by Jen Peters
He shrugged, his jacket rising and falling smoothly with his movement. “He was old. I knew it was getting close.”
That wasn’t quite what she meant. “He lived in Portland?”
Mitch nodded. “He had a penthouse apartment in the firm’s building. Marcus will be getting it all cleared up. His nurse.”
Ree swirled her drink, but he didn’t say anything else. He didn’t change the subject, either.
“Were you close?”
“He basically raised me. My parents traveled, still travel. They couldn’t get back for the funeral.”
“Oh Mitch, I’m so sorry,” Ree repeated. She was sorry for more than his grandfather, but she wasn’t going to touch his relationship with his parents with a ten-foot pole. “What was your grandfather like?”
Mitch sat back, thought for a moment, then finally smiled. “Gruff. Tough on the outside but he loved me. Taught me to play chess, taught me to see life like a chessboard.”
“Good for being an attorney, right?”
“Good for anything, actually. Making business decisions, seeing people for who they really are.”
Ree groaned inwardly—getting answers out of Mitch was like pulling splinters out one at a time. “Was he a businessman?”
“No, an attorney. Started his own firm.”
Ree thought of her mother’s business. “What will happen to it now? Will you go back and run it?”
Mitch frowned. “I’m just finding out what goes on behind the scenes. Granddad kept a hand in, but he turned the day-to-day business over to the other partners more than a decade ago.”
“I hope he enjoyed his retirement.”
“Not really. He always wished he was back doing something useful. He was 88.”
Ree shuddered at the thought of her mother working into her seventies. Dessert arrived and she took a bite of cheesecake, not sure what to say next. Mitch was silent too, but it wasn’t awkward this time.
Then he spoke suddenly. “I want to do a memorial for him. In a garden area at the inn.”
Ree perked up. “That’s a wonderful idea. What do you have in mind?”
“Maybe a sundial. Or some sort of metal sculpture, birds or something. He was big into education and always said it let a person soar.”
“Will you have an artist do it for you?”
“A commission? No, probably not. But I’ll call some people next week and see what they have.”
The evening had turned solemn for both of them. They finished dessert and paid the check, and Mitch dropped Ree at home with a soft, pensive kiss on her cheek.
Pumpkin jumped into Ree’s lap as soon as she sat in her favorite thinking chair. “So Mom brought you home tonight, huh?" She petted him absent-mindedly, her heart wrapped up in Mitch’s sorrow. It sounded like his grandfather was the anchor in his life. What would it be like to lose that suddenly? Or if not suddenly, then completely?
For once, she’d had a chance to peek over the walls he had up, to see him for who he was. She still didn’t know how to reconcile the man inside with the job he did. Could her mother be right—Mitchell Blake was not a total jerk? But then how could he do what he did, day in and day out?
She tried to work it out, but her mind shied away from the conundrum and slid to another idea. She loved the idea of a memorial for his grandfather and wanted to add to it. What kind of a garden could she design to enhance its setting? She could find shrubs and flowering plants to showcase a sculpture of birds. And if her mother helped, it would provide a distraction for her, too.
Chapter 18
Mitch woke to sunlight streaming in the second floor window of the McCormick Inn’s largest guest room. How satisfying to be able to stay in a comfortable, well-appointed room now. The first time he’d spent the night in McCormick’s Creek, he’d subjected himself to the Sleepy Time Motel, a strip of six individual A-Frames that had seen better days. It had been clean, he’d give it that, but not much else.
Thank goodness that Cat, Justin and Harriet moved quickly. The construction was done now, and the inn’s bedrooms were largely furnished, with Harriet looking for only a few particular items more. That meant his mattress was good, the decor was delightful, and the showers had plenty of hot water.
And long hot showers were perfect for thinking time. Usually his thinking time dealt with legal matters, but this time… this time the water streamed over him while Ree filled his thoughts.
Dinner last night had been perfect. Lots of banter and easy conversation, laughter in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes. Until grief had washed over him again. He’d carried on, but it had put a damper on the evening, and he didn’t know how Ree felt about it.
Did it make a lousy first date for her? Did she think he was a wimp? The fact that he’d known Granddad’s days were numbered didn’t make it any easier, but somehow telling her stories about him felt right. And she was sympathetic without being over-the-top.
She was so different from the women he knew. She was beautiful, yes, but also the girl next door. She wasn’t afraid to let out a belly laugh or eat exactly what she wanted rather than what someone would expect her to have. Every woman he had known had been obsessed with looking model-thin and being just what someone like him wanted.
He wasn’t sure what that said about him, but he could let his guard down with Ree. Or at least last evening had proven that he could, even if he hadn’t planned on it.
So what could he do for her? Granddad had cautioned him not to make over the town without their consent, but he could start at least one person off today.
An hour later, he entered the flower shop. No one was in the front, but remembering his first visit, he called out, “Anybody home?”
Ree came out from the back, wiping her hands on a towel. “Mitch, good morning." She actually blushed again. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman blush, and he loved that she didn’t control her reactions.
He took in her disheveled ponytail and lack of makeup, and grinned. Yup, this was one girl who was strong enough to be herself. But that was for later. “Is your mother around?”
