by Nan Dixon
Boots crunched on the flagstone paths she’d laid.
“It’s bigger than I thought.” Daniel’s voice carried over the buzz of her equipment.
She turned off the power. “It’s perfect.”
“Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier.” He found her coffee and took a sip.
“Is your dad all right?” she asked.
He nodded. “I had to set fires under a couple of vendors for Nathan’s projects.”
She tugged off her gloves. “Shouldn’t Nathan be doing that?”
Daniel stepped over the foundation and entered the space she’d cleared. “Probably.”
“Why didn’t he make the calls?”
“Don’t.” Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s a legitimate question.”
He crossed his arms. “What did you need?”
“You need to trust Nathan enough to run his own projects.” She started to press her point. “He’s—”
Daniel interrupted. “Stay out of it.”
She held up her hands in surrender. It wasn’t helping the brothers if she just kept making Daniel angry.
She took a deep breath. “We’ve decided to rebuild the greenhouse as soon as possible.”
Daniel pushed back the ball cap perched on his head. “You’re kidding.”
She straightened. “No.”
He waved a hand, as if he was stopping traffic. “Is Gray good with this?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Everything is cleared with Gray.”
“Okay.” He looked around the decrepit foundation and sighed.
“It shouldn’t impact your crews too much, other than coordinating with the water and electrical subs.” She went to her jacket and pulled out the designs she’d drawn and the vendors she’d already contacted. She shoved the papers at him.
“Bess.” This time he pushed his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “The Carleton House timelines are—tight. I don’t know if we can do this.”
“You don’t want the work?”
He paced away from her, as if he couldn’t stand being too close. “I didn’t say that.”
“If I were any other client—” she crossed her arms over her chest “—would you make me feel guilty for giving you additional work?”
“That’s not it.” He sighed. “You’ll never be just another client.”
“That’s in the past.” Her pulse throbbed in her ears. She didn’t need this. “Maybe Nathan should manage Carleton House.”
“No.” His tone didn’t allow her to argue.
“But working with me bothers you.” Her heart pounded with pain.
“Yes.” His jaw flexed. “We just have to...keep everything about business and we’ll survive. We’ve done it before.”
“Business.” They had stayed away from each other, but seeing him in the past had never hurt this much. She swallowed. “What about your dad? Can you at least keep me updated?”
“Sure.” Daniel’s voice cracked a little. “Pop’s applying for the clinical trial.”
Her pain warred with her need to comfort him. Compassion won out. She closed the gap between them and clasped his elbows with her hands. “I’m glad.”
He nodded, staring into the fog.
“How do you feel about it?”
“I’m happy. He wants to fight this disease. He doesn’t want to wait until it evolves.”
“That’s good.”
But Daniel didn’t look happy. “Yeah.”
She waited.
He paced across the cleared weeds and then paced back. “He put me in charge.”
She tipped her head. “I thought he already had.”
“I mean in writing. Official.” He rubbed his face. “In case I need the authority with the bank or attorneys or suppliers.”
“Shouldn’t this make you happy?” She didn’t see the problem. “You’re punctual. Trustworthy. Thorough. Responsible. Totally in control. Of course your dad put you in charge.”
He blinked. “That’s how you see me?”
“You’re great at what you do.” Hadn’t she ever told him how much she admired his work ethic? He might be anal, but he got the job done. “Your dad thinks so, too. Why else would he have put you in charge?”
He sat on the old foundation, his arms resting on his knees. “Because the choice was between me and Nathan.”
“That’s not true. What about—” she snapped her fingers “—Lawrence. The man who retired. Your dad could have asked him to help.”
Daniel nodded his head. “Lawrence was a good supervisor.”
She’d never seen him this lost. Even though he’d hurt her, she knelt next to him and touched his arm. “Is this really about who’s in charge?”
He froze. Then shook his head. “I’m afraid he thinks something’s going to happen to him while he’s out of town.”
Oh, Daniel. “You should think of this as planning for success. He wants you to take any action needed while he’s gone.”
“I...guess.” His Adam’s apple went up and down as he swallowed.
“Your parents are thinking ahead. You should appreciate their planning.”
He stayed silent, resting his head on his hand. They waited in the muted quiet. The boom box from Carleton House was a distant echo of drums. The hammer strikes sounded as though they were muffled by pillows.
“If the greenhouse is too much, I could get bids from another contractor,” she suggested.
“Pop would flay me.” He shook his head. “I’ll get your bids.”
“Thanks.” She pulled away and stood up.
He stood, too. “I have some good news.”
She couldn’t imagine. “What?”
“Mom called this morning.” His brown eyes held sympathy. “The couple buying your apartment is having trouble with their financing.”
“Really?” That would have been good for her, but starting her own company had eliminated any chance of qualifying for a mortgage.
“You’ve got another couple of weeks.”
“Thanks.” At least she didn’t have to move right now.
