a paycheck. “My lawyer plea-bargained down from a driving with ability impaired to a wet reckless.”
Olivia’s mouth thinned. She didn’t like the break Monica’s lawyer had managed to negotiate any better than Noah had, but then she was a mother bear concerned for her cub. Monica just wished Mama Bear wasn’t also her boss.
“Community service?” Olivia asked. “There’s nothing like that available in Accord. Where do you have to go? Denver?”
“Noah’s farm. I have to grow plants.”
A mean little smile tugged at the corners of Olivia’s mouth. “You have to farm?”
Oh, dear. It looked like Olivia was going to enjoy Monica’s discomfort just as much as Noah. “I don’t know a thing about farming and now I have to help Noah grow his vegetables. Yes. I have to farm.”
Olivia’s glance took in the sleeveless sage linen dress and the rose pumps Monica had donned in a hurry a few minutes ago.
“Good luck.” The hard edge of Olivia’s voice saddened Monica even while she tried to cut Olivia some slack.
“I was already there this morning pulling up plants instead of weeds. They all look the same to me. Noah was angry.” Monica crossed her arms and grasped her elbows. She knew she sounded unhappy, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. What had the judge been thinking? She needed to talk to Daddy, to find out why he’d groaned when Judge Easton had entered the courtroom yesterday morning. Unless Monica had it wrong, there was history between the two of them—and now she was paying the price.
Olivia’s glance skimmed Monica again. “Do you even own a pair of jeans?”
“Of course,” she said, but relented and told the truth. “I bought a pair yesterday after I left the courtroom.”
“You’ll still need to keep your full-time hours.”
“I’ll put in all of my hours. No problem, Olivia.” She didn’t ask her dad for help these days. She was trying really hard to get by on her own. It had taken her years to learn that self-sufficiency provided rewards far greater than material goods.
She’d stopped shopping as a hobby a couple of years ago. The dress and shoes she wore today were a few years old. Fortunately, her style was classic and she took care of her clothes.
Olivia led her to the office in the back. “Noah works on his farm for four hours every morning before he comes into town to open the army surplus store.”
That ugly old thing. The town should demolish it. Force it to shut down. All of the other shops on Main Street had spruced up their storefronts to bring in tourists. Why shouldn’t he have to, as well?
Her mind went back to what Olivia had said. So Noah had already been out weeding for a couple of hours before Monica had arrived this morning? Insane. “Four hours? Before he opens the store? What time does he get up?”
“As far as I know about five.”
“As in a.m.?”
Compelled, she did the math. Two hundred hours. If she went to the farm for two hours in the morning before coming to work—no way was she getting up at five—it would take her one hundred days to complete her service, if she worked there every day. More than three months, and she would have to work longer hours on her days off to make up the time faster. A little faint, she leaned against the wall.
Olivia grasped Monica’s arm. “You try real hard to make it work, to make up for how much you hurt him.” She picked up her purse. “I’m running across the street for a coffee.”
The slamming front door put an exclamation point to her exit.
She’d left without offering to bring back something for Monica, unheard of in their relationship to date.
As Monica had already done a dozen times this morning, she rubbed a hand over her roiling tummy.
Making amends was a heck of a lot harder than it looked.
“CAN YOU BELIEVE this whole cockeyed situation?” Noah asked Audrey and Laura when he arrived at Laura’s café for lunch. They were crowded into Laura’s office in the back behind the kitchen. “I’m stuck with Monica Accord on the farm.”
He and his best friend, Audrey Stone, ate together most days, either at her flower shop or at Noah’s Army Surplus, and took turns bringing food. He’d chosen the bakery today so he could vent to both his best friend and his sister.
“She broke your arm,” Laura said, patting her brother’s cast. “It was the best solution. She can be of use to you on the farm.”
“Ha! She threw a bunch of weeds onto the compost heap even after I’d told her they belong in the garbage. How is that useful?”
“She might become better at it than you think.” Laura pushed her long hair back over her shoulder. She’d inherited a more subdued version of their father’s red hair than Noah had.
“Are you kidding? She overwatered the turnips so I can’t water them tomorrow. She didn’t water the radishes enough, so I have to water them again this evening. I need less work, not more.” He banged his fist on Laura’s desk, rattling a bunch of papers, a soup ladle and a bag of cloth diapers delivered by her service. “The woman’s too stupid to know a rake from a curling iron.”
Laura stood abruptly and picked up the diapers. “I have to go. It’s feeding time and I’m ready to burst.”
Noah perked up. “How’s Pearl doing?” Flat-out chuffed to be a brand-new uncle, his curiosity about and fascination with his niece grew with each passing day.
“Growing by leaps and bounds.” Laura tucked the diapers under her arm and picked up the soup ladle to return it to the kitchen. “Who left this here?”
“Probably you.” Noah laughed. Laura left a trail of cooking utensils wherever she went. The woman was as passionate about preparing food as he was about growing it.
“You two stay here and finish your lunch.” Resting her hand on Noah’s shoulder, Laura said, “Give Monica a chance. I almost lost Nick by judging on appearances and past behavior. People grow, Noah. They change.”
After Laura left the room, Noah finished his quinoa salad and felt Audrey watching him the whole time. He knew why. Monica used to be married to Audrey’s brother, Billy Stone, until he died in Afghanistan. She probably felt some kind of loyalty to Monica.
“I’d rather do anything this summer than teach spoiled Monica to farm,” he said, disgust coloring his tone far more than the situation warranted. “It’s distasteful to me.”
“I understand, Noah, but be careful you don’t make assumptions that are unfounded,” she said. “Or based on clichés about rich women and Monica’s blond good looks. You’ve had a bad string of luck with women.”
When he opened his mouth to object, she raised her hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t bring up the elephant in the room.”
The elephant in the room was that Noah had always chosen women who had an uncanny resemblance to Monica, and who were just as wealthy.
It confounded him that he would choose women like her. “That’s all been nothing more than coincidence.”
“Really? Deirdre? New Orleans? A dead ringer for Monica.”
Noah was angry instantly. He’d put a lot of energy into forgetting Deirdre and her betrayal. He didn’t need Audrey bringing it up now.
“Don’t go there, Audrey.”
“Deirdre might have looked like Monica, but Monica is nothing like that woman.”
“Okay,