Love on Lavender Lane

by Karis Walsh

  “You’re supposed to be weaving the ribbon through the stems, not just winding it around like you’re trussing up a turkey. Weave. Like you’re making a lattice piecrust.”

  “Seriously? A lattice piecrust? I doubt you could come up with a less useful analogy for me.” Paige frowned at her bulbous wand, which had none of the elegance of Kassidy’s sample.

  “We’ll have to include instructions with diagrams, not just words for this one. Here, let me help.” Kassidy got off her stool and stood beside Paige, reaching for the jumble of lavender sticks.

  Paige breathed Kassidy in, and everything else seemed to recede from her mind’s grasp. All she could smell was Kassidy’s scent—that blend of lavender and other notes Paige couldn’t identify by name but would be able to recognize anywhere now. She had even been able to imagine it this week, when she had been alone in Portland, lying in the quiet darkness of her apartment. She had closed her eyes and let Kassidy’s perfume infuse her mind, filling her with peace. Kassidy had claimed lavender was a calming herb, but Paige knew the effects on her were as much to do with the woman wearing the scent as the flower itself.

  “Did you see what I did?” Kassidy asked, snapping Paige back to the present. She looked at the wand, almost convinced Kassidy had swapped it out with another. Somehow, it had been tidied into a tight cylindrical shape. Kassidy had braided a deep blue ribbon around the top, and the end was dangling down, apparently waiting for Paige to do something to it.

  “Um, sort of. Can you show me once more?” Paige managed to concentrate this time and was even able to clumsily mimic Kassidy’s movements.

  Kassidy stepped away, bumping into the table behind her and knocking a wreath to the ground. “You’re doing fine,” she said, picking it up and setting it next to her laptop. “Just pull the ribbon a little tighter.”

  Paige continued to laboriously weave ribbon around her wand while Kassidy moved on to another craft. She moved to the far end of the table from Paige and started chatting more rapidly than usual, assembling kits and describing the food and entertainment from last year’s festival. Paige wondered if Kassidy was feeling nervous about tomorrow, or if maybe—hopefully, because it wasn’t fair for Paige to be the only one—she wasn’t entirely immune to the zings of electricity Paige felt flash between them when they were close to each other.

  “I read on the website that they’re having a dog show this year, too,” Paige inserted when Kassidy seemed to run out of things to say. “I’ve been training Dante to be an agility dog, and it would be a good experience for him to run through the course.”

  Kassidy made a strangling sort of sound that seemed suspiciously like a restrained laugh. “Really? I didn’t realize you were training him for, well, anything.”

  “He’s just learning,” Paige said, indignantly defending either her dog or her own training skills. She wasn’t sure which one. “It’s the reason I got him.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I was always very competitive in high school and college.” Paige set her finished wand on the table. If she squinted when she looked at it, she could almost not notice the dividing line between Kassidy’s neat work and her own questionable weaving. “Very type A, win at all costs, but I haven’t had much of a chance to compete since I got out of school. I thought it might be interesting to give dog sports a try.”

  Paige frowned, thinking of the way she had searched for a sport that called to her and was something she could pursue as an adult in her free time, like she had tried to do with a business venture. She had come up against the same issue, though, and hadn’t been able to identify a place where she really belonged. The canine agility idea had sort of been an excuse to go to the Humane Society and check out the dogs. She had always wanted a dog but had been too busy with other activities to get one. Even now, when she didn’t need her parents to give their permission anymore, she had taken months to convince herself that she would be a good dog owner. Companionship hadn’t been reason enough to break down and adopt a pet, but the chance to compete was a justification she could allow herself to use. She had been drawn to Dante at first sight, ensnared by his chocolate brown eyes and convincing herself that he looked fast enough to fly through an agility course. And smart enough to learn the commands she’d need to teach him. She spent more time walking him along the Willamette River and playing tug-of-war at the dog park than actually training him, but they’d get hard core about it eventually.

