by Alana Terry
“What did Detective Taylor say when he saw the photos?” Grayson shoved a bite into his mouth.
“Not much. He said he’d be in touch if they found anything.” The wind lifted her pretty blonde hair, and he had to focus again.
“So no disgruntled employees. And if it’s vandalism, it’s an odd choice.” Two pieces of information collided in Grayson’s brain. He swallowed the rest of his food as he considered what he should say next. “I told you I was a real estate attorney, but I don’t think I told you I specialize in commercial development. So naturally, my mind goes to land and who owns it.”
Cait nodded and took a sip of her drink.
“I looked into who owned the land around Samashima Farms. It’s an interesting mix of developers and only one other private owner. Do you know if there have been any offers to buy the farm lately?”
She waved the thought away. “There are always offers. Some very good ones. But the farm has been in the family since after World War Two when Makoa’s great-grandfather got out of the Japanese internment camp at Manzanar. It’s important to them that it stay in the family, more so than any financial offer.”
He leaned forward. “So they wouldn’t sell voluntarily. But what would force them to sell? That land is prime for commercial development. Nearly everything around it has been sold and developed.”
Her eyes filled with wariness, confusion, and then understanding. She leaned forward. “Whoa. I hadn’t thought about that. But wait, what that guy did, that wasn’t enough to put them out of business. Not even close. But it could make things uncomfortable.” Her gaze dropped
“True. But maybe it was because you stopped him.”
The color drained from her face, and she sagged in her chair. “So that’s why he trashed my car.”
“It’s possible, yes. Or he wanted to make it look like more vandalism.”
“What do you think he’s going to do next?”
He shook his head. “I wish I knew. Has he given up because you scared him off, or was that just the first of other things he has planned?” He paused. “I do have one more question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Who was the developer that wanted to buy your farmhouse?”
“DiMarco Development. Why do you ask?”
He pressed his lips together. “I’m not sure. But if there’s even the remotest chance that you’re a target, I want to have all the information I can get.”
“What makes you think I am the target?” She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“I’m not sure that you are. But you do work for Samashima Farms, and it was your car he trashed. And you saw him.”
She looked out across the parking lot, her brow furrowed.
He could kick himself. Now she was upset and worried. This was not the way he wanted to have lunch with her. Once again it seemed like his father was right; Grayson couldn’t finish things well without some help.
Chapter 4
CAIT had her routine. Every morning, steaming cup of tea in hand, she stepped into the garden behind her farmhouse. Walking between the raised beds, she touched the leaves, felt the soil, gauged their growth, looked for pests. She could nearly do it in her sleep.
It felt good and right to get back to it now that she had a working rental car and didn’t need a ride to work.
Instead of tea, she had switched to coffee this morning. She needed it today after not sleeping well last night thinking about all that Grayson had told her at lunch. Was she a target? She couldn’t see how. But she startled at every creak the old house made last night, even though they normally were as comforting and familiar as a favorite worn blanket.
He seemed apologetic and a bit regretful that he had told her his concerns. But she assured him that she was glad he had shared them. They were things she would not have thought of. It was kind of him to get involved. He didn’t have to do anything, but he did. That touched her in a place she hadn’t thought about in a long time.
Not to mention he had been too polite to mention the rip in her shirt even though it was difficult to hide.
He had dropped her back at the farm with a promise to get ahold of her over the weekend so he could come see her garden. That was great, but she wasn’t going to hold her breath. Guys said things like that all the time. Still, Grayson seemed different. But it was early days yet.
She was used to her own company. An image flashed through her mind of when she would come home from school to an empty house that would gradually grow darker. She would make a frozen dinner and eat it by the light of the TV and put herself to bed. Sometimes she wondered if her parents even remembered that they had a kid.
So someone who was new in her life would have to go a long way to prove that they wouldn’t forget about her too.
Now what should she do with the information he had given her? The rosemary released its spicy scent as she ran her fingertips across it. She walked through her raised beds looking at her plants, pulling at a young weed here and there. She plucked a few ripe Meyer lemons and some Valencia oranges. She would need to give some away, she had so many. She peered over at her side yard. It could use some work. Maybe tomorrow. Weeding was one of the best ways she knew to mull something over.
But first, she needed to tell the Samashimas what Grayson had told her. Alani would be in the office this morning. Makoa would be out in the fields with the workers, but Alani would call him in. They at least need to know Grayson’s suspicions. Even if they were unfounded. It was possible the Samashimas had information Cait didn’t.
And she had to do one other thing in this week that had been unproductive in the extreme. She had to get more accounts.
CAIT TOSSED HER PURSE on the kitchen counter. She’d love to forget this week. Other than the time she had spent with Grayson, it was an utter wreck. She’d driven down to Laguna Beach to call on half a dozen restaurant managers who she had previously been in contact with who had indicated interest in Samashima Farm’s Farm-to-Table restaurant produce supply program. Not one had bit, not even a nibble.
