by Devney Perry
“I appreciate that, but I don’t want you to get burned out.”
“I’d rather work a little harder than throw someone in the middle of this who will just get in the way. Remember how unorganized things were when Jason worked here? Or that summer you hired She Who Will Not Be Named?”
“Athena.”
She scowled. “What a bitch. She couldn’t show up on time, and she stole ten customers on the mowing route when she left.”
Ten customers I hadn’t been sad to see go. Their homes were scattered all across the Gallatin Valley, and because they hadn’t fit into our normal routes, I’d had to charge them a bit more to cover gas. Athena had gone to work for a competitor, taking them along with a promise of a lower price. It didn’t bother me, but clearly Bridget was still hung up about it even though Athena had quit seven years ago.
And in Athena’s defense, I didn’t really set office hours. It had just always happened that Bridget and I arrived around the same time each morning.
“We haven’t had another architect on staff for seven years,” I told her.
“Because we don’t need one.”
Bridget had been the first architect I’d hired at Alcott Landscaping, so she’d been with me since the beginning, one of my first employees. I’d hired her as a college student to work on the mowing crew in the summers. She’d started as my design apprentice the day after she’d graduated from Montana State with a degree in landscape architecture.
We’d been together so long that our processes were perfectly in sync. Hell, she’d helped create most of them. And she was right. Every time we tried to bring on someone new, shit fell apart.
That didn’t seem like enough reason to keep killing ourselves though. Surely there had to be someone out there who would actually contribute.
“I’m tired of turning clients away,” I admitted. I was tired of always feeling behind. “I’d like to try, and I’d like your help. Maybe instead of hiring an experienced architect, it’s time for you to have an apprentice.”
The blockade she’d put up to the idea of another designer came down an inch. “I’m listening.”
“We’ll put an ad out. You can participate in the interviews. Or if any kids on the mowing crew show some promise, you could bring them in too. Think about it. Let me know. But it’s time for both of us to cut back.” I pointed to the framed picture of the kids. “Before long, Kali and Max will be leaving home to build their own lives. I don’t want to miss the time I have.”
“Okay.” She blew out a long breath. “Message received. I’ll get on board.”
“Thank you.”
She spun her chair around, pushing it backward out of my office and into her own. Then keys rattled as she appeared in my doorway again, this time standing. “I’m in the field the rest of the day.”
“I’ll call you once I hear back from the nursery.”
Bridget waved then headed down the hallway to the front door. The moment it was quiet, I got on the phone and raised hell. Ten apologies, three half-price Norway spruce saplings and one new salesman staffed to our account later, I went back to my stack of unpaid bills and overflowing inbox.
I’d only managed to get logged into my online banking portal when the front door to the office chimed. I sighed as footsteps came my way. The bills would have to wait.
“Hey, uh, Finn?”
“Come on in.” I waved Jeff in from where he was hovering outside my door.
He stepped into my office hesitantly, glancing at his muddy boots.
“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last guy to bring mud into my office. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” He crossed the room, taking off the beanie from his head.
Jeff, my newest employee, had started at Alcott two weeks ago. Bridget, my foremen and a few of the others were kept on full-time year-round. They transitioned from landscaping to snow removal in the winters, except for Bridget who could do design work even after the snow flew. But since I needed more laborers in the summers than winters, I filled crews with guys needing seasonal work. April through October, we were fully staffed. Jeff had been a last-minute addition when one of the other new hires was a no-show.
“What can I do for you?” I asked Jeff.
“I, uh . . .” He dropped his head. “I was wondering if I could get a pay advance. I’m having some trouble with my ex-wife and she’s taking me to court to get full custody of my daughter. I need to get a lawyer.”
He seemed too young to have a kid and an ex-wife, but what the hell did I know. At his age, I’d been head over heels for my wife. If someone had told me I’d be divorced from Molly, I would have laughed and told them they were crazy.
Not many men stand at the altar and say I do to their wife thinking someday she’ll be an ex. I certainly hadn’t.
“I wish I could help you, Jeff. But I don’t do pay advances.” I’d done that once when I’d first started out. The guy had taken a thousand-dollar advance and never shown up at the shop again.
“I understand. I just . . . I’m not a deadbeat dad. That’s what she’s calling me. But my little girl is two and she’s my entire world. My ex is a vicious bitch and she’s using Katy to get back at me. I can’t lose my daughter.”
Shit. I liked Jeff and saw some potential there. He was on my best crew and had been pulling his weight, even as the new guy. He worked hard. According to Gerry, my most tenured foreman, Jeff was the first one at the shop each morning and never asked to leave early.
I felt for the guy. I couldn’t imagine going through a nasty divorce.
Neither Molly nor I had gotten vindictive throughout our divorce. We hadn’t squabbled over material things. I’d wanted her to have the house. She’d wanted me to keep Alcott Landscaping.
We’d both been completely dedicated to sharing custody of the kids.
