Groves of Bunkville Chapter Preview

Groves of Bunkville
Book 1, The Vohm Trilogy

Chapter 1: Town Welcome

Dal Roberts’ kitchen smelled sweet and toxic. He covered his nose and mouth with the palm of his hand and stared at the offensive display centered on the table. It was a basket of yellow apples. A crisp, white card hung from brown twine. Written on it in bold black script were the words, “Golden Delicious Apples. Courtesy of The Council.” It was the fourteenth daily basket to arrive and that marked two weeks they’d been in the wretched pipsqueak of a town named Bunkville.

The tow-headed boy lumbered over to the fridge and plucked a pitcher of lemonade out of it. Then he stood in front of the cabinet that held their cups and frowned. He realized that in order for him to retrieve a cup he’d have to either find a place to put the lemonade down or remove his hand from his nose and mouth. Both were problematic as far as options went. His kitchen counter was no longer visible beneath the bowls, baskets, and brown paper bags overflowing with red and green apples. He thought about putting the pitcher down in the sink until he realized it too had been filled with the vile fruit.

A crunch shifted Dal’s attention across the room where his father sat perched on the counter along the perpendicular wall to where he stood. The man had somehow maneuvered himself between three baskets of apples and a stack of baked breads. His legs dangled off the counter and he tapped his feet to mismatched tempos. His waist twisted at an odd angle and he had each arm arced around a basket. One hand held an apple, while the other cradled a book he was seldom seen without these days, Mayor Fodley’s Guide to Bunkville’s Finest Apples, version 7.

Dal wasn’t sure what was more surprising, his father’s contorted position or the fact that baked goods were in the kitchen instead of the living room with the others. Their neighbor’s were extreme believers in “welcome to the neighborhood” gifts of food—all made with apples, of course. Between that and the apples from The Council, there wasn’t much room left in their apartment. They’d already had to move many of their unpacked boxes downstairs to what would soon be his mother’s shop. They wouldn’t be able to support much more town welcome. It looked like his mother’s organization system might have to be revised again and he’d have to remind her that none of it was going to invade his room.

Dal spoke through his palm. “Hey, Dad.”

Brown eyes peeked over the manual’s rim. “Morning, sport.” He used his apple-carrying hand to adjust his glasses back into position above his exaggerated nose, then took another bite.

“When did you get here?”

“Oh, a while ago. You were just staring. I thought you were going to finally try one and I sure wasn’t going to interrupt.”

Dal coughed and readjusted his hand against his nose. “Never.”

His father grinned and gestured to the table. “Did you see the new ones? Maybe yellow is your color?”

Dal whined, “Dad.”

His father pointed his apple at the book. “Says here that Golden Delicious are good for pies, sauces, and salads.”

Slumping his shoulders, Dal asked, “Aren’t they all?”

His mother spoke behind him. “Morning. Looks like we got more apples.”

His father said. “One can never have enough apples.”

Dal released a muffled groan and shook his head. His dad had agreed to move to Bunkville mostly for one simple fact: the apple orchards. Bunkville was known for them. He’d always been a fan of apples and the Granny Smith variety smothered in caramel were his favorite. Tilting his head, his eyes settled on his father’s avocado colored shirt and he wondered if that was his reason he favored green shirts so much.

His mother strolled past him, carrying the scent of almond and lavender with her. There was the soft jingle of beaded jewelry as she moved. Her blonde hair was pinned up with multicolor ribbons that only added to her already extensive height. She wore one of his father’s old t-shirts and a pair of jeans that were a little too short for her. It was hard to find ones long enough for someone as tall as she was. She said, “You don’t have to eat them.” She paused and tapped her finger to her mouth as she examined the room, then relieved her son of the lemonade pitcher and set it down on the table. “Sam? Why are you on the counter? Did we lose another chair?”

“Uh huh. Cable guy—”

Dal dropped his hand away from his face. “Cable guy? We have internet?” He’d never gone so long without an online connection before. That also meant that he hadn’t chatted with Billy or Jake since he moved.

