The Tree Keeper's Promise: A Novel (A Shafer Farm Romance Book 2) Read online

  Before the door opened and the driver jumped out, it all clicked in Mark’s mind. The man who had helped Angela, the man who called her and lied about a deal, was—

  “John. John Jackson, good to meet you,” he said as he shook Ashley’s hand—who appeared to be fascinated by his name alone. “Doing some business here. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Angela made a start at introductions, but Ashley carried on as if she were the only one there. “You can call me Ashley. Nice to meet you.” She flipped her hair. She seemed to do that a lot. “Shame. I was just leaving,” she said.

  “There’s no business happening here,” Mark said directly to John, not caring at all if he interrupted a moment.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a bite to eat?” John produced three pizza boxes.

  “There’s no dinner happening here, either,” Mark said as indignantly as he could while holding a wobbly stack of towels. He trained his eyes on John. Angela and Ashley were speaking, but he seemed to have tuned it out.

  “You couldn’t use some pizza? I heard you had a rough night. Tough break with the rain and the banks of Singletary giving out. I thought we could go over some of the specifics about the farm. According to MassDOT—”

  Mark turned to Angela. He gave her his stack of towels to hold with her other hand. Not an easy task, but she managed it. He then walked over to John, took the pizzas, and gave them directly to Ashley.

  “There. Ashley came all this way to help us. She’ll enjoy these.”

  “Um, I have this gluten—” Ashley began. Mark gave her a quick look, and she backpedaled. “I can ... sure. Thank you.” She put them in her car and hopped in.

  “You can leave now too,” he said to John.

  “What about my offer?” John asked.

  “Not interested.” Mark turned his back on him and walked to where Angela stood.

  “You don’t want to make another mistake, do you? I’m your last hope. If you pass up my offer, you’re on your own, and I don’t think you’re any match for the state.”

  “You are not my hope, last or otherwise. And I’m not making a mistake. Go ahead and leave. We’re got a lot of work to do here. Real work.”

  Mark and Angela took the towels to the farmhouse.

  “She meant well,” Angela said.

  Mark didn’t reply. He might have contained his anger while he’d talked to John Jackson, but it was still threatening at the surface.

  “I’m sorry about earlier. About not talking to you, not asking you before I jumped to conclusions,” Angela said.

  At that, Mark reached over for another hug. He didn’t want to take out any of his frustration on her. “How did you say you ran into him?”

  “I was in Fall River,” Angela said hesitatingly, pulling back from the hug.

  “And why did you go there again?” Mark asked.

  “I tried to find Dona Florinda—she used to live there with her cousin.”

  “You drove out there on a whim, no checking on the address first?”

  “I didn’t know I’d be out that way. I actually just went for a drive. I needed some space to think.” Angela’s voice trailed off.

  “About us? You needed to think about us?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But mostly about me. I had to sort some things out.”

  “So where did you go?”

  “The beach. Same one I used to go to with my friends.”

  They walked into the kitchen at Mark’s lead. He poured a protein shake and offered Angela some.

  “You know, you didn’t have to go that far. Sutton might not have the ocean, but there are some places definitely removed from people.” He was thinking of Purgatory Chasm. His father had taken him there in the summers. He’d gone exploring there with his high school friends. And a few times when he needed a place to think outside the farm. It had been years since he’d been there, though.

  “How about in a few days, when we need a break from the mud around here, I pick you up and take you to a place I think you’ll like?”

  “Have I been there before?”

  “Maybe. It will be a good place for us to talk. There’s something I want to tell you.”

  Chapter 17

  It was hard to believe the flood at the farm had only been a week ago. Angela had spent every moment that she wasn’t helping Ashley with the management office over at the farm helping with the cleanup effort. Mostly she helped Mrs. Shaw, who insisted on removing every last craft and treating the barn with undiluted vinegar, claiming it would prevent mold. And though only some of the inventory in boxes had water damage, Mrs. Shaw wanted to inspect each and every craft item.

