A little boy stood behind the reception stand, barely reaching the top of the podium.
“Welcome to The Vegetable Garden,” he said, smiling. “How many are in your party?”
Katrina smiled back. “I am meeting one for dinner, but I haven’t seen him yet.”
Looking at her with interest, the boy said, “I bet you are here to meet my big brother, Darius? All the girls come here to meet him. He’s a very good chef, plus they want a man with means,” he added.
“Oh,” she said, surprised.
“Here he comes now.”
Clad in his chef uniform, Darius was indeed walking toward them.
“Thanks for meeting me for dinner,” he said, smiling while reaching for her hands. “I hope you’ve brought your appetite with you. I hear the chef here is a wonder in the kitchen, known for transforming fruits and vegetables into something you’d kill for.”
“I did bring my appetite,” she said.
Darius turned to the little boy behind the podium. “Katrina, this is my little brother, Sebastian. He helps out on weekends for a small fee,” he said, looking at the boy with pride.
“Sally will take over for you in ten,” he told Sebastian. “Mom will be here by then to pick you up.”
“Okay,” his little brother replied, younger brother idol worship in his eyes.
“Shall we eat?” he said to Katrina, extending his elbow.
“Sure,” she said, putting her arm through his. He led her back to a small room he told her was normally used for private dining or parties. It was empty now except for them.
“So when did you know you wanted to be a restaurant owner?” she asked, after she’d taken a seat at the main table.
“I started it about two years ago. Grew up loving to cook, not formally trained, unless you count endless hours with my mother and grandmother. My parents always had a garden. Our neighborhood was one of the last to get on board with the whole gardening thing, so they developed their own backyard garden. I didn’t take to gardening all that much, but I have the small one next door. But before you get too impressed, I don’t manage it, have nothing to do with it other than providing the land.”
“That’s okay. It’s a gift to cook as well as you do,” she said.
“Thanks, and speaking of dinner, may I choose something for you? Surprise you maybe?”
“Sure, surprise away,” she said.
“Wine, tea, or would you prefer a soft drink?”
“Tea works,” she said.
“Is there anything you don’t like, or are allergic to?”
“Nope, I have the constitution of a horse.”
“Give me a few seconds and I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
He was fine, Katrina thought, watching him leave. She should like him. Looking around the room, she paused to study pictures hanging on the wall. Old black-and-white photos showed African-Americans farming, bent over rows, picking cotton or holding up vegetables in their hands.
“So, you’re the citywide winner, what, ten years running?” he said, smiling at her.
She turned at the sound of his voice and thought, What beautiful teeth you have, they go so well with all that smooth brown skin.
“No, just three,” she said. He pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
“So still getting the push from Amber to start your own business? She swears that you are the best she knows. It was how I met her and Claudia, at a small-business forum.” He then talked about getting started with the restaurant and what went into the running of one, pausing when the waiter arrived with their food, placing two plates filled with an eggplant dish before them. Steam and delectable aromas rose from their plates.
“Am I drooling?” she asked. He laughed, pleased that she was pleased. The main dish was followed by a heavenly dessert, fruit cobbler, and coffee.
“Wow!” she said two hours later. “I’m stuffed; the food here is beyond delicious. You’ve created a wonderful place and food to die for.” Placing her napkin on the table, she said, “I had better get going before I grow into this chair.” She smiled. “I had a really, really nice time.”
“I did, too,” he said, standing along with her.
“Thanks again for inviting me.”
“Thank you for finally answering my calls, for finally meeting me for coffee, and for finally agreeing to go out with me. You are a hard woman to get to know.”
“I know, sorry, it’s just me. Old before my time,” she said, smiling shyly.
“Well, anyway, I’m glad you made it. Let me walk you out. I’ll give you a tour of my garden,” he said. “That doesn’t sound too cheesy, does it?”
“Nope, and I like cheesy, anyway.”
He laughed and followed her out, stopping at the small gardens for a few minutes before walking her to her car. She unlocked it and got in.
“May I call you again?” he asked, holding on to the top of her car door.
“I think so,” she said.
“But?” he asked, sensing her hesitation.
“I’m just looking for friendship is all,” she said.
“Friendship it is then,” he said, smiling back.
“Thanks,” she said, starting her car as he pushed her door closed. She backed out and left, looking at him in her rearview mirror, pleased and pleasantly surprised at how the evening had gone. He was almost too good to be true, and had provided a nice respite from her fixation with Will.
***
The clock on Katrina’s computer showed 7:30. Time for her to go home. She gathered up her stack of trust documentation to send back to the vault in some far off corner of the bank, having completed the last of her assigned account reviews for the month. Yay, team. She was required to review each of her accounts every eighteen months, and that usually meant either Saturday morning at the office or toiling after work.
Reviews required perusal of the original will or trust document that had created the account. Distributions from the trust were checked against the language of the actual trust document scanned into the computer file; review was vital. It would be a major breach to have handed over money for ten years for health and maintenance only to find out later that it was only to be used for, say, college tuition, or perhaps was intended for some charity. It had been known to happen. She also needed to review the investments, the oil and gas property or real estate if they were a part of the trust, and to make sure all distribution requests had been documented. This process was time-consuming, and more so for Katrina, due to the size of her account load.