He waved his hand at the weed-filled space. “Is resurrecting this greenhouse part of starting your own company?”
“Yes.” She forced a smile on her face. “It’s got possibilities.”
“Right.” His voice sounded as gray as the day.
She longed to soothe the sorrow etching lines on his face. Instead she eased away. She needed to make sure she didn’t fall into the habit of touching Daniel. It wasn’t good for her.
“Congratulations on your company.” He didn’t look at her, just stared over at Carleton House. “Pop wants us to use your services whenever we can.”
She closed her eyes. Working with Daniel had to get easier, right? “Thanks.”
He straightened. “Show me what you want.”
Her hands shook as she unrolled the plans. “This is what I need.”
* * *
BESS SIGNED THE last paper Devon set in front of her. “This is it?”
“That’s it,” the lawyer said. “Congratulations.”
Bess pushed on the bees swarming in her stomach. It had only taken a week to set everything up. A week. She was now a business owner.
She waited while Devon’s assistant pulled together the documents.
“I’ll send you the official copies once I receive them, but you’re set to go.” Devon handed her a three-ring binder. “The contract template I sent you should work for your bids. But if a customer wants anything customized and you’re uncomfortable, let me know.”
“Thanks.” Bess had a company, a contract template and Dolley’s beautiful logo. She was set.
Light-headed, she stoppe
d in the square across from her attorney’s office. Sinking onto a bench, she dropped her head to her knees. She was president of Fitzgerald Landscaping and Design. The company had one employee—but it was a company. The bees morphed into a herd of buffalo.
She should let businesses know she was available. But she wanted to work in the Carleton House gardens today. The weather had crept back into the seventies. Time to get shrubs planted. And since she wanted color next year, she would add a mass of bulbs.
She dropped her paperwork in the apartment. It was no longer her home. Half-packed boxes filled each room.
She walked over to Fitzgerald House, hoping the bustling historic district would brighten her day. Inns and businesses were decorating for the Christmas season. She needed to start dressing Fitzgerald House soon.
She should be feeling joy. Christmas was her favorite season. All she felt was empty.
At the B and B, Bess carted out her wheelbarrow, conditioning soil, shovel and trowel.
She dug her first hole, layering fertilizer in the loamy soil. In this raised bed, she placed pink and purple bushes. She’d found two spider azaleas. They would be the focal points. In front of each taller bush, she set three Gumpo Pink azaleas. Scattering hyacinth bulbs, she sat back and checked her placement.
“Got a minute?” Daniel’s deep voice cut through her like a sod-cutting knife.
She closed her eyes, inhaled and stood. “What’s up?”
“We’ve finished sanding the floors. I’d like you to approve the stain.” As he’d done for the past week, he never looked in her eyes. He would stare over her shoulder or head. The first few times, she’d glanced behind her. She’d quickly realized he wasn’t looking at anything, just avoiding her gaze.
“Okay.” She tugged off her gloves. “How’s your father?”
“Tired, but they made it to Houston.”
“That’s good.” She missed Daniel’s touch. Missed the way they used to talk.
In silence, she followed him into the library.
“We’ve tested out a few different colors.” Daniel pointed to stained sections on the heart-of-pine floor.
She knelt, imagining an entire room stained in each color. “Do all the floors have to be the same?”
Daniel took his time answering. “No. But I suggest keeping each level the same.”
She stared. Walked away and examined them from the opposite side of the room and then moved back. “What do you think about the darker color on the first floor, the middle color on the second and the lightest on the third?”
She looked at him. For once he didn’t look away.
“I think that’s a good plan.” His voice was almost a whisper.
She was close enough to see the golden sparks in his coffee-colored eyes.
“I’m sorry.” Lips that had brought her so much pleasure formed words so soft she could barely hear them. He reached for her and her body rocked toward his. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t.” She stepped out of the dark vortex sucking her in. “Are we done?”
He stumbled back a step. “Yes.”
She hurried away from him, back to her gardens. Back to her plants. They wouldn’t break her heart.
* * *
COULD HE BE any stupider?
Daniel noted which stains would go on which floors, then called the paint store and placed his order. He had to keep moving, keep working. Because this sinkhole in his life grew bigger and bigger, swallowing everything that mattered.
He hated the deep freeze between him and Bess. Hated that he couldn’t talk to her about his day or his worries.
But he’d done the right thing. He had to stay focused.
He stared through the library window as Bess worked on a flower bed. She stopped, her shoulders slumped and her arm swiped her face. Was she crying?
The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer. He hurried over to the door.
But he couldn’t turn the handle. His head rested on the door frame. Until Pop was well, he had to focus on the company.
“Daniel?” a worker called.
He straightened. “In the library.”
He went on to face the next challenge. Alone. Without Bess.
* * *
DANIEL PULLED UP to his parents’ house. Carly put her paws on the window and barked, as though she recognized the place. “Your buddy’s not here, but we need to run payroll today.”
