Sun-Kissed Baby. Patricia Hagan
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shop.
She parked under a shady palm and took Scotty inside with her. Her first priority should have been reporting to the office, but she couldn’t resist checking out the gift shop first.
It was larger and better-stocked than the one where she had worked but much of the merchandise was the same—orange marmalade, honey and candies, as well as bags of fruit that customers could take with them or have shipped anywhere in the world.
Scotty saw a stuffed teddy bar holding a tiny jar of orange honey, and he reached for it. “No, no, sweetie.” She kissed his chubby little hand. “Even if I could afford it, there’s nobody around here to sell it to us. Evidently they don’t open this place when it’s off-season.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. We’re closed.”
She whipped about to see a man standing in an open doorway to the side that she hadn’t noticed. Beyond was some kind of huge storage area. Starke Groves was quite an operation, all right.
But as she focused on the man who’d spoken, everything else faded away.
He was tall and looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. His eyes were a deep greenish blue, like the ocean above its darkest depths, and they seemed to glimmer with a focused strength. His sandy-blond hair was cropped close, the bill of his cap playfully reversed. And as he appraised her, the play of a smile on his lips revealed the dimples in his cheeks.
He was wearing white shorts, and his legs were long and muscular. A tank top revealed bare arms and shoulders that showed he either worked out or did a lot of hard work. His dark tan glistened with perspiration, and as he turned to close the storage-room door, she couldn’t help noticing he had a nice behind.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But the door was unlocked, and—”
“I know. I came in to do some inventory and forgot to lock it.” He cocked his head to one side, and the smile widened, deepening the dimples she could not help finding so delightful. “Is there something I can help you with? We don’t keep the shop open this time of year, but if you want some oranges, I can fix you up with some Valencias that were just picked this morning.” He patted Scotty’s downy head. “He’s cute. How old is he?”
“Almost fourteen months. His name is Scotty.”
“He’s probably walking and getting into everything.”
“No, he’s crawling and into everything. He hasn’t started walking yet. I think it’s because he’s so chubby. He tries to stand on his fat little legs and falls down.”
“Give him time. He looks like he’s going to be a strong little fellow.” He kept looking at Scotty as he asked, “Did you want to buy some of the Valencias?”
“No, thank you. Actually I’m here to see about—” Just then Scotty’s eye caught the bear again, and he strained to get closer. She pulled him back, and he started crying.
The man laughed. “He really wants that bear.”
“Well, he can’t have it. He’d get that honey all over him.”
“Not if you don’t open it.” He took the bear from the shelf beneath the cash register where it had been displayed, obviously to entice the small fry as Mom and Dad paid for their other purchases. He untied the gold cord that held the little jar of honey in place and set it on the counter, then handed the bear to Scotty.
Scotty gave a delightful squeal, but it was nothing compared to his scream of protest when Carlee promptly took it away from him. “I’m sorry, but he can’t have it.” She had already seen the price tag and could not afford to spend twenty dollars on a toy no matter how badly he wanted it.
Scotty cried all the more loudly, kicking his legs and waving his arms in the throes of a temper tantrum. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again, embarrassed. “It’s time for his nap and he’s cranky.”
“But it’s all right. He can have it as a gift.”
She shook her head, not about to accept something from a stranger. “Thank you, but no.” She saw the clipboard he’d been carrying and brightened. “You must be Mr. Thurston. I talked to a woman in the office—Miss Streeter—and she said you all were hiring pickers, and that’s why I’m here.”
“Well, we are, but—”
“I’ve had lots of experience working in groves,” she interrupted, shifting Scotty, who had calmed down, so she could hold out her hand to shake the man’s hand and introduce herself. “Mostly I worked in the gift shop, but I’d rather be a picker, because I can make more money.
“And she also said there were nice facilities for the workers,” she rushed on, excited because he seemed so nice, but then so did everything else about Starke Groves so far.
“That’s true. We have one-and two-bedroom cottages down by the lake, and the child-care center is air-conditioned, but—”
Again, in her enthusiasm, she cut him off. “Well, if you will point me to the office, I’ll fill out my application, and as soon as I get Scotty settled in at the day care, I’ll be ready to go to work. Just point me to where they’re picking.”
His gaze flicked over her but settled on Scotty once more, who continued to fret a little over the bear. He held out his arms for him and asked, “May I?”
Before Carlee could respond, Scotty lunged for the stranger as though aware he wanted to give him the bear.
“Oh, he’s a big fellow. A fine little boy.” He hugged him, then said, “I’m afraid we’re through picking for the day, but you can start first thing tomorrow. We pay twelve dollars an hour, more if you’re real fast.”
Carlee swallowed a cry of delight. She didn’t want to let on it was more money than she’d ever made before.
“We can use your husband, too, if he’s looking for work.”
She murmured she was not married and reached for Scotty. “I guess I’d better go fill out those papers now.”
“Are you sure you won’t let me give him the bear as a welcome present?”
Scotty was sniffling, which pulled at her heart. The man probably got a huge discount, so she said okay and thanked him. He handed the bear to Scotty, whose whole face lit up.
“The office is that way.” He pointed to another door. “I’ll be in to talk to you as soon as you give Elaine all the information she needs. Then I’ll have someone take you to your cottage and show you around.”
Carlee was thrilled to think how much money she would make and not have to pay rent. She would also be in a perfect position to secretly check out Mr. Nick Starke.
“We get started around six,” he said, ushering her to the office door. “We don’t have a lot of workers now, but there’ll be somebody around to help you unload your car. I’ll come by later to see if there’s anything you need.”
He started to say something else, but Carlee wasn’t listening, quickening her pace to get into the office and start the ball rolling to put her on the payroll.
Nick Starke stared after her in somewhat of a daze. She was pretty, vivacious, energetic, and her baby boy was adorable. It was a shame that she was obviously on her own. He had seen her glance at the price tag on the bear as he came out of the storage room and how she’d winced and quickly put it back. Learning she wasn’t married told him all he needed to know about her financial situation. Likely as not she wasn’t getting any support from her son’s father. He could tell she was trying to hide her excitement when she heard how much she would make.
Well, she’d come to the right place. Like his father and grandfather before him, Nick took pride in paying good wages for good workers. Providing much better living facilities than any other grove in the state kept the same ones coming back year after year. But Valencia season could not compete with California