by Terry Spear
“Oh?” Shawn moved to another area to water potted plants.
“Yeah. I was getting married and leaving, so they wanted to be close to where I was. Or sometimes they’d say that about Angie.”
“Seems like that might really be the case this time,” Shawn said.
“I think it could work out well for us, if my mom and dad are happy with your pack.”
“I hope they are.” Shawn finished watering. “What do you need me to do now?”
“Just wander around and see if anything needs to be rearranged to improve merchandising. I’m fine for now. The center is kind of slow first thing in the morning. And by the way, you and Brock are garden advisers, not the hired help.”
Shawn smiled. “Works for me. I think Brock needs a little more training.”
“He’ll get it if we join forces. Even if it’s just hearing me talk about plants during meals.”
“He’s a good guy. I’m surprised he took an interest in anyone of the female persuasion when he was so adamant about not doing so. I guess it’s true that when a wolf finds his or her mate, it’s the real deal.”
“I think we both lucked out.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t.” Shawn winked and then headed off to reorganize some of the flower displays.
Natalie thought Shawn was cute, and if Brock hadn’t swept her off her feet, she might have fallen for his cousin. Then again, Brock unsettled her whole world. No one had ever done that to her. Being with him just felt right.
She began checking out customers and then had a lull again. Her mom loved handling the register and cheerfully talking to the customers at checkout, but Natalie preferred working in the gardens and giving lectures. Her dad never liked working at the register, so when her mom needed a break, Natalie always took over her job.
But this time, she had an additional duty that held her interest—watching anyone new who arrived. She suspected if one of the bad guys showed up, he wouldn’t come real early. He’d wait until he figured there’d be more people around as more of a distraction for Natalie and the Greystoke cousins. She’d even considered not having one of the cousins wear the center’s green T-shirt so he could fade into the background more. Then again, two men moving plants, watering, and helping customers with their purchases wouldn’t look like they were anything but part of the staff.
Brock and Mr. McCormick came to the register to check out, Brock pulling the cart and the older man removing his credit card from his wallet. “You owe this man a commission for all the aid he was in helping me to decide which plants to get. I wouldn’t have gotten half the plants if he hadn’t given me so much advice.”
Brock was smiling. Natalie wondered if he had stepped up to the plate and really helped Mr. McCormick decide, but from Brock’s look of amusement, she thought not. The retired navy man never purchased this many plants at one time. It was important to be helpful, knowledgeable, and friendly with their customers, not so busy with caring for the plants that they didn’t show an interest in the customers who shopped here. The only way their garden center could compete with the big ones was by giving a more personal customer experience.
“He started yesterday and already got one big tip,” Natalie said, proud of Brock. She knew he felt out of place here, as far as plant knowledge went, but he was such a likable and helpful guy that she figured most of her customers wouldn’t care.
“Is that allowed?” Mr. McCormick asked, not sounding serious in the least.
Natalie chuckled. “Not necessary, but it’s nice and he tried to give me the money.”
The older man nodded with approval. “Keep him on. I like him.” He paid for his purchases, and then Brock loaded the plants into his truck for him. “Great meeting a fellow serviceman.”
“Likewise, sir.”
Then Mr. McCormick spoke with him for a moment, shook his hand, and got into his pickup and left.
Natalie did feel bad about giving up their customers—at least, the vast majority of them. There were always one or two who were a royal pain, arguing about all the trouble they had with the plants and returning plants that had died for lack of water. Their center gave a reduction on the price on a new plant to replace those. They couldn’t afford to give a free plant for ones that had died, unlike many of the bigger plant franchises that did so for up to a year after purchase.
Brock joined her as she finished checking out a lady who was buying two pots of hanging flowers. “See anyone yet?”
“Not yet. I suspect we’re just not busy enough right now. A little later though. Maybe when we have our lunch breaks.”
“Okay, so everyone else is someone you’ve seen before?” Brock asked.
“As much as I could watch them, yes. Sometimes I get distracted with checking customers out.”
Brock glanced over at Shawn, who was chatting with a customer.
“You did good. Mr. McCormick purchased three times what he usually does when he shops here,” Natalie said, impressed with Brock.
“All that war talk helped. I had to say my dad had been in some of the fights Mr. McCormick had been, because I would have been too young at the time otherwise.”
That was the problem with their longevity. Wolves lived so much longer than humans that they had to disguise the fact they weren’t aging as fast. They either had to move or just pretend they were younger versions of an older relation.
A woman was pulling a cart of roses, and Brock smiled at her and stepped aside. “Can I load those for you?”
“Oh sure, thanks.” The woman paid Natalie, and Brock rolled the cart to the woman’s car and loaded the plants.
If they did become mated wolves, would Brock help at the garden center when he didn’t have a case? Natalie wondered. She sure liked working with him here.
He finished loading the car, and then the woman tipped him.
Natalie chuckled. She wondered if Mr. McCormick had given him a tip. When her dad loaded plants in someone’s vehicle, no one tipped him. It must have been because Brock was such a hunky wolf. She wondered if Shawn would get tips too.
