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He led them past a shoulder-high hedge that flanked an expansive patio strewn with wrought-iron furniture and bright potted plants, but the greenhouse some thirty yards away captured Jessa’s full attention. She’d seen smaller airplane hangers! Built of glass panels rather than plastic sheeting, the glittering building rose from a lush green lawn artfully transected by wandering walkways of broken paving stone.
“Wow,” Jessa said, while standing in the midst of what amounted to a small forest in pots, Hunter’s hand in hers. She identified miniature fruit trees and several ornamentals, but the rest were unknown to her.
“The larger trees for outdoor plantings will come after I get the greenhouse built on Charter Street,” Garrett told her. “I mean, if I get the greenhouse built on Charter Street.”
Jessa looked at him, “You’re telling me that you want to build a similar nursery at the Monroe place?”
“Actually, I was planning to move this greenhouse there. It belongs to me. Most of it, anyway. I’ve been planning to open a retail nursery for years, and Magnolia’s been helping me by letting me expand the original greenhouse here and load it with stock. She even talked Kent into applying for the combined-use zoning because she thought the Monroe place would be a good site for me.”
Jessa winced, deflated. Well, there was the nail in the coffin of her own dreams for the place. “I was planning to open a florist shop in the front room of the house.”
He nodded. “So I gathered.” Smiling wanly, he added, “Looks like the old adage was right. Great minds do think alike.”
Unfortunately, Jessa mused, only one of those “great minds” could claim the property.
“Well, if it’s flowers you’re interested in,” he said, changing the subject, “you should take a look back here.”
Gesturing for them to follow, he led her and Hunter through the potted grove and past a well-organized work area. He pushed through a split divider of heavy plastic and into a shocking riot of color.
“Ooooh,” Hunter breathed, as intrigued by the display of blossoms as Jessa.
“Are you going to wholesale at some point?” she asked after taking it all in for a minute.
“Hadn’t planned on it. Magnolia likes flowers, so this section kind of got out of hand, if you know what I mean.”
Hunter pointed at a lush rose bush heavy with glorious orange blossoms. “That’s Grandma’s flower.”
“It is,” Jessa told him with an approving smile before explaining to Garrett, “We planted Cinnamon Glow roses on my mother’s grave before we moved here.”
“I see. Sorry for your loss. Did she pass recently?”
“Five years ago,” she replied, oddly touched.
“Almost six for my mom,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t go away, does it, the feeling of being alone in the world without her?”
“I’m not alone,” she replied, squeezing Hunter’s small hand, but Garrett was right. Knowing her mother no longer walked this earth left her feeling orphaned.
“What about your dad?” Garrett asked suddenly.
She straightened her shoulders. “I have no idea. He left us and just disappeared.”
“That’s too bad,” Garrett said. “My dad died when I was seven, but I think that might have been better.” She jerked her head around and found herself staring straight into eyes the color of the bluest sky imaginable. “I know that he didn’t want to leave us because he loved us all so much,” Garrett went on, “but that he’s well and happy in heaven with the Lord.”
“You’re right,” she told him, gulping and looking away. “That is better. I’d like to see those violets you mentioned.”
He seemed to accept the change of subject as gladly as she made it. “Over here.” He led her through tables and shelves burdened with too many plants to count. “They’re just Common Blue Violets.”
“The color is an intense purple, though,” Jessa noted, examining dozens of the small, five-petal blossoms, “and they’re very healthy.”
“I have a few not-so-healthy ones over there,” he said, pointing. “I think I can bring those around by the wedding.”
“What are you using?”
“I always go organic first.”
That started a discussion of organic treatments that carried on far longer than Jessa realized, until Hunter yanked her hand.
“What is it, honey?” She looked down to find him standing with crossed legs and a worried expression on his face. “Oh.”
Garrett, too, got the message. “Hey, the carriage house is closer. I can run him over there, if you like.”
Seeing Hunter’s distress, she almost agreed, but then she realized how close she stood to Garrett and just how long they had been lost together in conversation, and she mentally berated herself. She knew nothing of this man beyond his preferred methods of treating various garden pests and diseases. But a tiny voice in her head argued that they had more than a love of plants in common: they’d both grown up fatherless and lost their moms a few years ago, and they were both Christians.
“He can make it to our rooms. Can’t you, sweetie?”
“I’m six, not a baby,” the boy said in his little-boy voice.
“Go through the sunroom,” Garrett advised. “There’s a men’s room in the East Hall, across from the ballroom.”
“Thanks,” she said, urging Hunter forward. “For the tour, too.”
“No problem,” Garrett called after her. “You’re both welcome to poke around anytime.”
