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The Apple Orchard

Book by Susan Wiggs · 12 quotes · Isabel Johansen, Tess And Isabel, Bella Vista

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The Apple Orchard Quotes

“They shared a look, and Tess felt a wave of emotion. How quickly she'd found an affinity with Isabel, a woman so unlike her, they might have been from different species. Only a short time ago they had been strangers. Now she couldn't imagine not knowing Isabel, her guileless and fragile sister. They shared a birthday, they shared their father's DNA, but the bond now ran deeper than that; it ran as deep as blood and secrets.”

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“She loved old things. The brown-brick place was a survivor of the 1907 earthquake and fire, and proudly bore a plaque from the historical society. The building had a haunted history- it was the site of a crime of passion- but Tess didn't mind. She'd never been superstitious. The apartment was filled with items she'd collected through the years, simply because she liked them or was intrigued by them. There was a balance between heirloom and kitsch. The common thread seemed to be that each object had a story, like a pottery jug with a bas-relief love story told in pictures, in which she'd found a note reading, "Long may we run. -Gilbert." Or the antique clock on the living room wall, each of its carved figures modeled after one of the clockmaker's twelve children. She favored the unusual, so long as it appeared to have been treasured by someone, once upon a time. Her mail spilled from an antique box containing a pigeon-racing counter with a brass plate engraved from a father to a son. She hung her huge handbag on a wrought iron finial from a town library that had burned and been rebuilt in a matter of weeks by an entire community. Other people's treasures captivated her. They always had, steeped in hidden history, bearing the nicks and gouges and fingerprints of previous owners. She'd probably developed the affinity from spending so much of her childhood in her grandmother's antique shop.”

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“They each took a plate and helped themselves to a feast that looked as if it had been prepared for a magazine layout. There was a salad sprinkled with fresh flowers- Isabel said they were baby pansies, nasturtium and angelica. The spread included plates of artisan cheeses and raw and grilled vegetables, big chafing dishes of fragrant casseroles, berries and apples with a variety of sauces, an array of local wines and water from Calistoga. The abundance was almost overwhelming to Tess.”

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“Language, Sweet," said Magnus's mother, arriving with a plate full of homemade biscuits. She didn't scold him too harshly about his talk these days. Magnus suspected this was because Mama shared Uncle Sweet's opinion about the Nazis. Yet despite the shortages and rationing, she had managed to turn out the most delicious biscuits Magnus had ever tasted. They were redolent of butter, which Mrs. Gundersen up the hill traded for apples from the family orchard. Uncle Sweet made a great show of fanning himself and swooning as he ate a biscuit. "Language," he said, "is nothing but a bunch of words, and there are no words to express how wonderful this cookie is. I swear, if you were not already married, I would have you locked in a workroom like Rumpelstiltskin's daughter, forced to bake for me all day." He stole another biscuit from the platter and headed for the basement, lighting his way with an oil lamp. No one ever asked where his photographic chemicals came from- no one wanted to hold the answer like a piece of stolen fruit.”

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“Isabel had always enjoyed a house full of people. 'Feed your friends, and their mouths will be too full to gossip,' Bubbie used to say. 'Feed your enemies, and they'll become your friends.' Throughout Isabel's childhood, the Johansen household had been full of people coming over, sitting down for a glass of wine or a slice of pie, staying up late, talking and laughing. Bubbie and Grandfather had been determined that she should never feel like an orphan. Except that, despite their efforts, sometimes she had. It wasn't their fault, she reflected as she placed wedges of quiche on plates. There was just something inside her- an urge, a yearning- that made her long to be someone's daughter, not the granddaughter. She never said so, though, not aloud. Yet somehow, they heard her. Somehow, they knew. Perhaps, in the aftermath of Bubbie's final illness and passing, that was why Isabel had become so bound to Bella Vista. Now she couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Her heart resided here, her soul. She still loved having people over, creating beautiful food, watching the passing of the seasons. Even now, with all the trouble afoot and secrets being revealed like the layers of a peeled onion, she found the rhythm of the kitchen soothing.”

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“Isabel felt soft and yielding; her blouse felt soft. Everything about her seemed soft, and she smelled of dried flowers, rosemary, fresh baked bread. This whole kitchen seemed alive with a peculiar energy; in the old fixtures and furniture, Tess sensed a place where cooking and eating had happened for decades, where people gathered to sample life's sweetest pleasures.”

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“The woman at the other end of the room stood unmoving, her posture a slender question mark, silhouetted against the light from the window. She had large dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes that appeared damp from crying. Her sable-brown hair was looped into a careless braid down her back, and she wore a gauzy skirt and blouse, an apron, a pair of oven mitts and espadrilles tied at the ankles. The two of them stared at one another. The stranger shifted, stepping into a shaft of light through the open window. She had the face of an old Hollywood movie star, with an aquiline nose and full lips. She wore little or no makeup; her olive-toned skin gave her an air of unstudied elegance, needing no embellishment.”

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“Antonio was fascinated by Isabel's razor-sharp knives from Japan. He made 'kia' sounds like a karate expert as he sliced the tomatoes and added them to the pan. there were some unexpected ingredients, things Tess would never dream of putting in tomato sauce- whole star anise, a vanilla bean split down the middle, a sprinkling of sugar, a sprig of thyme and bay leaves from the herb garden.”

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“Magnus had caught it gingerly, half expecting it to blow in his face. The Teacher chuckled. "Don't worry, it can't do anything without fire." The thing looked and felt pretty innocuous, actually. It was shorter and fatter than a candlestick, and not colored red like it was in the comic books or the new Technicolor cartoons that still ran at the cinema every Saturday afternoon. Magnus had no money for such things anymore, but sometimes he and Kiki- another boy who worked for the Resistance- sneaked into the theater through an unlocked window.”

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“The estate looked vast and prosperous- on the surface, at least. Bella Vista was stunningly lovely, the orchards well tended and clearly productive. If there was a place in the world that was closer to heaven, she wasn't aware of it. Bella Vista- Beautiful View. A panorama view of the orchards, herb and flower fields radiated outward from the patio. The scents of ripe apples, lavender and roses rode the breeze, mingling with the mind-melting aroma of Isabel's fresh-baked croissants.”

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