Before leaving for Texas, Mom had shown him how to enter hours and produce invoices. He planned to spend his Saturday catching up on paperwork. Then maybe he wouldn’t have time to think about Bess.
Inside the house, Carly headed straight for the kitchen. New dog bowls sat where Mike’s used to sit.
“Sorry, girl, no one’s here.” He filled a bowl. “Water only.”
Daniel pulled out his mother’s notes and logged in. He entered the hours. Check. Now he had to add all the hours to make sure the totals matched.
He pulled over his mother’s calculator. As a kid, he’d played with the machine, loving the way the paper spooled out. Guess he’d try it out.
He punched in numbers one by one. According to Mom’s notes, the totals were supposed to match. “Why don’t they balance?”
Carly whined from her spot under the desk.
“Don’t suppose you want to find my error?”
She barked.
The kitchen door slammed. Even from his mom’s office, he heard the fridge open. Nathan.
He checked off totals against the calculator tape.
“You’re here?” Nathan lounged in the doorway.
“I need help,” Daniel growled.
Nathan pointed a thumb into his chest. “From me?”
Daniel rolled his eyes and shoved the time sheets to him. “Read off the totals. I’ll check numbers.”
Nathan set his soda on the edge of the desk. “You sure you want me to do this? I can’t read. I have dyslexia.”
Nathan had used that excuse most of his life. “Yes, you can.”
They worked their way through the numbers. Sometimes Nathan transposed and Daniel would double-check if he’d given him the right number, but they stumbled through the list.
“The totals are off by eighteen hours.” Daniel grimaced.
“It’s close.” Nathan shrugged.
“Not close enough.” This time, Daniel read the numbers off the screen while Nathan checked the list. They went employee by employee.
“Wait.” Nathan tapped the time sheets. “I have forty-two for Beckman.”
“I entered twenty-four.” He made the correction. The hours matched; he hit enter and closed out the files. Ding. Ding. Ding. He felt as if he’d hit the jackpot on a slot machine.
“I can’t believe Mom goes through this all by herself.” Daniel said. It had helped having Nathan here.
“I can’t believe Mr. Perfect transposed a number.” Nathan finished off his soda and tossed it in the garbage.
“Obviously, I’m not perfect.” He pointed at the can. “Recycling.”
Nathan dug out the can. He stood, transferring the can between his hands, staring at his feet.
“What’s up?”
“I...I want to say I’m sorry.”
“What now?” Daniel’s stomach twisted.
“Nothing bad.” Nathan waved his hand like he was wiping a board clean. “I mean I’m sorry I haven’t taken my work as serious as you do.”
Daniel’s sigh had Carly inching over to his chair.
Nathan set down the can and rested his fists against the desk. “And I’m sorry for being such an ass when we were growing up.”
“You were that,” Daniel agreed.
“Everything was so easy for you.” Nathan shook his head, finally looki
ng him in the eye.
“I had to behave because you didn’t,” Daniel said. Was this what Bess wanted from him and Nathan? How did ripping open old wounds help?
“Mom and Pop liked you better than me.”
“I worked hard to keep Mom and Pop happy.” He’d had to, because Nathan hadn’t. “For some reason, they still love you. They sure made more allowances for you than they ever did for me.”
“I wish I could go back and fix things.” Nathan sighed. “Be a better son and brother.”
“We can’t. We just have to go on.” Daniel rubbed his temple.
“Can you forgive me?” Nathan’s voice cracked.
Could he? Daniel reluctantly nodded. He released a big breath and held out his hand.
They shook.
Nathan’s shoulders straightened and he stood a little taller. “Thank you.”
A decade of knots in Daniel’s chest began to unravel.
“I need to enter billing info for two jobs.” Nathan swiped at his eyes. “Since I helped with payroll, can you help me with the invoices?”
“Sure. I need to update the carriage-house billing.” Daniel tucked the payroll information into the bottom drawer, wiping his own eyes. Sitting back up, he opened the file he’d brought.
Without looking at Nathan, he asked, “If we get all the billing done, do you want to head out for pizza?”
Nathan didn’t answer.
Daniel asked again. “Pizza?”
Nathan grinned. “Pizza would be good.”
* * *
BESS HEARD A camera click and whirled around. “Dolley! Take pictures of the gardens, not me.”
“You make it more interesting,” Dolley insisted. “The beautiful Bess Fitzgerald nurturing the Carleton House gardens.”
“Beautiful? You mean dirt covered.” She rubbed her cheek and flakes fell to the ground.
“Earth-mother beautiful.”
Bess laughed, maybe for the first time since Daniel had called her a luxury. She set her shovel into the wheelbarrow. “I hope you don’t put that drivel on the website.”
“People like my drivel. Lots of hits.” Dolley snapped more pictures. “What are you doing tonight?”