“That’s where Ace’s wife, Mae, kept kitchen notes. Some cookbooks too. Patsy said she used to refer to them sometimes, but, honestly, I haven’t had the nerve to dig through it all. I brought my own with me when I moved, mostly recipes my mother made.”
Bella slid off the stool. She stood in front of the cabinet where the handwritten recipes were stored, many on yellowed envelopes and index cards. She turned back toward Willow. “Do you mind?”
“Be my guest.”
Bella opened the old cabinet gently, almost reverently. Willow stepped up beside her.
“So many …” Bella said.
“Yeah …”
Bella quirked a smile at Willow. “Wanna take the top shelf while I sort through the bottom?”
Willow shrugged. “Why not?” She put aside her agenda for the time being and began digging through the creaky vintage cabinet. She plucked a cookbook from the shelf, and several loose pages, hardened from spills, slipped out. Her hand landed on a small, leather-bound notebook that looked more personal than the store-bought recipe books on the shelf.
“This looks interesting,” Willow said, opening it up. The crackle of pages stiff from lack of use filled the quiet kitchen.
Bella looked over her shoulder. “What’s that tab say? Olive … oil.”
The pages were filled with tidy cursive, the way her mother still wrote today. Inside were pages of notes and doodles of tree branches. “Seems like she was interested in cooking with olive oil more, maybe?
Bella pointed to the corner of one page. “Someday … from our very own grove.” She paused. “Oh. I think she wanted to grow the olives!”
Willow sucked in a breath. “Wow, look at these notes about … about varietals that could grow in these coastal mountains. Oh, and these are some pressing techniques.”
“How sweet. She had plans,” Bella said, her voice a whisper. “Can you imagine the ranch being a place to grow olives? Sutter EVOO!”
“I’m not so sure what she meant here. Maybe … wait!” Willow looked up. “The tree stand out beyond your cabin, Bella. I think—I think those might be olive trees. No one has ever said, though.”
They both paused, quietly thinking.
“Maybe they’re just dormant,” Bella said. “I could ask Rafael about them. Not sure if he’d know.”
“In the meantime, I’ll see what the internet can tell me.” Willow sighed. “I’m super interested in finding out the possibilities with those trees.”
“Gosh, it would be fun to find out if they’re still viable.”
Willow nodded. “Agreed.” She ran the pads of her fingers over a page of notes. “Feels like something rather special, I’d say. I feel, I don’t know, protective of her plans somehow.”
“Reverent.” Bella paused. “You know, some people use oil for anointing, like, for healing. The Bible says it was used for consecrating priests and such.”
“Hmm, yes. I recall that too. It’s a symbol of joy and blessings.” Willow tilted a look at Bella. “Maybe that’s what drew Mae toward wanting to grow it.”
Willow sighed. “Would be so nice to revive her dream, wouldn’t it?
Bella slid a look at her. “You think Ace would let us try?”
“Well, he’s really a softie once you push past his gruff exterior.” Willow caught eyes with Bella. “You didn’t hear me say that.”
“No, I did not.”
“Chance gets his gruffness from his father, I think.” She paused. “That’s something else you didn’t hear.”
Bella laughed lightly, then turned earnest. “Funny you would say all that—not that I heard you or anything. But,seriously, I overheard Chance and Rafael out in the barn earlier. Sounded a little tense.”
Willow shut her eyes, swallowing back any kind of response. She laid the notebook on the counter.
“It wasn’t like they were in a full argument or anything,” Bella added quickly. “But, I don’t know, there was something testy about it, like when two strong-willed people are on a road trip and each one is sure that their route is the absolutely best one to take.”