Below the Tree Line Read online

  “You look pleased.”

  “Honey, I am so tickled.”

  “Tickled?” Felicity squinted at her. “That means something’s up.”

  “I’ll leave it to Jeremy to tell you.”

  Myriad possibilities ran through Felicity’s imagination, and she resolved to stem the flow before she made herself sick with anxiety. Loretta went off to get a drink—non-alcoholic, she volunteered—and Felicity went looking for Taylor, to say hello. She found her in the room Jeremy always called the office, a room filled with papers, computers, books, and a couple of comfortable chairs. Taylor perched on the arm of one until she saw Felicity, and then jumped up and fairly skipped to the doorway to give her a hug. After introducing Felicity to her college friends, she led the way to a corner of the front hall, where they found seats on the stairs.

  “This is quite the party.” Felicity took note of the familiar faces passing through the hall and in and out of the other rooms.

  “I guess I got carried away.” Taylor waved to Natalie Algren. Felicity nodded. “I called a friend and then another and pretty soon I’d called almost everyone I know, in West Woodbury and beyond.”

  “And your dad was so glad you were coming home he didn’t mind at all.”

  “Yeah. So he called Uncle Dan. It’s so cool to see everyone here.” Taylor accepted a glass of Coke from a friend carrying around a tray. Felicity took a glass of spiced apple cider.

  “You picked a good time to show your out-of-town friends the area. It’s been so mild that you can get out and walk around, get the lay of the land, without climbing through snow and ice.” Felicity sipped her cider. After a moment, she realized Taylor wasn’t speaking. She just sat there holding her glass and running her finger through the condensation. When she noticed Felicity looking at her, she smiled.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” Felicity repeated. “I’d love to ask what’s going on, but I guess I should wait until you and your dad decide to tell the rest of us.”

  “Yeah.”

  Yeah, thought Felicity. If this was the extent of Taylor’s conversational abilities, developing a relationship with her as an adult was going to be difficult. And she’d been such an adorable and chatty little girl. Felicity held a kaleidoscope of images of Taylor as a child, in her red boots covered in glitter on her way to the annual fair, in her overalls when she snuck out of the window to sleep on the porch roof, in the favorite blue-and-white dress she wore to the parties Felicity took her to the year she turned ten. For some reason known only to Taylor, turning ten was momentous, and Felicity had found herself driving the girl back and forth across the county for music lessons, riding lessons, overnights with friends, and other events.

  “I was going to come in May, for Dad’s birthday, but I just wanted to come now. We have a long weekend at school—something to do with the founder—so here I am.” Taylor lifted her shoulders as a substitute for doing a little jig and continued to smile and nod to the other guests. “This party was going to be just the family and you. I mean, you’re family.”

  Felicity felt the heat rising up her neck to her cheeks. She hoped the girl didn’t notice. She wondered why she felt embarrassed to hear Taylor acknowledge her relationship with her dad.

  “Yeah.” Taylor basked in the warmth of greetings from those passing by, and in a moment that could only be considered a throwback to her childhood, she said, “Gran brought chocolate cake and raspberries.”

  “There’s probably still some left.”

  “I can’t wait to tell everyone.” With that cryptic remark, Taylor leaped to her feet and ran off to get something to eat.

  Before Felicity could follow her, Jeremy sat down on the step beside her.

  “She’s beyond happy,” he said.

  “It shows.”

  He took a pull of his beer and the two of them watched guests pass by, picking up snatches of conversation.

  “She sounds like she’s here to make an announcement,” Felicity said. “I was so curious, I was afraid I’d try to wheedle it out of her, but I managed to control myself.” They sat close together, their upper arms touching, and she felt the familiar comfortable warmth of his body. She smiled as he pressed his leg against hers. “You’re feeling bold today.”

  “I live here.” He turned back to the guests. “And pretty soon Taylor will too.”

  “Oh. Is that the announcement? She’s leaving college?”

  “No, nothing like that. She has one more year and I’d be more than disappointed if she quit now.” His smile was given readily, but after each person passed by he grew serious. When he spoke again, he looked down at the uncarpeted stair and spoke softly. “The friends she brought home with her … ”

  “The ones she wanted you to meet? I met a few of them.”

  “She brought three special ones.” He looked around, perhaps checking to see who was within earshot. “I’ve heard her talk about them. They seemed to be pretty steady friends. Two are from Ohio, and one is from Maine. But they all have one thing in common.”

  “Should I guess?”

  “They all say they know something about farms. One of the kids from Ohio grew up on a farm with corn and some dairy cows. One guy visited his cousins on a farm every summer. The guy from Maine has relatives with a chicken farm. His family is still there. He says they do okay.”

  “Do the others’ farms do okay?”

  Jeremy pursed his lips. He wasn’t frowning exactly, Felicity thought, but he was taking time to phrase things in a way that seemed best. It was the one visible sign of discomfort. “One family sold out to a developer.”

  “Not so unusual.”

  “And as my mother repeatedly reminds me, I’m basically a developer.”

  “Your mother is always hoping for a purist in the family, all farming and no construction, but she’d be miserable if you ever started acting like that.” Felicity finished her cider and slid the glass to the corner of the riser and the wall. “She likes to admire purists strictly in theory.”

