by Holly Rayner
I point to the garden bed, which is now almost cleared of the intruding weeds. “Cleaning up this little herb garden,” I say. “Did you know you have lemon basil growing here?”
He peers down at the green plants at our feet. “Wait, is it lemon or basil?” he asks.
I laugh. “Lemons grow on trees, Garrett. You know that, I’m sure! This is basil that has a lemon flavor to it.” I kneel down and pinch off a leaf from the basil plant. “Here, you can smell the hints of lemon.”
He takes the leaf from me, sniffs it, and then nibbles on the edge. “Oh, you’re right!” he says. “I can taste it. I didn’t know basil could have different flavors.”
“So can mint,” I say. “Here… smell this one. It’s chocolate mint. You’re telling me you didn’t know this garden was here?”
He sniffs the mint that I hand him, and smiles. “That would be good in a dessert cocktail I bet,” he says. Then, “Nope, no idea. My caretaker must have planted it. What’s that one?”
I point out each of the herbs to Garrett, and then explain that the garden has to be weeded and watered if he wants the herbs to stay alive. He seems happy to learn about the plants, and genuinely interested in learning how to care for the little plot.
When I’m done with my little Gardening 101 class, Garrett lifts up the bag that he’s been holding.
“While you’ve been busy saving my garden from the attack of the choking weeks, I took the liberty of picking up some books for you,” he says.
“For me?” I ask.
He nods and then reaches into the bag and pulls out a stack of three books. He hands them over to me, and I quickly browse through. They’re all related to marketing.
“I took a look at your Karla’s Kitchen branding last night after you left for the evening,” Garrett says. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” I say. “What did you think?”
“I think you’re right,” he says. “You’re really close to hitting it out of the park. With a few tweaks to your marketing strategy, like you said, you’ll be off and running. I think this book,” he says and points to the one at the top of the stack in my hands, “will help you fine-tune your copywriting. It’s a bit advanced, but I know you have a degree in business, so you’ll be able to follow it no problem.”
I smile. His confidence in me means a lot. I haven’t talked about Karla’s Kitchen with many people. For the most part, I’ve tried to keep my dreams for my business to myself.
“Thank you,” I say to Garrett.
He steps closer, positioning himself at my side so he can flip open the book and read over my shoulder. I look down at the page as his finger skims the table of contents.
He stops at chapter nine. “I think you’re going to like this chapter in particular. You might even want to just start there. It’s all about relating to your customer by using their language.”
“Chapter nine…” I murmur, so he knows I’m listening. It’s hard to focus my mind on copywriting with Garrett standing so close to me.
“This was really nice of you,” I say, while still looking at the page. “I didn’t even realize there was a bookstore in Willow Creek.”
“There isn’t,” Garrett says. “I drove over to Barry.”
“Were you running errands there?” I ask, thinking about the hour-long drive to Barry. I look up at Garrett.
He shakes his head. “Just getting books,” he says. “I really wanted you to have them. I think it could make a big difference in your startup. If you want, I can even go over your branding with you. I like what you have so far, and you could take my opinions with a grain of salt.”
I laugh. “A grain of salt? Garrett, you’re the most successful businessperson I know. I would be happy to follow through with your suggestions. Thanks for going out of your way to get these for me. That was really thoughtful of you.”
He shrugs. “It was nothing,” he says. “Happy to do it.”
After a moment of awkward silence, Garrett looks over at the ranch. “I guess I’d better do some work. When I decided to bring Colt out here for the week, I thought I’d be able to get so much work done. That hasn’t exactly been the case. I have to check in with my assistant… see what fires need to be out.”
“I’d better get to reading,” I say, lifting the books. “And check on my own fires… I have a few apartment leads to follow up on, too.”
Garrett nods. “Right… apartments,” he says, his tone sounding a bit more formal. “How is your search going?”
“Fine,” I say vaguely.
“Good,” he says.
We part ways, me heading for the guest house, and Garrett disappearing into the ranch.
I stop into the guest house kitchen, grab a glass of water, and then settle onto the living room couch with my phone. Though I log into my work email, I have trouble focusing on the contents of each message. My web designer has a few questions about glitches that are popping up in the system we’ve set up for digital orders, and the warehouse manager wants to know how much space I’ll be needing next quarter.
I close my email inbox on my phone, and instead glance over at the three books that Garrett bought for me. I can’t believe he drove all the way to Barry just to pick up books on marketing that he thinks might help me. It was very thoughtful of him.
I smile to myself as I leaf through the books. Then I set them aside and turn my mind to my apartment search. After about twenty minutes of browsing the listing sights, I find one that looks promising. It’s in an area of the city that I like, it has two bedrooms, it comes with parking, and it has a decent kitchen—not great, but decent. On my budget, decent is going to have to do.
As soon as I think about my budget, I realize that I have no idea what’s in my bank account. I’d better check, before I even consider inquiring about an apartment.
Besides, I know I have a credit card payment due soon, and I’d better see what the exact date is.
