The first in Emma Cane’s sparkling new series,
set in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains.
AT FAIRFIELD ORCHARD
Fairfield Orchard #1
Emma Cane
Releasing Aug 30th, 2016
Avon Books
Emma Cane welcomes you to Fairfield Orchard, where new love blooms and romance is always in season.
For Amy Fairfield, the family
orchard is more than a business. With its blossom-scented air and rows of trees
framed by the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains, it’s her heritage and her future.
But right now, it’s also a headache. Putting a painful breakup behind her, Amy
has come home to help revitalize Fairfield Orchard. She doesn’t have time for
the handsome-distracting-professor who wants to dig into her family’s history
for his research.
Jonathan Gebhart knows he needs the
Fairfields’ cooperation to make his new book a success. As for Amy-nothing in
his years of academia could have prepared him for their sudden and intense
attraction. He doesn’t want to complicate her life further, especially since
she seems uneasy about him poking around in the past and he knows he’s not the
sort of man built for forever. But some sparks can’t help but grow, and
Jonathan and Amy may just learn that unexpected love can be the sweetest of
all.
Amy heard
the crunch of gravel beneath Jonathan Gebhart’s feet, and she ducked her head
until she could watch him walk away. He’d been an interesting man, all sober
and serious, and seemed a little taken aback when she’d teased him. She could
still see his short, wavy black hair that looked difficult to tame. It was hard
to forget his eyes, green as spring in the orchard—and that moment when he’d
really looked at her as a woman. That had been surprising and unsettling. He
didn’t have laughing eyes—she imagined he didn’t laugh much at all, which was a
shame, when he looked so gorgeous.
Would he be
one of those boring professors who droned on and on about something that no
longer mattered to anyone? No, he’d sounded too passionate about his request.
Maybe he brought that focus to kids who only needed his course as an elective,
who stared out the window on a gorgeous day and wished to be anywhere else.
That had been her, once upon a time…
But not
where history was concerned. That was an interest she had once had in common
with the professor. But she’d let it all go, pushed it from her mind just as
she’d pushed her family and friends away. She was surprised how much the
amateur genealogist inside her had tried to come creaking back to life when
he’d told her his hypothesis about Jefferson and her family land. But she
wouldn’t let it.
When the
professor reached his car, Amy saw that his broad shoulders were squared, and
he moved like a man who always knew exactly what he was doing, had everything
planned out. She always found confidence sexy. He’d been professionally attired
in a buttoned-down shirt and chinos beneath the jacket she’d ruined, while she
was grubby, with torn jeans and old shirts. He’d been dignified and educated,
and she’d dropped out of college to spend her time with a man who hadn’t proven
worthy of the sacrifice. It hadn’t been a sacrifice at the time, of course;
she’d been giddy with what she thought was love. Amy knocked her forehead into
the nearest branch, as if that could knock some sense into her. It had taken
far too long for that sense to take hold, and it had proven costly.
She heard
his car start, and then he was gone, dirt rising up behind as he traveled at a
respectful speed down toward Spencer Hollow, the little village between the
orchard and Crozet, the nearest small town. She used to take the quiet dirt
road as an invitation to speed, roaring down the hill, the rolling countryside
stretched out below her, rows of apple trees rising and falling as far as the
eye could see. Life had been full of excitement and possibilities then—full of
the promise of foolish mistakes, too, but she hadn’t known that. Otherwise, she
would have stayed holed up in her childhood bedroom forever.
She was
back there now, in that same bedroom, her cheerleading trophies and school
certificates still on the wall. She’d chosen this path, of course. When she’d
gotten the call that her parents had wanted to retire, she’d been only too glad
to run home for a fresh start. She’d been so excited to help her family, to
spend more time with her siblings, to prove that they were all so important to
her. But underneath all those good reasons she had to admit that coming home
also meant pretending she hadn’t let her life get so horribly, humiliatingly
out of control as she’d spent years with a man who’d developed the same issues
with alcohol that her dad had once had.
No one
knew, of course, not even her twin brother—which Amy worried was causing a
certain distance between them these last few years. But no one was ever going
to know how foolish she had been. Her ex-boyfriend, Rob, certainly wouldn’t
tell; he’d moved on to the next woman, one even more malleable than she’d been.
Amy had quit college for that idiot, she thought, groaning aloud. But at the
time, it had seemed like a great move. Her grades had suffered because all
she’d wanted was to begin a life with Rob, to live with him and make a home.
It was Rob
who’d introduced her to real estate, his family business. She’d started
learning the ropes while still in college, helping out agents part-time. She
discovered she loved working with people, and had a knack for knowing how to
find the most important reason why someone looked for a home, and then
delivering on it. She didn’t need college for that, so she’d dropped out.
