by Shirley Jump
His father waved a vague hand at the greenhouse. “You can see it for yourself. You don’t need me to show you anything. You know the way out.” Then Robert turned on his heel and stalked out of the greenhouse, past a gaping Kate and disapproving Anne.
Another happy family reunion in the books.
Eleven
Kate tried not to notice how distant and moody Trent was at dinner. His sister Marla came by as they were eating dessert, and her warm and effusive nature made Kate feel even more welcome. Three years younger, Marla had a few curves from having two kids, and a no-nonsense, easygoing look with her jeans and ponytail.
Marla teased her older brother about how cover-model gorgeous his outdoor photos looked. “Do you bring a hair and makeup team with you? ‘Hold on, let me vogue this pose?’”
Trent rolled his eyes. “I just naturally look good. Some people, on the other hand…”
Marla propped her fists on her hips and feigned outrage. “I’m a mom. I can sit you in time out with one hand while I’m making lasagna with the other. Don’t mess with me.”
The whole family laughed, and Trent drew his sister into a conciliatory hug. “You’re still the best little sister ever. Love what you’re doing with the business, by the way.”
Marla shrugged. “Just expanding into new territory.”
“With all those frou-frou people who want shag carpeting on the patio.” Trent’s father shook his head. “Whatever happened to just planting a garden? Why does everyone have to have twenty kinds of pavers and decorative flags stuck in the ground?”
“Because it makes us money and makes the world more beautiful, Dad.” Marla patted his chest and gave him a grin. “I guarantee when I’m done with your patio, you’ll be sitting outside, drinking white wine and watching the sunset.”
Trent’s father scoffed. “Frou-frou drinks for a frou-frou patio.” But he gave his daughter an indulgent smile as he left the kitchen, heading to the living room to watch the NASCAR races. Instead of staying with his family, Trent said something about needing fresh air.
Kate wandered into the living room. Cars zoomed past each other on the oval track at a dizzying pace. “Thanks for having us at your house, Mr. MacMillan.”
Trent’s father nodded. “You’re always welcome. Though I’m not sure my son always wants to be here.”
She perched on the edge of the chair. His father’s profile was so like Trent’s, only a little older, with salt-and-pepper hair and a heavier build. “Trent loves it here. He really does.”
Robert scoffed. “Seems to me he wants to leave the second he gets here.”
“Maybe…” She hesitated then decided to say the words anyway. “Maybe he’s struggling with connecting with you. I know my mom and I argued a lot because we were such different people. My grandmother is like my best friend, but my mom is more organized and data-focused than I am. But on Sunday afternoons, we used to watch movies together. All kinds of old horror classics. It was the one thing we had in common and the one thing that bonded us. Maybe that’s what Trent needs to have?”
“We used to have a lot in common,” Robert said. “Then he moved off to the city, and things changed.”
“Deep down inside, Mr. MacMillan,” Kate said as she got to her feet, “I think Trent is the same person he used to be. It’s just going to take a little digging to get to that person.”
Kate left Robert to watch the race while she headed for the kitchen, where Marla and Anne were putting food away and doing dishes.
“So, are you and my brother dating?” Marla asked.
“No, no. We’re just…friends.” Although they were something more than that, weren’t they? Whatever that was, Kate couldn’t define it. She wondered where Trent had gone outside and why he was so removed from his parents, who seemed like lovely people and clearly loved him, and vice versa. “I’m helping him with his book, and we came up here so I could get some more background on him.”
“I don’t care what the reason is, I’m glad you’re back in Trent’s life,” Anne said. “You’re good for him, Kate.”
“Me?” She scoffed. “I don’t see how.”
“He was more grounded when he was dating you. You are, in fact, the only girl he ever brought home to meet the family, and considering he’s brought you home twice now…” Anne shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems like a lot more than just friends to me.”
Dare Kate hope his mother was right? No, that would be too risky. Kate would end up doing something foolish, like falling in love with Trent again. She already knew how it would end—with him walking away, certain they were too different to be together. “So, tell me some stories. Any cute or funny stories about Trent as a kid would really help flesh out the book.”
His mother ran water into the sink and squirted in some dish soap. “Trent was always my adventurous one. He walked before he was a year old. We bought him a bike for his fourth birthday, and wouldn’t you know, he had mastered it and wanted the training wheels off within a couple of weeks.”
“That’s pretty young, isn’t it?” Kate made a note on her pad. “I think I was still scared of riding a bike when I was in middle school. But then again, I’m not athletic like he is.”
Marla smiled. “You and I are the same. I’m the one who thinks through a decision seventy-five times before I make it. Trent just…wings it.”
“Terrifying to do, isn’t it?” Kate had always been so cautious, so afraid to mess up or take a risk. Where had that gotten her?
“I think I have some pictures,” Anne said. “The dishes can soak. Let’s go through the photo albums and thoroughly embarrass Trent.”
Marla grinned. “He hates it when Mom drags out the pictures of him as a little boy.”
