Apparently, at some point in the last 365 days, all that had changed.
Sophie knew of the Backyard and Beyond competition. In fact, her middle brother, Derek, covered it yearly for his television station, interviewing the different landscape architects throughout the duration of the event. Sophie couldn’t deny the beauty in many of the finished projects. But she’d never heard of anyone hiring out of state talent for the local event. She wondered if that was even allowed. She’d have to consult the rulebook in hopes of discovering some forgotten loophole. She’d do almost anything to keep from having her rented soil torn up and landscaped by the likes of Cole Blankenship.
She hadn’t intended to come across as rude, but she figured her silence conveyed only that. She just knew if she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes would take that as permission to open up the floodgates of emotion. She wasn’t typically a crier, but something about being caught so unbelievably off-guard caused her to tear up and she didn’t want a complete stranger to see her in that state of vulnerability. No, she would wait until she was by herself before she let her emotions get the best of her.
And she did just that after she returned to her townhome, but not in the form of crying. She marched straight into the kitchen, yanked the half-consumed carton of mint-chocolate-chip from the freezer, and hunkered down on the living room couch to eat her emotions instead.
The first spoonful took the edge off just a bit. The second shaved off even more. By the third, Sophie no longer wanted to run Cole over with her truck. In fairness, she just wanted to bump him a little bit, not completely mow him down. By the time the carton of ice cream was entirely gone, Sophie felt much lighter, but that could’ve been the sugar rush contributing to her unnaturally euphoric state.
What would she do without her flowers? It wasn’t as though she could just find another place to farm. She knew she had negotiated an incredibly favorable lease, a deal she wouldn’t likely be able to strike up anywhere else. Could it all really be taken away so quickly, and without any say on her part?
She didn’t have time to mull it over fully, as the day had gotten away from her and when she glanced at the clock, she startled to realize she had less than fifteen minutes to meet her newest clients for a wedding consultation. For a fleeting moment, she contemplated cancelling, but Sophie knew that throwing herself into her work was the only real way she’d be able to block out the afternoon’s disappointing turn of events.
She gathered her binders, slung her purse over her shoulder, and jumped into the truck to head back into town. Other than her flower field, Heirloom Coffee was her favorite little spot in Fairvale. A high school friend had opened it years back, and Sophie loved supporting other small business owners wherever she could. The shop also displayed Sophie’s flowers on their bar and tabletops, and Sophie knew many of her clients came to her through way of Heirloom Coffee.
Like most days, the shop was packed, so she had to circle the parking lot twice before a spot opened up. She hadn’t accounted for those extra minutes, and her clients were already seated with their beverages in hand when she pushed open the coffee house door, the bell above chiming her tardy arrival.
“I’m so sorry!” Sophie said in a flurried rush as she unloaded her binder and books onto the café table. The young bride and groom-to-be stood to greet her. “I thought I gave myself enough time, but I always underestimate the parking situation here.”
“No worries at all,” Marie Connors said, leaning over the table for a hug. She smiled brightly. “We just got here. Go grab yourself something to drink. We’re happy to wait.”
Sophie glanced over to the barista bar, noticing a line several people deep. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get something later when there’s a lull. Let’s get started, shall we?”
* * *
THERE WAS NOTHING more rewarding than hitting a project completely out of the park. Sophie had been in tune to her clients’ requests, and she knew they would love her ideas for their late May wedding. She had talked to several of her flower farmer friends to make sure she could secure the varietals she had in mind, and once she knew it would be a go, she hit the ground running.
She watched the bride’s eyes light up with each sketch she slipped across the table for approval. They had requested a rustic theme, and Sophie knew the Mason jar centerpieces, filled with asters, zinnias, and delicate Queen Anne’s Lace filler would be right in line with their vision for the big day. She drew two possible renderings for the arbor planned for the altar, and she was so pleased when they chose the one with boughs of eucalyptus. It was the least expensive of the two options, but Sophie didn’t care about that. It was never about money for her, even though the flower farm was her livelihood. She genuinely wanted her clients to have the wedding of their dreams. That she could be even a small part of sharing in that dream was payment enough. Unfortunately, though, she couldn’t pay her bills in fulfilled dreams.
