“Of course. I love your tours,” he answered. They walked into the building and located the flower/ ornamental gardens table. It was in the same position as it had been when Katrina had dropped off the first set of plans in May. He followed, handing them to the woman sitting behind the table, accepting a time stamped receipt as proof of delivery.
They walked out into the sunshine, she acting as tour guide, showing him the herb garden along with the Volkswagen Beetles.
“I’m really impressed by your knowledge of these gardens and their history,” he said to her as they were heading back to his jeep. “I was impressed the night at G’s party, and by your yard, and that was before I knew the full scope of your knowledge.”
“Thanks. I’m surprised you’ve lived here for as long as you have and have not seen them. I know now that you like gardens, too. I guess your traveling bug supersedes your gardening bug,” she said, smiling, looking around her. “Have you seen any of the other city’s gardens?”
“Nope, I have just now seen this one, and, of course, our neighborhood’s.”
“Would you like to see some of the others? There is one close by. I could show you around more, if you wanted to?” she said, forgetting her decision to keep it professional.
“Great idea,” he said, watching uncertainty again flicker across her face. “I have time if you do,” he said quickly, before she could backpedal.
“Okay,” she said, getting into the jeep again.
“Directions?” he asked as he started it up.
“Let’s head to the west side. We are fairly close to it. Go back to the highway and take the Ninth Street exit, and then go two blocks west. A large portion of the African-American community resides on this side of town, or they used to. The city is slowly losing its defined neighborhoods; people are moving everywhere nowadays. This is where I go when I’m on the lookout for old-school vegetables,” she said, joining him in his jeep. Will pulled onto the main highway, following Katrina’s directions.
“Have you seen every garden?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said sheepishly. “I’m weird and nosy, and I wanted to see all the competition and each neighborhood’s take on gardening. It could be a small anthropological study. The flower and vegetable gardens in the neighborhoods around the city are reflections of their inhabitants. The vegetables and fruits were planted to be used in the favorite dishes of each of the people of that area, so they’re a reflection of each ethnic group and the foods each neighborhood values.”
She sat silently for a few minutes, watching him. “You’re a really fast driver,” she said, noting the speed with which they were moving.
“Fast? I should take you for a ride on my bike to show you fast.”
“No thanks,” she said, looking over at him, admiring his shiny black hair. He had on his shades, hiding his eyes, but she saw confidence radiating from every pore of his body.
“What, no facts or statistics for me?” he asked, smiling.
“I’m fresh out,” she said.
“Seriously, I’m aware of most of the statistics associated with my hobbies, but if you listed all the reasons for not trying something, you’d never do it, and how boring would that be?” he countered.
Not knowing how to respond, she said nothing. He followed her directions and they soon pulled up to a vegetable garden enclosed by an iron fence surrounding the entire garden and taking up a city block of this neighborhood. Directly behind it, about half the size of the garden, was a neighborhood park and flower garden. It wasn’t as large as he’d expected. It was a Saturday, so it was more crowded than usual, but Will had been able to find a spot along the street and parked. They both got out, moving toward the entrance.
“The flower portion is smaller than I expected, at least compared to the other two gardens I’ve seen so far.”
“When this garden was founded it was larger, but the neighborhood changed. People here have fewer resources, so the flowers gave way to more food growth, especially during that tough recession a couple of years back,” she said.
They walked over to the entrance, where two older African-American women sat behind a long table filled with vegetables and fruits. Katrina groaned out loud, and Will turned to her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, but here sit two of the busiest busybodies you are ever likely to meet,” she said, cutting her words short as they reached the table.
“Well, if it isn’t Katrina,” one of the ladies purred when she and Will reached the table.
“Hello, Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Smith,” she said. They both smiled at her. Mrs. Jenkins was dressed in a bright orange shirt with matching scarf tied around her hair. Mrs. Smith was dressed in calm yellow. She’d worn her hair in braids that fell to her shoulders for as long as Katrina had known her.
“And who is this good-looking fellow you have with you?” Mrs. Smith asked.
“This is Will Nakane. He was selected to head the flower competition for our neighborhood this year,” Katrina said.
“Well, well, you must be really good to have beat out our Katrina,” Mrs. Smith said. “Nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.
Will extended his hand to shake hers, but she said, “Baby, a lady’s hand is not for shaking; plant your lips on the back of it.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Jenkins were known to be OC’s, original cougars, who ate young men for sport.
“Nice meeting you both,” Will said, planting a soft kiss on the back of Mrs. Smith’s hand. He reached for Mrs. Jenkins’s hand, which was also extended for a kiss, and he obliged. “The committee only gave me this opportunity because they knew Katrina would be around to make sure I stayed on course,” he said, his smile never wavering, his eyes intense, putting his sex appeal on full display.
“Well, well, he’s a cute one, Katrina,” Mrs. Jenkins said, her eyes assessing him, her eyebrows lifting, her smile sly. “Are we going to keep this one?”
“He’s a friend,” Katrina responded. “And one who I’d promised a tour, so if you ladies will excuse us . . .”
