“Ready for what? A peony uprising?”
Even though they’d both laughed, Kate was grateful for the thought.
However, the last thing she wanted was for Emma to get into a shootout with anyone from her father’s orbit.
One more reason to move into the house on Fairview Court.
As Kate stepped out of the Saab, Emma waved her over.
Kate zipped up her jacket and picked her way across the grass in her high-heeled boots. A wandering goose honked at her as she passed.
“Juicy night?” Emma asked with a wink.
Apparently the “no questions” policy didn’t apply to the ol’ walk of shame.
“Not even close,” Kate told her. “Well, it might have been close. I did wake up in a strange bed. But the man in question was across the room asleep in a chair, so that doesn’t really add up to juicy.”
“Eh.” Emma cocked her head and made a clucking sound at one of her hens. “First late night since you got back, and no story to tell. Sure is different from your teenage years.”
Kate laughed. “Maybe I’m waiting until I’m in my own place with no nosy old lady waiting for a report. ”
“Don’t talk nonsense.” Emma scattered a handful of feed to her favorite Rhode Island Red hen. “You can’t move into town. I rented the house out.”
“Yeah, I noticed. I’m working on that, but until then, I’ll just move into the upstairs.”
“The upstairs? It needs to be redone. That’s why I haven’t rented it out. The floors need to be stripped, the—”
“Emma. I can handle all that. I’m not a princess, despite all this glamour.” She gestured wryly at her bedhead hair and wrinkled clothes. “It’s better for both of us if we’re not on top of each other. I’ll still be helping out through the harvest.”
“Such a stubborn thing you are. Don’t know where you get it from.”
“Yeah, it’s a real mystery,” Kate said wryly.
Emma turned to the hen. “You featherbrained piece of fluff, what are you waiting for? That’s an avocado peel. You love those and they cost five bucks apiece. You might as well be a tea cozy for all the brains you have.”
Kate smothered a laugh at the way her affectionate tone contrasted with her berating words. The hen didn’t seem one bit bothered, though it did deign to peck at the avocado peel.
“I’m going to change my clothes and shower off.” Her hand involuntarily went to her head, which drew Emma’s attention.
“You’re hurt?” A frown gathered on her forehead.
“Oh, just your everyday ordinary bar brawl. Flying bottles, crashing basses, that sort of thing.”
An image from last night swam to mind. Darius leaning over her with an ice pack. The impact of all that thick dark hair and those gleaming silvery eyes, that sexy jaw stubble and heady masculine scent. He sure packed a powerful punch of pheromones.
Too bad she’d never see the man again.
“Are you okay?” Emma was asking.
“Oh yeah. Fine. I just need some coffee. I’ll do some work on the new plantings, then later I’m going to drive down to Fairview Court and check things out, maybe move a couple of boxes down. Mind if I borrow a truck?”
“It’s pointless to argue with you, I suppose.”
“It is. My mind’s made up.”
“Then I’ll just argue with these chickens instead. They’re more reasonable.”
Emma turned back to her flock. Kate headed for the farmhouse, which had been built in the early days of Lost Harbor’s existence. Everywhere she looked, there was a piece of antique equipment—an old-fashioned clothes wringer or an ironwork boot scraper. It was part of the charm of the place, and about as far from Kate’s LA condo as could be.
Her little guest room had an enamel bowl and water pitcher, along with an aluminum lidded chamber pot.
Cute, but she drew the line at chamber pots.
After a lengthy shower, she filled an insulated thermos with coffee and wandered down to the peony fields. Emma had organized the plots according to their harvest time and the color of the cultivars, from the gorgeous deep pink of the Edulis Superba to the much-in-demand coral of the Coral Sunset.
The Alaska peony industry existed only because it was one of the few places in the world where peonies bloomed from July to as late as September. Since Alaska thawed so much later than anywhere else with appropriate growing conditions, Alaska peonies bloomed after everyone else’s had already gone by.
So if you were a summer bride who wanted fresh peonies for your wedding, your only option in the entire world was one of the peony farms in Alaska.
Kate knew that most people thought of salmon or king crab or goldmining when they thought about Alaskan industries. But peony farms did pretty well too. Emma spent most of the year protecting, weeding, and irrigating the bushes, then went through an insanely busy few weeks of harvest in the summer. Petal to the Metal had several huge walk-in coolers where they stored the stems before they were shipped out.
Right now, in late April, the big task was scouting for botrytis, a gray mold that caused cankers to form on the peony stems. Every canker had to be cut out with a knife—which made it the perfect job for Emma’s afterschool worker, a teenage girl named S.G., who’d arrived in Lost Harbor with a hunting knife and clothes made from animal hides.
Even in a town full of eccentrics, the girl stood out because of her mysterious origins. S.G. stood for Spruce Grouse, a name she’d chosen herself because she didn’t know her real name. She’d been raised in Lost Souls Wilderness by a trapper who refused to say where he’d found her.
Kate spotted her working a row of Edulis Superba. She wore a “botrytis bag” around her neck to stash the scraps of mold in. With her lower lip between her teeth, she was carefully carving a canker from a stem.
“Morning, Kiddo,” Kate greeted the girl. “Getting in a couple hours before school?”
S.G. shrugged. “School’s boring today. I don’t want to go.”
“Oh no. You’re not skipping school for this job. That’s one of the terms and conditions of your employment, remember?”
She winced at her own legalese. Sometimes she forgot to phrase things like a regular person.
“But Kate, it’s really seriously very boring today. There’s a job fair. And I already have a job.” She popped the piece of diseased stem in her bag, then used a bottle of alcohol to disinfect her blade. It was very important not to spread the botrytis through the crop.
Kate squatted next to her. In her overalls and mud boots, her pale hair in two braids, S.G. looked like any other Lost Harbor kid, but she’d been through so much. After running away from the trapper, she’d hidden out in the local firehouse for weeks. She’d used their shower, filched food from their refrigerator, and spied on the firefighters.
Firefighters…that reminded her of Darius. That man had a pesky way of popping into her thoughts at random moments. She wondered where he was now. Probably on his way back to Oregon with the band.
“Kate?” She started. S.G. was frowning at her, and she realized she’d completely zoned out thinking about Darius.
“Sorry. Job fair. It’s a good thing. You might want to learn about other jobs. Fishing boats, barista like Gretel, police officer like Maya.”