  “He looks like a real cutthroat competitor, just like you,” Kassidy said, gesturing toward the corner of the room. “What’s he doing now, carbo loading for tomorrow?”

  Paige looked where Kassidy was pointing and saw Dante chewing up the dried-up roots from a discarded lavender plant and dropping the gnawed pieces into a pile. Darn. She should have realized he had been too quiet to be behaving well. She sighed and took the root away from him, offering a chew toy instead, which he ignored.

  “Wait until you see him on the course. He’s an animal.”

  Kassidy laughed. “That I’ll accept. I’ll wait until I see him compete tomorrow to decide if I believe he’s a trained animal.”

  “You’re going to owe both of us an apology when we win the McMinnville Spring Festival Dog Agility trophy, if there is such a thing,” Paige said, trying to sound indignant while wrestling a rake handle away from Dante. “Now let’s get back to business. You still have to teach me how to make one of those wreaths.”

  Kassidy groaned. “It involves weaving. Why don’t we switch to something easier, like the kindling logs?”

  “Isn’t that just a bunch of stems tied together?”

  “Exactly,” Kassidy said. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure you’ll be able to do it. Even the littlest Wilson was able to make one.”

  “Gee, that’s flattering,” Paige mumbled.

  Kassidy had moved herself out of range of Paige, but she had to come close again to hand her the pile of lavender stems. And then she needed to hover nearby and help Paige arrange the twigs so the small buds remaining on them were visible, providing small decorative spots of color.

  “Turn this stem around,” she said, guiding Paige’s hand with hers. “You’re squashing the buds on the inside.”

  “You’re micromanaging. There are just as many flowers on the side I originally had facing out.”

  “They weren’t as nice,” Kassidy protested, perching on the bench next to Paige and typing some instructions on her laptop. Paige was right, of course, but Kassidy wasn’t about to admit it. Being close to Paige calmed her nerves—something she had needed when Paige had taken her hand while they talked about Kassidy’s meddlesome dad, and something she craved now when she was anxious about the festival.

  The comfortable feeling of touching Paige was morphing into something decidedly less calming fairly quickly, though. Kassidy couldn’t spend the entire weekend alternating between standing close to Paige like a girlfriend and running across the room from her, as if they were strangers. She moved her laptop a few inches down the table, into what she considered to be the casual acquaintance zone, far enough away so she wouldn’t touch Paige if she reached out her hand.

  “Why are you waving at me?” Paige asked. “Am I doing something wrong?”

  “I’m just shaking out a cramp from typing so much,” Kassidy said, dropping her arm back to her side. She had thought Paige was focused enough on her craft not to notice Kassidy measuring the distance between them. “And you’re not doing anything wrong, although it might look nicer if you tied the ribbon into a bow instead of a square knot.”

  Paige held up her finished craft and studied it. “You know, this would be perfect as part of a Valentine’s Day basket. What’s more romantic than snuggling together on a chilly February evening, with a crackling fire and the scent of lavender filling the room?”

  Kassidy propped her chin on her palm. She tried to picture the scenario in a detached way, but all she could see in her mind was her and Paige in the farmhouse’s main bedroom,
with its huge, rustic fireplace and cozy queen-sized bed. “And wine. A nice bottle of pinot noir.”

  Paige tapped the bundle of kindling against her chin. “Some food would be nice, too. Not a big meal, but small things to feed each other, like crackers and chunks of cheese. Olives and strawberries.”

  “Oh, yes. And chocolate,” Kassidy added, closing her eyes and letting the smell of lavender transport her into the fantasy more fully. “I know it’s a cliché on Valentine’s Day, but it would start to melt in the warm room and we…they…whoever could lick it off each other’s fingers.”

  “Or other parts of us…them…whomever,” Paige said, barely loud enough for Kassidy to hear her.