Shawn helped her next customer, and then it was time for one of them to have a lunch break. She realized one of the guys would have to man the register. She figured Shawn could because he’d actually be working for them.
“Would one of you like to have a lunch break before it gets too busy?” she asked Shawn and Brock as they returned to see what else she needed them to do.
“I’ll go make us some sandwiches with the leftover roast your mom made for us, if you’d like,” Brock said. “Then we can take turns eating.”
“Sounds good to me,” Shawn said.
Natalie agreed.
“Just…watch out for things,” Brock said to his cousin.
“Will do.”
Brock strode off toward the back gate that led to her parents’ home.
“Former SEAL,” Shawn explained to Natalie. “He always thinks us non-SEAL types need more guidance.”
She laughed. “I’m sure he can use your expertise in the garden.”
It wasn’t long before Brock came back with an ice chest he must have found in the garage and filled with sandwiches and bottled water, chips, and chocolate chip cookies.
“Wow, I’ve never had a picnic out here before. This looks great,” Natalie said.
“Did you want to eat first?” Brock asked.
“I was thinking I could eat when it was busier, so the two of you would still see if anyone showed up… You know,” she said cryptically when she had another customer approach, ready to check out.
“I’ll eat first, unless you’re starving, Shawn,” Brock said.
“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll grab a bite after you do.”
Natalie had rung up three more customers when Brock offered to relieve her or Shawn for lunch.
“That was quick,” she said.
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“I’m used to eating fast on some jobs. Have you seen anyone who appears suspicious?”
“Not yet. I really thought they might try to check things out during the day, but then again, maybe they’ll only do it at night, afraid we might catch onto them otherwise. Wait, that man just getting out of his pickup… He’s not a regular customer, and he doesn’t really look like the gardener type.”
“How can you tell?”
“He’s not looking at the plants. He’s looking at the motion-detector lights up above.”
He was dark-haired, of average height, with a scruffy beard and wearing old jeans, sneakers, and a brown T-shirt. She might be wrong, but he didn’t look like a gardener.
“Okay, I’ll just follow him around a bit and then ask if I can help him…maybe. I’ll try to pick up a scent trail first.”
“Good. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too. For lots of reasons.” Brock moved off to fill in the hole where some plants had been purchased while Natalie tried to look anywhere but at the man she thought appeared suspicious.
The guy walked past her and into the gardens in the back, and then she didn’t see him any longer. Brock hurried that way.
Shawn joined her, and she waited to finish with a customer before she told him Brock was checking out a guy who looked out of place.
“Did you want me to help Brock?”
“No. That might appear too conspicuous.”
“Did you want to eat?”
She didn’t. She wanted to know what Brock had learned, but she figured it was better to eat before it got any busier.
“Yeah, thanks. Can you handle the register?”
“Yeah, I work in the gift shop from time to time where we sell leather goods.” Shawn took over the register.
“Okay, super.” Natalie hurried off to eat as fast as Brock had done.
They had a little picnic area that overlooked a man-made waterfall, but they also used it to enjoy their lunch breaks. She wished she could sit next to the cash register while Shawn was checking customers out instead of hidden away; then, she could watch anyone who arrived. But it was a standard policy that they didn’t sit out in the open and eat lunch while customers were shopping. It didn’t look professional.
But she sure wanted to watch the suspicious guy and see how Brock handled him.
* * *
Brock agreed about the man who wasn’t looking at plants but was more interested in the layout of the place. Natalie had good instincts, and he thought talking over his cases with her might give him new insights into solving them.
The man headed for the gate that opened to Natalie’s carriage house. Brock was keeping out of sight, using the tall shrubs’ foliage to screen his view. Hopefully, the man wouldn’t know he was being observed and would do whatever he’d come here to do. He opened the gate and peered at the carriage house. Then he took a picture of it.
Brock hurried to join him. “Can I help you with something?”
The man smelled human, not like a wolf, no hunter’s spray used to conceal his scent. Did Marek’s crew hire this guy so that he would give them information about the property?
The guy swung around and smiled. “You work here?”
Obviously. Brock was wearing the T-shirt with the company’s name on it. “Yeah, can I help you?”
“I’m a photographer, Tom Jonas. I’ve been looking for old, authentic carriage houses, and when I was doing research, I found this one listed from before the Silvertons bought it. I’ve been fascinated with old carriage houses for years and just began writing a book about them and their history. Are you the owner?”
“No. Do you have a business card? I can have the owner get in touch with you.”
Tom patted his jeans pockets. “Uh, no. I thought I had one on me. I changed jeans this morning. Must have been in my other pair.”
“Give me your phone number, and I’ll text myself the number.” Brock closed the gate to the carriage house and swore he was going to affix a lock to it. If this guy wasn’t on the up and up, he knew now the gate wasn’t locked.
The guy gave him the number.
“Do you have a website? You’re a published author, right?” Brock asked.
“Um, no, this will be my first book.”
He seemed sketchier and sketchier. “Okay, so you said you are a photographer. Do you have a photography website?”
