The Orchard at the Edge of Town Read Online Free

take to Aruba. The pretty flowered one that her mother had lent her because she hadn’t thought Apricot’s plain black one was fancy enough for a honeymoon.
    Poor Lilac. She’d been devastated when Apricot had finally walked out of the church. Two hours and fifteen minutes after the ceremony was supposed to begin, five minutes after Lionel arrived, his hair mussed, a dozen excuses on his lips, Lilac had followed Apricot out the side door of the church, begging her to reconsider.
    Men cheat , she’d said. Every last one of them, so why let that be the reason to end a beautiful relationship?
    Because it wasn’t really all that beautiful.
    That’s what Apricot had wanted to say, because her relationship with Lionel hadn’t been beautiful or even all that compelling.
    It had been nice, easy. Convenient.
    A lot like the comforter Grandma Sapphire had made for Apricot’s fifth birthday. Nothing fancy. Nothing that people would ooh and aah over, but it had kept her warm in the winter, and she’d always reached for it on chilly nights.
    She didn’t suppose that was the best way to describe a relationship, but it was what it was, and she was sure Lionel had felt the same way. If he hadn’t, he’d have been at the church instead of lying in bed with Apricot’s personal assistant.
    Lilac might have been able to forgive that, but Apricot couldn’t. She didn’t want to be with a man who didn’t want to be with her more than he wanted to be with someone else.
    She wasn’t her mother, her aunt, her sister Plum. She was herself, and she liked rules and order. She liked commitment, constancy, and, yes, she liked monogamy. Was that a crime? Was it too much to ask of a relationship?
    She backed out of Henry, nearly bumping the good-looking deputy who’d been watching her like a hawk. “It’s in my carry-on case. In the trailer.”
    â€œIs that so?” he asked, a hint of a Southern drawl in his voice. He hadn’t grown up in Apple Valley. She’d have been willing to lay odds on that.
    â€œYes,” she responded, grabbing fistfuls of organza and marching to the back of the Airstream. Sixty years old, it looked brand-new. Hubert took a lot of pride in keeping his vehicles that way. He wasn’t quite as good at keeping up on the house. Good thing he’d married Jasmine. His third wife was young, energetic, and willing to take on the jobs Hubert wouldn’t. She’d told Apricot all about it at the rehearsal dinner Friday night. Lionel had managed to be there. He’d managed to make nice with her family, act interested in her. He’d told her how beautiful she looked in the candlelight. Only the candlelight had been as fake as his affection, the tiny little electric lights his mother’s idea of ambience.
    Apricot would have preferred the real deal. Candle-and relationship-wise.
    â€œTaking a plane trip somewhere?” Deputy Baylor stood beside her as she dragged the carry-on case from the trailer. He smelled like the outdoors. Clean and fresh with just a hint of something darkly masculine. She might have been intrigued if she weren’t completely done with men.
    â€œWas going to take a plane trip.” She unzipped the front compartment.
    â€œTo?”
    â€œAruba.” She pulled out her passport and driver’s license. Thank God. She really didn’t want to spend time in the local jail. She especially didn’t want to have to call her family to come bail her out. She loved every one of them, but they were bigger than life.
    At least, bigger than her life.
    She might own a multimillion-dollar business, but she enjoyed peace and quiet. She liked fireplaces and good books, hot chocolate and strolls at midnight.
    She did not like chaos and noise and . . . well . . . everything her family stood for—free love, self-expression above personal responsibility, pursuit of happiness rather than financial