Queen of the Orchard

Emma Carlisle has spent her entire life rooted in the red clay soil of her family’s Georgia peach orchard. While others dream of adventure, Emma finds solace among the trees, pouring her heart into the land her father built and tending to her eccentric mother, Ruth—the town’s self-proclaimed "Pickling Queen." But with mounting debts and a struggling harvest, the orchard's future is uncertain, and Emma faces the heartbreaking possibility of losing everything.

When her sister, Caroline, returns home after a very public divorce, old wounds reopen, and sibling tensions flare. Caroline is as bold and unpredictable as ever, bringing with her ideas that clash with Emma’s careful, calculated approach. But with the orchard on the line, the sisters must put aside their differences and find a way to save their family legacy—before it’s too late.

Complicating matters further is Will Abbott, a widowed chef with a passion for farm-to-table cuisine and a quiet strength that unnerves Emma in ways she isn’t ready to admit. As he encourages her to take risks, both in the orchard and in love, Emma must decide if she’s willing to open her heart to the possibility of something more.

As secrets unfold and unexpected betrayals threaten their plans, Emma, Caroline, and Ruth must lean on each other in ways they never have before. In a town where tradition is everything, can they redefine what it means to hold onto the past while reaching for the future?

A heartwarming and deeply moving novel about family, second chances, and the courage to bloom where you’re planted—perfect for fans of Susan Mallery, Kristy Woodson Harvey, and Mary Alice Monroe.

Chapter 1
Emma


The sky bled soft hues of pink and gold as Emma Carlisle-Jacobs stepped onto the porch, inhaling the crisp Georgia morning air tinged with the scent of damp earth and ripening fruit. The orchard stretched before her, endless rows of trees heavy with peaches, of course, as well as pears and apples, their leaves rustling in the faintest whisper of wind. It should have been a sight to calm her, to fill her with the familiar pride and certainty she’d known since childhood. Instead, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach.
She descended the steps, her boots pressing into the dewy grass as she made her way toward the heart of the orchard. The first blush of peach season was always her favorite time of year—when the fruit swelled with promise, the orchard humming with life. But this year, trouble loomed beneath the surface. The past winter had been harsher than expected, and several trees had developed signs of disease. The curled leaves, the telltale blemishes marring the fruit—it was all a warning she could not ignore any longer.
Emma ran her fingertips over the bark of a nearby tree, her throat tightening as she spotted the beginnings of peach leaf curl. She had known it was coming, had seen the signs creeping in like an inevitable storm. They’d treated what they could, but the damage was still there. And with finances already stretched thin, she couldn’t afford to lose a single harvest.
The bank had been patient—so far. But patience wouldn’t save the orchard.
She closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the morning sun on her face. She inhaled and exhaled slowly.
“There may not have been a storm or a flood, Daddy, but…this feels like it did in ’94. It’s bad, Daddy. It’s bad,” she said.
Her thoughts flitted back to the summer of 1994. It was one Emma would never forget. She was just seven years old, but the memories of that year were burned into her mind—of the thick, humid air before the storm and the endless downpours that followed. The orchard, which had always been the heartbeat of their family, stood silent and still in the face of the relentless rain, its once-proud trees drowning under the weight of it all. Her daddy had tried to keep the water at bay, setting up makeshift barriers to prevent flooding, but nothing could stop the land from soaking it all up. The creek rose too quickly, taking some of their livestock and the north pasture with it.
By the time Tropical Storm Alberto passed through, it wasn’t just the fruit that was lost. The soil had turned to mud, making it impossible for the trees to recover. They’d already struggled the year before with the drought, the cracked earth swallowing up their hopes of a good harvest. The orchard had been the backbone of their livelihood, and now it felt like everything they’d worked for was slipping through their fingers.
Her daddy didn’t show much of it—his worry, his fear—but Emma could see it. She could feel it in the way he moved, in the way his shoulders sagged as he walked the rows of fallen fruit, the ground slick beneath his boots. He didn’t talk about it, but she knew. He sold off what was left of their livestock, the cows that had once grazed lazily on the green pasture now reduced to a memory. He told her it was for the best, that they needed to make do with what they had left.
“I only ever wanted to grow peaches and whatever other fruits and vegetables we could tend to ourselves. Your granddaddy only got the cattle and some hogs in place because he was so scared of having another Great Depression and all of us starving,” her daddy had said. “We didn’t need them anyways. Too much work if ya ask me.”
Emma and Caroline were heartbroken to watch their favorite animals shipped off.
“Those animals will be just fine, you hear?” Daddy had said. “Family is the most important thing. No money in the world can replace what we got here with you, your sister, and your mama. I will do everything in my power to make certain I leave you girls the legacy of this orchard. Might not mean much now, but it will someday.”

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