“All the more reason to do it,” Anne said. She hurried into the next room and came back with a pile of leather-bound albums. She set them on the kitchen table, and the three of them sat down. Anne turned the pages of the first one, opening to a picture of a bright and happy baby Trent.
For a second, Kate imagined what it would be like if that was their baby. If they had worked out all those years ago and gotten married, would their child have the same eyes and head of blond hair? “He was adorable.”
“He was, but such a handful. Busy as a bee, every day of his life.” Anne turned a couple more pages, showing pictures of Trent’s first steps and first birthday. As she did, she talked about his bright, inquisitive nature, and how he had explored every corner of the house from the time he could crawl.
Kate scribbled notes, took pictures of the photos with her phone to remember them for later and listened as Anne and Marla took turns talking about a young Trent. It was so clear they loved him deeply, and that his had been a happy childhood. “When did he go to work in the nursery?”
“When he was about ten, we opened our doors. Marla was only seven, but the two of them started out sweeping, setting things up. Easy tasks.” Anne turned another page, showing the family standing around a Christmas tree. “When he was thirteen, he started working over the summers, helping with sales and tending. He seemed to take to the business like a duck to water, and we always thought…” His mother’s voice trailed off. She flipped the book closed. “We’re just glad he’s been so successful and happy with his own thing.”
Marla scoffed. “Most of us are happy for him.”
Anna’s lips pinched. “Trent’s father always hoped the whole family would work here. He’s a little more…”
“Stubborn,” Marla finished. “They both are. I swear, watching them is like watching two bulls in a china shop.”
“They’ll figure it out,” Anne said. “Did Trent ever tell you about the time we all went fishing? He was, oh, fifteen, and he caught the biggest fish of all of us. I have a picture of it somewhere.” She flipped through some pages and talked as she recounted the story of the family vacation.
Kate listened and took copious notes, learning lots of anecdotes about Trent and seeing another side of him. A more open side, family-oriented, committed. It surprised her, maybe because she’d always seen him as the loner who hiked mountains and cycled across countrysides. The extra stories would really round out the book. In the back of her mind, she was already seeing how the pieces could fit together.
“Honey, why don’t you check on Trent?” Anne said as the dishwater drained and the day drew to a close. They’d gone through all the photos and talked for what seemed like forever. “Marla and I can finish up.” She gave Kate a good-natured shooing out the back door.
Kate found Trent wandering among the dwarf pine trees. He looked like a giant among the tiny green triangles. He trailed a hand along their pointy tops, taking his time meandering down the aisles. “You left kind of abruptly after dessert. Everything okay?”
“I told you this was a bad idea.” Trent shook his head. “I don’t want my family or my childhood in the book.”
His parents were nice, even if his father seemed grouchy and standoffish. That didn’t mean Trent shouldn’t include that part of his history. “This place and these people are an integral part of you, like it or not. You can’t write a book and call it the unvarnished truth if you’re leaving out a major part of that very truth.”
“It’s my life story. I can say what I want to, and I just want to focus on the business.”
“How is that being true to your nature, Trent?” She waved at the plants and the shrubbery that filled the acres of the nursery. “This is part of your nature, like it or not, and it should be part of the book. Since I don’t have enough material to finish writing, I accepted your mother’s offer to let us stay overnight—”
“What?”
“And help them with their big sale tomorrow.” Let Trent be annoyed; Kate didn’t care. She liked his family and wanted to repay them, even in a tiny way, for their kindness today. “It’s a lot of work for three people, and your mom said you used to help all the time when you were young. I don’t know how good I’ll be on a cash register, but I do know plants.”
“You want to stay. Here. Overnight.”
It wasn’t a question. She raised her chin, daring him to disagree. “Yes, I do. We can help your family, and then head back to Seattle. I got a lot of stories from your mom and saw some pictures from your childhood, but I’d love to fill in some of the gaps while I have access to your family and hear all about the little boy who took his training wheels off when he was four. There’s nothing at GOA that can’t exist without you for a few more hours.”
Amusement lit his eyes as he considered her stern words. “What if I say no?”
She held up his car keys and dangled them in front of him. “Well, Trent MacMillan, I’m going to make that impossible.” Then she tossed him a grin and headed back into the house.
From the outside, the lights glowed golden and soft. The MacMillan family moved about inside, sharing some after-dinner coffee and more conversation. Trent stayed on the outside, watching and not joining, until the air grew too cold.
Cars were lined up before the nursery opened. From the second they unlocked the doors, the MacMillans and Kate were insanely busy with sales. “Wow, is it always this crazy?” Kate asked as she hurried to restock the seed starter kits. “I’ve barely had time to grab a drink of water.”
Trent chuckled. “I think by the time spring comes, people are so ready to get their hands in their dirt that this sale is a big deal. We’re also one of the bigger nurseries in the area, and my parents carry a lot of plants people can’t necessarily find at the smaller places.”
She straightened the mini greenhouses, trying to hurry, which sent one tumbling toward the floor. Trent reached out, catching it at the last second. “Thanks.”
He set it on her stack. “We make a good team.”
“We do,” she said, holding his gaze with a smile.