  A loud crash startled Kassidy and she opened her eyes as she swung toward the noise, nearly swiping her computer off the table. Dante was standing near a toppled pile of gardening tools and looking back over his shoulder as if searching for someone else to blame for the mess.

  Kassidy laughed at his expression, relieved to have been dragged back to reality. She had been sitting an appropriate distance from Paige, but their words had managed to fill the empty space between them with something more intimate than touch.

  “Well, the basket is a good idea. Be sure to write it into your proposal so I remember it next year.” As if she’d be forgetting the image of Paige covered in melting chocolate anytime soon.

  “I’ll put it right after the naked clause,” Paige said, reaching down to pick up the bundle of kindling that she had dropped. “I think I’m going to make one of those wreaths now. At least there’s nothing romantic about weaving.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kassidy fluffed out the green bunting she had draped over the top of her booth, trying to hide the silver duct tape she had used to hold it in place. She leaned too far to one side and nearly fell off the rickety plastic chair. She flailed wildly before catching hold of the PVC pipes that framed the booth, and then held her breath as the entire structure wobbled and nearly collapsed. She was mentally cursing Paige for instigating this fiasco and almost felt disappointed when both she and the booth stabilized without any broken framework or bones. She indulged in a satisfying daydream of getting to show Paige a bandaged wrist and say I told you this was a bad idea before stepping gingerly off the chair, with both her body and the booth in one piece.

  “I hadn’t thought of including a comedic performance today, but I think it makes an entertaining addition to the booth. Do you do these shows once an hour?”

  Kassidy turned to see Paige grinning at her and holding two cups of coffee. She switched her fantasy to one in which she dumped a hot cup of coffee on Paige’s head.

  “You try climbing on these chairs. They’re not designed to support Kipper, let alone a full-grown human.”

  Paige handed her a coffee. “No, thanks. I’m the brains in this operation, not the brawn.”

  Kassidy didn’t bother commenting on that statement. If anything, she agreed she wasn’t acting like she had a brain, otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to go along with this plan. The only reason she had, in the end, was because she couldn’t bear the thought of an empty booth with her farm’s name on it sitting in the middle of the busy fair. She had too much pride in her place to allow that to happen, which was probably exactly what Paige had been gambling on when she went behind Kassidy’s back and paid for this space. Kassidy had to admit they were in a perfect location, right in the heart of the festival and close enough to wine and food booths to take advantage of the crowds they always drew. And her decorations looked pretty enough to attract the attention of people passing by, even though she had arranged them under duress.

  “It looks beautiful,” Paige said, as if reading her mind. She stepped back and looked at the booth from a few yards away. “I didn’t expect you to have decorations on hand since I knew you didn’t like doing this kind of thing.”

  Kassidy unfurled one of the fabric pieces and showed Paige the elastic she had hidden from view. “They’re my bedsheets. I couldn’t think of anything else to use, and I didn’t want it to be plain.”

  Paige made a coughing sort of noise and stepped forward, trailing one finger over the sheet. “So you were sleeping on these last night?”

  Her voice hinted at an intimacy Kassidy hadn’t thought of before now. She had been thinking of the sheets as fabric, but the way Paige spoke made her think of naked bodies tangled in the cool cotton and the heated scent of lavender wafting from the fireplace.

  She paused for several long moments before jumping back into the conversation. She had almost forgotten how mad she was at Paige. “I would have come up with nicer decorations if someone had given me time to prepare.”

  Paige laughed, letting go of the sheet. “If someone had given you more than a day’s notice,” she said, matching Kassidy’s light tone, “you would have skipped town. Someone isn’t a fool.”

  Kassidy got a piece of thin, pale blue plastic out of one of her boxes and spread it over the table, securing the corners with more tape.

  “What’s this?” Paige asked. “Your shower curtain? Are you going to tape up your underwear next?”

