“This is where I was headed before you stopped me. I’m scheduled to work here this morning,” she said, stopping at a table with vegetables in round bins ready for purchase.
“Hey, Paige,” she said to the bored-looking teenager behind the table.
“Hey, Katrina, can I go now?” she asked, her eyes on Will. She suddenly didn’t seem so bored anymore.
“Will, this is Paige. Paige, Will,” Katrina said.
“Hello,” he said, eliciting a smile and a blush from the teenager.
“I’m ready to take over if you need to go,” Katrina said.
“Sure, see you next time,” she said, taking a final peek at Will before leaving.
“So, Katrina, would we, if you were to agree to work with me, that is, be the only people working on the transformation?” he asked. “This is a whole lot of garden for two people to change.”
“No, the whole neighborhood joins in. Lower taxes will bring out the volunteer in anyone, and of course you’ll always have the diehards who love to garden,” she said, moving the small tubs filled with onions, turnips, squash, and kale around the table. Flats of winter flowers sat along the ground—snapdragons, ornamental kale, and pansies.
“Like you?”
“Yes, like me. We usually have more than enough people to help; some even look forward to helping every year. Most of the major physical work is done from September through February. The city’s rule is that work cannot commence before that time; only planning and ordering plants and equipment in preparation for the larger renovations that usually occur during the timeframe I just mentioned. We will have volunteers working both Saturdays and Sundays to complete the major work. Plus we use the students from the local high school,” she said, pointing to a clump of high schoolers. Will noticed that more goofing off than work seemed to be going on.
“Buckling down in those months means less work in the spring. The volunteers provide the muscle; you provide the design and leadership.”
“So do you think you might be willing to work with me?” he said, smiling again.
She shrugged, captivated by his smile, by him, all over again. What a beautiful smile; his eyes were bright, his hair standing up on end, taking her back to the night. Her body responded accordingly.
“So that’s not a no, is it?” he asked, smiling again, noting the change in her, recognizing desire when he saw it.
Shrugging, she said, “It’s a maybe.” She smiled back at him, her anger long gone. He was hard to resist.
He dropped his smile, serious now, a little intense even. “Seriously, give it some thought. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your abilities, and, as confident as I am in mine, it would be nice to have your help, especially since it will be the first time for me.”
“Thank you. And I’ll think about it,” she said, pausing and looking down at her hand. “I know it wasn’t your fault that I wasn’t selected. I know that,” she added, now looking down at her feet. She took a deep breath, her eyes returning to his. “And I owe you an apology for my behavior toward you the other day, for trying to pick a fight with you during the meeting. I was angry; I don’t usually get that angry.”
“I understand, and your apology is not necessary. Okay then, I’ll let you get to work. Thanks for the tour,” he said, aware now of the few customers standing in front of Katrina’s table patiently waiting for assistance. He had been solely focused on her.
“See you later,” he said.
She just smiled, turning her attention to her customers.
Going back the way he had entered, Will looked back over the vegetable section a final time. His eyes moved back to her, watching her as she stood smiling, talking to another woman.
She’d done a great job creating the family living space, and even though it wasn’t his style, he could appreciate the hard work, creative ability, and dedication that had gone into it.
***
Katrina walked home from the gardens, having spent the day there. She had been restless and antsy after giving Will a tour that morning. It had been his first time at the garden, and she shook her head at that again, the anger, the utter unfairness of it all still fresh. She’d worked at the small market until around three before heading to the back of the gardens and plunging headlong into cleaning out the equipment shed, rationalizing that it needed to be done. Someone needed to assess the condition of the equipment in light of the upcoming competition, so it was a good use of her excess energy. The equipment needed to be in working order before the competition got underway. She worked in the shed until well after dark, finally checking her watch and deciding it was time to go. She walked through the gardens, heading home, her thoughts returning to the subject of Will.
So was she going to help him? Hell, yes, if it meant she would get to be up close and personal with him again. It seemed that, along with his other qualities, he was actually a nice guy. So much for holding out. He was one fine man, and here she was cleaning out a shed, wanting to make sure things were as they should be. Not just any fine man. For some reason, it was just Will that affected her so, and she didn’t even know him that well. What if she really got to know him? What then? She’d wanted to be up close to him ever since he’d moved in, and he was truly something up close and personal. She remembered him covering her on her bed and later standing in front of her while they argued outside John’s home.
She reached to the top of his chest, and she’d taken in the new growth on his chin, eyes hooded, looking down at her through those jet-black lashes. He’d been sexy to the nth degree. And after being with him today, it seemed her anger at losing the competition was apparently no match for her body’s desire to be near him. Was there anything sexier than a man who was comfortable with himself, smart and in control? Why pass up an opportunity like this one?
This was a job for Lola, her best girlfriend and neighbor. Lola and her husband, Oscar, had moved in a month after Katrina had built her home, a time when she was still suffering the immediate pain of her parents’ accident. Lola and the godfathers had helped see her through it. She walked home, passing by Will’s house, then the Sheppards’, before reaching Lola’s. Lola had been away the last few weeks, helping her younger sister with the birth of her baby, leaving Katrina to figure things out for herself; that was never a good idea.
