Sunrise Point

said.
    “I have two younger, too.”
    “I have one younger,” Coop said. “But she’s a doll. And I grew into the older ones eventually.”
    “What the hell were you doing at her house fifteen years ago?” Jack asked. “Sliding back?”
    “Hell if I know. I woke up on a picnic table in the park across the street with the biggest headache I’ve ever had. I was probably looking for any familiar place because I was not driving anywhere. And everything went to hell from there.”
    “Yeah,” Jack said. “Well, hell. Listen, about these town parties, it’s a good time. Not long after Halloween it gets too cold for things like that and right up until Christmas, we’re driven inside. The Riordans who don’t already live here usually show up now and then. You shouldn’t let me keep you away. And you’re welcome at the bar anytime.” Jack glanced at Luke who was smiling faintly. “No need to have an escort.”
    “Neighborly of you,” Coop said.
    “But you should know,” Jack went on. “I’m trying to check a few facts. If it turns out I jumped to all the wrong conclusions, an apology will be forthcoming.”
    Coop was quiet for a second. “I won’t hold my breath.”
    “How’d you hurt your hand? Back then?”
    “No idea,” Coop said. “I hope I hurt it on the face of the son of a bitch who beat her. But the truth is, I have no idea.”
    “Buddy,” Jack said. “You couldn’t have planned that any worse.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “It was pointed out to me, in a very sincere and sarcastic way, that I am not without flaws. Let’s just hope to get it cleared up before you leave town.”
    “How does it matter?” Coop asked.
    Jack looked at Luke. “We have mutual friends who matter.” And with that he got back in his truck and drove away.

Chapter Fourteen
    Maxie’s friends, Penny and Rosalie, arrived on Thursday afternoon. They brought very little luggage and a trunk full of sweets they’d spent the previous two days together baking at Rosalie’s Santa Rosa home. Both were widowed, gray-haired, of indeterminate ages and when the three silver-haired women were together, laughing and hugging and breaking out the wine, they called themselves the Merry Widows.
    Nora loved them instantly.
    “Guard yourself,” Tom whispered to her. “They’re sharp-tongued and relentless.”
    Nora didn’t take him seriously at all. She loved being in the kitchen with them and her children took to them immediately—both were experienced grandmothers.
    When Tom was not in the house, Penny asked, “When does that woman arrive?”
    Nora’s ears perked up.
    “Tomorrow afternoon,” Maxie said. “And be very cautious what you say around her. She can be hard to take, but Tom is very protective of her. Her husband was killed in Afghanistan in Tom’s command and he feels a certain—you know—responsibility for her. If you say anything critical or offend her, he might lose his head and marry her.”
    “Us?” Penny said. “Critical?”
    “Does she have a name other than Miss Picky Pants?” Rosalie asked.
    Nora laughed suddenly. Miss what? she wondered.
    “Darla,” Maxie said. “Darla Pritchard.”
    “Is she good in the kitchen?” Penny wanted to know.
    “I couldn’t tell you. All I’ve seen her do is read, change clothes several times a day and pick at her food. If Duke gets near her, she shies away so he won’t get dog hair on her.”
    “But wait till you see her,” Nora said. The women all turned and looked at her. “She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
    “My dear child,” Rosalie said, “have you looked in a mirror lately?”
    “We should get out the old pictures,” Penny said. “Show this girl we were once hot young chicks.”
    “Have you all been friends your whole lives?” Nora asked.
    “We met when we were young mothers,” Maxie said. “Right here on the orchard. Rosalie and Penny came to pick apples. Rose lived in Garberville then, Penny in Willet. And we did the one thing people never do anymore—we wrote letters to each other. And got together once, maybe twice a year.”
    “Maxie, did you live on the orchard all your life?”
    Silence hung in the air for a moment, followed by laughter that only confused Nora.
    “No, Nora—I came to the orchard when I was eighteen, looking for work. I was a dirt-poor farm girl from Idaho. I got stranded near here and this was the only place hiring.”
    “How’d you get stranded here?” Nora asked.
    “The