She kicked her shoes off and slipped on her gardening clogs. To top it off, her car still wasn’t ready. There had been a delay in getting parts. She headed out to a small teak bench in the garden under the fruitless mulberry tree, the sunlight filtering through its branches swaying in the breeze, making shadows dance around her. She had spent a lot of time in her grandma’s backyard laying under the tree, watching the shadows and sunlight play tag.
Her mind drifted back to a familiar memory, one where they were sitting in the backyard, trying to catch a breeze and get out of the hot kitchen where she’d been learning to bake.
“Promise me you won’t forget to check on the cake.” Grandma bent over to look Cait in the eye.
Cait nodded.
Grandma gave her a small smile and grasped Cait’s chin. “Promise me you’ll read your Bible every day. Promise me you’ll check on the garden, even in the winter. Promise me you’ll teach someone else all that I’ve taught you.”
Cait nodded. “I promise.” She’d do whatever Grandma said. She knew so much. But why was she being so serious today?
Now, Cait’s eyes filled with tears. Looking back, Cait understood that Grandma had known Cait’s parents were getting divorced. She wanted Cait focused on the good in her life and the things she knew how to do. Grandma had been a wise woman, something Cait appreciated more as she got older.
What would Grandma do with all of this? The job, the vandal, her house’s electrical system. Grayson.
She’d pray, that’s what she would do.
Cait took a deep breath and let it all out, asking God to lift the weight that pushed her shoulders down with worry and to give her wisdom. Wiping her eyes, she took a final deep breath and headed inside. Once in the kitchen, she flipped on the TV to listen to the local news while she rummaged through the fridge.
The newscaster’s voice came out of the TV. “Have you seen this man? The Laguna Vista Police Department r
eleased these images today of a man suspected of vandalizing Samashima Farms on Sunday.”
Cait whipped around and caught the pictures she took flashing across the TV screen.
The newscaster spoke about the damage to the farm and asked viewers to call in if they had any information.
Slumping on the kitchen stool, Cait put her head in her hands. This was going to ruin her chance of getting any new accounts to sign up. What a perfect mess of a week.
GRAYSON HUNG UP THE phone and rubbed his hand across his face. That was the fifth voice mail he’d gotten. He glanced at the time. It was after five. No wonder no one was answering.
But was it more than that? No return emails or phone calls. He needed to get the key players to at least listen to his proposal, now that he’d finished it, or this project wasn’t going to happen. And he was running out of time.
When he was poking around the land owners’ rolls to see about Samashima Farms, he noticed that another key property had changed ownership. To DiMarco Development.
It wasn’t surprising that DiMarco Development kept popping up. They were a big player and key to his project. But was it a coincidence that they had just bought land adjacent to Samashima Farms and were responsible for the development around Cait’s farmhouse?
Probably. Besides, if anything shady was going on with them, his whole development project would fall apart.
A cold chill shot through him. That couldn’t happen. He couldn’t even think about this project not coming together.
He leaned back in his chair. He needed to get out of the office, but he didn’t particularly feel like heading home to his townhouse. He wished he had something like Cait’s farmhouse to work on or another project car in his garage.
He could head over to his folks and get dinner out of it. Yep, that was a good plan.
Twenty minutes later, he walked through the front door of his folks’ house. Smelled like meatloaf and mashed potatoes. His stomach rumbled.
“Hi, Mom.” He hugged Mom around the waist and kissed her cheek. “Smells delicious. Hope you don’t mind that I invited myself over.”
“Of course not. There’s always enough to go around. But you can set the table. Your brother is out back with your dad.”
“Daniel’s here?”
“Yes, he brought the most adorable little dog with him. He and your dad are playing with him in the backyard.”
He looked out the dining room window. Daniel was throwing a ball to a small dog with a shaggy, coppery coat while Dad watched.
Grabbing the plates and silverware, he said, “So, did he get another dog?” He began setting the table, the routine familiar to him since he was a boy.
“No, that one belongs to his boss, but he’s trying to get rid of it. He can tell you the whole story at dinner.”
The slider opened, and Dad and Daniel came in.
“Go wash up and we’ll eat,” Mom called from the kitchen.
Daniel dropped a grass-coated tennis ball by the back door and the little dog followed him in. “Hey, bro. Looks like we both invited ourselves for dinner.” The dog plopped on the tile, panting, paws stretched out.
“Can’t beat Mom’s meatloaf.” Grayson set the last place setting.
Soon Dad joined them, and they all sat, said grace, and dug in. Hot and savory meatloaf melted in his mouth, and his shoulders relaxed. This was the best part of the whole day. A great ending to a mixed week.
He turned to Daniel. “What’s with the dog?”
Daniel grimaced as he chewed. “My boss’s dog is a pure-bred Yorkie. He breeds her with other papered dogs and sells her puppies. But I guess she got out, and he didn’t know she was pregnant until it was too late. Since he can’t sell them, he’s been giving them away. But this one came back, and he’s trying to find a home for him.” He reached over and squeezed Grayson’s shoulder. “You want a little dog, don’t you? I told my boss I thought I could find him a home. It would score me some big points.”
Grayson shrugged off Daniel’s grip. “Really? What would I do with a dog? I’m gone all day.”