  They stopped for lunch, and Mrs. Shaw dismissed Angela.

  “Go on. You’ve got to go. You’ve been here too long as it is.”

  “I still have two hours before I need to be at my mom’s. Her plane doesn’t even leave until six tonight.”

  “Just so, she may need your help with her luggage, or she may want your company before she’s off to the other side of the Atlantic. You’ve given me more help than I knew I needed. Now go.”

  Angela gathered her sweater and purse. They had worked all week, but Angela hadn’t had a chance to ask about Papa.

  “Before I go, is there any news you have to share?”

  Mrs. Shaw seemed a little too interested in some knitted stockings. “Drive safe,” she said as if she hadn’t heard her.

  “That confirms it, then.” Angela smiled knowingly. “You aren’t going to elope are you?”

  With that, the woman’s eyes widened and she huffed over to another table where they had laid out gingerbread ornaments. “We were planning to catch up with you and Mark tonight. I wanted to be done with all these bits n’ bobs first.” She put down the ornaments with an exaggerated sigh. “No sense in waiting longer, is there?” she said. “Would you be mad to know we’ve been engaged for some time now? Alberto thought it best to wait until you and Mark made it official.”

  Alberto? Angela hadn’t heard anyone call him by his given name—ever. With the way they’d both been acting, this confirmed what she’d suspected.

  “As for eloping, I told him we didn’t need a big or fancy ceremony, but it must be in the church.”

  This was news to Angela. Not that they had talked about it, but she didn’t know Mrs. Shaw was particular on this point.

  “The First Congregational Church—you have seen it, haven’t you? An October wedding on my mother’s birthday, Angela. It will be lovely, just lovely.”

  “And her birthday is when?”

  “The twenty-second. A bit soon, but why should we wait? We’re not getting any younger.” She giggled a bit to herself.

  Angela couldn’t help but feel her delight, but given their friendship, she had to ask. “You know, once upon a time you said you didn’t have much use for marriage. What changed your mind?”

  “Not what. Who. Alberto, that’s who.” Her face changed from giddy to reverent and then softened into another smile. “I was only saying the same things the uninvolved say about happy couples. You didn’t believe my blathering, did you?”

  “Hmm. I see. Maybe a little. You can be convincing.”

  “Now, before you go. I’ve got something for you.” She returned from the back room with a large box she handed Angela.

  “It’s heavy. What is this for?”

  “Have you given Caroline the garden shop?”

  “Not yet. I thought I’d wait.”

  “That box has the church,” she said. “And the other pieces I have. Most are painted. There are two more. Maybe you’ll have time to finish them.”

  “We said we were going to add to the village each year!”

  “I know, but I couldn’t help myself. I fell in love with the bakery and then had to do the blacksmith’s house. And the toy shop.”

  “Where will we put all of these?” Angela asked. “There are too many. You can’t give us all of them.”

  “Nonsen
se. I can, and I have. Now, if you don’t have paints at home, bring Caroline here and she can paint the rest.”

  “Thank you! I’ll find a way to repay you,” Angela said.

  “Then it wouldn’t be a gift,” she said. “Alberto and I will still come by tonight—after dinner.”

  Caroline had been quiet for most of the ride back from the airport. Angela attributed this to missing playtime with Gary’s dog, though he’d reassured her he’d like to bring Bones out to the farm one weekend.

  “She isn’t coming back until November,” Caroline said as they neared their house on Hickory Avenue.

  “Hopefully she’ll be back for Thanksgiving. But, remember, this is something she’s wanted to do most of her life,” Angela explained. “She’ll probably find reasons to extend her stay.”

  “What did she mean when she said, ‘We’ll do something about the ring when I get back’?” Caroline asked.

  “She means my engagement ring. She can’t believe I told Mark I don’t need one, at least not right away.”

  “Has he looked for it in the last place he saw it, like you tell me to do?”

  “Yes, he has.”

  “Hmm. Do you think Grandma will buy you one, like she did with the house?”