She and Lola had been friends from the first day they’d met. Lola and Oscar had purchased the lot and built themselves a home next to hers. It was preordained, Lola liked to say. Two sisters torn apart at birth, at long last reunited. Lola and Oscar had one child, three-year-old Sydney.
Lola was as different from Katrina as one could be. Lola was tall to Katrina’s short five-foot frame, white to Katrina’s dark-chocolate skin, round to Katrina’s slim build, plus Lola had that don’t-mess-with-me-or-I’ll-kick-your-ass attitude while Katrina tended to go along to get along—all bark, small amount of bite. She reached Lola’s front door and knocked. Lola opened the door about a minute later.
“Katrina, hey girl, what’s up? I was just reading a story to Sydney. Come on back,” she said, stepping away from the door to let her in and then closing it. She reached around and gave Katrina a hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said.
“Me, too,” Katrina said, holding on a little longer. Lola pulled back, searching her face.
“Wait, let me put Sydney to bed, and you can bring me up to date,” Lola said. Lola led the way down the hall to her daughter’s room. Katrina followed, entering a room that was a profusion of pink.
“Hey, Auntie Katrina,” came a voice from the bed, surrounded by pink netting, where Sydney lay waiting for the completion of her story.
“Hey, sweetie.”
“My mom’s reading me a story,” she said. Lola was as close as Katrina would get to a sister, so Syd was as close as she had gotten to a niece.
“I’ll just be a second,” Lola said as Katrina took a seat on the end of Syd’s bed. She started reading and Katrina could tell from the million times she’d r
ead it before that it was almost over. She joined in. She knew this book by heart, as she’d read it when she’d babysat for Lola and Oscar. It was one of her favorites, Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss. She picked up the story’s final refrain, adding her voice to Lola’s and Syd’s. “Say, I will eat them ANYWHERE! I Do so like green eggs and ham, Thank you! Thank you! Sam-I-Am.” They finished in unison, shouting out the last lines, all laughing together at the end.
Katrina bent to kiss Sydney goodnight and went in to the hall, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, waiting for Lola to finish. About five minutes later Lola joined her, and they both now sat on the floor, their backs resting against the wall.
“What’s up, girlfriend?” she asked, looking over at Katrina.
“You won’t believe what I’ve been through,” Katrina said. “But first, how is your sister?”
“Fine. New mothers are something else. A new baby girl, eight pounds, twenty-one inches long, and you’d would think she was the only woman who has ever given birth to a child. It was good to get away, though, see my family. My parents, of course, loved up on Syd, and Oscar missed me something fierce, and that’s always a good thing,” she said, smiling.
“I missed you, too,” Katrina said. Lola reached over and grabbed her hand.
“So tell me what’s going on. What’s this I hear about you not leading the competition this year? Is that correct?” she asked, concern on her face.
“Yes, you’ve heard right. It seems our neighbor, Will, in addition to building green, has designed a beautiful Japanese garden in his backyard,” she said, bringing Lola up to date—from the night where she had placed herself out there to her most recent meeting with Will at the gardens this morning.
“Girl, that’ll teach me to leave you alone,” Lola said, squeezing Katrina’s hand, knowing how much the competition meant to her, and how much Will did, too.
“So are you going to help him? I know you want to. You’ve talked about that man since he moved in. Of course, you’re going to work with him,” she said, looking over at Katrina. “And after the party, he’s probably been up at night trying to figure out how to get next to you. This is maybe your chance to take your crush to the next level. This is perfect, better than you could have wished for. See? Lemonade from lemons,” she said. “May I suggest that you lose your usual clothing preferences, Katrina, now more than ever.”
“Did you know that men on average would like to have eighteen sex partners, and women are happy with about four or five in a lifetime?” Katrina said, looking at Lola. “And, nope, I am what I am, no changing.”
“But you could be so much more,” Lola said.
“I’m good. I’m not his type, anyway. Don’t fool yourself, Lola girl, as much as I’m excited about the prospect of being around him, I’m not delusional. I’m nowhere near the type of woman he prefers. I’ve seen his revolving door of arm candy, remember? He turned me down too, don’t forget that. I might have been born at night, but not last night,” she added, smiling.
Lola sighed, knowing this path was useless with Katrina. She knew, in her own way, Katrina was testing, always testing, to make sure people wanted her for her, something from her pre-adoption days; it was innate and unshakable. “So back to my original question. Are you going to work with him?” Lola asked.
“Hell, yes!” Katrina said, making Lola laugh. “But I’m not going to divulge that just yet. Let’s make him and that committee sweat a little longer,” she added, joining in with Lola’s laughter.
***
CHAPTER 5
February
Katrina stood next to her neighbor’s front porch looking at the not-so-small Mountain Laurel tree that she needed to replant per the instructions of said neighbor, Ms. Stone, who was also an old friend of her mother’s. Her mother, Ms. Stone, and Mrs. Washington had been supreme gardening buddies; Katrina secretly called them ‘the three amigos’. They’d met most Friday evenings during her childhood for a little wine and gardening. Although it seemed more like wine and gossip to Katrina, but she was ‘but a child,’ as Ms. Stone so often reminded her, even now at the ripe old age of twenty-five.