“Why, sure we will, sugar. You come back now, Will,” they said, their smiles suggesting they could eat Will up in one big bite.
“I’m a cute one, huh,” he said to Katrina, as soon as they were out of the ladies’ hearing range. She didn’t bother to respond.
“This section of the garden is famous for what I like to call old-school vegetables—any and all types of greens, mustards, collards, turnips, kale—usually available in the fall. This time of the year, it’s beautiful cucumbers, tomatoes, okra, and peas,” she said, starting to fall into her role as tour guide.
“Katrina.”
She turned her head at the sound of her name. It was Darius, who was carrying a huge bag stuffed to the brim with vegetables. He walked toward them. Will stopped and stood watching them. Who was this guy? He watched him walk up to Katrina and reach for her hands, which she gave over without much thought.
“Will, I’d like for you to meet a friend of mine. Darius Williams,” she said, smiling at Darius.
“Hello,” Will said to Darius, continuing to watch Katrina, taking in her welcome. He was more than a little disconcerted by her reaction and the interest displayed on her face. Who was this guy who still held Katrina’s hands in his?
“Darius is owner and sometimes chef for two small restaurants in town, The Vegetable Garden and The Vegetable Pot. Have you heard of them?” she asked, finally turning her head toward Will.
“Yes,” Will responded. He had eaten there and the food had been very good, but he didn’t feel like sharing that piece of information right now.
“I was giving a tour of this particular garden to Will,” she said. “He’s never been here.”
“Not everyone is into gardening as much as we are, Katrina,” Darius said. The proprietary way he spoke to Katrina had Will’s hair standing on end.
“Well, I better let you two get back to your tour. I’ll
talk to you soon, Katrina,” Darius said, bending over and kissing Katrina lightly on the mouth.
Will watched their exchange in silence, annoyed with himself for the feelings of jealousy that had crept up. He didn’t have any claim on her.
***
Darius walked away, laughing hysterically inside. He’d known who Will was from his conversation with Katrina, and he’d decided to do a little acting, blowing up his relationship with her, wanting to gauge the man’s reaction, wanting to determine if Katrina meant anything to him. It had worked perfectly, too, along with being huge fun. He should have been sympathetic; after all, he’d been there before. Woman troubles were painful. He should be ashamed of himself, and he would be later; for now he was enjoying it. He hoped it worked out for Katrina, that Will would be the one for her. Love, when it worked, was something powerful.
***
Katrina and Will continued their tour, with Will now only half listening. He was a little disturbed, internally arguing with himself about his lack of claim on Katrina. Maybe he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t fear, or at least not fear of him. Could she be involved with someone else? The idea left him feeling strange. His mind kept reviewing the scene he had just witnessed. She walked him through the gardens, continuing the tour, but he heard not a word.
“Of course all of the gardens grew staples, like lettuce, broccoli, and beans, but some neighborhoods were better at growing some kinds of vegetables than others,” she rambled on, noticing Will’s blank expression. “Most all of them have a farmers market; nothing big, usually mom and pop in scale, all open on Saturday, all cheap. The amount of fresh fruits and vegetables available in the city at minimum cost is amazing.”
She stopped, betting he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. He looked a thousand miles away.
“So how long have you known Darius?” he asked.
“For a while. Remember my friend Amber from the party?” He nodded. “She introduced us.”
“Are you dating him? Not that it’s any of my business,” he said, looking away.
“No, Darius is still in love with his ex-fiancée,” Katrina said.
“Is that so,” he said, his eyes finding hers. Was that relief she saw? It was quick, his eyes unreadable now.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“A little.”
“Can you hang with me a little longer? There is a place I’d like to take you to see, and I promise I’ll feed you.”
“Okay,” she said, not ready to go home, not anywhere near wanting to end her time with him, forgetting that professional manner stuff. She was going to enjoy her time with him. She could think and worry later.
Will felt the same; he wasn’t ready to take her home. He’d been surprised at seeing another man, a prospect he’d not contemplated. The experience left him a little unsettled. What an ass he was to have never considered that she might be interested in someone other than him. He was quiet for a while. Did she have her versions of Josey and Charlotte? He hoped not.
“Where are we going?” she asked once they’d gotten back into his jeep.
“I’d like you to meet my sister, if you don’t mind. We can stop by the gardens in her neighborhood, since you’ve seen them all. You can give me another tour. We can get something to eat afterwards at their home, if you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. Are you sure she doesn’t mind? Bringing random people over without calling?”
“I go over all the time without calling, and I would hardly call you random. But for your benefit, I’ll give her a call to let her know we’re coming,” he said, pulling out his cell.
Dennis Jr. answered.
“Hey, dude, put your mom or dad on the phone,” Will said.
“Here’s Dad,” he said, handing the telephone to his father. “It’s Will.”
“Will,” Dennis Sr. said, taking the phone from his son.
“Hey, Dennis. I wanted to let you know that I was on my way over.”
“Okay, but that’s a first,” he said.
“I know, but I’m bringing a friend with me. She is helping me with the garden competition for our neighborhood. We were going to stop by the neighborhood garden in your area before stopping by the house.”
