She climbed up into the big truck. “You’re so ridiculous! You could be doing something much more interesting—like helping her unpack.”

“I thought you understood I was committed to getting you home,” he said, laughing.

“I’m so grateful—but on days some totally classy blonde doesn’t bring her entire wardrobe for a weekend with you. This need to drive me verges on obsession.”

“It does kind of look like it could be her whole wardrobe, doesn’t it? When you think about it, I could put every piece of clothing I own in a duffel. Did you happen to see how many suitcases for two nights?”

“Not on purpose,” she said, and when her cheeks colored he laughed at her. “It was kind of right in my line of vision. But oh, my.” She sighed.

“What?”

“She’s so magnificent!”

“She’s pretty, I’ll give you that…”

“Tom, I picked a few pretty apples today—that woman is out of this world. Have you known her long?”

He shook his head. “One of my guys was married to her. He was killed in Afghanistan and I paid her a visit on my way back to Virgin River…to be sure she was holding up all right. At that time she was still trying to get back on her feet. She’s a lot better now and happens to be taking a class at UC Davis, so she came up for a visit.”

“Oh, my God, I thought she was your girlfriend!”

“That’s still possible, I guess. Her name is Darla and there’s nothing about her not to like. I agree with the pretty, the classy and she’s very nice and smart. But she sure doesn’t travel light!”

Nora couldn’t help it, she laughed hard. “You better look out. She looks expensive.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” he agreed. “I told her to bring a pair of nice pants and boots in case we went to the coast for dinner.” He shrugged. “I guess she had a hard time deciding.”

“Seriously, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m pretty sure she’d be beautiful in a sack, but Tom—those red boots.” She put a hand to her chest, let her eyes drop closed and her head tilt back.

“What?” Tom said.

She looked at him in shock. “What? Tom, red boots are like the top of the mountain, the epitome.”

“They are?”

She turned slightly toward him. “If you can actually afford beautiful high-heeled leather boots, you get black, to go with everything. You only get red because you already have black and you want something indulgent, magnificent. Astonishing.”

“Really?” he asked. “And you know this how?”

“Tom,” she said with some impatience. “Red is special. You only have red for important things, because red doesn’t go with everything. Black goes with everything so to be practical, you buy black.”

He just shook his head. “Amazing, the stuff a guy can live without understanding… And did you have red boots?”

“Like those? Oh, please! I think a handful of women on earth have boots like those. I don’t know who the designer is, but the soles were shiny black. They were like art. But hey, I had red patent leather pumps once, when I was fifteen, for a special high school dance…”

“There you go…”

“That I went to with my girlfriend,” she finished, laughing. “Trust me, I’ve never been in the red leather boot league!”

When he pulled into Virgin River he became a bit more solemn. “Listen, there’s another reason I drove you besides my devoted friendship. We’ve been having some wildlife issues.”

“I saw you fixing the fence again.”

“Three times in a month. Seriously, we don’t usually get the fence broken down. No one has seen our pest, but I suspect a bear that was pestering one of our neighbors. I caught sight of her in the orchard earlier in summer—eating green apples. She has triplets, and by now they’re getting pretty big. She must be coming in early morning or evening. At least she isn’t bothering the orchard while we’re working. But I’m getting mighty sick of repairing the goddamn fence.”

“How can you be sure it’s a bear?”

“Deer won’t break down a fence—they’ll try to reach over it for the fruit. Mountain lions are carnivores—they’re not interested in apples. They’re interested in meat—the flesh of any animal they can catch.”

“Oh,” she said. “Feeling so much better now that I know that.”

“They almost never attack a human that doesn’t have them cornered.”

“Way to comfort, Tom,” she said.

“I think the bear and her cubs are climbing the fence to get over and breaking it down in the process and I’ll be damned if I’ll build a brick wall to keep them out. I’ll sit up in a tree and shoot her first.”

“Hey, I’m not going to lobby for her safety. I’m just thinking—are we talking lost apples or lost lives here?”

“I’m thinking broken fences,” he said. “But there’s a danger of running into her or the cubs and being attacked because you posed a threat.”

“How could someone like me pose a threat to anything?” she asked.

He scraped off his cap and ran a hand over his head. “It’s not logical, Nora. It’s wildlife, trying to protect their young and their turf. She recently took a swipe at a guy who was too close and he was laying facedown, playing dead. Hurt him pretty bad.”

She gave her chin a resolute drop and said, “Yep, the bear has to go. Good luck with that.”

“I’ll be here Monday morning. Don’t walk. Are we on the same page here?”

“Of course,” she said. He pulled up to her house and she grabbed the door. As she was exiting, she grinned devilishly. “Have fun with those boots.”

“Get out, you little hussy.”

“Hey! I think it’s against the law for a boss to call an employee a hussy!”

He leaned toward her. “Sue me.”

