When they’d moved here, Grady was the first to hustle over and tell them that nobody with the brain of a flea would take on a business without knowing a blessed thing about it…but then, Grady was the one who helped turn that around. Without his advice and lectures, they probably would have gotten nowhere. Bett could still remember how the three of them walked every inch of the land and even tasted the dirt from spot to spot-an experience she valued, and never intended to repeat.

“Looks fine,” Grady said finally, totally bored. “Must be a good moisture base in the soil, just like Zach said. Taken on growth even this last week in the heat. Probably make a fortune on the damn things.”

Bett relaxed. “It was nice of you to take the time, Grady. I have to admit that for the entire last month both of us have barely set foot in the orchard.”

“’Course you haven’t. You two are too busy taking on too much; wouldn’t kill you to hire a little extra help, you know. Useless talking to you,” Grady said disgustedly.

Bett interpreted that as high praise. Working oneself to death rated respect from Grady. “We’re doing okay.”

“You don’t know where I could catch up with Zach?”

From the cloud of dust coming from the hill beyond the barn, she could make a shrewd guess. “Could I help you in the meantime?” she asked.

“Got a tractor needs an O-ring, and Brown’s is out.”

“Out of my bailiwick,” Bett admitted.

Grady gave her a sidelong glance. “I’ve seen lots worse with a tractor than you.”

Bett stuffed her hands in her back pockets. The cloud of dust came closer; Zach was driving the old 350 tractor. She didn’t try to continue the conversation with Grady. At first she’d been offended by his brusque attitude, until she’d caught on. Grady was basically terrified of women. Such casual compliments as the one he’d just handed her made him turn beet-red. Lobsterish at the moment. And one of these days she was going to give him a big hug and probably scare the pipe right out of his hand.