Free The Peach Keeper by Sarah Addison Allen Page B

the wind and whispers. At the edge of the plateau, there was a backhoe at work and a few men in hard hats were standing around.
    “The tree is gone,” she said, realizing what was missing.
    Colin walked around to her side of the car. “The peach tree, yes.”
    “It was a peach tree?” That surprised her. “I didn’t realize peach trees could grow at this elevation.”
    “They can grow, they just can’t bear fruit. The springs are too cold here. Kills the buds.” He leaned against the car beside her.
    “Then why plant a peach tree here?”
    He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Paxton said it wasn’t in any of the old photos of the place, so it had to have come up after your family moved out. Since it’s not historical, and not fruit-bearing, she decided it could go.”
    “How did you know it was a peach tree if it’s neverborne fruit? I don’t think anyone knew it was a peach tree.”
    “I’m a landscape architect,” he said.
    It was all starting to make sense. “Ah. You’re doing the landscaping. That’s why you’re here.”
    “Yes. I drew up the plans, then contracted the work out before I arrived. My biggest contribution was finding a live oak to put on the property. I found a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old one over in Buncombe County. It was being threatened by development, and the developer didn’t want to get into it with the environmentalists, so he agreed to split the cost with us in order to transplant it here. It’s been almost a year in the making, getting the tree ready. The highway is going to have to close on Tuesday just to move it here.” He turned to her and smiled. “You should come watch.”
    “Come watch you plant a tree? Gee, you know how to show a girl a good time.”
    That made him laugh. “It’s a lot more than that. Trust me. How can you own a sporting goods store and not like nature?”
    Before she could answer, one of the men at the dig site suddenly yelled, “Hey, Stick Man!”
    Colin turned his head but otherwise didn’t move from his relaxed position, leaning against the car. She could feel a ripple of tension go through him, though. In what she knew with absolute certainty was a deliberate maneuver, he stared at the man who had called to him, until it became clear he wasn’t going to yell back.
    The man sighed and walked from the dig site over to the car. As he got closer, Willa recognized him as DaveJeffries. They had all gone to high school together. He’d been on the football team, and was still thick in the chest, though less from muscle these days. “What’s up, Dave?” Colin asked as soon as Dave stopped in front of him.
    “Just after you left, we dug up something else.” He held up a heavy rusted cast-iron frying pan, still crusted with dirt.
    Colin took it from him and studied it. “A frying pan?”
    “Yep.”
    “This just gets more interesting.”
    Dave smiled when he saw Willa. “Willa Jackson,” he said, pushing his hard hat back. “I almost never see you around. Remember that time you programmed the period bell to ring every five minutes? That was great. We kept filing out into the hallway every five minutes, and the teachers kept trying to get us back into the classrooms.” He gave her an assessing look, then wagged his finger between her and Colin. “You and the Stick Man aren’t together, are you? Because you could give ol’ Dave a try if you’re lonely.”
    “Tempting offer, Dave,” Willa said. “But no thanks.”
    Dave laughed and punched Colin on the arm with what seemed like entirely too much force. But what did she know? Maybe it was a man thing. “Good luck,” he said to Colin.
    As soon as he walked away, Willa turned to Colin and said, “Stick Man?”
    “That’s what they used to call me in high school. Thanks to Dave.”
    “Because you’re so tall?”
    “That’s what everyone thought.”
    She waited, then said, “You’re not going to tell me?”
    He sighed. “Dave called me Stick Man because he said