“You think you two will make a trip up there after the honeymoon?” Sophie suggested as she took the empty breakfast plates to the sink to rinse off. “I know Scott would love to meet you and introduce you to his wife and new daughter.”
Sophie never wanted to push her brothers into a deeper relationship. She couldn’t force something that just wasn’t there. But she knew Caroline’s heart and her desire for reconciliation between the two men, and she hoped Caroline could be just a little bit of that familial glue, too.
“I’ve talked to Derek about it, but he’s not budging.” She looked at the floor when she said in a hushed, guarded tone, “They still haven’t even RSVP’d for the wedding, Soph.”
“Probably just trying to work things out for a sitter for Aimee. I know Derek and Scott have had their disagreements over the years, but this is a big day. A huge one. I’m certain Scott wouldn’t miss it.”
“I hope you’re right,” was all she replied as her gaze switched from the floor to the front bay window which took in all of Hickory Road. Squinting, she craned her neck forward. “Hey, Soph. You aren’t expecting company, are you?”
Sophie pushed back the kitchen café curtain, although she didn’t have a good view of the walkway, the myrtle hedge lining the path serving as a leafy blockade. “No. Why?”
“Because there is an incredibly handsome man carrying a duffle bag walking up to the house right this very second, and since I already have a handsome man of my own, I figure this one must be for you.”
2
Cole
THE TIRE BLOWOUT on Highway 50 wasn’t in Cole Blankenship’s plans, but it seemed to be par for the course lately. After two delayed flights—one which was later altogether cancelled—a single day of travel had turned into three. The hotel the airline put him up in was fine, but its immediate proximity to the airport made for constant noise that not even the most industrial of earplugs could touch. He was groggy—bordering on cranky—and when the car swerved erratically as the tire shredded into oblivion, Cole was admittedly too tired to even see his life flash before his eyes. It just sort of jogged by, a string of somewhat uneventful occurrences that made up the sum of his existence.
But this trip out to California—this would be the game changer. He had an innate sense about it. For the last five years, Cole had worked under his father, Martin Blankenship, as the junior landscape architect at their family-run Nashville design firm. While his dad often praised Cole’s work and ingenuity, he had yet to give him the lead on any major or notable projects. This opportunity to not only design, but oversee the entire execution of the Backyard and Beyond Summer Showcase project was his big break. It had to be. Cole could only live in his father’s shadow for so long before he either became eclipsed by it, or burst out and shone all on his own.
Once the car had slowed to a stop on the shoulder of the freeway, Cole made sure to shoot up a quick prayer of gratitude for his spared life, and then set right to work changing the tire, since his driver admitted to having no prior experience doing so. Cole’s khakis and button down collared shirt weren’t the best attire for this sort of labor, but they’d have to do. He rolled up his sleeves to get to work. When he popped open the trunk to locate the tire jack and spare, he was surprised to see a flower-printed duffle bag wedged next to the tools.
“Yours?” he’d asked the driver, raising it up.
“Nope,” was the guy’s reply. “Someone must’ve left it in there.”
Having had his share of lost luggage, Cole was familiar with just how frustrating it could be. Years back, on a return trip from Australia, the collection of authentic boomerangs he’d purchased for his young neighbor went missing. He’d held out hope that they’d do what they were created to and fling themselves back his direction, but they never did find their way.
By the looks of this particular bag, it appeared to belong to a woman. Even though Cole was currently single, he’d once dated a woman that spent over two-hundred dollars on her cosmetics alone. It blew his mind. Though the bag was small, there was no telling the value of the items inside.
Once the car was fitted with the spare, Cole returned to his passenger seat position, duffle bag squeezed between his knees and the dashboard. Unzipping the bag, he tried to search through it as noninvasively as possible, but there was an inherent snooping that went along with rummaging through someone else’s stuff that couldn’t be avoided. Reaching into the luggage, he pulled out a leather notebook and rested it on top. It was thick, extra papers folded and shoved in between the bound pages, and a leather strip wound around the entirety of the journal. Tugging on a strand, he undid the strap and opened to the first page.
This Journal Belongs To:
Sophie Potters
395 Hickory Road
Fairvale, CA 95663
“Hey,” he said, turning to the driver. “Do you mind if we take a little detour?”
* * *
THE HOUSE WASN’T far from his original destination, which was a relief. While he’d wanted to get settled in, Cole knew he wouldn’t sleep well if he did nothing to reunite the mystery bag with its rightful owner. This would be his good deed for the day, then he could crash and catch up on the much needed sleep that had alluded him the previous nights.
Lifting his hand to knock on the cheerful mint green door, Cole startled when it swung wide open. His fist hung in the air.
“Hi there,” a small woman with a contagious grin greeted. “Can I help you?”
Cole dropped his hand. “Um, yes. Sorry. I’m looking for a Miss Sophie Potters.”
The woman backed up and hollered into the depths of the house, “Soph! It’s for you. Told you!”
