Page 89 of Hometown Girl

Why, God?

“Same thing. We’ve never stopped with the orchards. They’re valuable.”

“I’m surprised Harold kept up with your bills,” Drew said. “From what we can tell, he let everything go.”

“Oh, he didn’t pay us.”

“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” Beth said. “Did you take your pay out of what the apples made at the markets?”

Walter’s face warmed into a tender smile. “No, Harold and Sonya weren’t the ones who hired me.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pressed a business card into her hand. “This man hired me to take care of the orchards for them. I’m not sure they ever even knew.”

Davis Biddle.

“This man approached my sister,” Beth said. “Does he want to buy the farm?”

Walter’s smile broadened. “I don’t know about that, but Mr.Biddle has always had a soft spot for Fairwind. Or maybe for Mrs.Pendergast, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Beth glanced at Drew, who said nothing.

“So he took care of the farm all these years because he was sweet on Sonya?” Beth asked.

Walter scratched the side of his mustache. “I couldn’t say for sure, ma’am. But he and Sonya were high school sweethearts.”

“Why didn’t he just buy the farm after Harold died?” Drew asked.

“He was in the Caribbean,” Beth and Walter said in unison.

“You say this started about twenty years ago?” Drew asked.

“Just after the girl went missing. Mr.Biddle got a bad reputation. He’s a shrewd businessman, and people don’t always understand his choices. He’s not known as a compassionate man, but when he heard what happened, he wanted to help.”

“There must’ve been something in it for him, some financial motive,” Beth said.

“Maybe he really loved her,” Drew said.

“So he spent twenty years taking care of her land? Even after she died?” she asked.

“People do crazy things for love,” he said.

Had Drew ever done something crazy for love?

“Maybe there was money in it for him,” Walter said. “I couldn’t really say. I don’t ask Mr.Biddle questions, I just do what he tells me.”

“I did a little digging on him when Molly gave me his card,” Beth said. “He owns property that meets up with ours.”

“I take care of his property too,” Walter said. “He’s hardly ever there—always traveling for business.”

Maybe that’s why Beth didn’t know the man. Willow Grove was a small town; if Davis Biddle had spent any amount of time there in the last ten years, Beth would’ve known him.

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Walter added. “So, keep this between us, if you don’t mind.”

Nothing about this made sense.

“Should we take a walk through the orchards?” Drew asked, probably tired of Beth’s suspicions. They were here to talk about trees.

“Sure. And I’ll tell you what it takes to keep it going, write you up an estimate just in case you want to keep us on, at least till you get your bearings.” Walter followed Drew toward the main barn, Beth and Roxie bringing up the rear. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you the family discount,” he said over his shoulder. “I love this old farm.”

Apparently, for some unknown reason, so did Davis Biddle.

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