Daffodils and Danger

by Mary Manners

  “Drop the humor and head to the back. This is important, Reese.”

  “Gotcha.” Reese turned to their mother. “You go on. I’ll ring up this last customer and load her stuff, then be right there. But it better not take long. I promised to deliver this load of mulch to Mr. Bruester tonight.”

  “It’ll take as long as it takes.” Wyatt leveled him a look. “Less if you hurry.”

  Mom followed Wyatt back to the office, wiping her hands on her smock as she went. “What’s all this fuss about?”

  “I’d rather just go over it once.” Wyatt motioned to a chair across from his battered desk. Reluctantly, she sank into it. Wyatt filled a foam cup with coffee from the carafe that Kami had brought over only an hour ago. The past several days had been so crazy they hadn’t managed to see each other for more than a few fleeting minutes, and he missed her. Wyatt wasn’t sure what to do with the unsettling emotion, so he merely tucked the thought away as he handed the cup to his mother. “I hear Reese coming now.”

  Footsteps padded the short hallway before Reese’s form filled the doorway, blocking light from the hall. He spun a set of keys around his index finger, jangling them. “Let’s get this party started.”

  “Sit down.” Wyatt motioned to a chair. “Take a load off.”

  Reese nodded. He came a few steps into the room and bypassed the chair to hop onto a two-drawer file cabinet, swinging his legs so his boots thumped against the metal. “What’s up?”

  “As you both know, for the past year the nursery has been like a ship taking on water.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” Reese began. “This sounds like an ominous start.”

  “Let him talk, son.” Mom leaned forward, splaying a hand Reese’s way. “Give him a chance.”

  “We’re in danger of losing everything if we don’t make some changes, and fast.” Wyatt handed them each a folder full of information—charts and diagrams he’d spent several days preparing. It all led up to the bottom line. “We all know how diligently Dad worked to start this nursery—to keep it growing and running. I also know how hard both of you have worked while I’ve been away.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  “Reese, hush.” Mom’s voice was a sharp warning, a tone Wyatt—and no doubt, Reese—found familiar.

  “But that’s the only thing he’s said that’s made sense so far—the only thing of consequence. We’ve been here, working our fingers to the bone, while Wyatt’s pursued his own dreams.”

  “And now he’s left everything he built to come home again—for us.”

  “The prodigal son returns.” Reese crossed his arms, his face flushed. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “It won’t do any of us any good to start a wildfire here.” Wyatt’s jaw tensed as he struggled to keep his voice even. “We need to band together. Dad would have wanted that.”

  “He would have wanted you to stay in the first place and avoid this mess altogether.”

  “Do you want to hear what I have to say, or not?”

  Reese shrugged, banged the file cabinet once more with his boots. “Go on.”

  “OK, then.” Wyatt flipped open to the first page, indicated they should do the same. “You’re a genius, Reese, when it comes to supply and demand. I don’t know how you’ve managed to place all these orders, keep up with stock and deliveries on your own for over a year, especially with Dad so sick…with all you went through. And, Mom, I’ve never seen anyone arrange planters more beautifully. The customers love you. Most of them return time and again because of the service you provide. Dad knew this years ago, when the nursery was only a dream and a vision. He knew, and now I do, as well.”

  “So, you’re going to quit dangling the carrot and stick around?” Reese chimed in. “Well, it’s about time.”

  Wyatt brushed the caustic words aside. “Turn to page two.”

  Reese’s words wounded, mostly because they rang true. He had been dangling the proverbial carrot, choosing to be neither completely in nor completely out of the nursery’s revival. It was time to quit riding the fence and get his hands good and dirty with the work. “Here’s a projection of our cost to income ratio, after taxes. I finished filing day before yesterday. That, in itself, was a battle I’d rather not repeat.”

  “That bad, huh?” Reese’s tone softened. “I guess I should have rolled up my sleeves and dipped into the books a little more.”