Gradually, as things with Rob got worse, it was harder and harder to be a part
of his family business. Breaking up with him had meant eventually quitting her
job, and it was almost a relief to be done with anything to do with him.
Now she was
facing a new future, and she didn’t want to look back, to see again the
mistakes she’d made.
But the
professor wanted to talk about the past—her family’s past, and the memories
weren’t always pleasant. Did she really want such a reminder? And, of course,
there was the fact that she was always so quick to help a guy out, she thought
with dismay. But she wouldn’t let her own hang-ups interfere with her promise
to give his request some thought. He was right about her family’s link to
Thomas Jefferson. If he had discovered new information, how could she deprive
him of finding out the truth?
To clear
her head, Amy took a deep breath of the apple blossoms all around her. This was the scent of springtime,
fragrant and lush, of her childhood, of her family obsession for generations.
She’d been molded by the rhythm of the seasons, of planting baby trees with her
father in the spring, of morning walks through the orchard in the fall,
examining apples to predict when each variety would be at peak ripeness. There
definitely was a history here, the good kind—and the bad. She just didn’t know
if she wanted to talk about it with a stranger, for there were dark episodes,
like her father’s drinking, that warped some of her memories.
Yet being
back at home with her twin brother, Tyler, made her feel all about family right
now. Late last year, her mom, Patty, had had a breast cancer scare, and though
it had turned out to be a benign lump, everything had changed for her father.
Though sober for the last ten years, he’d never forgotten how his wife had
taken up the slack when he’d been hungover, when he’d forgotten family events,
when he had to be guided home after parties. Now Patty deserved the retirement
she’d always dreamed of, and Bruce had intended to give it to her—even though
the orchard’s finances were shaky. He couldn’t just give the orchard to his
children and leave; there was no money for that. He would have had to sell it,
and the thought had horrified the whole family. As the professor had pointed
out, there’d been a Fairfield on this land for one hundred and ninety-nine
years—Amy did know a lot more of her family history than she’d let on. It was
their heritage, their history, their children’s future. Their sister Rachel,
who’d been Dad’s right hand for years, couldn’t resurrect it all on her own.
So Amy’s
oldest brother Logan, who’d made a fortune as a hedge fund manager in New York
City and was now a venture capitalist, had offered a financial gift to their
parents so they could buy their RV and begin their adventures. He’d insisted it
was his right to share what he’d earned, and they’d reluctantly, graciously
accepted. But Amy and the rest of her siblings had balked when he’d tried to
bail out the orchard, too. After all, he was in business with several
partners—it should be an official investment, a loan. The siblings even
insisted on offering a business plan for what they intended to do to make
Fairfield Orchard a success again.
And Amy,
who’d been away from the business for a good ten years—except for working
weekends at the height of autumn harvest—was beginning to feel a bit
overwhelmed. Coming up with a new idea to change things up at the orchard was
now going to fall on her, Tyler, and Rachel. Thank God for Rachel, who knew everything
there was to know about the family business. With her help, they’d come up with
a great way to position Fairfield Orchard for the twenty-first century.
Amy took a
step higher in the ladder so she could look across the tops of the other
pink-draped apple trees and see the Blue Ridge Mountains, the backdrop of her
youth. She took a deep breath of the sweet fragrance and momentarily closed her
eyes with happiness. It was so good to be home.
“Hey, are
you still up the same tree?”
And then
there was Tyler. Amy looked down to find her twin leaning against the tree,
arms folded across his chest. He was giving her that killer smile that had won
over legions of soap opera fans before the show had been canceled. He’d played
Dr. Lake, dreamboat hunk and dedicated neurosurgeon— who always seemed to be in
the ER to treat every other kind of trauma, too. Both twins had the same light
brown hair and blue eyes, but his short hair seemed tousled naturally,
rakishly—although she knew he spent a half hour in front of the bathroom mirror
every morning, complaining the whole time about the necessity. His agent had
several screen tests lined up over the next few months and was confident they
would lead to work. Most of the time, Amy couldn’t even be bothered to blow-dry
her hair, just tossed it up in a ponytail. Tyler took good care of his body,
and had already been after Amy to start running with him. As if she could keep
up.
They talked
or texted several times a week where once it had been several times a day. When
Tyler said he’d come home to help her run the orchard, she’d been so happy
knowing they’d spend time together again. College and life had separated them,
and it had been jarring at first. He was a part of her.