  “You may be right.”

  Felicity glanced at him. It wasn’t like Jeremy to suddenly withdraw into an easy comment. She squeezed his hand. He smiled and let his gaze linger.

  “She and her three friends want to farm here.” He looked at the front door, now ajar, as people went in and out. “They’re talking about building a herd to ten, maybe, to get started, and going into the cheese business.” He gave her a long look.

  She waited for him to continue, but she knew what he was thinking: they think they know what they’re getting into, but truthfully they have no idea. Even Felicity, working alongside her parents year in and year out, didn’t understand what the burden was until she’d taken it on alone a year ago when it became clear her father’s heart condition wouldn’t allow him to continue running anything, and then it had hit her even harder after she placed him at Pasquanata, capitulating to the reality of his decline. Four young people taking on the burden of making a farm pay were getting into more than they could possibly understand.

  “My brother told her she was crazy.” Jeremy might have been smiling but he hunched over as he spoke, and this seemed more telling than his words. She would have expected him to be happy and reservedly optimistic, but instead he seemed tense. “I’ve gone over some of it with her—the investment in milking equipment, licensing, inspections, building a market for product.”

  “And? Any doubts glimmering behind the enthusiasm?”

  “She and her friends produced a business plan they’d worked up at school.”

  “Really? And how was it?” Felicity swiveled to face him. A business plan for a new artisanal dairy business? Taylor was way ahead of them, farther than Felicity had imagined even in an unguarded moment.

  Jeremy nodded several times before glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s doable. And they’re not asking m
e for all the capital.” His hands clenched and unclenched as he spoke.

  “This is a lot more than I expected, Jer.” She could hear the undertone, feel the pull of the totally unexpected, a riptide dragging away his future. Instead of hearing the news of a daughter getting started on someone else’s farm, he was facing the prospect of handing over his own but in a way he’d never considered. “It’s a surprise, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t have expected so much so soon.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Well, it’s still early days, isn’t it?” Felicity nodded to another friend passing through the hall. “When it comes time for her to really take over, you’ll have a better idea of what kind of farmer she’ll make.” She hadn’t expected to face this watershed so soon, but she held back from saying that.

  “I owe you an apology, Lissie.” Jeremy looked hard at her. “I told her—in a moment of insanity, maybe—that she could go right ahead with her plans.”

  “Oh.” Felicity looked down so he wouldn’t see the shock in her eyes. There was no point in reminding him they’d discussed the transition at length and agreed that it would be best to ease Taylor into full responsibility gradually. That idea seemed to have faded away. She looked out at the other guests, trying to hide her feelings.

  “I guess I was trying to jump start the rest of my life,” he said. “I should have told you.”

  “No reason. We’re not—”

  “Married?” He put his arm around her shoulder. “Still, I should have told you. We talked about it over and over again, and we agreed how we’d do this, and then I went right ahead without telling you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped without letting you know.”

  Felicity leaned into him before pulling back. Some days their relationship was so easy, but sometimes they both remembered that they weren’t married to each other and they could take nothing for granted. “Thanks. Well, it’s done. And now you have a future farmer in your life.”

  “It feels like it’s more than that,” he said. “For the first time in my life I can see myself living without Colson Farm.” He opened his clasped hands and looked at his palms, as though reading something there. “I could go anywhere, do anything.”

  There was nothing she could say to that. She listened as he explored the idea, nodding to people passing in front of them as he tried out the feeling of being untethered for the first time in his life—his daughter grown, his mother taken care of, his farm in other people’s hands. “Taylor will make a good farmer, I know that.”

  “She’s a sensible girl,” Felicity said.

  “I think so.”

  “This is sort of changing the subject,” Felicity said, trying to absorb the idea of Jeremy living anywhere but in West Woodbury, “but does she know about that offer you got from Marilyn’s client?”

  “No, and she’s not going to.”

  “So you don’t think it’s legitimate.”

  “Let’s say I have my doubts, and I don’t want to see my daughter tied up with something that could lead to trouble.”

  Felicity nodded. “So let me tell you about a dork I discovered on the internet.”

  By five o’clock Felicity was glad to drive home to her farmhouse, and equally glad to see only four cars scattered along the drive. Earlier in the week, to her surprise and delight, Nola Townsend had asked if she could bring a number of artists out to the farm for a day of plein air painting. After Nola had explained what that was, Felicity said yes with alacrity. They agreed on a fee per artist and shook hands.

  The arrival of the artists that morning had brought more activity and shouting and calling back and forth than Felicity had ever heard on her land. She’d watched the group, from teenagers to senior citizens, gathering up their equipment and heading off in different directions. So when she returned in the late afternoon, she expected to see a few of them planted in the pasture, or among the apple trees, or near the sheep. Instead she saw half a dozen artists leaning on their cars, going over the experiences of the day. She climbed out of the pickup and looked for Nola.

  Shadow bolted across the small lawn, spun in the air, and jumped up a few times before calming himself. Felicity took this as a greeting.