His father leapt off the counter. “Nope. Better.” His hands rummaged through a wooden crate that sat in what normally had been his father’s seat at the table. Slender jars filled with something tinted greenish brown came out of the crate and one was placed in Dal’s hand.

He read the label, “Campbell’s Caramel Apple Jam.” The words circled a black and white illustration of a man with a prominent square chin. He set the jar down. “You’re not serious, right?”

His father gave him a crooked grin while presenting him with another jar. “Did you read it? Caramel Apple Jam!”

“And how does this relate to me getting online?”

He pointed at the picture. “This is the cable guy. He dropped these off for us this morning.”

His mother said, “And you forgot to schedule an appointment.”

“Yes, I guess I did forget.” He swirled the jar around in his hand. “These beauties distracted me. And we got to talking about this apple pie bakeoff that’s coming up over the weekend. I think I’m going to enter.” He set the jar down. “I’m sorry. I’ll call him about the cable.”

Drumming his fingers along the table, Dal said, “I could rig something—”

His mother interrupted him. “It’s not your fate to end up in trouble for installing illegal cable, dear.”

“But, Mom. It’s been two weeks.”

She stepped closer to him and reached up to touch his face. He backed up. “Dal, honey. This town runs on a different rhythm than we are used to. Have patience in adjusting.”

Dal stared at his feet. Different rhythm? Right. More like it, they were from a different planet entirely. The whole town was on summer hours which meant nothing was open. Some things were only open by appointment. What kind of town could run that way? He’d even ventured over to the cable office once only to discover a “Gone Fishing” sign posted. He grumbled and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets.

His mother said, “Why don’t we have breakfast.”

His father chimed in, “Oh, hey, breakfast is a good idea.”

“Pancakes?”

His father said, “Perfect. I’ve got some apple pancake batter mix in the other room. And, we’ve got some apple maple sausage left in the fridge.”

Dal said, “I’m not eating that.”

His mother smiled. “Of course not. Blueberry pancakes okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom.” Dal helped his mother move some of the brown bags of fruit to the floor.

His father picked up one of the loaves of baked bread. “I want to try some of these too.”

His mother shook her head side to side. “Not today. You’ll want to be having the apple crumb cake.”

“We have apple crumb cake? Where?”

“We’ll have it soon.”

His father grinned. “The cards?”

She nodded yes. “Can you grab that pancake mix from the living room, please?”

“Excellent.” He disappeared into the living room, carrying a stack of baked bread. A moment later, he returned with a small tin box.

Dal slipped into one of the empty chairs, rested his chin on his hand, and watched his parents cook. They had two pans of pancakes going. One for the blueberry and the other for the apple.

His father flipped a pancake onto a plate, the poured more batter into the pan.

His mother laughed. “Show off.” She added another blueberry pancake to a plate, poured a little syrup over it, and set it down in front of Dal.

“Thanks.”

She ruffled his hair. “Enjoy.” A wave of happiness bubbled in through his head and he cringed. She leaned down until she was face to face with him. Her eyes looked a little greener than they had a few seconds ago and he tried to ignore that. She said, “Still feeling nothing?”

“Yep.”

She titled her head and gave him a small smile.

“I swear.”

The doorbell rang and the voice of the Georgina Blevins cawed its way in. “Hello, Roberts family! It’s Georgina! Georgina Blevins.”

Dal’s head shrunk between his shoulders.

His mother said, “That’ll be the crumb cake.”

His father answered the door. “Hi there, Georgina. Nice to meet you. I’m Sam.”

Grumbling, Dal slid back from the table. “Going to my room.”

“I brought y’all something for breakfast.”

His mother whispered, “Okay. But we will talk about this later.”

Dal picked up his breakfast and scooted his way out of the kitchen. In the background he heard their chatter.

“It’s apple crumb cake. Wanna know what the secret ingredient is?”