“Mom? She’s back at the greenhouse, as usual,” Ree grumbled. “Why?”
He just shrugged and said, “Thanks." A little mystery was good for the reputation.
He found Mrs. Swanson rearranging plants on the wide tables. “Good morning. So these are your bat flowers?”
Mrs. Swanson let out a laugh. “No, Mr. Blake, these are Asiatic lilies. The batwings are back here.”
“Trust me to get it wrong.” He smiled sheepishly and followed her to the strangest looking flowers he had ever seen, if they could even be called flowers. They seemed hairy, somehow, even whiskery. The flower was almost black and looked a little like a bat’s outstretched wings. If a bat had fat wings.
Mrs. Swanson told him all about them, who bought them, and how inattentive people would let freezes kill them and then come back for more.
Mitch nodded, asking some questions and filing away a million more for later. He looked around the greenhouse. “Do you have a few minutes that we could sit down? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
“You want to talk to me?” Mrs. Swanson stepped back.
“Oh, nothing bad. In fact, I think you’ll like it.”
She nodded. “Inside. Just let me wash up." She straightened a few plants, cleaned up at a cement sink, and Mitch followed her into the house.
He wasn’t sure how to begin the conversation. He was used to clients asking him to take their case, or else telling another attorney the way things would be. Helping someone, being concerned about how they would react, was an entirely different thing.
Mitch cleared his throat. “I know your hand surgery makes flower arranging impossible right now, and Ree tells me that the shop can’t afford to hire someone to help.”
Mrs. Swanson pursed her lips. “Ree’s been telling tales out of school. That’s private." Her back was ramrod straight, and she clenched her hands in her lap.
“Yes, but…”
“My hand will heal, and we’ll work our family business out privately. But thank you.”
Mitch sighed. “Mrs. Swanson, I’m not trying to butt in. I just—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing, Mr. Blake. And I won’t let you buy Ree’s affections.”
“Ree’s affections?” Mitch sat back, appalled at the direction Mrs. Swanson’s thoughts had taken. “No, that’s not it at all. I would be here even if…” His voice trailed off. His feelings for Ree, no matter how quickly they were growing, had nothing to do with this.
“Let me start over. Mr. McCormick has an interest in seeing his hometown prosper, and the McCormick Foundation has set aside a certain amount of money for businesses that are struggling.”
“We are not struggling!” Mrs. Swanson snapped.
“No,” Mitch agreed, “you’re doing fine as long as you have Ree’s unpaid help. Until your hand heals completely, you can’t do without her or another full time assistant.”
“I won’t take charity.”
“It’s not charity,” he countered. “It would be a very low-interest loan with deferred payments." He put his hand up as she began to protest. “Also, you have some marketable products in the greenhouse, as well as a prospective plant breeding program.”
Mrs. Swanson eyed him warily. “The batwings are just for fun. And the plant breeding won’t ever earn money.”
He leaned forward. “Mrs. Swanson, Mr. McCormick is serious about this. I’d like to suggest a business advisor to see about selling the batwings online, perhaps adding a few other exotic plants. A horticulture advisor could help you focus your genetics with an eye to marketing the results. The Foundation is prepared to provide a grant for their consultations.”
Mrs. Swanson looked rather dumbfounded. “I could earn real money from the greenhouse?”
“I’m not an expert, but it’s possible. It’s at least worth looking into.”
She was quiet for a few moments, then met his eyes. “Let me think about this for a while.”
“Sure,” he said. “Call me if you have questions, which I’m sure you will.”
He handed her his business card and she walked him to the door.
“You…the Foundation would be helping other businesses, too?” she asked.
“Of course,” Mitch said, feeling like he should be tipping his hat to her. Channeling his grandfather, he supposed, which was not a bad thing. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
He walked back down the gravel drive feeling lighter than he had since his grandfather died. Lighter than he had for the last few years.
Chapter 19
While her mother was enjoying herself in the greenhouse, Ree had been toiling all morning on floral arrangements. For some reason everyone in town had picked today to order birthday and anniversary flowers, plus a couple bouquets for sick friends. But it had given her time to think about Mitch, about their delightful dinner, and about the memorial he wanted for his grandfather. Her need to lump him with the slimy Biali lawyer had receded a bit. She couldn’t deny what Mitch did for his job, but she couldn’t help feeling he was mostly a good guy.
“Hey, Mom,” Ree said as her mother came back to the work area late in the morning. She clipped thorns off the last of the rose stems before she looked up. “I need some help with a project.”
“Whatever I can do,” Mom said, perusing the flowers that Ree had picked. “Do you know how frustrating it is to only be able to watch? I’m itching to get back into it. And that’s not the only thing that’s itching!" She glared at her brace.
Ree gave a rueful smile. “I’m itching for you to get back into it, too!" They chuckled, and Ree said, “I could use your talents in another way. I’d like to design a special garden for Mitch at the inn—his grandfather passed away and he wants to do a memorial for him.”
“At the inn? Did his grandfather have any connection there?”
