by Terri Osburn
“Ice plant.”
“What the heck is an ice plant?”
Justin pulled out his phone and did a quick search. “They look fragile but they’re really hardy. The name comes from the white flecks around the center. Looks like the frost that builds up in your freezer.” Finding his target, he touched a picture to make it larger. “See? The yellow with orange tips would be the perfect bridge from the pastels to the stronger hue of the blanket flowers.”
Abby leaned close to see the phone, wrapping herself around his arm. Justin’s body tensed with desire.
“You’re right,” she said. “Those are perfect. But I didn’t see them at the nursery yesterday. Can we find them around here?”
“I’ll find them,” he assured her, knowing in that moment he’d travel to the moon if that’s what it took to give Abby Williams what she wanted.
“Then I say go for it. Justin, this is going to be beautiful.” Glancing up, she added, “Can I stay out here and help or do you need to go shopping right away?”
Not the question he expected. “Sure. Help all you want.”
With cautious enthusiasm, Abby worked by his side for the next hour, asking about everything from the mineral content in the soil to whether they could bring some of the snails back to the front when they were finished. Apparently she liked the fairy dust trails they made across her front porch during the night. She’d never struck him as the fairy dust type, but he’d promised to bring them back at the end of the project.
As they measured the location for the delphiniums, an idea struck.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do for a job?” he asked, easing into the subject.
She brushed a loose lock from her forehead, leaving a dirt streak behind. “I’ll check with the nursing home over on Hillsboro. And Doc Mason’s office. Last I heard they weren’t hiring, but it’s worth a try. Unless I want to drive a hundred miles a day round-trip, there aren’t many choices.”
Justin lowered a stake into the proper spot. “What about jobs outside of nursing? Like we talked about yesterday.”
Abby shook her head. “That was nothing but silly dreaming, Justin. I’m a nurse. That’s all I’m trained to do.”
Undaunted, he pressed on. “You said you’d like something creative that would change every day, right? A job that offered tangible results and didn’t involve working with people.”
With a roll of her eyes, she propped her hands on her hips. “That’s what I said, but nothing fits that description. I can’t do anything creative, remember?”
Holding his tongue, Justin cast his eyes to the freshly planted flowers before meeting her gaze again, waiting for Abby to catch the hint.
“What?” she said. “This?” A gloved hand pointed at the dirt. “Are you suggesting I become a landscaper?”
He counted the requirements off on his fingers. “Creative. Check. Variety. Check. Tangible results. Check. No people. Check.”
Another lock came loose as she shook her head. “You have got bats in your belfry, my friend. This is your line of work, not mine.”
“My line of work is developing shopping malls, sports stadiums, and high-rise office buildings,” Justin said, insulted by her tone. “But there’s nothing wrong with getting your hands dirty until another opportunity comes along.”
“Don’t get all defensive,” she muttered. “I’m not suggesting that this isn’t respectable work, but what do I know about flowers and bushes and . . . irrigation?”
“You know more now than you did an hour ago,” he pointed out. “You can learn the rest on the job.”
The lip chewing returned in earnest as Abby stared at the hydrangea bush she’d meticulously placed. When her eyes shot to the heavens, he thought he had her.
“Nope,” she snapped, ripping off the gloves. “This is insanity. I have a résumé to put together. You’ll have to finish this by yourself.”
“But Abby,” Justin called as she marched into the house and slammed the door behind her. Shaking his head, he mumbled, “Couldn’t have gone better,” before driving the shovel into the dirt.
Landscaping, Abby thought, storming into the living room. What a ridiculous idea. She’d be completely out of her depth. As clueless as if he’d suggested she take up flying or race car driving. The license in her wallet did not mean she should strap in at Talladega and have at it. Learn on the job, he says. Ha.
So what if the last hour had been fun? Interesting, even. That didn’t mean she needed to jump off the practicality train into dreamland and hope for the best. Heck, he didn’t even have the business up and running yet. Did he expect her to be a partner? Because she sure as heck would not be his employee. Working with Justin was one thing. Working for him was another.
Determined to make that point clear, Abby marched toward the door. They would be equal partners or nothing at all. But inches from the threshold, common sense returned. They weren’t going to be partners. They weren’t going to be anything. Because Abby was not taking up landscaping, no matter how much she wanted to get her hands back in that dirt.
In a full dilemma, she paced the foyer, warring with herself. Going back out there would give Justin the victory. She’d have to admit that she liked playing in the dirt. That in no way meant she wanted to do so for a living. Right now, he was working in her flower bed, and if Abby wanted to be involved, he couldn’t stop her.
Once again on the precipice of stepping outside, Abby startled when her cell phone rang from the living room. On her way to answer, she caught her reflection in the foyer mirror. Several strands of hair hung around her face while a dark streak lined her forehead. Leaning closer, she noticed specks of black on the tip of her nose.
“I look awful,” she said aloud, brushing off her nose. She did have to admit that fresh soil smelled a lot better than the muck she regularly encountered at the hospital. The phone continued to ring, and Abby shuffled to the coffee table before the call could land in voice mail.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Where have you been?” Haleigh demanded from the other end. “I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. One more unanswered call and I was ready to send Cooper out on a rescue mission.”