“Girl, what are you doing here?” Amber asked, startling Katrina and scaring her out of her skin.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You never work late,” Katrina said, her hand at her heart, trying to recover from the scare Amber had given her.
“I know, right? I’m usually so good. I finish well ahead of time, but I’ve gotten behind. It can happen to the best of us,” Amber said, coming to stand inside Katrina’s cubicle. “So I heard that you and Darius had hooked up for dinner. He must be really interested in you, wining and dining you at his place of business. That’s a good sign.” Then, after a pregnant pause, she asked, “So, how did it go?”
“It went okay.”
“Just okay?” she asked, walking further into the cubicle and sitting down, clearly in a chatting mood. “So no more Will then, huh?”
“I didn’t say that, but Will and I are just friends, anyway, working on the competition together. There is nothing else.”
“But that’s only because he said no. Are you still interested in him?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, yes, although I don’t think anything will come of it,” Katrina said, shutting down her computer.
“So that means you’re going to see Darius again? You could use him to help you get past Will. You guys have more in common, anyway.”
“I don’t really like him in that way,” Katrina said.
“What’s not to like, Katr
ina? He’s handsome, he’s a brother, owns two—not one, but two—businesses. What does Will offer that Darius doesn’t? You have a lot more in common with Darius, I think. I mean, really, what do you and Will have in common?” Amber asked.
“We have a lot in common,” Katrina said, taken aback a little by Amber’s bold assertion.
“Like what?”
“Gardening.”
“Okay. What else?”
“We’re both concerned about the environment.”
“I’m throwing that in with the gardening,” Amber said, waiting a few seconds. “See, you don’t have all that much in common, but I can tell you how you’re different. He is Asian, you are African-American, right? He’s adventurous and you’re content to live every day with plants. He likes to travel, you’re a homebody. He likes women who are glamorous in their appearance, and you don’t even like to wear clothes that fit.”
“We’re both American, we have that in common,” Katrina said, clearly not intending to give an inch.
“So do the rest of the people in this country.”
“Okay, I think being outdoors working with plants speaks to him in the same way it does to me.”
“Okay, so you’re both plant whisperers, but I also have to remind you that you argue over gardening styles.”
“Maybe at first, but I’ve come to see the beauty in his style even though it’s different from my own. We’re alike,” she said defensively.
“I’m just saying it would seem easier to love someone who is more like you,” Amber argued.
“What does ‘like you’ mean? And you’re one to talk. You and Claudia don’t have the standard relationship.”
“What? Claudia is African-American, right? Her childhood was a lot like mine, same unsympathetic view of our way of life by our parents, same negative responses from people to who we are, same challenges. But we like similar things, same culture, get the same jokes. I just think you should find someone who has the same background as you, and shared goals—like Darius.”
“We do not. I grew up in a group home for the parentless. He had two parents who are still around. Someone else does his gardening for him.”
“But he has a restaurant that utilizes stuff from the garden,” she said, as if that made sense.
“Really, Amber,” Katrina said, starting to get a little angry. “Will and I have a similarity of sprit, and that supersedes race and all that other stuff. I think it is race you’re getting at, and it’s also the reason for this push toward Darius,” she added.
“Similarity of spirit? You are the only person I know who says stuff like that. Similarity of spirit,” she repeated, shaking her head from side to side. “Are you sure Will feels the same? I just don’t think it was similarity of spirit that he turned down on New Year’s Eve.”
Ouch, Katrina thought to herself. “I’m tired of talking about it, tired of work. I’m going home,” she said, putting her desk in order and then reaching for her purse, a little stung by Amber’s comments.
Taking the hint, Amber stood up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that last comment to come out that way,” she said and sighed. “I just want you to find someone to make you happy.”
“I am happy,” she said.
“You know what I mean,” Amber said.
“Let’s just leave it, okay? I understand. But I don’t know if I can like Darius just because I should. I wish I could. It would make things so much easier. But I can’t. Anyway, I’m tired,” she said, standing up and walking to the entrance of her cubicle. “Are you sticking around here, or do you want to walk out together?”
“I’ll walk out with you. It’s dark out and we have to stick together, look out for each other, right?” she said, apologizing again in her own way.
“I’ll meet you at the door then,” Katrina said, walking out of her cubicle.
***
Later on that evening, Katrina sat on her couch flipping through the TV channels, not really seeing the picture. Her mind went back to her conversation with Amber. Granted, Amber had offered some good points, but she could see only friendship with Darius. She didn’t like him beyond that. So what if her desire for Will wouldn’t lead anywhere? Outside of his teasing, it seemed Will wanted nothing more than friendship with her, excitement over her body notwithstanding—and even that hadn’t been inducement enough.
