by Mary Manners
Music drifted from the overhead speakers. A snappy country tune had Kami humming along. The melody revived her as she reached for a coffee carafe. She supposed she’d better brew at least one more pot of dark roast. Mrs. Baker was sure to drain this one all on her own.
“Order’s up.” Her dad called from the other side of the kitchen pass-through window. “Thin crust with double anchovies and a plate of fettuccini, table four.”
“Got it.” Kami whirled to snag the pale green order ticket from the window. “Add a basket of garlic knots for the Bakers. They’re singing your praises today, by the way.”
“Is that so? Well, that sure beats last week when Mrs. Baker complained the gazpacho was cold. It’s supposed to be chilled, right?”
“That’s right, Dad.” Kami wrinkled her nose as she set the carafe and plate of spaghetti on a tray before reaching for the silver pizza pan and the basket of garlic knots her father had placed alongside. Anchovies were not a favorite of hers. It was the only food in the restaurant she couldn’t stomach. The smell alone nauseated her, even after years viewing the poor little fish lying like wounded soldiers in a mass of tangy sauce and melted mozzarella.
Ugh…She crossed the tile floor, making quick delivery of the pizza before moving on to refill Mrs. Baker’s coffee. She added a healthy splash to Mr. Baker’s cup, as well, and dropped a handful of creamer cups on the table along with the knots.
“How’s that?” She offered her best smile.
“Perfect.” Mrs. Baker lifted her soup bowl and tipped it to her lips, draining the last drop before she reached for a garlic knot and wiped the ceramic basin clean. “Thank you.”
“Um…so glad to see you’re enjoying your meal.” Kami backed away, taking the carafe with her. She supposed her dad should consider it the highest compliment that the bowl now looked as clean as it had before he’d filled it. “You’re welcome. If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, sweetie.”
A bell over the front door chimed, signaling another customer had arrived. Conflict bit at Kami’s belly. She was thankful for the business that would help them stay afloat another week, but dragging on her feet. She prayed for the strength to make it to closing time. She couldn’t let her dad see how exhausted she felt. It would just add more worry to his already overflowing plate. She drew a deep, cleansing breath and turned toward the door. Philippians 4:13 washed over her, ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’
The breath whooshed out.
“Hi, Kami. How are you today, my dear?” Hattie Cutler’s grin was contagious, but that wasn’t what stopped Kami in her tracks. It was the man at Hattie’s side—her eldest son, Wyatt. Dark and mysterious…that’s how Kami always thought of him; the most elusive of the Cutler clan and so different from his three younger siblings.
“I’m…fine.” Kami found it hard to speak while Wyatt’s eyes, like two pieces of polished bronze, scanned the length of her. A scowl formed as a single furrow along his forehead deepened into a thin line. Dark hair tumbled over the collar of his navy shirt in mussed waves of rich russet. How was it possible for any human to possess such impossible good looks? Suddenly, the carafe she held weighed fifty pounds. Her hands felt weak as globs of gelatin. She swallowed hard and managed a raspy, “Hello, Wyatt.”
“Kami?” His gaze narrowed and the scowl widened as he wrestled the wobbling carafe from her. “Don’t drop this. You’ll burn yourself. Are you OK?”
“Yes, of course I’m OK.” She smoothed her French braid, grimacing at the flyaway strands that had escaped an elastic band to dance around her heated face. Dad must have turned up the thermostat against the rainy chill, because suddenly she was sweltering. The palms of her hands were slick as she snatched the carafe back from him. “And give me this. I’m perfectly capable of handling it. What’s wrong with you, Wyatt? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do I look so different from the last time you saw me?”
“It’s been a long time, so yes…I mean, no.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his gaze capturing hers and holding tight. “It’s just…you’ve grown up.”
“Well, that’s a real shocker.” Frazzled nerves sizzled and popped as she swiped her free hand along the thigh of her jeans and adjusted her apron, splattered with a full day’s worth of preparing and serving meals. Her feet screamed in worn tennis shoes and her lower back cried out through a tangle of nerves. “Time does that to a person, you know.”