Heaven forbid Abby be out of touch. “I’m at home. Where else would I be?”
A relieved sigh echoed down the line. “I have no idea. Considering the mood you were in this morning? Either in a ditch somewhere or belly up to a bottle.”
Between her father and her best friend both being alcoholics, Abby didn’t touch the stuff very often. She’d made a rare exception this morning, but that didn’t give Haleigh the right to make such an assumption.
“I’m fine. What do you want?”
“What do you mean, what do I want? I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I am. Anything else?”
“Come on, Abbs,” Haleigh pleaded. “I know you’re pissed and I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have told you about the collection thing.”
Talk about missing the point. “That’s what you’re sorry about? That you told me? How about, ‘I’m sorry that we all went behind your back and plotted to embarrass the hell out of you because we think you’re desperately lonely’? Let’s start there.”
Silence loomed.
“Last fall you admitted that you’re lonely,” Haleigh snarled. “You walk around like you’re haunting the world instead of living in it, you rarely laugh, and yes, your friends and family decided to try something a little different to cheer you up. We gave to a good cause in the process, which we all would have done anyway, and you got a nice afternoon with a man who could easily grace the cover of a firefighter calendar. Excuse the hell out of us for caring.”
The call ended, leaving Abby staring at her phone. Deflated, she dropped onto the couch behind her. Every word that Haleigh said was true. She was lonely. And a little depressed. Grief could no longer serve as a viable excuse for her lack of energy and reluctance to socialize. Kyle was gone, but Abby wasn�
��t. God willing, she had fifty or sixty years left on this planet, and spending those decades wallowing in something she couldn’t change didn’t sound all that pleasant.
Slouching into the plastic, she closed her eyes and contemplated her future. What did she really want? Not in an occupation, but in life? Letting her mind wander, she landed on the same answer over and over.
“I want to be happy,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “I just have no idea how to do that.”
Chapter 8
“Justin Charles Donovan, you stop right there.”
Obeying the order, Justin froze, one foot off the curb at Fourth and Main. A sigh of frustration accompanied the quick check of his watch. Thea Levine expected him at city hall in ten minutes, and arriving late could jeopardize his chances of winning her favor. From what he’d heard, the leader of the Ardent Springs Garden Society maintained high standards, for both her Damask roses and anyone who dared touch a petal anywhere in her domain.
But his mother’s use of his full name did not bode well. Justin had never charmed his way out of a talking-to in less than ten minutes. Doing so now would be more difficult since he had no idea what he’d done.
“I’m expected at an important meeting, Mom. Can this wait until noon?” Since returning to town, they’d had a standing lunch date every Thursday at Tilley’s Diner. A date that Justin had canceled the past two weeks in a row. The first time to help Abby with the insurance rep and the next to work on her flower bed, which had to be completed in order to present Mrs. Levine with an example of his work.
“You mean you intend to join me today?” Karen Donovan asked, hands planted firmly on her hips. “You sure you don’t have another girl who needs your attention on the one day you’ve set aside for your mother?”
Justin managed not to roll his eyes. No sense in adding fuel to an already combustible situation. “Mom, you know why I had to cancel our last two lunches. If I wasn’t going to be there today, I’d have called you.”
Smacking him in the chest with a piece of paper, she said, “Calling people doesn’t seem to be your strong suit these days. Poor Quintin Culpepper had to call me. He says he’s been trying to get in touch with you. In case you’ve lost it, here’s his phone number. I told him you’d call him back.”
Nearly five hundred miles away and the douche was still screwing with Justin’s life.
“Mom, if I wanted to talk to Q, I would. I’m sorry he bothered you, but I really need to go.”
“Are you telling me that you’re refusing to speak to one of your best friends?” Mom asked, ignoring his plea to leave. “What could he possibly have done to destroy a ten-year friendship? First you break off your engagement, giving us no reason or explanation, and now you’re ignoring your friends. I don’t understand what’s going on with you, Justin.”
Justin had neither the time nor the inclination to answer his mother’s questions, since doing so would mean revealing humiliating details he wasn’t ready to share.
“There won’t be anything going on with me if I don’t get to this meeting.” He placed a quick kiss on his mother’s cheek. “I love you, and I’ll see you at noon. I promise. Now I really have to go.”
“You better have a darn good reason for running away,” she called after him. “And I don’t mean from this conversation.”
Picking up his pace, Justin ignored the implication and kept moving.
No matter how many times she shifted in her seat, Abby could not get comfortable. Her stomach had been in knots from the moment the alarm went off, and now that she’d arrived for the interview, it was as if her skin no longer fit.
“Ms. Williams,” called the secretary who’d greeted her ten minutes earlier, “Mr. Ludlow will see you now.”
Abby nodded, wishing she’d been offered a drink of water. Her mouth had gone traitorously dry. The woman led her down a narrow, gray hall that smelled of antiseptic. Even the doors they passed were a muted pewter, making Abby feel as if she’d stepped into a black-and-white movie.
At the last door on the left, the brunette stepped aside and smiled. “Here you go.”
