Page 37 of The Apple Cider Orchard

At the mention of Crest, Jack’s expression shifted subtly. Molly watched as something more calculated and considering entered his eyes, replacing the knee-jerk resistance.

Quick as you like, Brid seized on this crack in his defenses. ‘And more awareness means more understanding of what those types want to destroy.’ She turned to Molly. ‘The hotel would benefit too, of course. You’d include a mention of the Glen Arms in your plans?’

‘And Wildflower Books,’ Maeve added quickly, not to be outdone. ‘We’ve a few local history authors that would only love to be part of it. Landscape artists too.’

The requests continued to pile up as others drifted into the conversation, each suggesting how their business might be included in this hypothetical awareness campaign. Molly watched with a mixture of amusement and alarm as the scope expanded with every passing second.

‘Wait,’ she said finally, raising her hand to stem the flood of suggestions. ‘I’m not planning anything yet.’

The little group fell silent, all eyes turning to her with expressions ranging from surprise to dismay.

‘But you will, won’t you?’ Eva asked, her voice softer now, genuine. ‘It would mean so much to the village. And to Jack, even though he’s too stubborn to admit it.’

Molly looked at him, finding his dark eyes already fixed on her face, studying her with that intense focus she was beginning to recognize. Despite his evident reluctance, there was something else there too – uncertain optimism, even?

She thought of Aoife’s stories about Golden Valley, about the orchard, about the ancient oak tree that remained her ultimate goal. From a purely selfish perspective, agreeing to help would allow her legitimate access to the land, the oak, and the man who was now watching her with such complex emotions behind his guarded expression.

Though it also meant she’d need to stay around here longer than she’d planned.

‘I could look at maybe putting together something simple alongside the festival,’ she conceded. ‘A good opportunity to showcase what makes Goldenridge and Golden Valley unique?’

‘Good woman!’ Eva clapped her flour-dusted hands. ‘Jack, you’ll cooperate now, won’t you? Show Molly around the orchard properly, show her the trees, explain the process, give her access to everything?’

If Molly didn’t know better, she’d swear Eva could read her mind and was actively trying to get her closer to the oak tree.

But the café owner’s face was all innocence.

For his part, Jack’s jaw worked as he visibly struggled with his conflicting instincts. Molly could almost see the internal battle taking place, his ingrained suspicion of outsiders warring with practical business sense.

‘Fine,’ he said finally. ‘But nothing too … fancy. Nothing that makes it look like we’re changing what Goldenridge stands for.’

‘Authenticity,’ Molly assured him, meaning it. ‘That’s always what resonates.’

Their eyes met briefly and, for a moment, the café and its chattering occupants seemed to fade into the background. Jack’s expression softened almost imperceptibly, the tension in his shoulders easing by the slightest degree.

Molly felt something shift between them – not quite trust, but a tentative bridge spanning the gap of their initial misunderstanding.

‘Right, so,’ Jack said, breaking the moment as he turned to gather his empty crate. ‘Come out on Monday maybe. Eight o’clock. I’ve a lot to do and you can tag along for a bit in the morning.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Molly promised, slightly dazed by his change of heart. In more ways than one.

Jack nodded once, then turned to leave, his tall frame silhouetted briefly in the doorway before he stepped out into the evening. Through the window, she watched as he paused on the cobblestones, momentarily frozen as the clouds parted and golden sunlight spilled across the square, illuminating his figure against the backdrop of the village. Then he was moving again, striding away with long, purposeful steps, the empty apple crate tucked under one arm.

Eva sidled up beside her, following her gaze with a knowing smile. ‘Well now, that went very well, I’d say.’

‘You set us up,’ Molly accused, though she couldn’t muster any real indignation.

‘Me?’ Eva pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. ‘I merely provided an opportunity for two people to recognize their mutual interests.’

‘Professional interests,’ Molly clarified, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach that suggested otherwise.

‘Of course,’ her new friend agreed with exaggerated sincerity. ‘Purely professional.’ She patted Molly’s arm and winked. ‘Now, you’ll need sustenance for all this planning. Another piece of gingerbread, I think. On the house, since you’ve just become Golden Valley’s honorary marketing director.’

As Eva bustled away, Molly found herself surrounded by Brid, Maeve and the other woman Josie – who it turned out ran the newsagents – the committee members eager to share their thoughts on what should be included in the campaign to put Golden Valley ‘on the map’.

She nodded and smiled, making mental notes, but part of her mind was already racing ahead to Monday morning.

To Goldenridge. To Jack Flynn and his ancient oak tree.