She left the door open while she retrieved her friend, and Cole breathed in the smell of a homemade breakfast, realizing it had been too long since his last decent meal. His mind wandered, thoughts of food making him delirious with hunger, when a woman he presumed to be Sophie stepped into the door frame. She twisted a red and white checkered dishtowel between her hands, then threw it over her shoulder, drawing Cole’s gaze up to her face. She was arrestingly beautiful, and even though her wide green eyes looked puzzled, there was a soft sincerity that made her seem instantly approachable.
“Hey there. How can I help you?” she asked, no hint of the wariness or distrust one normally had in their tone when speaking to a complete stranger. She brushed at her auburn bangs with the back of her hand to push them from curtaining her eyes. She was taller than her friend, her skin a rich golden mixture of both sun and heredity, and dark freckles peppered across her nose.
Cole’s words lodged in his throat, his foggy head unable to recall the purpose for his visit, her unexpected beauty throwing him for a loop.
“Oh! My bag! Thank you so much!” she blurted, her eyes locking on the luggage hanging from his shoulder. “How did you find it?”
“Right.” Cole yanked off the duffel bag and thrust it out in offering. “It was in the trunk of the car I rode in from the airport. I discovered it when I changed the tire.”
“That explains it then.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you have grease marks all over an otherwise perfectly pleated outfit,” she said, a lift in her voice that suggested a laugh she fought to suppress.
Cole looked down at his pants, suddenly self-conscious about his disheveled appearance. “I apologize; I’m usually more put together than this.”
“I’m not,” Sophie said. That held-in laugh finally burst forth, sounding the way a blast of crisp ocean air felt: alive and invigorating. “You caught me on a good day. Most of the time, I’ve got dirt up to my elbows and compost strewn about my hair.”
“Oh yeah? What exactly is your line of work?”
“Flower farmer. Just a few miles up the road, actually. You?”
“Landscape architect.”
Sophie nodded. “And do you have a name, Mr. Landscape Architect?”
Immediately, Cole’s face heated, embarrassed that
he hadn’t properly introduced himself to the woman whose doorstep he showed up on completely uninvited. He shoved his hand into the gap between them. “Cole Blankenship.”
Without hesitation, Sophie took his proffered hand and shook it with firm confidence. “Nice to meet you, Cole. Sophie Potters, although it sounds like you already knew that.”
“I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I was just hoping to find something with your name on it so I could get this back into your hands.”
“I’m actually so glad you did,” she said. “That journal in there means so much to me and when I realized I might be forever without it, well, I can’t even tell you how that made me feel.”
“Hopefully it was only a short amount of time that you had to feel that way, then,” Cole said. He smiled and their eyes locked. His stomach flipped, but this time not from hunger. It felt like he should pull from their gaze, but Sophie didn’t seem rushed to, her kind eyes holding his for longer than necessary. “Well, I should get going.” Cole spun on his heel, breaking their stare, only then realizing his predicament when he looked back at the empty street. “Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I told the driver he could go, so I don’t actually have a ride.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To a jobsite for a new project of mine. I honestly haven’t even checked it out yet. If it’s not obvious, I’m not from here.”
“I gathered as much,” Sophie said, her full lips hooked up on just one side. “I’m happy to give you a ride, Cole. Think of it as my ‘thank you’ for making sure my bag found its way back to me.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” While the thought of spending more time with Sophie was an appealing one, Cole didn’t want to impose more than he already had.
“It’s no bother at all. And you didn’t ask, I offered. I was just about to head out, anyway.”
He felt like he was overstepping, but Cole would be lying if he said he wasn’t grateful for Sophie’s unexpected generosity. “You sure it’s not an inconvenience?”
“Was it an inconvenience for you to bring my bag to me?”
“No, of course not. It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“And this does, too. So let me do it.” Sophie smiled again. “Meet me by the garage in just a second. I’ll be right out.”
Cole lingered on the stoop a few moments after the front door closed shut. The property was a postage stamp in size, but the curb appeal was off the charts. Window planters boasted clusters of vibrant blooms, bursts of color splashed against the gray siding like splatters from a painter’s brush. The yard was uniform in layout, a lush green patch of grass on either side of the hedge-lined walkway. Cole followed the offshoot of concrete that led to the single car driveway, and he suddenly realized he had his work cut out for him with his upcoming project. If California homes were this quaint and cozy, he’d have to rework his plan for the Backyard and Beyond Summer Showcase. What he’d originally had in mind was opulent and eccentric. He was embarrassed to admit that his perception of California had been shaped mostly by Hollywood with its high society appeal and glamour. Sophie’s home, however, felt akin to middle America: inviting and approachable, much like its owner.
The motor to the roll-up garage door caught Cole’s attention first, but the low, gravelly rumble of the truck starting up inside caught him off-guard.
“Hop on in!” Sophie shouted as Cole stepped into the garage. “The handle sticks a bit, so just give it a good yank.”
This day was full of surprises, Sophie’s vintage truck the most recent surprise of all. Cole’s breath caught in his chest and he needed to audibly clear his throat in order to gather his composure.
“Is this yours?” he asked as he opened the door, pulling hard as instructed. He stepped up into the cab.