  “I hope not. She’s done enough. Besides, that’s for Mark and me to work out.”

  It was quiet for another moment, and Caroline had not perked up.

  “I was going to wait, but when we get home I have a surprise.”

  “For me? What is it?”

  “I thought we’d start our own Christmas village this year.”

  “Like one we can put under the tree?”

  When they got in the door, it was the first thing Caroline wanted to see. Angela gave her the garden shop, not disclosing that the rest of the village was in the box.

  Caroline took it reverently. “I love it! Wait, did you paint this?”

  “I did,” Angela said, a bit proud of herself. And relieved to see a spark of joy return to her daughter’s eyes.

  “It’s beautiful. I love it,” she said. “And you know what else? I have a feeling Mark is going to find your ring,” Caroline said firmly.

  Where did that come from?

  “Is that so? I’m sorry, but I think it’s gone with the floodwaters.”

  “Don’t be so sure. We’re putting up a Shafer tree for Christmas. You never know what can happen.”

  Mark and Angela finished the dinner dishes together after Caroline had gone to sleep. She told him he didn’t need to help. She knew he was exhausted from the work at the farm, which was why she had insisted he come to dinner at her house. She hoped he could relax. But standing next to her and putting the dishes into the dishwasher allowed him to be that much closer to her, he’d said.

  They heard a pounding on the front door. She checked the wall clock in the hallway: 9:35 p.m. Not terribly late. She looked down the hall to Caroline’s room and saw that her light was still off. Mark went over to answer the door.

  “Papa?” he asked. “Mrs. Shaw? Come in, you two.”

  “We won’t keep you long. Dorothy said tonight was a good night to stop by,” Papa said with a smile.

  Angela looked first at Papa, then at Mrs. Shaw. Dorothy? She knew that was her name, but this was the first she’d heard Papa, or anyone, use it.

  It occurred to her they all called her Mrs. Shaw. Once she married Papa, that name wouldn’t exactly fit.

  “Maybe it is too late. Sorry dear.”

  “No, not too late at all, Mrs. Sh—um, Dorothy.” This would take some getting used to.

  “Have a seat.”

  Papa and Dorothy sat on one end of the sofa while Mark sat on the other. Angela sat in the chair.

  “Is everything okay?” Mark asked. Papa’s face registered a smile.

  “Better than ever,” Papa answered quickly, winking at Mrs. Shaw—Dorothy.

  “Did your mother make her flight?” she asked.

  “Yes, she’s off,” Angela replied.

  Papa and Dorothy held hands, and Angela could see Mark shift.

  “How about something to drink?” She jumped out of her chair to the kitchen. The glasses clanged onto the counter.

  “I won’t be needin’ a drink,” Papa said.

  “Some water is all I need, dear.”

  As Angela returned to her chair, she saw that Papa had stopped holding Dorothy’s hand, which might have helped Mark’s nerves. Only now, Papa was draping his arm across her shoulders as he reclined against the sofa.

  “We thought it best to tell you. We’re engaged,” Dorothy said.

  “Yes, we are. Dorothy and I, we’re goin’ to tie the knot. I’ll be the luckiest man in Sutton. Wouldn’t you say?” He looked at Dorothy with a big grin.

  “Yes, you will.” She patted him on the knee, and Angela checked Mark for reaction. He’d been quiet so far.

  “Congratulations, Papa, Mrs. Shaw,” Mark finally said.

  “Thank you, Mark. I know it may take some getting used to, but call me Dorothy. Please.”

  This request made Angela realize Dorothy would soon have a new name: Mrs. Shafer. That thought somehow provoked what? Jealousy?

  Angela studied Mark. He seemed momentarily stunned. And Mrs. Shaw, the previously protesting, indignant Mrs. Shaw, had somehow been replaced by a warm-eyed, admiring woman. And Papa was still very much who he always was, only more of him. Yes, that was it. He took up more of the room and the air, as if he needed all the oxygen in the room to fuel his enthusiasm.

