The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1)

by Sharon Brubaker

  They went through the line and sat by the windows that overlooked the forest. Sylvia was totally oblivious to the lunch crowd around them.

  “I would also like to get some additional samples,” he told her. “I was concerned that we didn’t see more amphibians.”

  “Which are?” Sylvia prompted.

  “Frogs and other aquatic stuff,” he said between bites of his sandwich.

  “Do you want to go back out again for some samples?” she asked.

  “Not today,” he told her. “I need to work on another project. Maybe we could do it later this week or early next week – or even on a weekend.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “What is your schedule with the stream watch?” he asked.

  “I thought I would clear a date with Mr. Carter, put an advertisement in the local paper and start calling the folks that were at the library meeting this afternoon,” she said.

  “Whew!” Owen said, “If you get all that accomplished you’ll need to put a rush on those kits then,” he said.

  “All right, all right,” Sylvia answered, finally picking up that he was teasing.

  They became engrossed in their conversation again and didn’t see or hear Anna approaching until she laid a hand possessively on Owen’s shoulder and purred, “Well, well, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  Owen was unfazed. “Hello, Anna,” he said, glancing up. He must have stiffened or she saw something in his eyes because she dropped her hand. She didn’t look flustered, as Sylvia would have felt in that situation, but saw a glint of something that wasn’t nice in her eyes. The air conditioning came on full blast –literally and figuratively. Sylvia shivered slightly under Anna’s icy gaze.

  “Would you like to join us?” Sylvia asked politely trying to keep her composure.

  “No thank you`” she said, nearly hissing at Sylvia, “Owen and I have some work we need to get completed.”

  “Sorry, Syl,” he said, “I’m starting to take environmental samples. I need to run.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Sylvia said ignoring Anna’s icy gaze. “I’ll be in touch when I have a few more things pulled together.”

  Anna turned on her heel when Owen stood up and then she started to walk away. At the cafeteria door she waited impatiently for him to bus his tray and to join her. Sylvia caught herself shaking her head. He looked like a dog on leash.

  “What did the bitch want?” Carol asked putting her half eaten lunch down on Sylvia’s table.

  “What?” Sylvia said in surprise. “Carol, you’re too much!” she exclaimed. “Owen’s starting some of his environmental sampling and she’s helping, I guess.”

  “I’ll bet,” Carol said dryly.

  “Did you just get here?” Sylvia asked looking puzzled at Carol’s half eaten lunch.

  “No, I’ve been here for awhile, but you two were so caught up in your discussion that I hated to interrupt,” she told Sylvia.

  “Owen’s helping me with a project,” Sylvia told her.

  “He’s a helpful kind of guy, isn’t he?” she teased.

  “You bet!” Sylvia replied smiling, “although, I hope he doesn’t help her too much.”

  “He should watch himself with her, she’s dangerous,” Carol warned completely serious. “If you’re friends, you should warn him.”

  “How? Why?” Sylvia asked. “I thought it was just a feeling I got about her. She seems to be jealous of every other female.”

  “There is that,” Carol admitted, “but there’s something else that’s not right with her. But, I don’t have facts on it and I don’t want to be the one to spread rumor. I know for a fact that she slept her way to the top. She admits to that, but she also seems to like to make trouble. The guys that work with her usually end up hating her guts and leaving suddenly or she finds a way to get them fired. Owen needs to be careful.”

  “Hmm,” Sylvia said, “Then I need a way to tell him that information without sounding jealous or bossy. That’s going to be difficult,” mused Sylvia.

  She looked at her watch. “Oh my!” she said, “Look at the time! I need to run!” she said to Carol. “See you.”

  She hurried back to the office. Mr. Carter was still ensconced in his chair working at some paperwork. She knocked quietly and cleared her throat so that he knew she was there.

  “The stream watch is looking good,” she told him. “I’m going to start calling people from the Library meeting and set up a date to meet.”