* * *

Tom went home, showered and shaved and, for once, put on clothes that did not wear the Cavanaugh logo. When he went downstairs, he found Darla sitting at the table while Maxie puttered around the kitchen, cooking and talking. Darla nursed a glass of white wine and Tom helped himself to a beer. “Junior coming to dinner?” he asked his grandmother.

“Not tonight. It’s just the three of us tonight. I want a chance to get to know Darla a little bit.”

“There’s not too much to know. I grew up in Colorado, went to college there, got the only job I’ve had since with a local drug company, met my husband there. We hadn’t been married long when he deployed.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Darla,” Maxie said.

“Thank you. I’ve moved on—that’s what Bob would’ve wanted. I’m very close to my family and they’ve been a huge support.”

“You live near your family?” Maxie asked.

“We all live within five miles of each other,” she said. “My brother, his wife and their two kids, my mom and dad, an aunt and uncle, a couple of cousins. We watch each other’s pets when we travel.”

“You have a pet?” Maxie asked. She looked down at Duke who was sprawled under the table and at her look, he lifted his head. Then dropped it again in boredom.

“A little white poodle named Precious,” she said. “He doesn’t shed.”

Tom choked on his beer. Maxie slapped him on the back. “Wrong pipe,” she said. “Is your dog with you at UC Davis?”

“No, that wouldn’t have worked. I didn’t have friends there. He’s at my parents’ house where he has a close relationship with their Scottish Terrier. I travel in my job so Precious is often with my parents.”

“Anything I can do to help you, Maxie?” Tom asked.

“Yes, thanks. Go to the basement and pull a pound cake and some strawberries out of the freezer. We’ll have that with our coffee later.”

“Oh, not for me, Maxie,” Darla said. “I’m not much of a dessert person.”

“No sweet tooth?” Tom heard his grandmother ask as he took the stairs to the basement.

“Not too much. It seems I’m always watching my weight.”

“Pity. I guess Tom will take care of yours.”

When he came back upstairs, he noticed that Darla was wearing a different pair of boots for dinner—brown suede flat boots that went over her jeans, jeans that were delightfully tight. She wore a long-sleeved fuzzy sweater that had a fairly deep V-neck and it was red. Tom was beginning to understand what Nora meant when she said red was special. There was a lovely cle**age visible.

Maxie began putting one of her best meals on the table—a standing rib roast that Tom would have the honor of carving. Twice-baked potatoes, asparagus from her own garden, fresh rolls that had risen earlier and were warm and plump with sweet cream butter from a neighboring farmer. She added salt and pepper, glasses of ice water and a small bowl of horseradish, Tom’s preference.

“What a feast!” Darla said. And Maxie smiled proudly. When they were seated and Tom was cutting the meat Darla said, “A very small piece for me, please.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked. “You had a long drive.”

“I’m not a big eater of red meat. Not a vegetarian or anything—I just eat more fish than beef.”

“You’ll do fine in this part of the world,” he said, serving her up a small slice. “The Virgin River supplies some of the most amazing trout and salmon around here. What fish do you like?”

She was delicately cutting up her beef and asparagus into very small pieces. “Hmm, I think ahi tuna is my favorite. I’m partial to sushi. Do you like sushi?” she asked Tom.

“Sure,” he said. “Did a lot of that in San Diego.”

“Any good sushi bars around here?”

“On the coast, maybe…” he said. “I think this part of the state is more known for beef, wild game, hearty, meaty meals.”

“Wild game?” she asked, lifting a very tiny portion of meat to her mouth.

“Duck, pheasant, goose, venison, that sort of thing. Big hunting area. Lots of hunters pass this way.”

“Hunting? Ew.”

He leaned toward her. “Hunting is fishing on dry land.”

“I suppose,” she said, sampling the asparagus. “Maxie, this is fabulous. You said you grew this?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have a small vegetable garden, and it’s almost plucked clean by now, but the broccoli and asparagus come in late.”

Tom watched Darla take a little bitty bite of potatoes, then go back to the vegetable.

“So, what are your plans for the weekend?” Maxie asked.

“Well, boring as this sounds, I thought I’d take Darla for a walk through the orchard tonight, then tomorrow, if you can spare me, I’d like to take her through the redwoods and over to the coast. We could have dinner in Arcata, so you’re on your own, Maxie.”

“Wonderful. And what happens Sunday?”

“I have to be on the road by around noon,” Darla said. “My class begins Monday morning.”

“Here, sweetheart,” Maxie said, lifting the bread basket toward her.

“Oh, thank you, but no—bread is not really part of my diet. I can’t stay in these jeans if I eat bread. And butter is out of the question.” Then she put her fork on the table and leaned back, her plate still quite full. “Maxie, that was fabulous.”

“How do you know?” Maxie asked, looking at the plate.

Darla laughed. “I don’t have a big appetite. And I’m careful about things like starches, fats, red meat.”