In the Garden Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “That’s what my truck’s for.”

  “Are you trying to be difficult?”

  “Nope. I can do it without any effort at all. How about you?”

  “You don’t want the office, fine. Forget the office.”

  “I already have.”

  “Dandy. But I need an office. I need to know exactly what stock and equipment, what materials you’ll need for this job.” She yanked out her notebook again. “One red maple, one magnolia. Which variety of magnolia?”

  “Southern. Grandiflora gloriosa.”

  “Good choice for the location. One weeping cherry,” she continued, and to his surprise and reluctant admiration, she ran down the entire plan he’d tossed out at her.

  Okay, Red, he thought. Maybe you know a thing or two about the horticulture end of things after all.

  “Yews or winter creeper?”

  He glanced back at the shed, tried both out in his head. Damn if he didn’t think she was right, but he didn’t see why he had to say so right off. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Do, and I’ll want the exact number and specimen type of other stock as you take them.”

  “I’d be able to find you ... in your office?”

  “Just find me.” She turned around, started to march off.

  “Hey, Stella.”

  When she glanced back, he grinned. “Always wanted to say that.”

  Her eyes lit, and she snapped her head around again and kept going.

  “Okay, okay. Jesus. Just a little humor.” He strode after her. “Don’t go away mad.”

  “Just go away?”

  “Yeah, but there’s no point in us being pissed at each other. I don’t mind being pissed as a rule.”

  “I never would’ve guessed.”

  “But there’s no point, right at the moment.” As if he’d just remembered he had them on, he tugged off his work gloves, stuck them finger-first in his back pocket. “I’m doing my job, you’re doing yours. Roz thinks she needs you, and I set a lot of store by Roz.”

  “So do I.”

  “I get that. Let’s try to stay out from under each other’s skin, otherwise we’re just going to give each other a rash.”

  She inclined her head, lifted her eyebrows. “Is this you being agreeable?”

  “Pretty much, yeah. I’m being agreeable so we can both do what Roz pays us to do. And because your kid has a copy of Spider-Man Number 121. If you’re mad, you won’t let him show it to me.”

  Now she tipped down her sunglasses, peered at him over the tops. “This isn’t you being charming, is it?”

  “No, this is me being sincere. I really want to see that issue, firsthand. If I was being charming, I guarantee you’d be in a puddle at my feet. It’s a terrible power I have over women, and I try to use it sparingly.”

  “I just bet.”

  But she was smiling as she got into her car.

  six

  HAYLEY PHILLIPS WAS RIDING ON FUMES AND A DYING transmission. The radio still worked, thank God, and she had it cranked up with the Dixie Chicks blasting out. It kept her energy flowing.

  Everything she owned was jammed into the Pontiac Grandville, which was older than she was and a lot more temperamental. Not that she had much at this point. She’d sold everything that could be sold. No point in being sentimental. Money took you a lot more miles than sentiment.

  She wasn’t destitute. What she’d banked would get her through the rough spots, and if there were more rough spots than she anticipated, she’d earn more. She wasn’t aimless. She knew just where she was going. She just didn’t know what would happen when she got there.

  But that was fine. If you knew everything, you’d never be surprised.

  Maybe she was tired, and maybe she’d pushed the rattling old car farther than it wanted to go that day. But if she and it could just hang on a few more miles, they’d get a break.

  She didn’t expect to get tossed out on her ear. But, well, if she was, she’d just do what needed to be done next.

  She liked the look of the area, especially since she’d skirted around the tangle of highways that surrounded Memphis. On this north edge beyond the city, the land rolled a bit, and she’d seen snatches of the river and the steep bluffs that fell toward it. There were pretty houses—the neat spread of the suburbs that fanned out from the city limits, and now the bigger, richer ones. There were plenty of big old trees, and despite some walls of stone or brick, it felt friendly.

  She sure could use a friend.

  When she saw the sign for In the Garden, she slowed. She was afraid to stop, afraid the old Pontiac would just heave up and die if she did. But she slowed enough to get a look at the main buildings, the space in the security lights.