  He nodded at her and told her to call the local paper and to place an advertisement. He had cleared it with the company and also gave her a list of dates when the conference room was available.

  “Thanks!” she said and went out to make the calls. Mr. Carter emerged from his office a few minutes later and motioned to her that he was going to lunch. She nodded at him and continued with her phone conversation. This woman was from the library meeting and was concerned about how much time a stream watch would take and Sylvia said that readings only needed to be taken about four times a year. Sylvia signed her up and a few others during the course of the afternoon setting up the meeting date for Thursday the next week. She called the newspaper and searched for equipment on the Internet. She contacted Owen via e-mail attaching links for the water testing kits and other equipment asking which he recommended. He replied and she ordered them express shipped to Thurmont at their expense.

  It was Friday at lunch when she finally saw Owen in the cafeteria. She went over and asked if she could sit with him.

  He looked up and saw her, “Sure thing,” he said, moving some papers that he had been reading. He looked distracted.

  “Are you okay?” Sylvia asked.

  “Yeah,” Owen said, “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.” He changed the subject, “Did you get the kits ordered?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Sylvia told him. “They’re being expressed shipped here and I’ve set the meeting for next Thursday evening at the Library. Can you make it?”

  “I think so,” Owen told her. “If you would email me, I would appreciate it and then I can add it to my calendar. Just don’t set up the training on Marian’s party date, okay?” he said with a grin.

  “You’re right,” Sylvia asked, “But perhaps we could schedule training and the first watch on the Saturday a week after Marian’s party. That’s two weeks from tomorrow.”

  “That would be good,” Owen told her although she wasn’t sure he heard her. He had a far away look in his eye. “Look, I’ve got to run,” he said suddenly. He picked up his papers and walked swiftly out of the cafeteria.

  Sylvia’s eyes followed him, puzzled at his abruptness and distraction. She could sense something was bothering him, but he certainly didn’t want to confide in her. She ate her lunch and returned to the office finishing up what she could before the end of the day. Over a glass of wine on the deck that evening, Sylvia thought about Owen. She felt they had become friends, but she wanted it to be more. She thought she had seen it in his eyes too the other day, but now she wasn’t sure.

  The telephone jangled and interrupted her thoughts. It was Marian asking her to come to dinner the next night. Sylvia agreed and asked what she could contribute. Marian asked her to bring a nice pinot grigio for the meal. They chatted for a few minutes before they hung up. As soon as she hung up the phone rang again. This time it was Carol asking if she wanted to go to the movies the next night.

  “Sorry, Carol,” I just accepted a dinner invitation from a friend.

  “Owen?” Carol asked curiously.

  “No,” Sylvia said laughing, “But he’ll be there.” She explained the current living arrangements for Owen at Marian’s house. “What if we go to the movies tomorrow afternoon or the Sunday matinee?” she asked her.

  Carol suggested Sunday so that they could go out to dinner afterwards. Sylvia agreed to meet her at the theater that afternoon.

  Saturday seemed to drag until it was time to go to Marian’s. Sylvia puttered about the house
. As she took her regular walk, she wondered if she should get a dog or a cat to break some of the quiet. People certainly seemed to enjoy their dogs she mused as she saw the regular residents being pulled along the street. A cat would be nice too, to curl up with in the evenings. Her parents had not been big on pets. Sylvia remembered a particularly emotive goldfish that leaped and swam frantically about its tank when she fed or talked to it. She had been crushed when it had died and her Mother told her she shouldn’t get so attached to a pet. Eventually Sylvia went to the liquor store and picked up two bottles of fume blanc and brought them home to chill until dinner. She called Gwen and left a message and sat on the deck waiting for the afternoon to pass.

  She arrived at Marian’s right at 5 o’clock with the chilled wine in hand. Marian was happy to see her and gave her a quick hug.

  “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you,” she said to Sylvia.

  “I know,” Sylvia said, “work has a way of getting in the way of fun,” she quipped.

  Marian opened up the wine and poured Sylvia a glass. They sat under the oak on the side patio. Owen was nowhere to be seen.