“I want to make sure you’re still okay if I work with a few other farms to secure all the flowers and greenery we’ll need,” Sophie said as she wrapped up the meeting. “Everything will still be one-hundred-percent locally grown, but I don’t currently have all of these specific flowers we discussed growing on my land.” She paused, unable to stop herself before saying, “I’m not sure I’ll have anything growing on my land, actually.”
Marie’s eyes went doe-wide. “What’s happening with your flowers?”
Her fiancé, Peter, took ahold of his bride’s hand, panic flashing across his face, too. “Is everything okay with the farm, Sophie?”
She waved them both off, though their concern was endearing. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even said anything. That was really unprofessional of me.” She could feel those persistent tears creeping their way back into her eyes. She blinked rapidly. “I’m not even exactly sure what will end up happening, but apparently the McAllisters have decided to participate in the Backyard and Beyond Summer Showcase this year.”
“And you think they’ll take out your flowers?” Marie gasped audibly. She clasped her chest. “That would be terrible!”
“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t feel good about it.”
“You do have a lease agreement, though, yes?” Peter asked. His brows tightened together and his statement came across equally scolding and concerned.
“I do, but I feel like it’s already a done deal.”
“Not if you have a signed contract. I’d be happy to take a look at it for you.”
Sophie remembered that Peter had recently passed the bar, and though she was grateful for his offer, something about seeking legal advice made her stomach twist painfully with apprehension.
“As long as you have a signed lease, they can’t just take the land from you. Not without a fight, at least.”
Sophie wasn’t up for fighting, and she certainly wasn’t up for a legal battle. Expelling a breath, she looked over her shoulder, noticing the line had dwindled down over the course of their conversation. She sure could use a drink, if only a caffeinated one.
She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m going to go grab myself something real quick. Can I refresh anyone’s cup while I’m at it?”
Both Marie and Peter waved her off, and the couple flipped through Sophie’s sketches again while she gathered her wallet from inside her purse and slipped into line. She appreciated Peter’s offer for help, but she couldn’t let her thoughts travel down a road that led to the county courthouse. No, she’d have to come up with a different way to solve this problem. Kelly McAllister was a reasonable person. Surely she could plan a brunch date with Kelly and the two could discuss just what this backyard remodel meant for the farm. Maybe there was a way for both to co-exist peacefully.
Stepping up in line, Sophie studied the decorative chalkboard listing seasonal drinks. While the lavender mocha had been her go-to in recent weeks, she couldn’t resist the appeal of the vanilla rose latte which was the current featured drink on the sign. Sophie found it
funny that even her preferred coffee beverages involved flowers in some way. She was nothing if not predictably consistent in her tastes.
“Hey you.”
Startled by the sound, Sophie dropped her wallet and it clattered to the floor, coins spilling out like disoriented ants scurrying across the checkered tile. When she bent down to pick up her mess, the blue eyes peering out through black-framed glasses met hers for the second time that day.
“Cole!” she said, more of a gasp than a greeting. She scrambled to gather her belongings and her composure, failing to do either with any amount of distinguishable grace.
“Didn’t think I’d get to see you again so quickly,” Cole said, his mouth doing the same annoyingly charming upturn it did earlier when Sophie had tried so hard not to open hers to say goodbye. She knew more than just words would come out if she had. Twin dimples pressed into his cheeks and Sophie’s gaze stuck there against her will. “I’m glad to run into you, because is it just me, or did we leave things a little weird back in the truck?”
“We left things just fine. Totally fine. Speaking of, I should probably get back to my clients.” Sophie jumped out of line, making quick backward movements like she was doing the moonwalk across the coffee shop floor. She bumped into a nearby chair with her backside.
