by Arlene James
“Where do you keep the salad vegetables?” she asked brightly. “I do so like a good salad. Don’t you?”
Lily glanced around. “This is a flower shop, ma’am. We don’t carry vegetables.”
As she spoke, the woman made a beeline for the humidifier. “Don’t these look good? Yum.”
“Oh, no,” Lily exclaimed, alarmed. “These aren’t for eating.”
The woman laughed. “My son raises green ones this big!” She held up her hands six inches apart.
“Who is your son?” Lily asked, thinking that she should call the gentleman.
“John,” she answered. “No, wait. John’s my husband.” She giggled at her mistake and flitted to a display of silk flowers. “Pretty,” she murmured. “I could grow these.”
Lily went over and took the woman’s arm, steering her away from the glass shelves. “Ma’am, could you tell me your name, please?”
“My name?” The woman tapped her chin uncertainly. “Don’t you know? One of us should know.”
Lily gulped. Sherie appeared, leaned against the end of the workroom wall and calmly said, “Hello, Mrs. Wilbur.”
“Oh, hello,” the woman said. “Do I know you?”
“Yes, ma’am. I went to school with Kenneth.”
“Kenneth?”
“Your son.”
“Oh. No, I don’t think so. My son’s name is John.”
Lily shared a look with Sherie and went to the phone. Unfortunately she received a message that the number Kenneth Wilbur had given her had been disconnected. Finances were obviously even worse for the Wilburs than she’d realized. She thought about calling the police department, but no crime had been committed, after all, and it wasn’t exactly an emergency. Besides, she knew someone who could help, someone she’d been wanting to see again ever since he’d kissed her.
She went into the office and dialed Tate’s cell phone. When he answered, she quickly apprised him of the situation.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I have an unexpected visitor at my shop, a Mrs. John Wilbur, I believe.”
“Are you telling me that she’s alone?”
“Very much so, and when I called the phone number on Kenneth’s employment application, it was disconnected.”
Tate let out a long sigh. “Is she all right?”
“Confused. She came in looking for salad vegetables, and she seems to frighten easily. She didn’t recognize Sherie, though they’ve apparently known each other a long time.”
“I’ll…find someone to inform Kenneth and come as quickly as I can. Maybe she’ll know me.”
Relieved, Lily went out to see how Mrs. Wilbur was doing. The poor thing was still browsing among the flowers and murmuring about lettuce.
“Ma’am,” Lily asked, “are you hungry?”
Mrs. Wilbur turned and blinked owlishly. “Yes. Do you have vegetables?”
Lily made a decision. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid not, but we might have something else you’d like.” She glanced at Sherie then. “I have to run out for a minute. Will you be okay here?”
Sherie smiled, her eyes cutting to the wall that separated the floral shop from the bakery.
“Sure. Mrs. Wilbur and I are old friends. We’ll be in the workroom.”
Lily squeezed her employee and new friend’s shoulder then went out to prepare an impromptu tea party.
Chapter Eight
Sherie Taylor stood behind the counter when Tate pushed through the door into the florist’s shop. She closed the lid on a box of corsages and handed them to Adele Chaplet, saying, “I hope the girls enjoy the party.”
“The corsages are just beautiful,” Adele gushed. “They’re going to be thrilled.” Adele went out, smiling at Tate.
“Sweet sixteen party,” Sherie informed him. “Adele decided to give corsages as party favors.”
Tate lifted his eyebrows. “That’s a new twist. Where is she?”
Sherie pointed into the workroom, and he walked around the counter to peer around the wall. Lily sat at the stainless steel worktable next to Mrs. Wilbur. Both women held teacups in their hands, plates of half-eaten iced cakes and cookies in front of them, napkins in their laps. A vase of flowers sat in the center of a lace doily between them.
“Strawberry is my favorite,” Mrs. Wilbur was saying. “Kenneth has a strawberry wagon. Did I tell you? It’s his own design, glass sides, shelves inside, vents for directing the breeze. He turns it to catch the sun. We have strawberries nearly all year long.”
