Who took the snapshot?”
“My cousin.”
Unable to let her curiosity go. “This is another cousin?”
He didn’t speak for a moment, and she knew she should have monitored her nosiness.
“No. She was a friend of mine.”
“Oh,” she said, trying to add an amiable lilt to her voice.
“Audra was my fiancée, actually.”
“You didn’t marry her?” She held her breath.
“No. She made other decisions, and I’m grateful now.” Nostalgia hung in his voice.
“Really?”
“Really. It would have been a disaster. I wasn’t ready to marry then.”
Then. But was he now?
“Here you go.” Val bustled into his office with two mugs of coffee and handed them to her and Ross. “I can make you a sandwich if you’d like.”
“Thanks, Val, but I think we’ll grab something at the house in a few minutes.” He eyed his watch. “Why don’t you explain the relief map to Alissa, and I’ll be done shortly. I just want to finish reading some of these figures.”
“Sure thing.” She turned to Alissa. “You can finish your coffee first.”
“No, I’ll carry it along.” She watched Ross sink back into his chair, his gaze glued to the report, and she followed Val into the outer office.
“I noticed this when I came in,” she said, standing beside the woman. “I assume this is the orchard.”
“It is. We have many acres, and they’re divided by types and harvesting cycles.”
Alissa noticed a blend of pride and enthusiasm in her voice as she spoke.
“I’m not sure if you know much about avocados.”
“Nothing much,” Alissa said, “except it’s an ingredient of guacamole.”
Val chuckled. “We have a wonderful recipe Mr. Cahill loves. I’ll have to give you a copy before you leave.”
“He told me about it, and I’d love a copy.”
Val nodded. “Let me tell you about avocados. California produces about 95 percent of the nation’s crop, and most are grown from right here to the Mexican border. The most well-known variety of avocado is Hass, and that’s because it grows year-round, unlike the other varieties.”
She pointed to the lower section of the map. “All of this area is Hass. As you can see, Mr. Cahill can provide the fruit on a year-round basis. But he decided to expand some of the land going up the mountain, so that area was terraced. And up here”—she pointed to the top of the map—“is where we grow Pinkerton and Zutano avocados.”
Alissa studied the huge map, eager to see the property. “Terracing must be a huge undertaking.”
“Mr. Cahill owned the land, but making it workable was expensive.”
“What do you think?” Ross said, coming toward them.
“I’m impressed.” She turned to face him. “I knew nothing about avocados until Val filled me in.”
“Let’s look at the packinghouse, and then I’ll take you on a ride through the orchard.”
“Thanks for the coffee,” Alissa said, setting her cup on the counter. “And thanks for explaining a little of the business.”
“You’re welcome,” Val said, lifting the cup and carrying it behind the counter.
“I’ll be back before one, Val. Chuck Conklin is expected then.”
She gave him a wave, and Ross steered Alissa through the doorway.
The sun, warmer here than in Pacific Grove, heated Alissa’s arms as she followed Ross across the dusty concrete to the large metal-and-cement-block building. He pulled open a heavy door, and she stepped inside and stopped. In front of her, forklifts moved along the concrete floor, carrying large bins to an area on the other side of the big room where workers guided the bins into what appeared to be a storage room.
She felt Ross close beside her, his aroma mingling with the scent of fruit and dusty air. “What’s going on here?”
“Trucks have brought the avocados in from the field in those bins you see, and the forklifts move them into our cold storage, where they’ll sit for twenty-four hours to cool from the outdoor heat and to preserve them.” He motioned her to follow.
She glanced into the area where they were moving the bins and felt the cooler air from inside. He led her up a set of stairs where she could look below to see what was happening.
“In this area,” Ross said, pointing to conveyor belts, “avocados are separated by a grading belt that determines their size. Those workers over there are checking and sorting to make sure the avocados are all the same size. Then they’ll be removed from the bins by the belt, which tips the fruit gently so as not to bruise it.”
“This is interesting. I had no idea—”
She felt his hand rest against her shoulder. “You had no need to know until now.” She liked the sound of his words— “until now.” Until now, things had been so different.
“Come with me,” he said, grasping her hand and guiding her along.
His hand felt massive around hers, and she could feel his pulse beating against her palm as if their hearts were beating as one. He stopped too soon, releasing her fingers to point.
“Here’s where they are brushed and washed then carefully placed in cartons called lugs. And finally”—he grasped her hand again and this time squeezed it—“this area checks the avocados again for quality—size, condition, cleanliness. Then the lug is sealed over there.” He drew her along the walkway. “And they’re organized here and stacked onto pallets of sixty lugs each.”
“Whew. I’ll appreciate my avocado more now that I’ve seen this.”
He grinned, slipped his hand from hers, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You’ve had a quick lesson in avocados.”
“Not totally. I’d love to see the orchard.”
He drew her against his shoulder. “And you will after lunch. We’re heading for the house now.”
She’d never been to a ranch before, and her excitement heightened. Alissa felt alive amid the bustle of workers and the clang of machinery. As they descended, she could again see forklifts moving through a wide doorway toward the cooling area. Her heart pulsed with the joy she felt in being here and even more in being with Ross.