The movement of the tree was part of a much larger plan to re-landscape Ms. Stone’s front yard. She had hired some local workers to build her a flower bed made of some specially colored brick from this shop that charged her way too much. She and Katrina were currently re-designing the flower bed, or more like Katrina was re-designing it. The plans were spread out on Ms. Stone’s kitchen table. Katrina had brought them over earlier for her review, which meant more mark-ups and redos for Katrina. Since the death of her mother, Ms. Stone required Katrina’s attendance every so often, her method of checking to make sure she was okay and on the right path.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Katrina thought. The ducks were finally getting the old heave-ho. Yes! Ms. Stone was going to get rid of those two clay ducks that stood near her front flower bed. She had dressed them religiously, coordinating their outfits with the holiday season. It was odd seeing ducks in small Santa suits. Katrina stood now divesting them of the yellow rain slickers they’d worn in deference to the showers that had lingered off and on in the city for two weeks. The showers had finally moved out, leaving behind clear and sunny skies.
Ms. Stone stood at her shoulder, monitoring everything, making sure her babies weren’t hurt—translated for Katrina, that meant scratched, chipped, or, heaven help her hide, broken.
“Have you given any thought to starting your own business, dear? You’re exceptional at gardening. You should charge for your services,” she said to Katrina as she peered over her shoulder. “Oh, not me, of course. I’m a senior citizen, and entitled to all kinds of discounts,” she added, holding out her hand for Katrina to pass the newly stripped duck to her. “The days of women not being able to start their own companies are long past.”
“I know, and I’ve given that idea serious thought. I worry, though. I’ve been told that the landscaping businesses can be so volatile. Statistics show that it fluctuates with changes in the economy, which hasn’t been that good of late.”
Ms. Stone looked at her, concern mixed with steel in her eyes. “Nothing beats a failure but a try, Katrina,” she said. “You’re no spring chicken; you can’t afford to wait too long to start.”
Katrina just shook her head at that, making a face. She wasn’t that old. Did she look old? “I know, and I promise to give it some thought.” Apparently satisfied, Ms. Stone moved on to a new topic.
“I’ve heard that the new kid, you know, the one that just built that odd house down the street from you, is heading up the competition this year. Is that true, dear?” she asked.
“Yes, it is,” Katrina responded.
“Is he any good? I don’t want the taxes in our neighborhood to increase. My taxes are fixed, of course, I’m a senior citizen, but we must be mindful of others who have gotten used to the lower rate.”
“I’m sure the committee wouldn’t have chosen him if he wasn’t good. I know for a fact that the committee members have seen his work. They were impressed with what they saw, although I haven’t seen it myself,” she said, passing the other duck over to Ms. Stone.
“Does he have any idea of the amount of work that goes into the competition?” she asked.
“Don’t know. I sure hope so.”
“You know, these young people think they know everything nowadays. They don’t think experience is necessary anymore to do anything,” she added, like she and Katrina were the same age. Mrs. Stone was pushing her early seventies.
“I know,” she said, going along with the conversation, having found it was easier that way. She used to argue, and tried talking back one time, when she’d been younger. That hadn’t gone well. At all. She hadn’t tried that again. Live and let live was her motto for today. She looked around the yard, taking in what was left to do before she could finish and head over to the godfathers. She had promised them dinner.
***
&n
bsp; Later that evening, after she got back from the godfathers’, she dropped her purse and keys onto her kitchen counter and went out to her deck, taking a seat at her favorite spot on the top step, relaxing. Her mind went back to something Mrs. Stone had said earlier. She still hadn’t seen Will’s backyard. Between her behavior at the party and her losing the competition to him, she couldn’t bring herself to go over and ask him for a tour. There was more to that sore-loser comment than she cared to admit. She’d gone out her front door twice with the intention of walking over to his home and knocking. “Show me the great backyard, Will,” she practiced saying, but she never made it past her yard.
You could go look now; he’s not home. Where had that thought come from? She knew he wasn’t home, or at least his home was dark when she’d driven by earlier. He usually worked late on the weekdays, and who knew where he was on the weekends. Knowing him, he was probably off somewhere playing with one of his girls, cycling, or maybe both. She’d seen them riding with him sometimes.
See, Katrina, all that monitoring of him is paying benefits, and not so stalker-like after all, she told herself. You could go check again, make sure he hasn’t returned, and then go take a look at his yard, see for yourself. Maybe she should, just to see for herself without him around to make her nervous. The more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed.
She really did need to find out what she was working with, right? After all, her name and reputation would be attached to this project. She should check him out before she officially committed. It was the smart thing to do. She stood up, her feet taking her into the backyard, around and out the side gate and over to Lola’s front door. She looked over at Will’s place again; it was still dark. She hoped that meant it was the dark associated with him not being home, not the dark associated with sleep. He couldn’t be asleep; it was too early for Will the adventurer. She knocked on Lola’s door and stood there until it opened.
Steady (Indigo) Page 9