I log in to my account online and start reading over the numbers. My account balance is low, but that’s no surprise. Maybe I can talk to the bank about taking out a personal loan, just to tide me over until I get my refund from the sleazy landlord, Tim.
I click over to my credit card, expecting to see the hefty ten thousand dollars of debt sitting there and glaring back at me like it always does.
Instead, I see a balance that I think must be a mistake: the screen shows that I owe zero dollars.
That can’t be right. I dial the bank right away, and a teller informs me that the balance was paid in full the night before by a man named Garrett Green.
I hang up, stunned.
This is beyond a thoughtful gesture. I know that Garrett has thousands of dollars to spare, but it doesn’t matter—it’s still a large sum of money to just give to a random stranger.
It takes me a moment to realize I’m not a random stranger to Garrett. I’m going to be the mother of his children.
I sit with this thought for a while, trying to get used to the idea. Then, I scroll back over to the apartment listing that I was contemplating earlier.
The landlord’s number is listed, and I copy it into my phone.
I’m about to hit send when something stops me. It’s a little internal nudge from somewhere deep within. I find my finger straying from the “send” button, and then I put down my phone altogether. I don’t want to call about the apartment. It will make my return to the city seem so close—so imminent. I don’t want to face that reality. Not yet.
I stand and walk over to the window. It’s a beautiful day outside—the sun is shining, and the sky is blue with just a few scattered, puffy white clouds.
It’s too nice out to be stuck inside doing work. I think of Garrett in his office and the horses in their stalls. I should thank him for his generous act of paying off my debt.
I move toward the door. Without overthinking my actions, I wander over to the ranch house and knock lightly on the door. I know Garrett is in his office, as he told me he w
ould be, so I open the door and step inside. I make my way to the office and peek my head inside. Garrett is at his desk, staring at his laptop, a worry line creasing his brow.
“Peek-a-boo,” I say, from the doorway.
He looks up at me and smiles. “Well, hello,” he says, with a grin on his lips.
“I had to come over and say thank you. I say what you did—with my credit card debt.”
He waves a hand. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “That’s one of the perks of being wealthy. I get to do things like that.”
“It’s a big deal to me,” I say. “No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.”
“Well, you deserved it,” Garrett says.
“Hey, it’s beautiful out,” I say. “Want to go for another horseback ride, before you have to go pick up Colt?”
Without hesitation, he closes his laptop. “There’s nothing I’d like more,” he says.
Chapter 17
Karla
For the next several days, Garrett and I spend hours out on the trails with Cream Puff and Princess. He also helps me look over the marketing campaigns that I’ve set up for Karla’s Kitchen, and spot the errors and inconsistencies in my branding. In the evenings, I cook some of my favorite Italian dishes for Garrett and Colt.
Garrett and I make very little progress with our arrangements for the twins. In the back of my mind, I know that the week is drawing to a close, and we’re going to have to come to some agreements soon, but I keep putting that time off. Garrett seems to be doing the same. Though each of us mentions doing a conference call with the lawyers, neither of us insists on setting a time and date for the appointment.
On Friday afternoon, I drive myself into Willow Creek to pick up ingredients for the ratatouille that I want to cook that evening. As I browse the produce aisles, my phone rings.
I pick up, and Christy doesn’t even wait for me to answer before she says, “Karla? Oh my God, you actually answered!”
I laugh. “Hey, Christy,” I say.
“I thought you were dead!” she says dramatically.
I roll my eyes and cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear as I pick up a zucchini to examine it. “Oh come on, I texted you to say I’d be in Texas for the week. I told you I wouldn’t be in cell service range.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t believe you,” Christy says. “What kind of place is really out of cell service these days? I mean, you’re not hiding under a rock… are you?”
“I’m not under a rock,” I say, with another chuckle. “I’m just in rural Texas.”
“I was seriously considering calling the cops so they could start a search,” Christy says. “For all I knew, you were kidnapped by the evil Garrett Green. I was really starting to worry.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t call the cops,” I say. “Garrett didn’t kidnap me. And he’s not evil. He’s actually really nice.” I put the zucchini into my cart and move on. “I’m having a really good time out here.”
“Are you guys coming to terms about what will happen with the baby?”
“Babies,” I say. “I’m having twins.”
I have to hold the phone away from my ear as Christy emits an excited squeal. After she’s done gushing about her shock that I’m having multiples, I say, “We haven’t exactly cleared up the terms yet. We’re going to get some stuff in writing, but it hasn’t happened.”
“But you’ve been there for almost an entire week,” she says. “What have you been doing?”
“Getting to know each other,” I say simply.
I don’t know if I can put into words the precious moments that Garrett and I have spent together. If I try to describe the way it feels to sit at the side of a flowing creek with Garrett, the horses nearby lapping up water, and the birds singing in the trees, it might come out sounding boring, or silly. How can I explain to Christy that little moments with Garrett somehow become magical, just because he’s near?
“Well, don’t lose sight of what you’re there for,” Christy says. “It’s good you’re getting to know each other. You know the saying—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
“Garrett’s not my enemy,” I say, a bit annoyed.