Tired of her thoughts, she went to her kitchen table, where she’d placed the copy of Will’s design. Thinking back, she smiled at his reaction to her then. She decided to spend some time on his designs this evening as a way of distancing herself from Amber’s comments; a fresh reminder of the futility of her desire for Will.
John had called to inform her that the committee had accepted Will’s design as is, and that no changes from him were needed. This of course, rubbed her the wrong way. That had never happened to her, but she was going to move on, the whole water-under-the-bridge thing. She needed to get started on creating a budget and planting schedule and now seemed like a perfect time. And as painful as it was to admit, Will’s design was good, very similar to his backyard, but with a few additional features.
Using his plans, she compiled a list of plants they could use to transform the current garden. She knew cost, and what she didn’t know she could ask the godfathers, particularly Colburn. It was his area of expertise, plus he loved haggling with sellers; it worked so well with his personality. She’d put all that into a planting schedule and put together a tentative work schedule that the volunteers would need to help them with the changes. She needed to get with Thomas soon.
She was proud of her ability to grow things, to see what could be and put in the work and time to make it happen. She stood up, needing to go outside to breathe. It always helped to center her, to remind her of the good and beauty in the world.
She didn’t bother with shoes. She liked the feel of grass on the soles of her feet. She headed out her back door, walking slowly. It was starting to get dark, that time of the evening when it was not so bright and shining, like the lights in a restaurant being dimmed for a quiet dinner. The outside had an ambience, too. The air was cool, and it was quiet. She walked down the deck steps, taking in the colors surrounding her. She thought of Will’s garden and the mister in his enclosed courtyard; it beckoned her, gentle and soothing to her soul, along with the chimes and lanterns. She was dressed in a long-sleeve T-shirt and sweats. There was still a little nip in the air, especially at night.
Soon, she had walked out the back fence and into the greenbelt. Why not, she thought. If he wasn’t home, he’d never know she had been there. She’d check to see if it was dark in his home first. She walked past Lola and Oscar’s house and the Sheppards’ place until she reached Will’s fence. She stopped, looking for a wide enough space between two fence slats to peep in, trying to determine if anyone was home.
It took her several tries to find a hole in the fence big enough for her to see in. Perfect. It was dark in his home. She opened the gate and walked in slowly, allowing time for any lights to come on inside, alerting her of his presence. All good, all quiet. She tiptoed over to the enclosed courtyard and went in, closing the doors behind her. The misters were working and they went off as if they knew she needed the burst of spray. She sat, stretching her legs out in front of her, and lowered her back until she was lying flat, full length, her hands and arms at her side. She closed her eyes, taking in deep breaths of air, letting go of her worries and doubts for a few minutes. The deep sounds of chimes eased her worries like her mother’s hand on her shoulder, telling her that things would be okay.
She probably lay there for about thirty minutes, even dozed off for a while. She was tired. When she opened her eyes, it was dark out. Her watch told her that not only had she slept, but she’d been there close to an hour. She was pushing her luck and needed to get home before he did. She stood up, slowly opening the door and peeking out. Crap, she thought, taking in the inside of his home. All the lights were on. Shoot, Katrina, what were you t
hinking? How had this been a good idea?
Peeking through the door she could see into all of the parts of his home through his bank of windows. The room directly in her line of vision must have been the living room; thankfully, the sofa was free of him. She stepped out, hoping it was safe but remaining cautious. Looking over to the left, she could see into the kitchen and dining area. He wasn’t there, either. She stepped away, backing up quietly toward the back gate, keeping an eye on his home; still no sign of him.
She looked to the far right, at what must have been his bedroom. Great, still no sign, but just as that thought flittered through her mind, he stepped out of his bathroom wearing nothing but his birthday suit. And what a suit it was. He had a towel in his hand, and was rubbing it over his hair, facing away from the window. He moved over to his bed, providing her with a view of a beautiful backside. Her breath caught, hands starting in with that damn twitching again. Damn, he was some kind of fine. She’d always known that from seeing him in his cycling suits, but those visions of him in his riding gear were something different and had in no way prepared her for this.
He had an athlete’s lean muscle, but she knew that already. Her eyes roamed quickly over him from top to bottom. Why the hell not, she thought. When would she have this opportunity again? She might as well take her time and commit this to memory. Her eyes moved back up, started at the top. His head, wet and shiny from his shower, peeked out from underneath the towel he was using to dry his hair. Her eyes journeyed downward, taking in the muscles of his back, watching them move beneath his skin as he dried his hair. His back narrowed down into a firm and fine ass, which she watched for a second or two, pondering the possibilities and uses for it as she watched the muscles play under its skin. She took a deep breath bracing herself before her eyes trailed lower to beautifully well-developed, well defined legs. Bicycling had really paid off for him. Maybe she should consider it for herself.
Katrina, this is wrong on so many levels, she thought to herself. She needed to leave, because now she was a trespasser and a voyeur, or, as the police would call it when they slapped the handcuffs on her wrists before hauling her ass off to jail, a peeping Tom. But did she move? Shit, no. She was staying put; if she was going to jail, it would be so worth her while.
Steady (Indigo) Page 15