  “We’ll be tight for a while, but there’s light at the end of the tunnel. That brings me to pages three through ten—a growth plan for the nursery. It’s a rough outline, at the very best, and definitely open to suggestions. I’d like you both to take a look, share your input. I’ve forwarded the report to Maddie and Dillon, as well. I figure they’ll both be finished with their schooling and right back here in another year or so, so they should both have a say in this, as well.”

  “Oh, Wyatt…all this work.” Hattie’s voice was thready, strained. “And, Reese, my loyal soldier…” She stood, gathered them both in for a hug. “Your father would be so proud. I’m proud. God has answered my prayer. Thank you. Thank you both.”

  ****

  “Are you OK?” Kami splashed coffee into Wyatt’s mug as she grinned down at him. She hadn’t seen him in two days and realized, with a start, that she’d missed him. They’d both been busy—her with the restaurant and him crunching numbers and filing taxes. Now, with his forehead furrowed into a neat line of worry, he appeared to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You look…glum.”

  “Well, there’s a fine word.” Wyatt reached for the mug, sipped. “Do you have time to sit with me for a bit?”

  “Sure. Just give me a sec.” Kami glanced around the diner, noting the bulk of the customers had dispersed. Mr. Reynolds sat tucked into a corner booth; he’d stick around until closing time in half-an-hour, nursing his coffee. And a pair of love struck teenagers shared a root beer float, enjoying a pocket of privacy. She crossed to the service counter and grabbed a coffee cup for herself, filling it to the brim before setting the carafe back onto the burner. She removed her apron and snatched two slices of chocolate cream pie from the cooler before returning to slip into the seat across from Wyatt at the booth. “Here, this might help. Chocolate always does the trick for me.” She slid one slice his way, kept the second for herself.

  “Thanks.” Wyatt reached for a fork, stabbed off a generous bite. “It looks delicious.”

  “It’s definitely worth the calories, though I doubt you lose sleep over that.”

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “Lucky you.” She tucked a bite of pie into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. The light of a full moon flooded the windows, spilling over Wyatt’s dark hair and softening his rugged features. Stubble lined his jaw, and his eyes held a look that could only be called troubled with a touch of wild dancing around the edges. “Rough day at the office?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “You are. This is.” He motioned to the pie, to her. “You just taking the time to sit here with me means a lot.”

  “I’ll always make time to sit with you, Wyatt. I enjoy your company.”

  “That’s nice to know. Ditto, by the way.” He sighed, chewed, sipped and swallowed. “At least you’re still on my side. I’ve made a mess of things.”

  “How so?” Kami dropped her fork, slid the pie plate back and went for her coffee. “What’s going on?”

  “Things are changing so fast. I’m not sure I can keep up. I thought I’d come back to Clover Cove for a while, set the nursery back on its feet and then head out to New York again, to my life and my future there. Then, today, I unveiled a long-term plan to Mom and Reese and I realized…” He shook his head, lifted his gaze to capture hers. “My brain is jumbled, the synapses firing like live wires in a thunderstorm.”

  “Sounds pretty serious.”

  “I needed some time with you to help piece things together. I suppose that’s why I came here no
w…tonight.”

  “Wait.” Kami’s pulse shimmied against her skin. The pie and the coffee were no longer appealing as her belly tumbled off the map. She glanced toward the kitchen, watched her dad for a moment as he rolled pizza dough through a stainless steel dough sheeter machine, readying crusts for the next day. At his side, Fred chopped toppings for tomorrow’s pizza line, as well. She drew her cell phone from the front pocket of her jeans, typed a quick text to Fred and sent it before sliding from the booth. She turned to take Wyatt’s hand. “Let’s go for a walk. I think we can both use some fresh air.”

  8

  Kami walked at Wyatt’s side, giving him space while waiting for him to speak. His breathing was deep, labored, and she sensed the turmoil brewing inside him.

  “I never thought Clover Cove was where I belong. I never imagined I’d spend my life here. It just doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense at all.”

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning and talk it through? Maybe that will help.”

  “I let Dad down, then Mom and Reese.” He slapped the thighs of his jeans as they meandered along the sidewalk.