“Right. Of course…” He shook his head and turned toward the closest booth. “Forget it. Can we sit here?”
“Sit wherever you’d like. I’ll be right back.” Kami crossed over to the serving counter to place the carafe back on the burner. Her heart did an annoying little two-step as she returned with a pair of menus and placed them on the polished table along with silverware wrapped in downy-white napkins. What on earth was wrong with her?
“Kami, you’ve lost weight.” Hattie Cutler frowned. “How is that possible when you’re around Anthony’s cooking day in and day out?”
“I stay busy here. Sometimes I guess I forget to eat.”
“That’s awful, dear. And here we are…making more work for you.”
“You are never work, Hattie.” Kami’s smile was genuine. “You’ve been so kind since Mama…”
“Oh, you poor thing.” Hattie stood and drew her in for a hug and the scent of her perfume was soothing. “Too much hurt.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s Dad I’m worried about. He’s been so sad lately. I can barely get him to leave the restaurant, even to sleep.”
“If I know anything, I know Anthony Moretto is a strong and hardy man. He’ll be just fine in time. You’ll see.”
“Thank you, Hattie. That helps.” Kami swiped the tears that spilled over as she swallowed hard and turned to Wyatt. “So, how long are you home for?”
“I’m not—”
“Oh, he’s home for good,” Hattie interrupted as she slipped into the booth. “He hasn’t figured it out yet, but mark my words, he is.”
“Mom, please.” Wyatt joined her on the opposite side. “I never said—”
“He’s going to help manage the nursery.”
“Really? That’s…interesting. Welcome home, Wyatt.” Kami struggled for words as her belly did an odd little series of somersaults. For as long as she could remember, Wyatt had been waiting to leave the small town of Clover Cove. The nursery must be in dire straits for him to agree to return, even for a short length of time. To steady herself, she focused on Hattie. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll take sweet tea with lemon.” Hattie smiled at her, and Kami’s heart ached. Oh, how she missed her mother! Everything had seemed to fall apart since she was gone. She was the glue that had held the pizzeria—and their family—together. Kami sighed with longing. She’d give anything to sit with Mom and talk just one more time, to feel her gentle embrace. There was so much she longed to share. She tucked away the longing and drew a breath as she placed extra napkins on the table.
“Tea it is.” With a slight hitch in her voice, Kami turned back to Wyatt. “And for you?”
He flicked open a menu. “I’ll start with some coffee, if it’s fresh.”
“It is.” Kami motioned toward the sputtering industrial-sized coffeemaker. “There seems to be a run on it tonight. I’ll bring over a cup right away.”
“Good, and some creamer, too.” Wyatt flipped the menu to the back side. He scanned the dinner specials as he continued, “None of that fancy flavored stuff, either.”
“FYI, we don’t carry the fancy, flavored stuff here.” She reached into her apron pocket for an order pad. “Just your basic steaming-hot cup of java. It gets the job done, though.”
“That’ll work. Thanks.”
“No problem. Would you like the usual, Hattie?”
“That’s right…spaghetti and meatballs, extra sauce. Your dad make
s the best.”
“Thank you. I’ll pass along the compliment. And you, Wyatt?”
“Hmm…” He closed his menu and sat back against the booth cushion. “A small, deep-dish pizza loaded with anchovies ought to do the trick. And, while I’m waiting, I’d like an order of those little parmesan-dusted, buttered—”
“Garlic knots.” Kami finished for him as she jotted down the order. “I got it. Coming right up.”
Kami turned, ripping the order sheet from the dwindling pad before tucking the cardboard sheaf back into the pocket of her apron. As she crossed the room, her pulse skittered with a disturbing blend of exhaustion and anticipation. Wyatt had come home. His return was a good thing, because it was no secret that Hattie Cutler was in dire need of help at the nursery.
But, by the scowl plastered on Wyatt’s face, he was none too happy about the homecoming. Last Kami heard, he was hip deep in some high-powered job at a big-time marketing agency. Had he relinquished that indulgent lifestyle? And, if he had, how long would he last here in modest Clover Cove before he grew restless and took to the road, heading north to the Big Apple once again?