He wanted to linger with her, to tell her more about spring planting and garden clubs and all kinds of things that would keep this nursery conversation going, but his mother called him over to help carry out an order, and Kate hurried to do a price check on a garden fountain.
It took Trent some time to get back in the groove, which meant his impatient father sent him more than one annoyed glare. By mid-afternoon, the crowds had died down, and the family began straightening up the chaos created by the busy sale day.
His father was at the back of the nursery, struggling to lift a big bag of soil, part of a tower of potting soil that had been knocked over by a rambunctious kid earlier. Trent saw the strain in his muscles, the hunch in his back. When had his father gotten so old? It seemed like Robert had aged thirty years, not ten, since Trent had last been home. He hurried over and before his father could object, lifted the opposite end. “Let me help you with that.”
“I’ve got it.”
“I’m sure you do, Dad.” Trent didn’t let go. Together, they swung the big, heavy bags into a neat pile against the fence.
When they were done, his father wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Thanks.”
“It was a nice busy day today. Seemed busier than the last few sales.”
His father stopped walking and turned to face him. “When was the last time you were here for an annuals sale? Ten years ago? Twelve?”
It had to have been at least that long. Trent had let the busyness of college and then GOA keep him away from Hudson Falls. How could he do that? He knew firsthand how consuming a business could be, and yet he’d somehow gone around thinking his was more important than the one run by his aging parents. “I’m sorry. I should have come up more often.”
“Yeah.” His father opened his mouth as if he wanted to say more, then shook his head. Trent turned to walk away but stopped when he heard his father call his name. Just like that, Trent’s frustration dissipated.
“Help me with this shelving unit, will you?”
The shelving was thick, heavy metal, and after Trent had seen his father struggling with the bags of potting soil, there was no question of not helping. This was also his father’s way of apologizing, through working together. Trent could hold on to his resentments, or he could set them down and pick up the shelving instead. “Where are we going with it?”
“Your mother wants to bring in one of those fancy wicker patio sets. Suggested selling, or marketing, whatever Marla is calling it.”
“I think that’s a great idea. But what if…” Trent spun a slow circle, “…we move the two white shelving units over here and put them into a T-shape? The patio set can go between them, sort of like a little room. We can use the shelves to display all those little last-minute decorative things people like. The plant pots, those lanterns, maybe even some of those…what are they?” Trent pointed at a small set of figurines.
“Your mother calls them gnomes. I think they’re trolls.”
Trent laughed. “Okay, so some plant pots and trolls. With the warmer weather, everyone is going to be looking for new things to spruce up their gardens. We can even put up some photos of Marla’s designs on the shelves.”
His father thought about that. “It’ll seem like the customers are on their own patio.”
“Exactly. And if they can see it as their own, maybe they will want to replicate it at home. More business for Marla, and for you.”
“Smart thinking, Trent.”
It was the first compliment his father had given him in a long while, and it warmed Trent’s heart. Like a typical man, he coughed away the emotion and muttered a simple “Thanks, Dad.”
“Well, let’s move this thing.” The two of them lifted the heavy metal unit and began to duck-walk it across the nursery. His father peeked around one side of it as they staggered to the other side of the nursery. “Remember that camping trip we went on with the Boy Scouts when you were, what, fourteen? Fifteen?�
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“The one where we got caught in the rainstorm in the mountains? We almost got washed down the side of Liberty Bell Mountain.” So close to the Canadian border, even a summer night got chilly. When the skies had started rumbling, several of the dads and their sons had turned back and went home, but a few hardy souls, like Trent and his father, had stuck it out.
“You know what I liked about that trip?”
“Not the rain, that was for sure,” Trent said. It had been the kind of cold, stinging rain that hurt your face and seeped into your bones. Trent had been tempted to go back home too, but his dad had said they should try sticking it out, because eventually the storm would move on and the sun would come back out.
His father snorted. “Definitely not that. I liked the way you and I figured out what to do. Together. The whole group was worried because it was so windy, and once it got dark, we needed to have some kind of safe shelter solution against the weather. It could have been disastrous, but you and I built off each other’s ideas and created that shelter.”
The memory of the two of them working together, hurrying before the storm intensified, came rushing back to Trent. “It was really cool. We used that felled tree and some homemade thatching. And we made a bed on the floor of it with pine needles and leaves.” Everyone in the troop had stayed warm and safe that night, and when the storm had abated, they’d awoken to a spectacular morning and a long, wonderful day spent fishing.
“It was a good trip,” the two of them said at the same time. “Well, what do you know. Maybe we do have a few things in common,” Trent said.
“Maybe.” Dad stepped back and assessed the new area. He cleared his throat, once again coughing away the momentary emotions. “This looks good.”
“Yeah. Marla’s going to love it. It was a great idea, Dad.”
“Wasn’t mine. It was yours. I just built off it, like I did on that camping trip. You’re smart and creative, and that’s part of why I liked about having you around, Trent,” his father said. “I was so looking forward to when you came home from college and started working here full-time. I wanted to see what we could do with this place, where the two of us could take it. Instead, you went off on your own.”