  Kassidy smacked her in the arm. “It’s an outdoor tablecloth. I had an extra from a barbecue last year. But the underwear is a fitting metaphor because I really do feel exposed out here. I’m not comfortable dealing with the public like this.”

  Paige seemed to naturally understand when Kassidy finished joking and was being serious. “I know, Kass. A lot of what I suggest for your farm is going to push you out of your comfort zone. I’ve researched this industry over the past week, and the businesses with longevity and financial success share several traits in common. You offer an outstanding, unique product, but otherwise you’re falling short in a few key areas. One of them is public access.”

  Kassidy dropped into a chair, nearly tipping over on the uneven ground. Paige scooted the other chair over and sat close to her, not even making a single teasing comment about Kassidy’s second episode of flailing.

  “You’re blunt,” Kassidy said. Part of her wanted to ignore Paige’s dire warning. What did she know about owning a lavender farm in McMinnville, anyway? But Kassidy had studied the market, too. As much as she wanted to preserve her farm sanctuary, and even though she was making decent money right now, she wasn’t confident about her future.

  “I guess I’ve known I should make the farm public, but I hoped I could find another way.”

  Paige jostled Kassidy’s shoulder with her own. “Most of my clients already suspect they’re making mistakes, but they don’t want to admit to them. They’re too stubborn, too frightened, or too resistant to change. Sometimes all three. They bring me in, hoping I’ll give them an easier answer, or the one they really want to hear, instead of the truth they’re trying to ignore.”

  “I had myself convinced you were going to be satisfied if I updated my website and put some labels on olive oil soap and candles,” Kassidy said, admitting to her fantasy without adding the part about her and Paige working side by side. Touching. And kissing. Yeah. Paige didn’t need to know the details.

  “Well, you need to do both of those things, but they’re small steps that won’t make too much difference in the long run. The bigger steps are ones like opening a small shop on your farm where you’ll sell those labeled products, plus some of your own.”

  Kassidy made herself picture the Wilsons’ visit again, trying not to cringe, and imagined what they would have liked to find on her farm. “Or like turning the field between the house and drying shed into a U-pick area.”

  Paige reached over and took Kassidy’s hand with a surprising gentleness. Kassidy sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to like hearing whatever Paige said next, if she felt the need to soften it with this kind of comfort. She was almost too worried about what she was going to hear to notice how warm Paige’s hand felt in hers, or how easily Paige’s fingers fit when twined around her own. Almost.

  “One more step I’d like you to take today. When pe
ople ask about lavender, even if you think their questions are dumb, please answer them politely, and don’t leave the party and run home.”

  Kassidy laughed and shoved at Paige, almost upending them in the process. “I can’t believe you brought that up again. You insulted my food.”

  Paige grinned. “Sometimes the public is rude and insulting. Maybe I was just getting you prepared for this.”

  “You didn’t even know who I was,” Kassidy said with a snort. The burst of laughter had felt good, loosening something tight inside her belly. She didn’t bother going into her list of excuses from the night she had first seen Paige. She had just come out of hiding after a long winter and a breakup. She had thought Paige was beautiful, like someone who had an amazing secret to share, and she hadn’t handled it well when some of the first words out of her mouth were negative ones about Kassidy’s food.

  “All right, point taken. I’ve been to enough tasting rooms and have watched people like Drew and Jessica, and Everett and Brian talk to customers. I know how to act.”

  Paige shook her head. “No. Don’t act. Be yourself. Share your passion.” She hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. “Think about walking out of your house on a summer day. You look at the fields around you and see a hundred shades of purples and pinks, grays and greens. The scent of lavender warming in the morning sun makes the air feel heavy with perfume. And you feel like the luckiest person in the world because you get to experience it. Share that feeling and that gratitude when you talk to people who are here for a short time, taking a break from the work and stress and responsibilities of daily life.”

  If Kassidy hadn’t been staring intently at Paige’s face when she spoke, she might have missed the wistfulness, the longing that showed in her expression for a heartbeat.