Free Sugar And Spice by Joanne Fluke Page A

“And you never told him?”
    “No, I never told him, just the way you never told your daughter about your husband.”
    “Not only are we old fools, Sam, we’re stupid old fools. Why do we always think we know best just because we’re older? Do you think we can pull this off, Sam? Won’t your son hear or notice the activity out in your…your half of the fields?”
    “No. What he considers my half is down more in the valley. We can drive in from the back end. He’s busy working his half. He goes to bed at eight o’clock and sleeps so soundly the house could fall down around him and he wouldn’t hear it. How are you going to explain it to your daughter?”
    “I’ll think of something. It’s the season of miracles, isn’t it? Every morning when Amy gets to the site she’ll see whatever we put there during the night. She did tell me this was a seat-of-the-pants operation.
    I think she’s right. A mysterious Good Samaritan delivers trees in the middle of the night. She’ll find a way to run with that. She’s a PR person and will play that up to the public. I think she’s right. Can we really do this, Sam? I’m starting to get excited.”
    Sam stared across the table at his dinner partner, saw the sparkle in her eyes, felt her hand squeeze his again. He was starting to get excited himself. “Yes, we can do it. When you go home, start making phone calls. I’ll do the same. We’ll start work tomorrow night. We’ll all meet at the back entrance at eight-thirty and take it from there. Do you care for dessert?”
    “No, Sam, I don’t think so. I think we should go home and get to work. I have one small question. If we work all night, when are we going to sleep?”
    Sam threw his head back and laughed again. “We might have to pretend we’re sick. Old people get sick all the time. We can say we got our flu shots and like a lot of people, got sick.”
    “Oooh, Sam, you’re so devious. I think that might work. I don’t see your son or my daughter fussing over either one of us, do you?”
    Sam grinned from ear to ear. “Nope.” He squeezed Tillie’s hand. When she squeezed back, he laughed again. “Okay, partner, let’s hit the road and get to work. I think we should do this again sometime, Tillie.”
    “I’d like that, Sam. I really would. It was a lovely dinner. Thank you.”
    Amy was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a glass of wine she really didn’t want. Every time she thought about Gus Moss, her cheeks burned. The man was a scrooge. An out-and-out California guy who thought only about money. The arrogance of the man!
    Amy was startled out of her reverie when she noticed her mother standing in the doorway. “Did you have a nice time wherever you went, Mother?”
    “I suppose so. Dinner is dinner. You eat, you chat, you pay the check. Dinner. Is something wrong? You look angry.”
    “I am angry. After you left, I drove out to Moss Farms to talk to Mr. Moss, only he wasn’t there. His know-it-all son was there. Mr. Moneybags Moss. I offered to buy his trees and asked for a discount. The best he could do was 20 percent. We can’t operate and make money at that rate. We had words. I called him a scrooge. I think I might have screamed that. He gave me some pie that was very good. He’s in charge of the farm these days. He was so arrogant, Mom. But boy was he good-looking. I’m really pissed off right now.”
    Tillie felt so weak in the knees she had to sit down. Her daughter poured a glass of wine for her, which she drained in one long gulp. “I see.”
    Amy bolted off her chair and started pacing the kitchen from one end to the other. “What do you see, Mother?”
    “That…that you’re upset. I’m…ah…feeling a little slow today. I got a flu shot the other day and for some reason I always get sick afterward. That happens to a lot of people my age for some reason. I could…ah…be laid up for as long as a week. I’m sorry, Amy. I’ll do what I can, even if I have to do it in bed.