  “It looks like you had a successful day,” she said to Nola. The artists looked tired and sweaty but seemed intent on admiring each other’s work before giving up and heading home. They’d arranged a number of canvases on the ground, or leaning against the side of the barn, so they could discuss them.

  “Most of them have left already, but reluctantly.” Nola glanced over her shoulder. “It was a very successful day.” With a discretion Felicity had to admire, Nola pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. Felicity could feel the soft mound of paper money inside and folded the envelope to put in her jacket pocket.

  “I’m glad it worked out.” And she really was. After all, how often did anyone find surplus cash in her bank account? And all because strangers liked to paint trees and wanted their own wool. This was a strange world.

  “It really worked out.” Nola gave her a questioning look.

  “And?”

  “They’d like to come back, soon.”

  “Really?” If Felicity had been slouching, she wasn’t now. “How soon?”

  “Next weekend? They’d like to do Saturday if possible.”

  Felicity and Nola walked over to the cars where the artists were gathering up their canvases and equipment. The women, and they were all women, wore floppy hats or straw hats or other head coverings as though they expected to be outside in full sun. Such headgear wouldn’t be necessary for another couple of months, in Felicity’s view, but the women had wisely worn heavy shoes or hiking boots. She strolled past the paintings, curious as well as trying to be diplomatic. She had no idea what she was looking at for the most part, but she didn’t care. They were all wonderful in her view.

  “You were very kind to let us take over your farm for the day,” one woman said. Felicity told her she was very welcome, though she would hardly have agreed to really let them take over the farm. “I found a great spot on the other side of the enclosure.”

  “So the painting of the sheep is yours?”

  The woman nodded. “Nola tells me that she owns one of them.”

  Felicity and the woman discussed sheep for a while. Another artist carried her canvases to her car but stopped to listen to them. She balanced a small canvas on her knee and held it toward Felicity.

  “I found the greatest spot, with those red buds on the trees and just a little water in a swampy area. But I couldn’t figure out what those little mounds were. What are they?”

  “Mounds?” Felicity stepped closer and looked at the painting. Fortunately it was done in a realistic style, but it still made no sense. She lifted the canvas and moved into a different area, with more light. “I think I know where you were.” She described the spot. “You took that path from behind the barn?”

  “I walked farther than I meant to, but it was so peaceful and I wanted to get a scene that gave me a specific feeling. And I wanted some kind of variety. Something with less gray.”

  “Gray is about it this time of year,” Felicity said. Still, those mounds troubled her. They were in the wrong location.

  “It looks like some animal digging, like a giant squirrel looking for coconut sized nuts.”

  “Yes, it does.” She handed back the canvas and hoped the artist wouldn’t ask anything more. The question was troubling, and the possible answers even worse.

  Nineteen

  Just after eight o’clock the next morning, Felicity took the trail the artist had indicated and followed it through the still-bare trees along the boundary of her farm. The new buds gave the forest a pink glow, and there was a warmth to the early morning. She knew it wouldn’t last, however. A late-winter snowstorm was predicted for later in the week. Whatever fell might not last, but it would dampen th
e warming ground and her efforts for an early harvest. The woods would once again take on a winter stillness.

  Felicity stuck to the description of the path given by the artist, forgoing shortcuts to ensure she saw exactly what the other woman saw. She had to be certain before she took any action. She hadn’t told Kevin Algren about the mounds she’d discovered on Sasha’s wood lot, since those weren’t on her property. And Sasha Glover had had a right to do whatever she wanted on her own land, even if it was a foolish search for nothing. But she was gone now, and Felicity couldn’t imagine Helena out digging. It sounded like Kyle had decided to continue his quest even after Sasha’s death. And if the artist was accurate in her description, Kyle had extended his search onto Tall Tree Farm.

  The red blazings on selected trees had not yet faded to a pale dirty orange, and Felicity walked on the outside of her boundary to keep her bearings. When she came around a rocky outcropping where deer had scuffed through the leaves, she saw what she’d hoped she wouldn’t. There, well within the blazed trees that marked her property from the few acres Zeke Bodrun had given to Clarissa and Clarissa had given to Sasha, were the telltale signs of Kyle’s search for hidden treasure. And even worse, these mounds were recent.

  Felicity walked in from the boundary and counted seven holes. As she moved among them she could discern no logical reason for Kyle’s choice of location to dig. She saw nothing that would attract him, and no evidence that he’d found anything. Each hole was similar in size and shape and depth. Nothing had been abandoned in mid dig, and nothing had been closed over as a precaution.

  From a nearby outcropping Felicity looked out over her land and into Sasha’s. All she could think was that it made no sense. These holes required major physical effort. Kyle, as she assumed it was, had been digging in only partially thawed ground. This wasn’t easy work. What on earth did he think he was going to find in this part of the woods?

  Felicity hit the brakes and skidded to a stop at the end of the driveway, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with Lance Gauthier as he turned off the road. Lance jerked to a halt on the verge. Discovering Kyle’s foray onto her property had sent adrenaline rushing through her, and she’d bolted without taking the time to think. She wasn’t even thinking about driving when she caught sight of Lance’s truck at the last minute.