  How charming they were, sitting there in her living room, talking and exchanging glances and touches like they’d been married half their lives. Well, they had been, just not to each other. Still, making it look easy, making it look like they belonged there and to each other.

  Belonging. Why did Angela crave it and fear it at the same time?

  Dorothy spoke again. “We have some other news to share. We’re getting married in three weeks.”

  “So soon?” Mark asked.

  “My mother’s birthday,” Dorothy said, settling the subject.

  “We came for another reason. Angela, we know you and Mark are still making plans. Have you decided on a date?” Papa asked.

  Mark spoke up. “We’ll be talking about that tomorrow.”

  “We will?” Angela asked. “That’s what you wanted to talk about?” She shouldn’t have been surprised, yet she was anyway.

  “No pressure, dear. We wanted to ask if you would consider ...”

  “What she’s trying to say is when you and Mark get married, we’d like to rent your house, if that’s something you’re agreeable to. Can’t say I know what it’s like to rent someone else’s home, but Dorothy and I have talked about it. We want you and Mark to have the farmhouse to yourself.”

  Angela didn’t know what to say, and by the look on Mark’s face, neither did he.

  “We’d have a place to live, and you’d have someone taking care of your house. Maybe that would solve both our dilemmas,” Dorothy explained in her endearing English accent, which could make news of a root canal sound like an invite to a tea party.

  All eyes were on Angela now. This was happening. She and Mark were getting married and, obviously, so were Papa and Dorothy. While she could tell Mark was trying to adjust to that new reality, it was her new reality that was taking shape in front of her. What better solution could she ask for?

  “Of course you can. What a great idea.” She paused, checking Mark’s face, then Papa’s. “Are you sure this will be okay for you, not living at the farm, Papa?”

  “It’ll be a change,” Papa said as he stood. “We’re going to be getting on our way. I turn in early.” He looked at Mark as he said this.

  Angela wasn’t sure, but it looked like he winked.

  “Can’t say I know what it’ll be like living somewhere else, but it’s the right time. The trees are in good hands.” He nodded to Mark and smiled at Angela.

  After they left, Mark noted the time. “Look
s like I better be going too. Are we still on for tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Did I hear you right earlier? That you want to set a date?”

  “I thought we’d talk about it,” he said casually.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Only if you want to get married in December,” he said with a laugh and a good-bye hug.

  Chapter 18

  Mark hadn’t been to the chasm in years. As they parked and walked past the covered picnic tables, he reached for Angela’s hand. The morning could not have been more crisp and clear. He hoped they could decide on a date today. But that wasn’t the real reason he’d brought her here.

  He woke at four in the morning with the perfect idea of how to explain the tree-keeper’s promise. But now, in the light of day, none of it made sense.

  There were two state-parks employees repairing the anchoring chain on one of the trash barrels and a couple with two small children at one of the tables.

  He suggested they take Charley’s trail around and hike back out through the chasm.

  “And your leg will be okay?” Angela asked as she watched Mark walk.

  “It’s mostly fine,” he said. “Not going to slow me down. You know how I’ve been spending time with Papa this year? Learning all I can about the trees?”

  Angela nodded.

  “When I became owner of the farm last year, I thought I officially became the keeper of the trees.”

  “Taking over for Papa,” she said.

  “Exactly. Or so I thought. Remember for Caroline’s birthday she picked out two trees and Papa said they could cause a love match?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “Right. I couldn’t believe there was more to the trees. After all this time, Papa still knew things about the trees he hadn’t told me. So I asked him, more like I told him, I wanted to know everything there was to know.”

  They were a half of a mile down Charley’s loop, the rocky path covered in bright orange and red leaves. A thin morning mist hung around the trees. A sparrow chirped and flitted on the ground, then flew to a branch.

  “Does this have to do with us setting a date? Are we supposed to get married within a certain amount of time or what—the love expires?” She laughed as she said it, but her words had a nervous edge.