Yeah, I’d been furious with her at the time. I’d been heartbroken over her one-night stand. In truth, I’d been an asshole. But I’d told my lawyer during our first meeting that this wasn’t about revenge. I’d given him an order to treat her fairly. And he’d worked with her attorney to make that happen.
“I’m sorry,” I told Jeff. “I really am. I got divorced a while back and I understand how stressful it is. Especially when you throw kids into the mix. But I have employee policies for a reason, and I can’t give you an advance.”
“All right. I knew you said during my orientation that you guys don’t do overtime. If that changes, would you keep me in mind?”
“I will.”
I wasn’t going to tell Jeff, but I hadn’t paid overtime in five years. Overtime wages were the fastest way to send Alcott’s expenses through the roof. Instead, I managed the crews’ hours and didn’t commit to projects we couldn’t fit into the schedule.
“Thanks, Finn. I’d better get out of here. The guys are waiting.”
“Before you go.” I held up a finger as he stood from his chair. I dove into my desk drawer, taking out a sticky note. I scribbled my lawyer’s name on it and handed it over. “This was my lawyer when I got divorced. He’s not cheap. But he’s good. Really good. If you can swing it, try to get a meeting with him. He does some pro bono work too. Tell him you work for me.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” Jeff nodded, tucking the note in his pocket.
“Anytime.” I stood from my chair and followed him out of the office. One of our navy trucks, emblazoned with a white Alcott Landscaping logo on the door, was idling outside.
Jeff piled inside with two other guys and waved as they pulled away from the office. A quaking aspen was loaded on the flatbed along with some hostas.
As they drove away, I walked down the short gravel road to the shop. It was the heart of Alcott.
We were located on the outskirts of Bozeman on a three-acre plot. For the first couple years Alcott had been in business, Molly and I had rented a shop to store our equipment. We’d run the office from our dining room table at the small apartment we’d moved into af
ter getting married.
But after we’d started to become more profitable, I’d found this property and we’d taken a gamble. It had paid off. We’d put up a small steel shop in the far corner of the property. After a year, we’d had to triple its size to hold the equipment and company trucks. The year after that, it was so crowded that Molly suggested we build an actual office so she could get out of the room we’d set up as an office slash storage locker.
At the entrance to the property, we’d put up a small, separate, two-story building. The offices and small conference room were on the first floor. At the rear, a staircase led to a small lounge on the second floor.
We’d planned to let the office staff use the lounge to relax or hold informal meetings. Molly had wanted a “soft” space for the kids to play whenever we were all there together, along with a bathroom.
Neither of us had planned that the lounge, with the couch and kitchenette, would become my apartment when I moved out. Neither of us had planned that we wouldn’t be working together at Alcott for years to come.
I stepped through one of the open bay doors of the shop and looked around. It was mostly cleared except for some of the larger equipment, like two skid steers that didn’t go out every day. The mowing crews had left hours ago. The last landscaping crew was out in the yard, loading up a tree from yesterday’s nursery delivery.
We used the yard as a staging ground, having all the supplies from our vendors dropped off here instead of individual job sites. There were trees and bushes in one corner. Along the far side of the property, we kept landscaping boulders and piles of pea gravel next to pallets of peat moss and manure.
“Hey, Finn.” One of the guys came out of the shop bathroom, zipping up his pants.
“Hey. Heading out?”
“Yep. We’re about loaded up. See ya.” His footsteps echoed off the metal walls and ceiling before he stepped outside and into the sunshine.
I took a deep breath, savoring the smell of dirt and oil. I didn’t get in here enough. I spent most of my days in the office. But this . . . this was the reason I’d started Alcott. I had to find a way to spend more days in the fresh summer air, not under the vents of my AC.
I spun in a slow circle, taking it all in.
We’d built so much. I wouldn’t have even thought this was possible without Molly dreaming at my side. She’d supported me completely those early days. She’d stuck it out, working the long hours. It was only when we’d had Kali that she’d taken a step back.
As a breeze from outside rushed into the shop, a doubt came with it.
Did I take this from her? Did Molly feel like I’d shut her out of our business because I’d suggested she stay home with the kids?
I’d thought it would make life easier if she was at home and not working. But as I thought back, I couldn’t remember asking her what she’d wanted. When she hadn’t put up a fight, I’d assumed we wanted the same thing, much like the yard that I’d learned a decade too late she hated.
She loved Alcott—or she used to.
Molly hadn’t been here in years. The last time I remembered seeing her on the property was before the divorce.
Was I missing something? Why hadn’t Molly come inside my house? Why didn’t she come out here?
Divorcees were allowed a reprieve from answering those types of questions. From opening up conversations that would probably only cause pain.
Until they started sleeping together.
Now those questions would be constantly on my mind. They were begging for answers I doubted I’d want to learn. I stepped outside, and for once, the fresh air didn’t offer any kind of peace.
The last truck in the yard pulled out, two guys riding shotgun as Lena, another crew leader, drove away. She smiled as she passed me on the road.
