Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 140803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“You’re mixing me up with Diego. He’s the romantic one.”
“Is he? Would you mind getting the cookie jar down, please? You know where it is. I have apple-walnut bars made. I know they’re your favorite.”
Rubin reached up into the cupboard Edward had made for his mother. Edward had a way with wood. During the heavy winter months, he would sand and shape each board into beautiful pieces for his mother’s home. Although simple, her kitchen was a work of art. Rubin carefully laid the apple-walnut bars on a decorated handpainted platter that had been in Patricia’s family for generations.
“Why do you say it like that? Diego is good with women. I’m not.”
Patricia sent him a quick amused look. “I think your Jonquille would say you do just fine.” She put the glasses on a tray and he added the platter of cookies before picking it up.
“Where are the boys?”
“They went to Mire’s Landing to get supplies for us. We’re near out of everything.” She led the way back through her house to the screen keeping out the multitude of insects. “They tend to go together. I prefer them to, with all the outsiders coming in to hike the trails. Edward and Rory both spend a good deal of time now patrolling to keep them off private land—yours as well as ours. The park ranger calls at least twice a month to ask them to volunteer to help find someone lost.”
“There are clear signs on the trails and places for backpackers to camp.” Rubin set the tray down on the little table Edward had built for his mother. The surface was smooth and the legs sturdy. Her son did good work.
“There are always that one or two that seem to go off trail and get lost,” Patricia said. She smiled at Jonquille as she handed her a tall glass. “This is my special cider. I hope you like it, Jonquille.”
“I’m sure I will. It looks very refreshing.”
Patricia settled into her rocker. “Do your parents live in West Virginia?”
Jonquille shook her head. “I didn’t ever know my parents. I grew up in an orphanage and then attended a military school where I received training as a medic. I do research mostly now in laboratories.”
Rubin couldn’t find fault in the least with Jonquille’s matter-of-fact tone. She delivered the information as if she had many times. She didn’t sound defensive or upset. She looked right at Patricia and gave her what appeared to be pertinent facts. When he went over what she’d said, in a way, she’d stuck very close to the exact truth.
“I don’t even know what to say.” Patricia seemed far more upset than Jonquille. “Not to grow up with parents. I’m so sorry, honey.”
Jonquille smiled at her. “It seemed normal to me. I had the other girls and we formed a family unit. Later, when we pursued different types of training, as young as we were, we did lose touch, and that was hard, but fortunately, I love to travel and do quite a bit. I also spend a lot of time researching extremely interesting subjects. That keeps my mind occupied.”
“Is that how you met Rubin?”
Jonquille nodded. “Yes. He needed a new research assistant and I had some knowledge in the field he was looking into. We were in two different states, but I sent him the things he needed and we started a few discussions.” Jonquille lifted the glass of cider and took a slow sip. Her eyes went wide. “What did you put in this? It isn’t just apple cider. I’ve tasted apple cider a lot of different ways and I can normally tell what’s in a recipe …” She trailed off and took another sip, looking at Rubin over the rim of the glass. “This is amazing.”
“Mama Patricia is a genius when it comes to her concoctions in the kitchen,” Rubin stated.
Patricia blushed. “All of you say that. I think you just like to eat.”
Diego had been quietly eating two of the apple-walnut bars and downing his first glass of cider. “You’re right about the eating part, Mama Patricia.” He helped himself to another glass of cider, tossing a grin to his brother when Patricia immediately put another cookie on his plate. “But you’re definitely a genius in the kitchen.”
Jonquille couldn’t help herself. She had to try the apple-walnut bars before the two men finished them off completely. The view from the porch was beautiful. Like the Campo cabin, the Sawyer house had been built to the best scenic as well as defensible advantage. Sitting on the porch, they could see the wind playing over the grass while the family played music in the evening hours together or, like now, visited with guests as they drank cider and ate cookies.
There was no doubt in her mind, after two bites, that Patricia was a genius and would have been making quite a bit of money had she been out in the world somewhere with her astonishing recipes. “I think both the boys are a little on the crazy side, but I have to agree with them, the cider and these apple-walnut bars are amazing. If I was here too long, and ate like Diego, I’d have a weight problem.” She glared at him. “I don’t understand how you look like you do.”