  The nursery was behind them along with the pizzeria. Ahead, the foothills of the Smokies beckoned in a halo of moonlight. The pavement was damp from an early evening rainfall, and here and there Kami sidestepped to avoid a puddle.

  “I suppose I just experienced a gut-punch of reality today, a check of my conscience that’s brutally painful. I’ve spent my entire life looking after Reese and Dillon. Mattie, too, while Mom and Dad chased their dream of growing the nursery. I grew to resent them—and the nursery, as well. That’s the largest part of why I left here. I thought I’d had my fill.”

  “And now?”

  “I still feel I’ve had my fill, but something’s holding me firm. I can’t put my finger on it, but when I think of leaving again I feel this overwhelming sense of dread, like I’m boarding a plane doomed to crash.”

  “Then, why are you fighting it so?”

  “I suppose I’m being selfish.” He shook his head. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “You need to get over it, Wyatt.” Kami turned on him, felt a bite of temper flare. “I understand what you’re feeling. I feel it too, with the restaurant. I’ve spent my life there, grew up talking to customers and watching Dad experiment with recipes and menus. Laughter and love, that’s what fueled me for all those childhood years, at least until Mom died, taking the laughter with her. The restaurant is a chore now, something I’m beginning to despise. At once it’s both not enough and too much, with Dad hiding in the kitchen and Jada unpredictable at best. Fred has been a help, but he’ll probably move on to his own place soon enough, with the way he and Dad butt heads over the smallest things. We need changes badly, more employees to help carry the load while I keep the books and take care of stock and marketing like Mom used to do. And, at least for now, a more streamlined menu would be sensible. But Dad can’t focus on anything beyond the cooking and sadness. While he does that, the rest falls apart. He’s stuck in a time warp and we’re in danger of losing it all, Wyatt. The very thought scares me to death. What then? What comes next? Unlike you, I don’t feel the urge to board that doomed plane. I want to stay here. I want to fix things.”

  “Maybe it’s not for you to fix.”

  “And maybe it is.”

  “Wait a minute.” Wyatt reached for her hand, his forehead furrowing into the telltale crease she’d begun to know only appeared when he was troubled. “Now I’ve made you mad, too. I’ve upset you.”

  “Yes, you have.” Kami’s heart softened just a bit at his distress. “Doesn’t it mean anything to you—all of your Dad’s sacrifice and hard work, what your family has so painstakingly built? Can you just walk away again so easily, with all that’s transpired? Don’t you feel even the smallest desire to hang onto it, to help the nursery thrive once again? Don’t you care even the smallest bit to stay close to those who—who love you?”

  Wyatt stood speechless, as if her words were a flash of lightning that struck him to the core. The furrow at his brow deepened to a line across his forehead, temple to temple.

  “No come-back?” She turned, paced. “No quick-witted response? It’s hard to crunch numbers when you’re dealing with emotions, isn’t it?”

  “I came back to Clover Cove, to the nursery and my family, didn’t I?” His words coiled like a snake. “I can’t help it if I’m confused. I’ve been working on a plan for the nursery. I unveiled it today. Mom and Reese both seemed to like it. I think they’re on board, which means I’ll stay, help see it through.”

  “But you’re not sure that you’ll remain beyond that? Not one-hundred percent positive?”

  “No. I’d be lying if I said I was. I can’t lie to you, Kami. I’ll never lie to you.” He reached for her once more, drew her close. “But I do know, with one-hundred percent certainty deep down to my soul, that I care about you. I think I’m even…falling in love with you.”

  “Well, then, I suppose you have a problem.” Tears filled Kami’s eyes, turning the moonlight to shimmering glass. “I suppose I do, as well.”

  ****

  Wyatt padded to the kitchen, filling his coffee cup for the third time since he’d returned home for the night. If his heart didn’t explode from the caffeine, it would be a miracle. He should wean himself off the stuff or at least switch to decaf, but the very thought mortified him.

  The house was quiet—too quiet. Maybe he should look into adopting a dog. The local shelter overflowed with abandoned mutts desperate for a home. Why not rescue at least one?