“Yeah, but you live close enough to come home at lunch.”
He did, but that wasn’t the point. Daniel always got Grayson to get on board with his schemes and then took the credit while Grayson did the grunt work. The dog must have known they were talking about him. He trotted over to Grayson and nudged his leg. He looked part terrier, but his coat was more wiry and he had a cute little pig nose. A funny-looking little dog. Grayson reached down to pet him.
“What’s his name?”
“Cam. Maybe short for Cameron? You could change it, I’m sure.”
Cam’s ears perked up. Or tried to. One still folded over a bit. He clearly knew his name.
Grayson shouldn’t ask any more questions, but he couldn’t help himself. “How old is he?”
“Four months. Fixed, has all his shots, and he’s housebroken. Mostly.”
Sure he was. Grayson sighed.
After dinner, he and Daniel helped Mom with the dishes while Dad turned on the news. The puppy trotted around their feet, mostly getting in the way. Grayson heard the newscaster say, “Have you seen this man? The Laguna Vista Police Department released these images today of a man suspected of vandalizing Samashima Farms on Sunday.”
He joined Dad in the family room just as Cait’s photos flashed across the screen. He waited for the report to end. Seemed like the police didn’t have any new information. At least none that they were sharing. Had Cait known they were going to air the vandal’s photo?
“I know something about that story.” He sunk back into the deep leather couch, the cool leather seeping through his dress pants and shirt. The puppy jumped on his lap. Grayson petted him while glaring at a grinning Daniel who plopped next to him.
Mom joined them, and they listened while he told about knowing Cait from choir, giving her a ride, and then what he’d found out about the property.
“That poor girl!” Mom shook her head. “I can’t imagine how scared she must have been coming across that man. She’s lucky he didn’t try to attack her instead of just smashing up her car.”
He nodded. “I’ve thought that too. She’s a pretty amazing woman, though. You should see the farmhouse she’s rehabbing, mostly by herself.” He told them of her projects and the progress she’d made. “I plan on heading over there tomorrow to see her gardens.”
“Do you think she’s in any danger still?” Mom asked. “If that man knows she took his picture, if he figures out who she is?”
“I’ve wondered about that myself. I’m just not sure what to do about it.”
Dad looked over from his recliner. “Seems like you’ve done an awful lot for a girl you hardly know. Are you sure this isn’t another one of your lost causes?” He glanced at the dog, though Grayson didn’t know why since he hadn’t agreed to take the dog.
He pushed down the irritation. Dad always thought Grayson couldn’t finish any big project on his own and that he was a sucker for things that were beyond help. Yes, there had been a few projects when he was younger that he’d had to give up on. Or that Daniel had to help him with.
But he hadn’t appreciated Dad stepping in and finishing his Pinewood Derby race car in Boy Scouts. Grayson would have finished it on his own. Instead of the blocky, paint-dripped cars all his friends had, his was smooth, rounded, and professionally painted. Clearly not his own work.
But he’d had his own moment of victory with the classic ’69 Charger that sat in his garage. The one Dad had passed on as being beyond saving. Now it was fully restored and sat next to its modern counterpart.
At times like this, though, it seemed like Dad still thought of him as a twelve-year-old. He hoped that this development project would put that image to rest for good.
He swallowed to make sure his voice wasn’t tight. “She’s a friend from church that needs some help that I can provide. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Plus, I’ve been interested in her for a whil
e, so this is a good opportunity to get to know her better.”
“Want some dessert?” Mom stood. “I have blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream.”
“Sounds perfect.” He sighed.
Mom patted his knee. “You have such a good heart, always wanting to help people.” She patted the dog’s head. “I think he likes you.”
Dad grimaced. “And getting taken advantage of, as well.”
“I don’t think that’s the case here, Dad.” Grayson hoped that Cait could meet his parents someday, if things continued progressing between them. But this was not the impression he wanted them to have of her. And all the blueberry pie and ice cream in the world wouldn’t make that bitter taste go away.
Chapter 5
CAIT’S phone dinged, and she tugged off her gardening glove before reaching for it in her back pocket. She perched on the edge of her wheeled garden cart studying the progress she had made. The side yard was looking good. The soil was ready to be worked, and then the fun part came: adding plants and flowers. She stretched out her legs to ease the ache.
It was a text from Grayson: U available? I’d love a tour of your garden & I can bring lunch. Charo Chicken ok?
She grinned and started to reply before she realized she would need a shower. Dirt rimmed her fingernails, even through the gloves. Though the day was cool, her shirt stuck to her back.
She texted back: Sounds great! Give me an hour?
See you then!
She gathered up her tools and stashed them under the wheeled cart’s seat before tugging the whole thing back into the garage. On the back porch, she toed off her gardening clogs and headed to the kitchen sink, scrubbing her hands.
Some strawberries and cream would be a nice way to end lunch. She had just enough time to cut some up and let them sit in a little sugar to make a nice syrup. For working for a strawberry farm, she never got tired of eating them. Having an unlimited supply—particularly of the ones that weren’t pretty enough to sell—was one of the perks.