And why did the thought of him leaving a second time make Kami feel as if a family of mice was dancing along her spine? She blew out a breath as she filled a mug with coffee. There was no earthly explanation—except exhaustion must be sucking all common sense right out of her.
3
Sunlight spilled through the open service door as Kami tugged off her apron and hung it on a hook beside the back door. “I’ll be back in a few hours, Dad,” she announced as she turned to kiss his flour-dusted cheek. “Jada will handle the after-lunch crowd. Don’t work too hard while I’m gone, OK?”
“Work is my elixir.” He gave a bundle of bread dough a few smacks with the flat side of his fist before reaching for a rolling pin. The rich aroma of yeast hung in the air, reminding Kami she’d skipped lunch again.
“Well, even too much of a good thing can be a detriment. You need to rest, too.”
“I’ll rest when I’m in the grave with your mother.”
“Dad!” Kami’s throat tightened as her heart skipped several beats. “Don’t say that. You’re going to live forever, right?”
“Sure, honey.” He turned from the dough long enough to layer lasagna noodles along an abundance of vegetables in oversized pans. His movements, honed through years of practice, were like a dance. Butter and olive oil mingled with the sweet smell of rising bread while more chopped zucchini sizzled in an oversized frying pan. Veggie lasagna was on the marquee as tonight’s specialty, along with the ever-present complimentary garlic knots. “Go buy yourself some plants and get that pretty little house of yours looking all spring-like. Take your time. It’s too nice to be stuck inside today. I sense the first hint of spring in the air. Your mama always loved spring with so much warm sunshine and the robins singing to one another.”
“I know, dad…she loved flowers, too. I’m going to plant a bed of daffodils and cook you dinner one night this week. It’s about time someone prepared you a good, hot meal instead of the other way around. Let Fred handle the cooking once in a while. He’s almost twenty-two now and nearly finished with culinary school. He wants to help us get things done around here.”
“Maybe I’ll do that.” He turned back to the flour-coated butcher-block table. “I’ll have a talk with him.”
“I’ll hold you to that. I love you, Dad.” Kami kissed his cheek once more and straightened the collar of his polo shirt before brushing flecks of flour from the fabric. “Don’t work too hard while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a bit to brew iced tea and prepare the salads for tonight.”
She pulled open the door and stepped into the alley. The dumpsters were overfilled, and she was glad garbage pick-up was scheduled that afternoon. So many details to tend to, and all her dad wanted to do was hide in the kitchen. She supposed it was his therapy—she felt like hiding, as well. But she couldn’t. The proverbial ship would sink, dragging both her and Dad down with it. Maybe her cousin Fred could help shoulder a bit more of the burden once his final classes were finished, only a few more weeks away. If Dad forgot to follow through, she’d have a heart-to-heart with Fred instead and see what she could finagle in that department.
Kami rounded the corner of the pizzeria and sunlight spilled over her, warming her shoulders as she stepped from the shadow of the building and toward the street. Classical music drifted like a soft whisper on a light, warm breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of roses. One look told her the nursery had just received a shipment. Wyatt and Reese stood at the back of a box-truck, unloading. They both wore heavy gloves to protect their hands from thorns camouflaged by an explosion of blooms. Reese was sensibly clad in his usual scuffed cowboy boots along with ancient ripped jeans and a navy T-shirt. But Wyatt wore impeccable stonewashed jeans and a long-sleeved white dress shirt…well, she was sure this morning it had been white. What had he been thinking to come to the nursery dressed like that?
As she neared the truck their conversation—good-natured jabs of bantering back and forth—carried on the breeze.
“I think you ordered too many, Reese.” Wyatt tossed his brother a bush as if it weighed no more than a feather. A few petals fluttered to cover the ground in pink confetti. “We could have done with half as many.”
