After a while,the family finishes picking peaches, so I head back to the barn.
“Where are the other three baskets?” I ask as the woman places two on the countertop.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Out in the orchard somewhere.”
“Could you bring them back, please?”
“I’ll go get them,” the man offers.
The woman gives me a dirty look as he jogs out of the barn. I’d like to give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she’shaving a bad day—it can’t be easy with three small children—but I can’t help but think that if this is Heather, I don’t care much for Jonas’s taste. Surely he can do better than this.
The thought of him drunk and merry, as he was last night, lifts my spirits. I wonder if that’s what he’s normally like, when depression isn’t dragging him down.
“Are you from around here?” I ask “Heather” as I set about weighing what they’ve brought in.
“I grew up here. We’ve just moved back.”
“Oh, right.”
Their eldest starts messing around with the Bellini jars again, so she’s distracted, and thenI’mdistracted by the sound of a motorbike skidding to a stop in the car park...
16
Anders comes into the barn after the family has left. I heard him exchanging a few words with them outside.
He looks surprised to see me standing behind the checkout counter.
“You’reworking? Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”
“I’m a farmer’s daughter now,” I reply with my tongue firmly in my cheek, trying to contain my delight at seeing him again so soon.
“I hear you,” he says with amusement, placing an empty basket on the counter. “Pa said to say thank you for the peaches.”
He’s wearing a white T-shirt and navy shorts that come to a couple of inches above his knees. His legs are long and tanned and I really should stop looking at them, but it’s the first time I’ve seen him out of jeans and it’s hard.
“How is he?” I ask, managing to drag my eyes northward.
“Good. The doctors are saying he might be out on Monday.”
“That’s great!”
“Anyway, I thought I’d better bring the basket back.”
“And do a little detective work while you’re at it? Is it Heather?”
“Afraid so. About as happy to see me as I was her.”
“You’re not friendly?”
“Did you get the impression she’s a friendly type of girl?”
“Can’t say I did,” I reply with a wry smile, folding down the handles of the wicker basket so I can add it to the stack, along with the other two Heather’s husband eventually brought in. The fifth and final one is still out there somewhere. “They left one of their baskets out in the orchard, actually, as well as a few half-eaten peaches.” I saw the kids tucking in when I looked over. “I should probably clean up and find the lost basket.”
An orchard littered with peaches with bite marks is not a good look. Unsurprisingly, all the ones Heather brought back into the shop were pristine.
“How’s Jonas?” I ask as I come out from behind the counter.
“Hungover.”