  But a dog would mean roots and a home. It would mean staying.

  “Well, then, I suppose you have a problem…I suppose I do, as well.”

  Kami’s words echoed through Wyatt’s mind. What a mess he’d made of things. That was one area he seemed to excel at…making messes. He glanced out the kitchen window and saw Kami’s house was dark. Of course it was dark—she’d be up at the crack of dawn and off to Pappy’s to help Anthony prepare for customers once again.

  “Laughter and love, that’s what fueled me for all those childhood years, at least until Mom died, taking the laughter with her. The restaurant is a chore now, something I’m beginning to despise.”

  The words were an icepick to Wyatt’s heart because, in them, Kami’s grief mirrored his. Yes, being the eldest he’d shouldered the lion’s share of responsibility for his younger siblings, often taking the blame for things beyond his control. He’d wanted out, wanted freedom. But at least he had siblings to argue with and to lean on when he needed them. And his mom, although most certainly filled with grief, had managed to carry on admirably, despite her loss. Kami was alone, without siblings, carrying a father who was consumed by his own grief with little or no regard to hers.

  It hadn’t taken Wyatt long to realize that, after leaving Clover Cove, his newfound freedom came with greater responsibilities and a boatload of drawbacks, as well.

  No family close by. Just a closetful of suits, a loaded appointment book, and a boss who expected him to sacrifice his personal time for the good of the company. Sure, the money was nice, but, as Kami had pointed out, money wasn’t everything. Plus, he missed bantering with Reese.

  Yet, money sure did make the world turn a lot more smoothly.

  Wyatt took his coffee out onto the back deck. Crickets serenaded as a gentle breeze kissed the treetops, nudging leaves into a slow, swaying dance that brought Kami to mind once again. The feel of her in his arms, the soft scent of her perfume, awakened a longing in Wyatt that was difficult to tuck away in his heart, to write off as if it didn’t exist. He’d need to face it—and soon. Moonlight bathed the white slats that surrounded his yard in a milky glow, and reminded him it was time to get quit riding the fence and move forward into his future—however uncertain that future might be.

  9

  The staccato clack of heels along the planks of his front porch set off an alarm in Wyatt�
�s head, but the numbers flashing in a neat spreadsheet across his computer screen monopolized his attention and rendered him immobile.

  Until a trio of raps on the front door were followed by a shout.

  “Wyatt, open up.” Kami’s voice was tinged with annoyance. Trouble, for sure. “I know you’re in there. Your car’s in the drive.”

  “It’s open. Come on in.” He peeled his gaze from the computer screen and stood from the rolling desk chair, taking a moment to stretch kinks from his spine before heading from his make-shift home office toward the living room. The office had been a spur-of-the-moment act of brilliance. His Mom and Reese, with their incessant chatter, made it nearly impossible for him to accomplish anything at the nursery. So he’d hauled the small kitchen table into an empty bedroom, set up his laptop and printer, and gone to work. Great plan, except now he was lacking a table on which to eat. Didn’t much matter, by his way of thinking, since he usually stopped off at Pappy’s in the evening to grab a bite to eat before heading home.

  And to see Kami.

  “Wyatt Cutler,” Kami’s voice sailed down the hall, rising as she neared. “I have a bone to pick with you.”

  “Pick away.”

  He forced a grin as she strode through the doorway, her green eyes a flash of flames. A bit of humor might stave off the flamethrowers.

  “I’m wearing my armor.”

  “What do you mean, going to see my dad? He told me what you did, told me everything.”

  “So now it’s wrong for me to ask permission to date his daughter?”

  “You might have asked me first. And those flowers—”

  “Daffodils, yes.”

  “They’re gorgeous. But you shouldn’t have.”

  “Yet, I did.”

  “I’m mad at you. I need to sit down. I—” She paused as a tiny, pitiful whimper reached her ears. “What’s that?”

  “That would be Moe.”

  “Moe?” The flames simmered a bit as she slipped around the desk, found the ball of fur huddled at his feet. “Oh my goodness, look!”