  Then she took a lot of slow breaths as she kept driving. Nearly there. She’d planned out what she would say, but she kept changing her mind. Every new approach gave her a dozen different scenes to play out in her head. It had passed the time, but it hadn’t gelled for her.

  Maybe some could say that changing her mind was part of her problem. But she didn’t think so. If you never changed your mind, what was the point of having one? It seemed to Hayley she’d known too many people who were stuck with one way of thinking, and how could that be using the brain God gave you?

  As she headed toward the drive, the car began to buck and sputter.

  “Come on, come on. Just a little more. If I’d been paying attention I’d’ve got you gas at the last place.”

  Then it conked on her, half in, half out of the entrance between the brick pillars.

  She gave the wheel a testy little slap, but it was half-hearted. Nobody’s fault but her own, after all. And maybe it was a good thing. Tougher to kick her out if her car was out of gas, and blocking the way.

  She opened her purse, took out a brush to tidy her hair. After considerable experimentation, she’d settled back on her own oak-bark brown. At least for now. She was glad she’d gotten it cut and styled before she’d headed out. She liked the longish sweep of side bangs and the careless look of the straight bob with its varying lengths.

  It made her look easy, breezy. Confident.

  She put on lipstick, powdered off the shine.

  “Okay. Let’s get going.”

  She climbed out, hooked her purse over her shoulder, then started the walk up the long drive. It took money—old or new—to plant a house so far from the road. The one she’d grown up in had been so close, people driving by could practically reach out and shake her hand.

  But she didn’t mind that. It had been a nice house. A good house, and part of her had been sorry to sell it. But that little house outside Little Rock was the past. She was heading toward the future.

  Halfway up the drive, she stopped. Blinked. This wasn’t just a house, she decided as her jaw dropped. It was a mansion. The sheer size of it was one thing—she’d seen big-ass houses before, but nothing like this. This was the most beautiful house she’d ever laid eyes on outside of a magazine. It was Tara and Manderley all in one. Graceful and female, and strong.

  Lights gleamed against windows, others flooded the lawn. As if it were welcoming her. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  Even if it wasn’t, even if they booted her out again, she’d had the chance to see it. That alone was worth the trip.

  She walked on, smelling the evening, the pine and woodsmoke.

  She crossed her fingers on the strap of her purse for luck and walked straight up to the ground-level doors.

  Lifting one of the brass knockers, she gave three firm raps.

  Inside, Stella came down the steps with Parker. It was her turn to walk him. She called out, “I’ll get it.”

  Parker was already barking as she opened the door.

  She saw a girl with straight, fashionably ragged brown hair, a sharply angled face dominated by huge eyes the color of a robin’s egg. She smiled, showing a bit of an overbite, and bent down to pet Parker when he sniffed at her shoes.

  She said, “Hi.”

&nbs
p; “Hi.” Where the hell had she come from? Stella wondered. There was no car parked outside.

  The girl looked to be about twelve. And very pregnant.

  “I’m looking for Rosalind Ashby. Rosalind Harper Ashby,” she corrected. “Is she home?”

  “Yes. She’s upstairs. Come in.”

  “Thanks. I’m Hayley.” She held out a hand. “Hayley Phillips. Mrs. Ashby and I are cousins, in a complicated southern sort of way.”

  “Stella Rothchild. Why don’t you come in, sit down. I’ll go find Roz.”

  “That’d be great.” Swiveling her head back and forth, Hayley tried to see everything as Stella led her into the parlor. “Wow. You’ve just got to say wow.”

  “I did the first time I saw it. Do you want anything? Something to drink?”

  “I’m okay. I should probably wait until ...” She stayed on her feet, wandered to the fireplace. It was like something on a television show, or the movies. “Do you work in the house? Are you, like, the housekeeper?”

  “No. I work at Roz’s nursery. I’m the manager. I’ll just go get Roz. You should sit down.”

  “It’s okay.” Hayley rubbed her pregnant belly. “We’ve been sitting.”