“Well, yeah, sure. I just thought you meant did I have a website for my published books.”
Brock dragged out his phone and brought up Google. “Okay, give it to me.”
“Vintage Photography. I update old photos to make them look more modern and create more vintage ones of modern photos. It’s the kind of photography work I like to do. This garden center has advertised, a lot of word-of-mouth, too, for photographers wanting to photograph weddings and have other shoots here. That’s how I heard about it, and when I realized it was originally the acreage belonging to the main house and a carriage house, well, I got real interested. I don’t do weddings and that sort of thing.”
Brock looked up the site. It was just what the man had said it was, and the photographer was named Tom Jonas. But there was no picture of the photographer. This guy could just be reading off a script, for all Brock knew. There was no mention on the site of work on a book featuring carriage houses.
They headed back to the checkout counter to meet with Natalie to see if she could get a feel for him too.
“This is Tom Jonas, who’s interested in your carriage house to include in a book on the subject. I’ve got his contact information on my phone.”
“An author.” Natalie breathed deeply of the man’s scent.
“A photographer who wants to write a book about them, yes,” Tom said.
“Okay, I’ll give it to my dad.”
“You’re one of the owners? Oh, your parents own it,” Tom said.
“They do, and they’ll give you a call.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Tom shook Brock’s hand and then Natalie’s. He hurried off to his car, while Brock took a picture of him and the vehicle.
“What do you think?” Natalie asked as Shawn joined them.
“Slick,” Brock said. “I don’t trust him. He didn’t have a business card. The website doesn’t show his photo. It’s one thing to forget the business cards or to run out, but if I was on a mission to do something like he said he planned to, I’d make certain I had a business card on me. Not only that, but he seemed nervous.”
“He smelled nervous, but he’s…only human.” Natalie quit talking when she saw a woman approach with a cart of plants and then checked her out.
“Here, let me help you, ma’am,” Shawn said.
The woman beamed at him. “If only my husband offered to help me as sweetly as you do.”
Shawn looked pleased to hear it.
Natalie smiled as the two of them walked to the customer’s car. “Did you get a tip from Mr. McCormick?” she asked Brock.
Brock nodded. “He said I ought to marry you.”
“He wouldn’t have said that.” Natalie glanced around to make sure she didn’t have another paying customer.
“Yeah, he did. I’m always surprised when I meet a super-intuitive human. He said it was like when he met his wife forty years ago. The same banter, smiles shared, same intimacy. He said he figured I wanted to be out front, staying near you, rather than out back in the gardens, talking to him about our navy days. Though I let him do most of the talking.”
She chuckled. “I’ll miss him if we move.” She motioned to Shawn, who was coming from the parking lot. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? I don’t want anyone to say we starve our plant advisers.”
Shawn laughed and went to have lunch.
Business was brisk after that, without much of a break in between customers. When
it was getting near closing, Natalie saw a woman who looked perplexed as she considered some annuals sitting on a stand out front. “Do you want to man the register while I see if she needs anything?” she asked Brock.
“Sure thing. Much better than if I try to advise her.”
Natalie went off to talk to the lady, and Brock watched her as she talked about a variety of plants, then moved to another stand of plants and showed the woman the card on those but added to the information. “They love it here, and they’re perennial, so they come back each year. And they’ll spread out even more. Annuals are beautiful and provide an abundance of color for the season, but once they’re done, they…usually don’t come back. If you don’t deadhead the flowers, sometimes the seeds will sprout during the next growing season. Sometimes even a couple of seasons later, and somewhere you hadn’t planted them initially. With the perennials, for the most part, they’ll keep growing, coming back each year, and you’ll have dependable color—” She abruptly stopped speaking when she saw someone enter the garden center, a blond-haired woman dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers.
Nothing that would indicate she was trouble, Brock didn’t think. Since he was on cashier duty, he couldn’t just leave to check her out. He caught Natalie’s eye, and she motioned slightly with her head at the new woman. On his cell, Brock called Shawn, who was finishing up his lunch.
“Hey, what’s up?” Shawn asked while Natalie continued to talk about plants to her customer.
Brock kept an eye on the blond woman as she moved around the place, touching plants, and then walked toward the back gardens. “I need you to work the register. I’ve got to pursue a potential suspect.”
“Be right there.” Shawn headed over. “Got it. Which one?”
Brock moved out from behind the register. “The woman over there who’s headed into the back gardens. Nothing made me suspect her, but Natalie seemed suspicious.”
“All right. Go get ’er.”
Brock grabbed a cart sitting near some shrubs and moved through the shop where planters and gardening tools were on display and headed into the back gardens. At first, he didn’t see the woman, and he felt a bit of a panic that he’d already lost her. But then he saw her looking at the motion-detector lights and cameras on the building up above, then moving around the plants and farther along until she was next to the fence. Now he was suspicious. All the plants in the rows were the same from the front all the way to the back. Unless a customer was super picky and wanted to see every shrub in the row and pick out the ones he liked best, there would be no reason to walk all the way to the fence.