Sour Apples by Sheila Connolly Page B

trees, and that was a lot of pesticide, however harmless it was supposed to be.
    As she surveyed her orchard, she was surprised by a nudge at the back of her knee and looked down to find Max, Seth’s Golden Retriever, watching her eagerly, his tongue lolling.
    “Hi, Maxie-boy, what are you doing here?” she said, rubbing his silky ears. He responded by lying down and baring his belly to her, and she obliged by rubbing that as well. The love fest was interrupted by the arrival of Seth’s mother, Lydia, only slightly out of breath.
    Meg straightened up. “Hi, Lydia. Why aren’t you at work?” Max was so excited by having two people to playwith that he kept dashing back and forth between them, wagging everything that would wag.
    “I work only thirty hours a week, so I took today off to enjoy the spring weather. Seth thought Max wasn’t getting enough exercise, now that his work has picked up, so he left Max with me for the day. Of course, it could also have been a subtle hint that he thought I should get more exercise, too,” she said good-naturedly. “It’s good to see you, Meg. The orchard seems to be coming along well.”
    “It is. We came through the winter with minimal damage, even with that big storm, and we’re ahead of schedule at the moment. I don’t think it will last, though—did Seth tell you about my plans?” Belatedly it occurred to Meg that perhaps Lydia should’ve been consulted about the arrangement. While Seth nominally owned the land, part of the larger Chapin family holdings included Lydia’s house.
    “Expanding the orchard, you mean? I think it’s a great idea. Besides, trees are quiet neighbors, aren’t they?”
    Meg felt relieved. “I’m glad you don’t have a problem with it. I know this land has been in your family for a long time.”
    Lydia laughed. “I’m a Chapin by marriage only, and if you can put this corner to good use, I say do it. I’ve always loved orchards anyway. I wish I had more apple trees. I’ve got a couple of old ones, as you’ve probably seen—but I don’t even know what varieties they are.”
    “Talk to Bree about it,” Meg said. “I bet she can identify them, and if they’re old or rare, maybe she can graft some cuttings on to our existing stock. And here she is.”
    Bree came up to them. “Hi, Mrs. C. Did Meg tell you about our expansion?”
    “We were just discussing it now, and I gave her my blessing to proceed, not that she needed it. So, how much space are you talking about?”
    Bree cast a sidelong glance at Meg. “No more than three acres, depending on how the land lays out. I was thinkingthat maybe we could walk it this afternoon, put in a few stakes, talk about how to space the trees, that kind of thing. That work for you, Meg?”
    “Sure. But after lunch—I’m starving. Lydia, do you want to join us? It’s just going to be tuna fish sandwiches.”
    “I’d love to, as long as you don’t mind if Max tags along.”
    “Not a problem—we’re good buddies. Bree, are you going to take the sprayer back down to the barn now?”
    “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that. You make lunch and I’ll be in as soon as I’ve stowed it away.”
    As they made their way down the hill toward Meg’s house, Lydia asked, “Are you enjoying things this year?”
    “You mean, compared to last year when I had no idea what I was doing? It wouldn’t be hard, after that, but yes, I am. I’m figuratively patting myself on my back for how much I’ve learned in only a year. Look at me now—I’m even expanding! I never would have expected that a year ago. How about you? Thinking of retirement?”
    Lydia laughed shortly. “That’s a joke. I couldn’t afford it even if I wanted to, but before you start feeling sorry for me, I wouldn’t quit even if I was rolling in money. I’d be bored within a month.”
    “I can understand that. But you could volunteer for…whatever. You’ve got some great management skills.”
    “Yes, but I’m way behind the curve on