“Oh, honey, I know,” Christy says. “Don’t get all hot-tempered on me. I’m not saying he’s your enemy. I’m just saying he’s not exactly on your side, either.”
I start loading plumb tomatoes into a plastic bag as Christy continues. “I mean, he’s probably thrilled that you’re going so easy on him. You could be taking him to court and putting him through the wringer. But don’t go too easy on him, Karla. How long are you going to be out there?”
I don’t know I say, as I twist the bag full of tomatoes and then put it in my cart. “I think Garrett’s leaving on Sunday, and I will, too.”
“Where will you go?” she asks. “In your text you said that the apartment on Brock Street fell through.”
“It did,” I say. “I have another lead…” I think of the apartment that I never followed through on.
“Good,” Christy says. “I’m worried about you, Karla. Hey, I think I might have a good tip on some work for you. You know how Ian’s sister Katherine owns the hair salon, on 7th Street?”
I nod, and barely listen as Christy chats about Katherine’s search for a person to help her run her business. “I mean, you could start out just helping her with the operations side of things—you know, how to manage her books, stuff like that. You’re so good with all that stuff. And then, who knows where it could go? You could end up being a part-owner. I know she’s looked for business partners in the past.”
“I don’t want to own a hair salon,” I tell Christy. Then, to soften my response I add, “but thanks for thinking of me. I’m out of work, seeing as I bailed on the temp position. I don’t think they’re going to be eager to use me again anytime soon. I guess I could give Katherine a call.”
“She’ll be thrilled to hear from you,” Christy says. “Oh, shoot—Henry’s crying. Let me know if you need help nailing that new apartment down. I could go over and see the place in person, or whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Christy,” I say.
“Oh, and Karla—don’t let this guy steamroll you, okay? I know he’s probably Mr. Suave, but keep your wits about you. Remember your objective. You have to get it in writing that he’s going to offer financial support. Don’t lowball him, either. The guy can afford to pay. He’s not going to go broke.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “Thanks for the reminder.”
While I finish crossing items off of my list, I consider Christy’s advice. It’s Friday. My week in Willow Creek is drawing to a close. Soon, Garrett will go back to his life, and I’ll go back to mine. In a little over seven months, I’m going to have two little mouths to feed, and as of right now, I have no apartment, and no steady income.
I pay for the groceries, with a twinge of anxiety as I see the $110 total, and then push the full cart out to the parking lot. The afternoon sun beats down on me, and when I get into my little car, the heat intensifies. I roll down the windows, start up the engine, and crank the AC. Then, while waiting for the air to cool, I take out my phone. I scroll through my saved numbers until I find the one that was listed next to the apartment I spotted several days ago—the one with the decent apartment. I hit send.
“Hello?” a man greets me after just a few rings.
“Hi… I’m calling about an apartment I saw listed. It was a two-bedroom, over in the Stapleton area. You’ve probably already leased it out, but—”
“Oh, no, no,” he says, interrupting me. “Haven’t leased it out yet. I don’t know why—it’s a wonderful space, in a really quiet neighborhood. Do you want to see it?”
Shoot. Part of me was hoping that the apartment wouldn’t be available anymore.
“I… um…” I say, stumbling to find words. “I’m out of town at the moment,” I say. “But my friend can take a look at it for me, and let me know what she thinks, if t
hat’s all right with you.”
“Of course!” he says. “Give her my number. I live right down the block. I’m retired, so any time works for me. Oh, and I should mention—I’d be happy to prorate the rent, seeing as part of June is gone already. I could give it to you for half off.”
“Wow, really?” I say. “Okay… I’ll let my friend know, and she’ll be in touch soon. Her name is Christy.”
When we hang up, I shoot a text to Christy, giving her the landlord’s number. She messages back right away saying that she’ll pop over and see the place first thing in the morning, and let me know what she thinks.
I thank her and then finally put my car into gear. I have a ratatouille to cook.
Chapter 18
Garrett
I lift a rough, pale orange stone, and place it in line with the others. It’s Saturday morning. The fire ring I’ve been working on for the past few hours is coming along nicely. I’ve had this project in mind since I bought the ranch, but I never got around to doing it.
I look over at the pile of stones on the ground near the pit, trying to spot one that’s on the narrower side. It’s been fun lining up the stones so that they fit well together. It almost feels like doing a puzzle. Thinking I’ve spotted one with the right shape, I kneel down and begin pulling it out from the bottom of the pile.
Several rocks on top of it shift around as I tug at the rock. When I finally free it, I look up and see Karla walking across the yard toward me.
I grin when I see her. It’s a reflex I can’t hold back these days. She’s in a soft, plaid short-sleeve shirt, and jean cutoffs. She looks gorgeous.
“Howdy,” I say. “Check out the fire pit I’m resurrecting.”
“It’s nice,” Karla says, glancing at the ring of stones. She seems distracted. She places her hands in her back pockets, rocks back on her heels as she surveys the work I’ve been doing. “Looks like a big project,” she says.