“That’s brilliant,” Lily exclaimed. “I wonder if he’d make me one to sit out in front of the shop on the sidewalk. What a pretty display it would make. I bet we could sell them to order, too.”
“He’s clever, my Kenneth,” Mrs. Wilbur said, smiling. She sounded perfectly normal, her old self. Tate watched as Lily reached over and squeezed her hand. “That boy can grow anything.”
“So I’m told. I’m going to check out his herbs very soon, I promise you. Maybe he can teach me to grow some things. I know all about flowers, but I’ve only worked with them after they were cut. It might be fun to get in on the process at the beginning.”
“Hmm, yes, flowers are lovely,” Mrs. Wilbur agreed, “but you can’t eat them.” She sipped from her teacup and set it on the table.
“Can I get you another?” Lily asked.
Dabbing her lips with a napkin, Mrs. Wilbur shook her head. “No, thank you. That was delicious.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Smith you said so.”
Tate stepped forward then, saying, “I didn’t realize Smith provided tea.”
Lily jerked around, her face lighting with a smile of such welcome that his heart turned over.
“He does,” she said. “In fact, he has a lovely selection of teas.”
Tate nodded as he ambled forward. “Mrs. Wilbur, it’s nice to see you.”
The older woman frowned, fear creeping into her gaze. “Do I know you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Tate Bronson.”
“No,” she said, pushing away from the table, suddenly agitated. “I don’t know you.”
Tate looked at Lily, who shrugged slightly and shifted a cake from her plate to Mrs. Wilbur’s, saying, “You haven’t finished your cakes, Mrs. Wilbur. Aren’t they delicious?”
Mrs. Wilbur blinked and snatched the cake from the plate as if worried Tate would steal it from her. He backed away.
Lily slid off her stool and followed him, whispering, “She’s been perfectly lucid ever since we sat down.”
“It’s the Alzheimer’s,” he told her softly. “Kenneth says it’s unpredictable.”
“Figured it was something like that.”
Kenneth came rushing into the shop then, calling out, “Mom! It’s Kenneth!”
Mrs. Wilbur wilted like a flower left too long in the sun without water. Dropping the cake, she jumped off the stool and ran into the other room, crying anxiously, “Kenneth! Kenneth!”
He caught her in his arms and held her against him. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
Clinging to him like a lost child, she trembled, but then he looked to Lily and spoke. “Thanks for looking after her. Danny and I were out mowing yards to raise some cash and had her with us. We didn’t even realize she’d left the van. I’m sorry if she was a bother.”
“No bother,” Lily said kindly. “We had a lovely tea party, didn’t we, Mrs. Wilbur?”
The older woman straightened and turned a shining face to Lily, nodding. “I had a nice time.”
“I’m glad.”
Mrs. Wilbur looked at her son then, patted his chest and announced, “Lily and I are going to plant a community garden.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open, and she literally reeled backward a step, but then a smile broke across her face. “What a wonderful idea!”
Tate smiled, assuming that Lily meant only to humor Kenneth’s poor mother, but something passed between her and Kenneth in the next moment. It was almost an audible click in the air around them.
“You
know, that just might work,” Kenneth said slowly.
“I think so, too,” Lily told him, sounding excited, “but I don’t have the expertise to pull off something like this.”
“I do,” Kenneth stated bluntly, stroking his whiskered chin. “We might just have time.”
“You’re saying it can still be done? That it’s not too late in the summer?”
“Yes, but there’s no time to lose and much to organize.”
“How can I help?”
“We need a site,” Kenneth said, “workers, seeds—no, at this late date, seedlings would be best—water, compost… It’ll have to be enclosed to protect against pests.”
“A community garden could help feed those who most need help,” Lily pointed out excitedly, “but we’ll need lots of assistance to pull it off.”
“I’ll do all I can,” Kenneth volunteered.