Hmm. Ree hadn’t thought about that. Surely there was some place more important to his grandfather. Or at least where Mitch would at least see it more often. But no, this is what he’d said, and she suspected that when Mitch said something, he meant it. “I don’t know,” she said, “but he wants it here. He’s going to look for a sculpture, but I thought it would be a nice surprise to design a garden for it.”
Her mother played with the discarded leaves Ree had cut off. “I could give you some general assistance with ideas, but you really need a landscape designer. I know flowers, not garden planning.”
Ree frowned. “I don’t want to use the firm he has doing the inn’s landscaping—I’d like to keep this separate. Is there anybody else around?”
“Hey, Ree, you back here?” The back door opened and Robin came in. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Swanson. What’s up?”
Mom smiled. “Nothing much, slow out front and busy back here with orders. I’ll leave you two girls to chat." She used her arm to swipe Ree’s leavings into the large trash can and went out to the front.
Robin told her about a dog she’d found limping by the side of the road.
“Another one?” Ree said. “You really need to get out more.”
“And what about you, Ms. Workaholic?”
Ree grinned and told her about dinner with Mitch.
“Swoony date, huh?” Robin said flippantly.
“Not really. His grandfather just died,” Ree said, sliding one last eucalyptus stem in and turning the vase to check all sides. “I want to create a garden for the memorial sculpture Mitch is going to get, but I need some advice. And there’s nobody here to help.”
“Well,” Robin mused, leaning on the workbench, “there’s always Luke Gallardo. You know, the guy Raine dated a bit that summer she came back?”
“Luke. I hate the name Luke, no matter how it’s spelled.” Ree set her jaw as old memories came back. “And we don’t need to talk about Raine.”
Robin remained silent. Ree checked the last order sheet and selected a sleek, modern vase. She began the grid of tape.
“What Raine did was inexcusable, but I’m over it. Mostly,” Robin finally said. “But Luke, he does landscaping jobs around. I don’t know if he’s a designer or not, but maybe between him and your mom, you could come up with something special—regardless of his name." A teasing glint appeared in Robin’s eyes. “And you do want something special for Mitch, right? Did he kiss you last night?”
“Robin!" Ree concentrated on her work. Then she shook her head. “Just a peck on the cheek when he dropped me off. But we’d been talking about his grandfather’s death, and his mood had changed.”
“That’s really hard,” Robin commiserated. She paused for a minute, then perked up. “But you’d like him to? Kiss you, I mean?"
Ree played with various flowers, then let her smile come out. “Yes,” she said, blushing. “Definitely.”
Their eyes met and they burst into giggles like the sixth-graders they used to be. When they finally straightened up, Robin got even more serious. “Do you think this might go somewhere? Or do you think you’re just someone to be with when he’s down here?”
Ree sighed. “I don’t know. I try not to think about it, to just take it a day at a time. It’s too early for anything else." Right. She had told herself that as she lay daydreaming last night. She’d kept trying to remind herself that she didn’t know him well enough, that he still could be the snake she first thought he was, but she couldn’t get past the laughter and warm feelings they’d shared at dinner.
“Earth to Ree?”
“What? Oh, sorry.” Ree snipped the lower leaves off a carnation and stuck it in the vase. “I…I have no idea what’s going on, or what I want to be going on.”
Robin leaned her elbows on the worktable, her chin in her hands. “Ye-es?”
“It’s just…I like him. I really like him. But he’s an awful guy doing work I detest.”
“What?”
Ree looked at her friend. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s a corporate raider, or wha
tever they call them these days, only he doesn’t take over big companies, he goes after small ones. Or helps his clients to. And he uses dirty tactics, and he says he’s good at it." She dropped her eyes and played with the leaves scattered on the table. “He’s just like the slimy lawyer that ruined my dad’s business. Except my heart doesn’t feel that way.”
There was no answer from Robin, but Ree suddenly felt her friend’s arms around her. The comfort almost sent Ree into tears, but she managed a few deep breaths instead. And then she gave a bitter laugh and pulled back.
“Thanks, Robin. I needed that. But what does it mean when a hug from you reminds me that I want someone’s arms around me on a regular basis?”
Robin held her eyes. “It means you have feelings, and that’s okay. But if Mitchell Blake isn’t someone you can trust and respect, then you’ve got to shut those particular feelings down. Ignore them until he’s done here and then find somebody else.”
That sounded like the hardest thing Ree would ever have to do, but maybe she wouldn’t have to. Maybe Mitch was really a nice guy under his lawyer suit. “Right,” she said, ready to change the subject. “You wouldn’t know what company Luke Gallardo works for, would you?”
And Robin blushed. “Um, I might have his number in my phone.”
“What? Robin!”
“We-ell, I sort of had a major crush on him last year." She pulled out her phone.
Ree stopped her with a hand motion. “Do you still? You should do something about it! Call him. Meet him somewhere.”
“No way. That was last year, and he’s going out with someone else now.”
“Drat. I had hopes for someone who’s not four-legged and furry.”
Robin shook her head adamantly. “Here, you call him about your garden." She texted the number to Ree.
Ree saved it, and also saved the ideas bubbling in her brain. If her best friend had been crushing on a guy last year, maybe she'd be willing to go out with someone this year.