  “Be right back.” With Parker in tow, Stella dashed off.

  She hurried up the stairs, turned into Roz’s wing. She’d only been in there once, when David had taken her on the grand tour, but she followed the sounds of the television and found Roz in her sitting room.

  There was an old black-and-white movie on TV. Not that Roz was watching. She sat at an antique secretary, wearing baggy jeans and a sweatshirt as she sketched on a pad. Her feet were bare, and to Stella’s surprise, her toe-nails were painted a bright candy pink.

  She knocked on the doorjamb.

  “Hmm? Oh, Stella, good. I was just sketching out an idea I had for a cutting garden along the northwest side of the nursery. Thought it might inspire customers. Come take a look.”

  “I’d love to, but there’s someone downstairs to see you. Hayley Phillips. She says she’s your cousin.”

  “Hayley?” Roz frowned. “I don’t have a cousin Hayley. Do I?”

  “She’s young. Looks like a teenager. Pretty. Brown hair, blue eyes, taller than me. She’s pregnant.”

  “Well, for God’s sake.” Roz rubbed the back of her neck. “Phillips. Phillips. My first husband’s grandmother’s sister—or maybe it was cousin—married a Phillips. I think.”

  “Well, she did say you were cousins in a complicated southern sort of way.”

  “Phillips.” She closed her eyes, tapped a finger in the center of her forehead as if to wake up memory. “She must be Wayne Phillips’s girl. He died last year. Well, I’d better go see what this is about.”

  She got up. “Your boys settled down for the night?”

  “Yes, just.”

  “Then come on with me.”

  “Don’t you think you should—”

  “You’ve got a good level head. So come on, bring it with you.”

  Stella scooped Parker up and, hoping his bladder would hold, went downstairs with Roz.

  Hayley turned as they came in. “I think this is the most completely awesome room. It makes you feel cozy and special just to be in it. I’m Hayley. I’m Wayne Phillips’s daughter. My daddy was a connection of your first husband’s, on his mother’s side. You sent me a very nice note of condolence when he passed last year.”

  “I remember. I met him once. I liked him.”

  “So did I. I’m sorry to come this way, without calling or asking, and I didn’t mean to get here so late. I had some car trouble earlier.”

  “That’s all right. Sit down, Hayley. How far along are you?”

  “Heading toward six months. The baby’s due end of May. I should apologize, too, because my car ran out of gas right at the front of your driveway.”

  “We can take care of that. Are you hungry, Hayley? Would you like a little something to eat?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m fine. I stopped to eat earlier. Forgot to feed the car. I have money. I don’t want you to think I’m broke or here for a handout.”

  “Good to know. We should have tea, then. It’s a cool night. Hot tea would be good.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble. And if you’ve got decaffeinated.” She stroked her belly. “Hardest thing about being pregnant’s been giving up caffeine.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Won’t be long.”

  “Thanks, Stella.” Roz turned back to Hayley as Stella went out. “So, did you drive all the way from ... Little Rock, isn’t it?”

  “I did. I like to drive. Like to better when the car’s not acting up, but you have to do what you have to do.” She cleared her throat. “I hope you’ve been well, Cousin Rosalind.”

  “I have been, very well. And you? Are you and the baby doing well?”

  “We’re doing great. Healthy as horses, so the doctor said. And I feel just fine. Feel like I’m getting big as a house, but I don’t mind that, or not so much. It’s kind of interesting. Um, your children, your sons? They’re doing fine?”

  “Yes, they are. Grown now. Harper, that’s my oldest, lives here in the guest house. He works with me at the nursery.”

  “I saw it—the nursery—when I was driving in.” Hayley caught herself rubbing her hands on the thighs of her jeans and made herself stop. “It looks so big, bigger than I expected. You must be proud.”

  “I am. What do you do back in Little Rock?”

  “I worked in a bookstore, was helping manage it by the time I left. A small independent bookstore and coffee shop.”

  “Managed? At your age?”