“But you haven’t even ordered anything,” Cole stammered. His features narrowed in confusion.
“I wasn’t planning to!” she called back. She knew she wasn’t making any sense, but she had to get out of the conversation.
Sophie flipped around, raced back to the table, and dropped into her chair like a sack of potatoes. Marie and Peter glanced up from the binder.
“You alright?” Marie tilted her head.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just ran into someone.”
“Would that someone be the guy whose eyes haven’t left you since you came back to the table?” Peter asked. He lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip. “Because he’s still looking at you.”
Sophie covered her own eyes with her hands, hoping to hide, or better yet, disappear entirely. “Is he? Seriously?”
“Yep. Do you happen to know him?”
“Know him? Not really. The only thing I know about him is that he’s the reason I might not have a flower season this year.”
Marie’s mouth fell open. “No way.”
“Yes, way. Unless I can find a way to keep the showcase from happening. Or, at the very least, keep the McAllisters from participating in it.”
With her back to the line, Sophie couldn’t see him approaching, but the wide-eyes of her clients peering over her shoulder gave away Cole’s proximity. She felt his looming presence at her back. Something about that made her insides quiver in discomfort.
“Since you got out of line so quickly and all, I figured I would get you something. Vanilla rose latte?” A cardboard cup lowered over her shoulder and into view. Sophie took the drink, albeit hesitantly. It frustrated her to no end that he had gotten her coffee order correct without even trying.
“Thank you,” she offered, shrugging, though sincerity was completely absent from her tone.
“Hi, all,” Cole said. He thrust his hand across the table and shoved his way into their meeting. “I’m Cole Blankenship, a new friend of Sophie’s.”
Well, if that wasn’t incredibly presumptuous.
Peter rose to stand, pressing his tie to his stomach as he did so and offering up his free hand in a shake. “Nice to meet you, Cole. I’m Peter Niles, Sophie’s lawyer.”
Even behind his stylish glasses, Sophie could see Cole’s eyes bulge, and that was deeply satisfying in the guiltiest way.
“Lawyer?”
“Yes, sir.”
The two men mirrored one another, a silent standoff in the middle of the coffee shop. Marie smirked at Sophie, then tacked on a quick, but perceptible, wink.
“You in some sort of legal trouble, Soph?” Cole asked.
“It’s Soph-ie.” She settled her cardboard cup onto the table with enough force to send coffee droplets spraying through the small lid opening and onto her blouse. Grasping for a napkin, she dabbed at it quickly. “And no. Not yet, at least.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Why this stranger—albeit a handsome one—was suddenly acting like a long-lost friend, Sophie couldn’t figure. “Definitely not.”
“Alright, well, I’m sorry to hear about your situation.” Stepping back and bending in a slight bow, Cole retreated from the table. “I hope to run into you again soon.” He made friendly eye contact with Sophie and her clients, not that they deserved it. The trio had been nothing but clipped in both tone and conduct. “Nice to meet you all.”
For a fleeting moment, Sophie felt a twinge of remorse for snubbing Cole twice in one day—within one afternoon, no less. Surely he deserved the courtesy of a goodbye, but she couldn’t muster the ability to utter one. She just wanted him gone.
“Okay, then,” Cole said, maintaining his grin. “See you around.” He saluted in a half-wave and made way for the door.
Once out of earshot, Sophie blew out a breath. “Ugh,” she groaned, eyes rolling.
“I meant it when I said I’d be happy to take a look at your contract, Sophie,” Peter offered once more. “But judging by the way he was looking at you, I think that man would be pretty easy for you to negotiate with all on your own. I get the idea he’d like to get to know you more, and I doubt he wants that to take place in a court of law.”
That statement made Sophie’s stomach flip, and she wasn’t sure if it was out of flattery or disgust. Evidently, that was a very fine line when it came to Cole Blankenship.