Lily looked at Tate and said, “Surely we could gather some donations to pay for Kenneth’s time and expertise.”
Tate could have hugged her. Donations. The people of Bygones might not have much, but they would give what they did have, and he knew exactly where to start. The Bronsons would kick in, of course, and he could think of a few others who could afford to contribute generously. It seemed to him that Robert Randall ought to want to make a sizable contribution to such a worthy cause. Closing his factory had placed so many of the citizens of Bygones in dire straits, after all.
Lily and Kenneth were talking about rounding up volunteers to get the project started, but Tate wasn’t worried about that. People would come as soon as they heard.
“First things first, though,” Kenneth said. “Until we have a site, we don’t have a garden.”
“Leave that to me,” Tate announced.
Lily turned bright eyes on him. “Really?”
When she looked at him like that, how could he do anything but succeed? “I’ll have it taken care of by tonight.”
She beamed. Beamed. Kenneth was pleased, too. Tate barely heard what he said, though. Tate was aware that Kenneth spoke excitedly as he ushered his mother from the shop, planning aloud, but all Tate heard or saw was Lily.
“Thank you,” she told him softly.
“No,” he countered. “Thank you.”
She, after all, had looked after Mrs. Wilbur and she had come up with the idea—or at least planted the idea—of a community garden, then she had seen a way to glean something tangible out of it for Kenneth. Plus she had given Sherie Taylor a job, and she was making a go of her shop. Time would tell whether or not it would be a smashing success, but he figured that she had a good chance, a real good chance, and that was good for the town. What could he do in the face of all that but go out to keep his word?
Besides, it was the only way to be certain that he wouldn’t kiss her again.
He still didn’t know how that had happened. One minute they’d been friends casually comforting each other, and the next, they were man and woman, keenly aware of the mutual attraction that he had never intended to let happen again. But then he’d never intended to think about another woman as often as he thought about Lily. He told himself that it was because of his position on the committee, that it was a matter of his responsibilities and Lily’s importance—or rather, the importance of her business—to the town, but he couldn’t deny the way his heart leaped when she smiled at him.
This was dangerous ground upon which he walked, for he had no intention of marrying again…unless… No, it wouldn’t be fair to ask Lily to give up the possibility of having a child of her own. He wouldn’t even think of it. His business with Lily had to do with the town, nothing more. Just the town. So he would do this for the town, and if it pleased Lily, why should he be sorry about that?
* * *
“Closing time,” Tate announced, walking through the door of Lily’s shop for the second time that day, his daughter on his heels.
Lily glanced at the clock on the wall behind her, the hours marked by the number of blossoms. Four minutes until six o’clock.
“Close enough,” she decided, winking at Isabella.
Tate flipped the sign in the door window, while Isabella beamed a secretive smile.
“What’s going on?” Lily asked, taking her keys from beneath the counter.
“We have something to show you,” Isabella announced. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”
Tate just smiled and started turning off lights. Lily closed up the office then followed Tate and Isabella out onto the sidewalk. Tate took her keys and locked the door to the shop then walked over and opened the front passenger door of his truck for her. After handing her back her keys, he put Isabella into her booster, closed Lily’s door and walked around to slide in behind the steering wheel.
Traffic on Main Street was heavy enough to prevent him from making one of his careless U-turns. Instead he pulled away from the curb and headed east down the block to Granary Road, but no sooner did he turn right than Isabella protested.
“Da-a-d. Not this way.”
Tate rolled his eyes, glancing into the rearview mirror. “It’s almost dinner time.”
“Da-a-d, I promised Bonnie.”
“Okay, okay.”
He whipped a right onto School Drive then turned left onto Bronson Avenue, only to immediately turn into the parking lot of The Everything. Instead of immediately parking, however, Tate guided the truck past the gas pumps and over an uneven patch, bringing it to a stop beside the Snow Cone Cabin.