“What? You think a girl can’t drive a truck?” It wasn’t an accusation, but more of a jab at Cole’s assumption.
“No, I definitely think you can drive it. It’s just that I own one nearly identical to this. Haven’t seen many of these on the road lately.”
“No joke?” Angling her gaze over her shoulder as she backed down the narrow driveway, Sophie’s eyes connected with Cole’s when she swung back. “You have a ’53 GMC pickup?”
“’54 actually, but yeah, I do. Hasn’t run for almost five years now, though. Just sits in the garage gathering dust and an impressive collection of spider webs.”
“Oh, mine collects the same, even though I drive it every day. Once popped the hood to find an entire squirrel family taking up residence in the engine.”
“I bet that was a startle!”
“More for the squirrels than for me. I screamed so loud and dropped the hood on one of their tails. I felt awful for that poor innocent little rodent.”
“I don’t think it’s so innocent to mess with the engine of this sort of vehicle. It’s a classic.”
“Indeed, it is.”
The two sat in companionable silence for several moments. There was a distinct familiarity in riding shotgun in Sophie’s truck. Over the years, the hours spent in the office drafting up landscape designs swallowed up any amount of time available to restore Cole’s truck. He hadn’t thought much of it until that moment in Sophie’s cab, realizing the amount of potential his own vehicle had. Were he younger, it would’ve been a project he would have loved to work on with his dad. That was the sort of thing he’d seen in many movies growing up. Fathers and sons restoring their relationship while they restored old, broken down vehicles. It wasn’t as though his relationship with his dad was a broken one, but it was certainly in need of a tune-up.
Sophie slowed the vehicle in anticipation of the upcoming four-way stop. She turned to Cole. “You have an address?”
Cole reached into his pocket to grab his phone. He unlocked the screen and pulled up his email, reading out loud, “439 Harbor Oaks Way.”
Sophie’s features froze. “Harbor Oaks Way?”
“Yep. You know it?”
Cole could see her forced swallow. “Yeah, I do, actually.” She flicked on her blinker. “It’s about a ten-minute drive from here.”
“That’s good to know,” Cole said. He noted the grocery store and gas station as they drove, taking a mental snapshot of their locations in town. Once he got a rental car of his own, he figured it would be important to know where to shop and where to fill up.
“What exactly is it you’ll be doing there, if you don’t mind me asking?” Sophie questioned.
“I don’t mind you asking at all,” Cole answered. “I’m working with the homeowner to completely redesign their backyard landscaping. New outdoor patio. Huge water feature. All new trees, plants, and shrubs. We’ll be entering the Backyard and Beyond Summer Showcase at the end of next month. You heard of it?”
Sophie just nodded, seemingly unable to marshal any expression other than the blank one that still coated her features. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” Her gaze stayed fixed out the windshield. “And just how beyond the backyard will it go?”
Cole shrugged. “I’ve only seen pictures, but from what the owner has shared with me, it’s pretty much my own blank canvas. They’ve given me free reign over the entire property. It’s a landscape architect’s dream job, to be honest. I’m a bit like a kid in a candy store with this particular project.”
“Free reign,” Sophie repeated, as though she needed to say the words again to understand them fully.
“Right? Pretty exciting.”
“Pretty something,” she said, this time even quieter.
They didn’t converse much more after that, and Cole figured Sophie was just allowing him the quiet to take in the new-to-him town and surroundings. When they pulled up to the property, he expected their goodbye to be cordial—at least as friendly as their welcome had been. But when Sophie just offered a tight-lipped smile, Cole worried he had inadvertently offended her.
“Thanks again for the ride,” he said, wishing he
had luggage of his own to fiddle with, but he’d sent his belongings out the week prior in order to ensure smoother travels. Although that hadn’t really turned out to be the case.
Sophie’s smile lifted unnaturally higher onto her cheeks, but didn’t reach her eyes the way a sincere grin would have.
“Okay, then,” Cole tried again as he stepped out of the vehicle. “Hope to see you around town sometime.”
Still smiling her plastic grin, Sophie just nodded and then pulled the truck away.
3
Sophie
SHE COULDN’T BELIEVE it. Sacramento County was huge. There were more usable acres than Sophie could ever comprehend. Cole could work for any number of landowners, yet some act of unjust serendipity led him to the one patch of land that actually meant something to her.
Her eyes had welled with tears the moment he uttered the address. In truth, she always knew her setup was too good to be true. The McAllisters had let her rent the land for nearly a song. For the first year, they operated without a contract. Not even a handshake—just an understanding that Sophie would tuck her rent check into a lovely little bouquet settled neatly onto the McAllister’s front porch the first of each month.
Sophie’s father had prodded her to at least get the agreement in writing. For years, that was in the form of chicken scratch on a donut shop napkin. Last year, however, when Sophie took on more responsibilities with the Farmers’ Market, she decided to get her legal ducks in a row. She had a land lease drafted up and Kelly McAllister had gladly signed it, stating she couldn’t even picture the land anymore without Sophie’s beautiful flowers dotting it.
In the Market for Love Page 2