  “So, tell me all about your job,” Marian said.

  Sylvia told Marian about her various projects, the pamphlets, the stream watch and the upcoming appearance at Bay Days.

  “Nothing overly exciting,” Sylvia told her.

  “That’s probably very good,” Marian advised.

  Sylvia nodded and finally asked, “Where’s Owen?”

  Marian sighed and said, “He’s upstairs on the computer. He’s been very distracted and something’s bothering him, but he won’t tell me about it,” Marian said. “I’m worried about him!” she confided to Sylvia.

  “I know,” Sylvia told her. “I saw him at lunch yesterday and he certainly wasn’t himself. He wouldn’t say what was bothering him then.”

  Marian shook her head, her snowy white curls bobbing up and down. “Hopefully he’ll be down for dinner,” Marian said. “I’ve taken his dinner up to him at his computer the last couple of nights.”

  “Excuse me,” she said, “I think I’ll try to get him.”

  Sylvia tried half-heartedly to stop her, “Don’t go and interrupt him on account of me,” she said to Marian’s retreating form. Marian’s step had a determination about it and Sylvia knew Owen wouldn’t have a chance. Whether or not Marian heard her, she didn’t know, but she didn’t turn around or acknowledge her comment. Marian returned a few minutes later walking across to her with a bright smile and confident step.

  “He’ll be down in a minute,” she said smugly.

  “What did you say to him?” Sylvia asked looking at her expression.

  “Well, I told him that he was being quite rude and he needed to eat a decent meal. He can’t go on crunching numbers or whatever he was doing without some sort of nutrition,” she said.

  “You sound like his mother,” Sylvia teased.

  “Probably worse,” Marian admitted as she smiled and took another sip of wine. “And he was listening to some god awful noise, fortunately wearing earphones,” she said dryly. “He said it helps him think.” Marian shook her head. “I always thought Mozart was good for that.”

  “I’ve heard about that theory,” Sylvia commented. “It was in one of my classes, general music, I think, but I can’t remember the name of the person who wrote about it or the title.” She took another sip of wine before she remembered out loud, “It was a good class though.”

  Marian nodded and said, “I’ve was raised on the classics and I think I’m too old to change. But, I love other kinds of music too—jazz, folk, bluegrass.”

  Sylvia nodded. “Gran influenced me on music. She’s the one that gave me an eclectic background to music, but she loved folk music the best, I think. She hummed a lot and we sang together sometimes. I grew up on ‘Peter, Paul and Mary;’ ‘Bob Dylan;’ ‘the Weavers,’” she said, “it’s probably why I tend to go more folk and Celtic now,” she commented.

  Eventually Owen came down and said hello to Sylvia. He looked very tired and preoccupied. He turned down the glass of wine and went back inside to get a beer from the refrigerator. He sat wearily in another chair on the patio.

  “What’s wrong?” Sylvia asked lightly.

  “Number crunching with these environmental samples,” he said wearily. “Something’s not adding up and I haven’t figured it out and why. It’s driving me crazy.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get it soon,” Sylvia said soothingly. “You probably need a little break so that you can think fresh,” she told him.

  “You’re probably right,” he said, but he still stared off into space with a brooding look on his face.

  Sylvia sat quietly allowing him to be with his thoughts. Marian brought out a tray loaded with salad, bread and a seafood pasta dish.

  “I wish you had asked for some help,” Sylvia scolded her.

  “I’m fine,” Marian assured her, “But I’ll let you two clean up,” she said.

  They sat down to another one of Marian’s delicious meals. Marian had outdone herself with a pasta dish with shrimp and crab in a light herbed cream sauce.

  “I think you missed your calling,” Sylvia told Marian. “I think you should have opened up a restaurant.”

  “There’s still time,” Marian chuckled. “I should find something to get myself in some sort of trouble. I certainly don’t like rattling around here all day.”