Nothing more than a portable shed, the tiny building held a rudimentary business that dispensed shaved ice drenched in flavored syrup. Tate explained that it was open only during the warm months and owned and operated by a pair of schoolteachers, Nancy and Mac Jacobs, who had a couple kids, including Isabella’s little friend.
“We try to stop in at least once a week,” he said, killing the truck engine. “Like everyone else, they’re worried about the school closing and try to earn a little extra cash.”
“I see.”
He grinned. “Not yet, but you will.” With that, he got out. Lily did the same then opened the door for Isabella. Tate was there to escort them to the window in the side of the small building.
Mac Jacobs and Bonnie met them with smiles. “What can I get you?” Mac asked.
Isabella had a rainbow cone, Tate went for coconut, Lily chose mixed berry.
Bonnie looked to her father and asked, “Daddy, can I go with them to the park?”
“Are we going to the park?” Lily asked Tate in surprise.
“We are,” he confirmed with a nod and smile before looking to Mac Jacobs. “Bonnie is welcome to join us. We won’t be long.”
“Go ahead,” Mac said to his daughter. “But just until I close up here.”
She ran out a back door and around the building to join Isabella. Giggling, the girls headed for a line of trees just a few yards distant.
“Bonnie seems to know more about what’s going on than I do,” Lily said, falling in beside Tate as they strolled along behind the girls.
He shrugged. “Those two are on the phone all the time. I thought it would be a few years before I’d have to contend with that, but it’s happening earlier and earlier nowadays from what I’m hearing.”
“And you have skillfully avoided telling me what we’re doing,” Lily noted.
Tate chuckled. “Just sightseeing. For now.”
They followed a well-beaten trail through the tall trees and into a green glade. A shallow, irregularly shaped pond lay to the left. A pair of fat ducks paddled around its reedy shore. Lily recognized the gazebo and the playground where the girls headed. Picnic tables with attached benches had been tucked in among the trees.
“This is Bronson Park.”
“So it is.” He pointed to the boxy, two-story, sand-colored dressed-stone house in the distance. “That’s Saul’s house. Most of the rooms are used by the public library. It’s only open a couple days a week now. Budget cuts.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
/> “It is.” He bit off a chunk of shaved ice and waved a hand while he processed it. “You’ll notice the fenced yard around the house.”
“Wrought iron. Very nice.”
“And a sizable enclosed space,” he pointed out. “Kenneth says it’s even big enough for a nice-size garden.”
Lily’s eyes went wide. “Really? I mean, you found a site already?”
Tate grinned. “I called the mayor. He called the city council and Coraline Connolly.” He chuckled. “She and I both called Robert Randall and a few others. Kenneth’s been on the phone all afternoon, too.”
“You know his home phone was shut off?”
Tate waved a hand. “That’s been taken care of.” Lily grinned at him, knowing perfectly well who had paid the past-due bill. Tate cleared his throat, mumbling, “Part of my contribution to the project.”
Laughing, Lily asked, “Part of your contribution?”
He shrugged, tossed the remainder of his snow cone into a nearby trash barrel and grabbed her hand, saying, “Come on. I need to find a way to get a tractor through that fence.”
Lily sent her snow cone after his, and they ran like children across the grass to the homestead. Tate told her that a man who used to work for the city maintenance crew reported that one of the wrought-iron panels would slide up out of position to allow equipment into the fenced area. They started at the front gate and worked their way around to the back, where they found the iron loops that held the removable section in place. Acting together, they lifted the section free and set it aside. Tate judged the opening adequate for the small tractor he had in mind to use to plow the ground.
While they were doing this, Mac Jacobs pulled his small SUV into the parking lot and honked the horn for Bonnie. The girls ran to obey, Bonnie climbing into the backseat of the SUV, Isabella joining her father and Lily as they surveyed the garden plot.
“When will you start?” Lily asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” Tate said. “Folks will be here by dawn to start disking up the sod. Then I can plow and till in the fertilizer.”