In many
ways, he was the same old Tyler, charming and happy, but in other ways, she
sensed . ..
something else. Was he hiding part of himself? But of course, she hadn’t told
him what had happened with Rob either.
“Have you
been watching me?” she called. “You can see a lot from the house.”
“But not enough
to come join me.” “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“After
sleeping in,” she teased.
He
shrugged. “We famous actors have busy evening schedules. Have to see and be
seen, you know—however annoying it is.”
“No one to
see you here at the orchard.” She climbed down the ladder. “Or did you go out
last night after I’d gone to bed? Oh, wait—didn’t I see a Tweet about watching
a TV show? Me and your thousands of followers?”
He rolled
his eyes, then nudged her elbow with his. “It’s part of the job, and my agent
keeps hounding me about it. Keeping track of me?”
“Always,”
she said fondly, smiling. “It’s my job as your big sister.”
He snorted.
“By five minutes.”
“It’s still
five minutes,” she said sweetly. “Think we’ll have any groupie interruptions
today?”
He grimaced.
“I hope not. Sorry.”
Yesterday,
a group of forty-something women had supposedly been on a wine tour of the
region, and “accidentally” gone out of their way to see Tyler. He’d signed
autographs, chatted personably, and Amy had gotten to watch her brother in
action. He’d always been good with fans, just as she’d always been good with
clients. Just another thing the twins had in common.
“I don’t
want them to interfere with the orchard,” he said. “Come fall, when we’re
officially open, I can’t guarantee what will happen. The public is welcome,
after all.”
Her smile
fading, she touched his arm. “This is a temporary job for both of us. Six
months. No one’s asking you to leave Manhattan permanently.”
He gave her
a crooked smile. “I know. But I’m as glad to be here as you are. We’re both
running away from something, aren’t we?”
Her eyes
widened in surprise. “Tyler—”
But he
already had the ladder in both hands and was walking to the next tree. “It’s
been a while since I checked for disease. Let’s remember together.”
She
followed him, and soon they were trying to remember spraying schedules, how to
keep ahead of apple scab, and when the beekeeper was supposed to arrive. Those
were some of the topics of her childhood, and they should have felt safe as
they prepared questions for their sister Rachel. But the topics were also part
of the past, and it was difficult to feel safe there, when their father had so
often let them down.
A couple
hours later they went back to the house for lunch. Afterward, Tyler retreated
to his room to return phone calls and messages, and so did she. It wasn’t easy
to abruptly walk away from a real estate career. She’d been a little concerned
that it would be difficult not to be out in the community every day, dealing
with buyers and sellers, being in a crowded office on occasion. So far, so
good. It was peaceful to be with only a handful of longtime employees. And when
the fall season began, she’d have more people around her every day than she
knew what to do with.
For a
moment, she stood still in her old bedroom. The sun shone through the windows,
glinting off her MVP trophy from her senior year of competitive cheerleading.
There was a good citizen certificate from the Rotary Club, a cross she’d been
given for her First Communion. There was even a stuffed animal some boyfriend
had won her at the county fair. The blue-and-white checked comforter matched
Rachel’s old one, from when they used to share bunk beds in the same room. It
felt familiar and comfortable. She was home, ready to begin her new—perhaps
temporary—future.
She looked
through the photos pinned to her corkboard: prom group shots, lots of photos
with her siblings, especially Tyler, and then the family shot they’d taken at
the fair, where they’d all dressed up in nineteenth-century clothes and posed
with serious expressions.
She’d once
had another photo just like that. Only it had been real and rare and a hundred
years old. The professor would have liked that, she thought hollowly. Once,
genealogy had been a passion of hers, and she had spent hours talking to her
grandfather, going through old letters and photos with him. The discovery of this photo had been the culmination of
her private research, a way to surprise her grandpa with a picture of his own
grandfather and his family. She reached behind the desk for the manila envelope
where she kept the small pieces that were all that was left of the photo, of
her attempt to do something to honor her family history for the two hundredth
anniversary next year. Her stupidity had ruined it all. She couldn’t keep the
evidence here where Tyler could find it; she couldn’t throw it away, because it
was proof of a life she never wanted to return to, of what her mistake had cost
her. She’d find a hiding place, perhaps her old one in the barn.
Now, the
future had to be all that mattered.
BUY NOW
Now that
her three children are grown, Emma loves spending time crocheting and singing
(although not necessarily at the same time), and hiking and snowshoeing
alongside her husband Jim and their rambunctious dog Uma.
Emma also
writes USA Today bestselling historical romances under the
name Gayle Callen.
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1 comment:
Thank you so much for featuring AT FAIRFIELD ORCHARD today!
Crystal, Tasty Book Tours
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