Reese caught the bush and lined it up along the front of the lot with the others. “Then we’d just be ordering more by week’s end.” He climbed into the truck and slid a half-dozen more toward the drop-off. “That takes time that we don’t have. Better to do it this way, all in one shot. People expect to find what they want when they come here. If they have to return for something, it shouldn’t be because we were out of stock.”
“Throw money at any more orders like this without substantial turnaround, and the customers will find nothing but an empty lot.” Wyatt winced. Blood beaded along his arm where a thorn had snagged the skin. “That’s no good.”
“You’re the numbers guy.” Reese disappeared into the back of the truck for a moment to fetch another bundle of bushes. “That’s why you’re here, to set the books right again.”
“In order to do that, I have to spend time in the office, not unloading trucks like we’ve been doing all day.”
“Unpacking shipments and displaying stock comes with the territory at this time of the year.”
“Even so…I need to look at the books.”
“Is that a whine I hear in your voice?” Reese paused to gape at him. “Living in the city has turned you soft, bro.”
“No, it hasn’t.” Wyatt gave his head a stiff shake and tapped a temple. “It made me smart.”
“Yeah, you look like a real genius in that dress shirt and pretty-boy jeans.” Reese’s laughter sprinkled the air as he handed down the last of the bushes. “Better relegate those clothes to your work pile now, ‘cause the stains will never come out.”
Kami cleared her throat with exaggeration as she neared the truck. “Hey guys.”
“Hey, Kami,” Reece said.
He was his usual, jovial self but Wyatt’s head snapped up, the telltale furrow creasing his forehead. At the sight of her, a scowl flashed across his eyes like a threatening thunderstorm.
“What are you doing here?” The words carried an unwelcome bite. “We’re busy.”
“Well, that’s some top-rate customer service.” Kami stepped around the rosebushes, enjoying the sweet fragrance while her belly roiled at Wyatt’s obvious displeasure. What was it about her that set him off? “Do you greet everyone that way?”
“No. Sorry.” Wyatt hopped from the truck and removed his gloves, stuffing them into his back pocket as Reese followed. Dust wafted as the gravel spat and he wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans. His smile was stiff and failed to reach his dark eyes. “I meant, what can I do for you today?”
“Don’t mind him,” Reese chimed in, a dimple at the corner of his mouth deepening as he smiled. “Wyatt’s been gone so long, sequestered a
ll by his lonesome in a corner office, that he’s a little rusty in the people-skills department.”
“I see you have a way to go.” Kami turned toward a rose bush and slipped her fingers along a velvety, crimson petal. “So I’ll overlook it this time. These roses are gorgeous, by the way.”
“Discerning eyes.” Reese clipped a bud and handed it to her. “They’re knockouts, and around here they bloom almost year ‘round.”
“Good. I’ll take a pair of the pink—no, make it one pair of pink and another of red.”
“See, I told you.” Reese jabbed Wyatt with an elbow. “Barely out of the truck and they’re already going like hotcakes.”
“That’s only four out of forty, ten percent.” Wyatt countered with a return double-jab. “Still a way to go before you can claim bragging rights, little brother.”
“Not a bad start, though.” Kami hid a grin as she sidestepped to avoid the mȇlée. “Hattie mentioned you just got in a shipment of daffodils, as well.”
“That’s right.” Reese wiped sweat from his brow with the palm of his hand. “Yesterday morning. They’re in the back along the wall, in both half-gallon and one-gallon containers.”
“And those are pretty.” Kami continued to wind her way down the aisle toward a slab of palettes that displayed a waterfall of color. “What are they?”
“Wave petunias. They look great in flower beds and hanging baskets.” Reese joined her at the display. “You can make your own baskets, or we have some already arranged. Mom did them herself just yesterday.”
“I see. She’s got quite the touch.” Kami turned, pointed. “And what do you call those little flowers that look like they have faces?”
“They’re pansies.” Wyatt stepped between her and Reese, lifting one of the containers to show her. “They’re hardy and good for this cooler early-spring weather. You can purchase them by the six-pack or by the flat. With a little luck and proper care, they’ll bloom through the first frost.”