  “I’m twenty-four. I know I don’t look it,” she said with a hint of a smile. “I don’t mind that, either. But I can show you my driver’s license. I went to college, on partial scholarship. I’ve got a good brain. I worked summers there through high school and college. I got the job initially because my daddy was friends with the owner. But I earned it after.”

  “You said managed. You don’t work there now.”

  “No.” She was listening, Hayley thought. She was asking the right questions. That was something. “I resigned a couple of weeks ago. But I have a letter of recommendation from the owner. I’d decided to leave Little Rock.”

  “It seems a difficult time to leave home, and a job you’re secure in.”

  “It seemed like the right time to me.” She looked over as Stella wheeled in a tea cart. “Now that is just like the movies. I know saying that makes me sound like a hick or something, but I can’t help it.”

  Stella laughed. “I was thinking exactly the same as I loaded it up. I made chamomile.”

  “Thanks. Stella, Hayley was just telling me she’s left her home and her job. I’m hoping she’s going to tell us why she thinks this was the right time to make a couple of drastic moves.”

  “Not drastic,” Hayley corrected. “Just big. And I made them because of the baby. Well, because of both of us. You’ve probably figured out I’m not married.”

  “Your family isn’t supportive?” Stella asked.

  “My mother took off when I was about five. You may not remember that,” she said to Roz. “Or you were too polite to mention it. My daddy died last year. I’ve got aunts and uncles, a pair of grandmothers left, and cousins. Some are still in the Little Rock area. Opinion is ... mixed about my current situation. Thanks,” she added after Roz had poured out and offered her a cup.

  “Well, the thing is, I was awfully sad when Daddy passed. He got hit by a car, crossing the street. Just one of those accidents that you can never understand and that, well, just don’t seem right. I didn’t have time to prepare for it. I guess you never do. But he was just gone, in a minute.”

  She drank tea and felt it soothe her right down to the bones she hadn’t realized were so tired. “I was sad, and mad and lonely. And there was this guy. It wasn’t a one-night stand or anything like that. We liked each other. He used to come in the bookstore, flirt with me. I
used to flirt back. When I was alone, he was comforting. He was sweet. Anyway, one thing led to another. He’s a law student. Then he went back to school, and a few weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know what I was going to do. How I was going to tell him. Or anybody. I put it off for a few more weeks. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

  “And when you did?”

  “I thought I should tell him face-to-face. He hadn’t been coming into the store like he used to. So I went by the college to look him up. Turned out he’d fallen in love with this girl. He was a little embarrassed to tell me, seeing as we’d been sleeping together. But it wasn’t like we’d made each other any promises, or been in love or anything. We’d just liked each other, that’s all. And when he talked about this other girl, he got all lit up. You could just see how crazy he was about her. So I didn’t tell him about the baby.”

  She hesitated, then took one of the cookies Stella had arranged on a plate. “I can’t resist sweets. After I’d thought about it, I didn’t see how telling him would do any of us any good.”

  “That was a very hard decision,” Roz told her.

  “I don’t know that it was. I don’t know what I expected him to do when I went to tell him, except I thought he had a right to know. I didn’t want to marry him or anything. I wasn’t even sure, back that far, that I was going to keep the baby.”

  She nibbled on the cookie while she rubbed a hand gently over the mound of her belly. “I guess that’s one of the reasons I went out there, to talk to him. Not just to tell him about it, but to see what he thought we should do. But sitting with him, listening to him go on about this girl—”

  She stopped, shook her head. “I needed to decide what to do about it. All telling him would’ve done was made him feel bad, or resentful or scared. Mess up his life when all he’d really tried to do was help me through a bad time.”

  “And that left you alone,” Stella pointed out.

  “If I’d told him, I still would’ve been alone. The thing is, when I decided I’d keep the baby, I thought about telling him again, and asked some people how he was doing. He was still with that girl, and they were talking about getting married, so I think I did the right thing. Still, once I started to show, there was a lot of gossip and questions, a lot of looks and whispers. And I thought, What we need is a fresh start. So I sold the house and just about everything in it. And here I am.”