4
Cole
“I WANT TO win at any and all costs,” Kelly McAllister said. The statement sounded ludicrous, like it belonged coming out of the mouth of a corrupt businessman and not a middle-aged homemaker. “That’s why we hired you. Your father and a dear friend of ours, Ralph Havertown, go way, way back and your firm comes highly recommended. If Ralph thinks you’re the best, then you’re the best in my book, as well.”
“Good ol’ Ralph.” Cole nodded. He took another sip of his coffee, which had cooled to an unfavorable temperature. Still, it was one of the best lattes he’d ever had, and he was happy to discover a new go-to spot so quickly upon settling into town. Fairvale was feeling more and more like home already and that was an immense relief to Cole. “Ralph’s practically my uncle. He and Dad were roommates back at Duke. I was even in Little League with his son before they moved to California. We’re as close as you can get without being blood related.”
“He mentioned something along those lines.” Kelly was nearly old enough to be Cole’s mother, but it was obvious she’d taken meticulous care of her features over the years, likely utilizing the help of a surgeon’s hand to maintain her beauty. Based on the large painting of the couple hanging over the mantle, Cole gathered that her husband, Theodore, likely cared less about his physical appearance and more about his economic status. Their home boasted a wealth that hinted at impeccable and expensive taste.
“Have you entered this competition before?” Cole inquired, wondering if a recent loss was the driving force behind Kelly’s persistence upon winning.
“No,” Kelly said as she drew her glass of chardonnay to her mouth. She left thick, red lip prints on the crystal rim, like a marker on paper. “In fact, we haven’t really even touched the backyard the entire time we’ve lived here. Theodore did a lot of traveling these last few years, which has left little time for yard work. We’ve had an unspoken agreement throughout our marriage that the indoors is my domain, the outdoors, his responsibility. And since he wasn’t really around to do anything with it, it just sort of sat there.”
Cole looked around the home. He and Kelly had settled into the dining room to discuss the preliminaries, but from his vantage point, he had a sweeping overview of the downstairs in its entirety. Everything in its place, everything with a purpose. It was a home he’d be afraid to touch
anything in, for fear he’d break something he couldn’t afford to replace. It wasn’t quite a museum, but bordered on that territory.
“You’ve done a lovely job, Kelly,” he said, not out of obligational flattery. It truly was a beautiful home even if it wasn’t in line with his particular tastes. “So for the outside, is there anything currently set up out there? Drip system? Weed barrier? Any landscaping of any kind?”
“How about we just take a look? I know you tried to stop by yesterday and couldn’t get in. I apologize that I didn’t leave the gate code for you ahead of time.” Kelly threw back the last swallow of her wine and rose from the dining table. “Right this way.”
Following Kelly McAllister through the kitchen, Cole quickened his stride to beat her to the large French doors. He reached out to hold them open for her.
She smiled her thank you and then flung her arms out wide with unexpected exaggeration once over the threshold. “Behold, Cole! Your canvas!”
Squinting into the sun which slanted in the sky, about to begin its slow slip into the horizon, Cole looked out over the plot of land, his brow shaded with his hand. Kelly wasn’t kidding when she called it a canvas. It was an almost entirely blank one, at that. The only things he could see were parallel ruts running one-hundred feet long at the border of the property, around fifty or so if he were to venture a guess. Some had small green tufts dotted along the rows, but there was no established vegetation to speak of.
Kelly followed his gaze. “We rent that part out to a local flower farmer, but we can move it wherever we need to. I don’t think she’s done all that much this season yet, anyway. Maybe planted a few seeds, but hardly more than that.”
Cole didn’t like the idea of uprooting someone else’s already established work, but the location of those rows would serve perfectly for the water feature he had in mind. He could envision it all coming to life already, his ideas rising up out of the ground in three-dimensional form.
In the Market for Love Page 3