Sweat beaded on the back of her neck and Abby prayed her deodorant wouldn’t let her down. A quick breath and she stepped into an assault of color.
In a completely unexpected twist, Mr. Ludlow possessed a clear and powerful obsession with a certain candy-coated chocolate treat. And he was not shy about showing it. They were everywhere. Stacked against the walls, on a shelf that hovered a foot below the ceiling, and circling the entire room. Model cars, toys, dispensers, signs, ads, and even what appeared to be a race car driver’s candy-themed jacket. There must have been thousands of items in the cramped space, made more so by the overzealous collection.
And in the middle of the gaudy chaos stood a round, smiling man with tiny glasses perched at the tip of his button nose. In contrast to the world he’d created, Mr. Ludlow sported black pants and a gray shirt. Even his tie was black. An outfit more suitable to the staid halls she’d traversed on the way than the intense kaleidoscope surrounding them.
“Welcome to Serenity Rest Nursing Facility, Ms. Williams. Come in and have a seat.”
Forcing herself to act normal, Abby shuffled to the chair in front of his desk and accepted the offered handshake. “Thank you, Mr. Ludlow. I appreciate this opportunity.”
“We’re happy to have you,” he said, lowering into his chair without waiting for Abby to do the same. “Let me look over your paperwork here a second.”
Dropping slowly onto unremarkable gray vinyl, she caught sight of the phone at the corner of the desk. An animated red candy held a large yellow receiver over his head, while a circle of colorful numbered buttons rested at his feet. Curiosity over whether the contraption actually worked made her nearly miss the fact that he’d waited until now to review her résumé.
“I see you have your degree from Austin Peay. Excellent school,” he said, keeping his eyes on the paper.
Uncertain how to respond, she said, “Yes. I enjoyed my time there.”
A clock chimed, and Abby looked up to find a multicolored cuckoo clock with a yellow candy dangling by his foot to form a pendulum, while the same red candy from the clock popped from a set of doors at the top.
For half a second she wondered if this wasn’t an elaborate setup with hidden cameras watching her every reaction. Either someone would leap out and admit this was all a gag and her real interview was down the hall, or Mr. Ludlow would spin in his chair, spewing bright chocolate candy from his ears. Neither scenario would have surprised her.
“So you’re an RN?” he asked. An odd question from a person looking to fill a nursing position.
“Yes, sir.”
He grumbled, the frown creating thick lines across his broad forehead. Not an encouraging sign.
“Is there a problem, sir?”
Mr. Ludlow slid the résumé forward. “We aren’t hiring RNs right now, Ms. Williams. My secretary seems to have wasted your time.”
The secretary? Had he not lined this interview up himself? She’d only communicated via email until today, each correspondence bearing his signature.
“But you have openings, correct? Your email said that I was a great candidate and offered this interview.”
“Miss Willoughby vets the résumés and sets interview appointments. She doesn’t usually make mistakes like this. We’re hiring LPNs, I’m afraid. You’re overqualified for the position we’re filling.”
“I understand that the pay would be less, but—”
“Ms. Williams, it’s about more than the pay. Our staff needs to feel comfortable with each other. Putting an RN into an LPN position, especially a nurse with your experience and credentials, would create an imbalance. You’d be answering to people that might have fewer qualifications, and those working beside you might feel inferior or become concerned that they’ll be replaced by someone with a more advanced degree or license. I can’t create that sort of tension in my team.”
In t
he ten days she’d been job hunting, Abby had already been denied two other interviews with this same excuse. Serenity Rest had been her last resort.
“Sir, I assure you that I can blend with your team. I’m happy to report to whomever I’m assigned, and you’ll know that you’re getting a dependable, skilled employee willing to work her way up.”
He rose from his chair. “I can’t chance it, Ms. Williams. I do apologize for taking up your time. If any RN positions come open, I’ll have Miss Willoughby give you a call.”
How could a man with a childish obsession for candy-themed toys possibly be dismissing her out of some ridiculous notion of creating an imbalance in his team? This office was the very definition of imbalance.
Frustration and anger trumped common sense, and Abby let her tongue fly.
“Do us both a favor, Mr. Ludlow, and toss that résumé into your candy-coated garbage can down there. I’d rather swing a shovel than work for a child-man with a candy fetish who thinks so little of his staff that he assumes they’d let something as stupid as petty jealousy get in the way of doing their jobs.”
Swinging her purse onto her shoulder, Abby showed herself out.
“I have to be honest, Mr. Donovan. One flower bed is not much to go on,” said Mrs. Levine after reviewing several images of Abby’s newly redesigned flower bed. “The landscaper from Gallatin has a much broader portfolio.”
“As a new business, it’s true that I have fewer pictures, but what I’ve shown you is only a minor display of what I can do. With your taste and expertise, along with my skill and experience, we can have Main Street—especially the town square—bursting with blooms in time for the start of festival season at the first of June.”
A hefty promise on his part, considering he’d have to measure, design, consult, and buy the supplies before he could even think about breaking ground, but Justin knew his competition could hit that deadline without an issue. To compete, he would have to do the same. With luck, hinting that Mrs. Levine should be an integral part of the project would sweeten the deal, since few landscapers would play that card.