  “How can you say you rattle around?” Owen asked. “You’re constantly off volunteering somewhere.”

  “You’re right,” Marian answered. “But I would like,” she broke off. “I’m not sure exactly what I want to do. I’m feeling a bit restless.”

  “Do you want to travel?” Sylvia asked her.

  “Not by myself,” Marian answered. “Save up some vacation time you two and then we can go on an adventure. I’m not one to take the seniors bus trips to Atlantic City. Ugh!” she shuddered.

  “You won’t know until you try it,” Owen said, slyly winking at Sylvia. “You might meet a hot guy on one of those bus trips.”

  “Oh, you!” Marian tossed a napkin at him exasperated. “Bran was enough of a ‘hot guy’ for me. You should know that.”

  Owen nodded and they both had a moment of remembering Marian’s late husband. Sylvia wished she had met him. The photos of him showed a large man who looked uncomfortable in tweed, but he had laughing eyes, a brilliant smile and held a pipe comfortably in his hand. Marian admitted that she hated the pipe smoking, but loved him too much to change the ritual. It was better than the cigarettes he had consumed twenty-four seven in their early years of marriage.

  Sylvia kept sipping at the wine. It was on the edge of being bubbly and was going to her head with the warm evening air. When she and Owen took the plates inside to wash up she was wobbly on her feet. Sylvia giggled.

  “Here,” Owen said, pulling up a chair, “I’ll take these,” and he took the plates, “while you sit.” He helped her into a chair in the kitchen.

  “This is embarrassing,” she said as she followed his directions nearly flopping out of the chair. “I don’t know when wine has gone to my head like that.” She giggled again involuntarily.

  “It’s probably the heat,” Owen told her. “Relax. It’s okay.”

  “Okay,” Sylvia said obediently. Her head felt like it was about to spin. “Coffee?” she asked faintly.

  “On the way,” Owen said as he poured water into the coffeemaker.

  Owen put the dishes in the dishwasher and poured her a cup of coffee. She sat in her chair breathing in the fragrant steam from the cup and sipping slowly. After a few minutes she started feeling a little more like herself. Marian came in and had Owen help her scoop raspberry sorbet into dishes. They returned to the terrace to have dessert, Marian carrying the sorbet, Owen the coffee and Sylvia trailing behind with a plate of tiny rolled cookies walking carefully to the table. She had sobered up a little bit.

  Twilight crept in silently. It went from
light to purple to a velvety gray cloak around them. Marian lit citronella candles at the edges of the patio and a candle on the table. Sylvia relaxed and looked at the stars popping behind the leaves of the great oak tree and sipping her coffee.

  “Do you want to take more samples tomorrow afternoon?” Owen asked her.

  “No, I’m sorry, I can’t,” Sylvia told him. “I’m going to the movies with Carol.”

  They sat and talked for a few more minutes and Owen abruptly got up, “I need to get back to work,” he told them.

  Sylvia and Marian looked at Owen and then at each other in the growing darkness.

  “Something’s definitely not right,” Sylvia said.

  “I know,” Marian returned, “and he wants to work it out himself.”

  “I should be getting home too,” Sylvia told Marian. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Marian told her brightly. “Are you all right to drive?” she asked concerned.

  “I’m fine,” Sylvia said. “The coffee and the dessert helped tremendously. I guess I didn’t eat much today and the wine went straight to my head.”

  “As long as you’re all right,” Marian said. “Be careful driving home.”

  “I will,” Sylvia assured her and she gave her a quick hug before she climbed into her car.

  She drove down Marian’s pitch-black road with her lights on high beam. She heard a wind or leaves rustling but still jumped when she saw the Green Man in the passenger seat. Sylvia slammed on the brakes.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “Making sure you get home safely,” he told her.

  “Okay, thanks,” Sylvia said relaxing a little. “Anyways, it’s good to have company. It seems really, really dark tonight,” she said peering out the window at the trees on Marian’s lane. None of the houses sitting back in the trees had on any lights. It was a little spooky.