“Okay, I’ll tell Jennifer and see you in a few,” Dennis said.
“Thanks.” Will hung up and looked over at Katrina. “See? It’s okay.”
***
Dennis hung up the phone and leaned back against the sink.
“Who was that?” Jennifer asked, walking into the kitchen. Jennifer was as short as her husband was tall, black-haired to his blond. He placed his arm around her waist, lifting her up onto her toes, and bent over to kiss her lips.
“That was your brother,” he said, looking down at her.
“What did he want?”
“Well, he was letting us know that he was on his way over here with the woman who is helping him with the competition. The assistant, I guess. They are going to stop at the neighborhood gardens first,” Dennis said. “Strange, huh?”
“Strange because he’s never brought a woman by? Strange because he’s never called before stopping by? Or is it strange because he’s going to look at our neighborhood gardens? Which strange are you referring to?” They both laughed at that.
“Want some pizza for lunch?” she asked.
“Sure. You’re going to turn this into a fact-finding mission, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Why not?” she responded. He kissed her on the top of her head. No reason he could see not to.
***
Will’s sister lived in one of the more upscale parts of town, a gated community filled with families with dads who worked enough for their wives to stay at home if they wanted to. Will turned into the Willow Mountain subdivision, stopped at the gate, punched in a code, waited for the gates to open, and drove in. He looked over at her and asked, “Where are the gardens?”
“Follow this road until it ends,” Katrina said. “There is a small neighborhood community center where their pool, park, and gardens are.” He followed the road until it dead-ended into a large parking lot and found a spot close to the small brick building.
“We’re here?” he asked, parking the jeep in front of a small brick building he assumed was the community center. There were older people milling about outside and kids running around. He got out of the jeep, and so did Katrina. She walked around the front of it to meet him.
“Inside the building is a meeting place for the neighborhood use. I think for games and small neighborhood social events,” she said.
“Again, I’m amazed by how much you know about this city,” he said, taking her hand tentatively in his. She looked over at him, shy now for some reason, but she didn’t pull back.
“Come on, let me give you a tour,” she said, turning and walking down one of the side paths that led away from the building. The beds were filled with ivy, packed and overflowing. They walked under huge trees that provided a lot of shade for the pool and the large children’s playscape.
“This is beautiful,” he said, looking around at the tall trees and green foliage everywhere. Katrina was leading him through the flower part of the gardens, although it was mostly green. “This neighborhood always gives us a run for our money. They are always one of the five finalists. They have decided to take a different approach with their gardens, mimicking more the gardens of a Central Park or Hyde Park in England. I should move here; they’d appreciate my gardening style,” Katrina said.
“Ready for lunch?” he asked after they were done.
“Yes.”
“Knowing my sister like I do, she has cooked something or ordered pizza for us.”
They walked back to the front of the gardens and hopped back into the jeep. It was a typical Saturday at his sister’s home with kids playing in the front yard as they drove up. Dennis and his buddy were in the middle of the street, hockey sticks in hand, skates on their feet. They moved a goal aside as they recognized Will’s jee
p and he pulled into the driveway of their home. They watched as Will and Katrina got out.
“Hey, Uncle Will,” Dennis Jr. said, pausing a moment in the game to move his goal back into place.
“Hey, Dennis,” Will replied, and walked over to the front door. He knocked and opened the door. “Jennifer, we’re here!” he said.
Katrina trailed behind him, taking in his sister’s home. It was as large as she’d expected it to be, but it had a homey, lived-in feel to it. Soccer balls, maybe five of them, sat in the entry, next to a nice expensive bench. They walked into the main room, where the ceilings were tall, giving the room an open feeling.
There were signs that kids lived here: tennis shoes were stuck in the spindles of the stairway leading up to the second floor, and pictures of their family sat on the side tables next to the couch. Katrina stopped and watched as Will’s sister entered. She was a small woman, an inch taller than Katrina’s five-foot frame, followed by a tall man who must have been about six feet and blond.
That was an interesting mix, she thought, watching as Will hugged his sister.
“Jennifer,” Will said, “I’d like you to meet Katrina. She is the poor woman the committee has assigned to work with me, guiding me in the competition for this year.”
“Hello, Katrina, nice to meet you,” Jennifer said, walking to stand in front of Katrina and extending her hand. Katrina shook it.
“Will never brings any of his friends over. I was beginning to suspect that he didn’t have any,” Jennifer said. Katrina smiled.
“This is my husband, Dennis.” Dennis gave her a nod of his head and a smile.
“We also have three kids,” she said. “The boy outside is our oldest child, Dennis Jr. We also have two girls, ages ten and five.”
“I’ve set up some drinks and ordered some food for us out back. Let’s go have a seat,” she said and headed to the back door.
They all followed Jennifer out onto the deck. Katrina fell in love with it immediately. It was a great outdoor living space, and one she could tell was used by their family. Will and Dennis had taken a seat in the chairs that sat in a grouping around a mid-size coffee table. A pitcher of lemonade was sweating on the table, and Dennis began pouring for them. Katrina sat on the couch and Jennifer joined her there.
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