God, I wanted to go with them. To run and hop into the back of that truck and get lost in June for a day. To forget the questions and doubts and just . . . work.
But the office summoned. The bills and schedules couldn’t be ignored. So, I trudged inside, settling for an open window in my office as the only link to the work I actually loved.
I mentally added business manager to my list of potential employees.
Poppy had been brilliant to hire Molly to run the business side of the restaurant. It allowed my sister to be in the kitchen, doing what she loved. I needed a Molly to run Alcott. Except I’d had a Molly to run Alcott and then she’d left.
Or had I chased her away?
I managed to pay three bills before the front door chimed again. I dropped my head, blowing out a long breath. The chances of me getting out of here on time to get to Molly’s were dwindling with each interruption.
The footsteps down the hallway were hesitant. It was probably a customer or potential customer coming in to visit. Hopefully they’d spend enough time looking at the photos in the hallway of our past projects to buy me another minute.
“Come on back,” I called, barreling through one last bill.
I had just clicked the submit button when Molly appeared in the doorway. “Hi.”
I did a double take. “Hey. What are you doing here? Is everything okay with the kids?”
“They’re fine. Do you have a second?”
“Yeah.” I stood as she crossed the room. “Want some water? Or coffee?”
“No, thanks.” She took a seat in one of the chairs across from my desk and clutched her purse in her lap as she looked around the office. “It hasn’t changed much in here.”
I grinned and sat down. “No, I guess not. I was thinking earlier that you haven’t been here in a long time.”
Her eyes dropped to the edge of the desk. “It’s been a while.”
“Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Why did you send them?”
“Send what?”
She looked up. “The letters.”
Letters? We sent out letters to customers in March reminding them that mowing season was right around the corner. Bridget had been ambitious last Christmas and sent out holiday cards. But besides those, I couldn’t think of anything I might have sent Molly.
“What letters?”
She gritted her teeth and dove into her purse. Then she whipped out two white envelopes. “These letters.”
I reached across the desk and took them from her hand. The handwriting on the envelopes wasn’t mine. “These aren’t from me.”
Molly didn’t say a word as I pulled out the folded paper from one. The minute the lined sheet was in my hand, an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach. There was something familiar about it. I peeled the ends apart and that sinking feeling turned to a lead rock.
“Where did you get this?” No one, especially Molly, was ever supposed to see this letter.
“It came last week.”
“Last week?”
“The other one came today.”
I tore into the other envelope like a madman, yanking out the paper and spreading it flat. It was the letter I’d written the night before proposing.
Oh, fuck. “How did you get these?”
“What do you mean, how did I get these?” Molly snapped. “You sent them to me. Why?”
“I didn’t send these to you.”
The word liar was written all over her face.
“Molly, I did not send these.”
“But you wrote them?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I wrote them.” For me. I’d never had any intention of giving Molly these letters.
“I don’t understand.” She sank deeper into the chair. “You wrote these but didn’t send them? So how did they show up in my mailbox?”
“I don’t know.” I ran a hand over my face, rubbing my jaw. The letters were in my closet—or were supposed to be—in a box I hadn’t opened in years. The last time had been after the divorce. I’d dumped my wedding ring in there, shoved it on the top shelf and pretended it didn’t exist.
“It really wasn’t you?” Molly asked.
“It really wasn’t me.”
“Oh.” Something flashed across her face, but before I could make sense of it, she was out of her chair. With her hair swishing across her shoulders, she raced out of the office and down the hallway.
“Molly.” I stood and chased after her, but it was too late. She’d already flown out the front door.
“I’m late for work,” she hollered before getting into her Jeep and driving the hell off Alcott property.
“What the—” I dove for the phone in my pocket, pulling up her name. She couldn’t just leave like that. We had to figure this out. We had to find out who was sending my letters.
My letters. She’d gotten two.
There were more.
Many more.
My knees buckled. Someone had found my letters. Someone was sending them to Molly.
I played it out, each and every letter.
“No. Oh, fuck. No.”
I spun on a heel and sprinted for my office. I swiped the keys off the desk along with my sunglasses, then I bolted outside, locking up the office before running to my truck. I broke every speed limit on my race home.
I tore through my house, rushing to my closet and the box on the top shelf. It was in the exact same place as always. It didn’t look like someone had gone through my house and stolen my most personal belongings.
“Please be here.”
I took it down, tossing the top to the floor. Then fear turned to reality. It wasn’t just those two letters missing. They were all gone. The only thing remaining was my silver wedding band and a photo of Molly and me kissing after the pastor had pronounced us man and wife.
The box fell from my grasp, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. The ring rolled out and got lost between a pair of tennis shoes.
All of the letters I’d written were gone. Letters I’d written over the snap of almost a decade. The two Molly had gotten were good ones, written in a time we were happy.
But there were more.
If someone was sending her my letters, it was just a matter of time before she received the ones I should have burned. The ones that were raw and angry. The ones I never should have written in the first place and sure as hell never should have kept.