Jessa didn’t answer, mostly because she knew that she should stay away from him. She couldn’t risk liking Garrett Willows any more than she could let herself get too comfortable in a place like Chatam House. East Hall, library, ballroom, suites, greenhouses that would make commercial growers weep with joy; Chatam House had it all—including the too-handsome man who had upset all her hopes and plans.
“Skittish little thing,” Garrett muttered, watching Jessa and Hunter disappear through the divider. The long, vertical strips of heavy plastic flapped and swayed behind them as if to underscore the turmoil that they left in their wake.
He turned back to the violets, heavy of heart. Something was going on with the Pagetts, and it disturbed him plenty. Something about Jessa Lynn Pagett brought out Garrett’s protective instincts, and that, he had learned the hard way, was never a good thing. He struggled with that protective part of himself, which often led him to erroneous conclusions and impulsive actions, like the time he’d yanked Chandler Chatam out of his pickup truck and started throwing punches, believing that the man was responsible for Bethany, Garrett’s sister, being pregnant and unmarried.
He’d soon found out otherwise, of course, but not until he’d made a real idiot of himself. Thankfully, that episode in stupidity had not created an enemy of the man who was now his brother-in-law and the father of his nephew. Garrett took a moment to thank God for that, smiling to think how happy his sister and her little family were. Obviously, Jessa had not been so blessed.
For one thing, she was divorced. For another, she was clearly overprotective with the boy. Plus, something about her manner signaled that she expected to get the short end of every stick. The boy’s quietness and docility bothered Garrett, too. He’d been shocked to hear the kid say that he was six years old. Normal six-year-olds didn’t stand silently clasping their moms’ hands for the better part of an hour. None that Garret knew, anyway. Still, it wasn’t his concern.
Her business ambitions were, though. A florist shop. The Monroe place would be perfect for that. She’d have to be careful not to upset the Historical Society when she put in her shop, but that shouldn’t be too tough.
Sighing, he went to work splitting a healthy violet into two shallow pots. While he worked, he pondered the situation with Jessa and the Monroe place.
He could not, in good conscience, fight her on possession of the site. She had a son to house and a business to launch, and unless he missed his guess, she didn’t have much funding. Buffalo Creek could certainly use another florist, though, almost as much as a good plant nursery, so she should be okay. He’d tell everyone at the meeting. No point in dragging it out. They were all getting together at some point later today to go over wedding plans and decide the matter of the Monroe place. It could all be settled by nightfall.
Garrett acknowledged a sharp sense of disappointment. The Charter Street site had felt right to him. It felt like home and the future and hope all wrapped up together, but not too long ago a cardboard box would have felt that way to him. He certainly couldn’t complain about living and working here at Chatam House. Closing his eyes, he found a silent place within himself and spoke to God.
Guess I jumped the gun in regard to all this, he acknowledged. Forgive me, Lord. It wasn’t just losing the Monroe place, though. He couldn’t help feeling that he was missing out on some sort of opportunity with Jessa and Hunter, too, which was pure nonsense. At any rate, Your will is always best, he prayed on. So that’s all I’m asking, for Your will to be done in every aspect of my life. Besides, we both know You’ve gotten me through much deeper disappointments. You’ll get me through this. In the name of Jesus, thanks.
Feeling a little better, he went back to work. Wouldn’t be long, he told himself, before another place came up, one as good for his purposes as the house and lot on Charter Street. Even if the new place wasn’t as good, he’d make do and be glad. Meanwhile, Jessa would have her shop and Hunter would have a real home.
Smiling to himself, he recalled Jessa’s obvious approval of his greenhouse and plants. He saw her in his mind’s eye, her big dark eyes surveying his little domain with pleasure. The image of her face had not been far from his mind since he’d first laid eyes on it.
He wondered what she was going to do with her day. Maybe he should look in on her and Hunter later. Then again, maybe he should mind his own business.
“Ms. Pagett,” Magnolia said, pausing on the stairway beside Hypatia to acknowledge the young woman and her son.
“Oh, call me Jessa, ma’am.”
“Very well. We’ll all be on a first-name basis, then. Much easier that way.”
Hypatia bent forward slightly and spoke to the boy. “How are you this morning, Hunter?”
“Fine,” he answered softly. His mother gave his hand a waggle, and he added, “Thank you.”
Hypatia smiled. “My, you are a well-mannered young man.”
“Thank you,” he and his mother said at the same time.
Magnolia opened her mouth to ask how they’d slept, but the sound of a buzz saw had her grimacing instead. Tossing a resigned glance upward, she offered Jessa a wan smile. The screech of the buzz saw ceased, leaving abrupt silence. Magnolia offered her apologies.
“It never lasts very long. Mr. Bowen is a most considerate fellow.”
Jessa nodded as she slipped past the two older women, tugging her son behind her. “No problem. Excuse us, please. We have books waiting.”
“Did you find the library, then?” Magnolia asked, pointing to the door below, across the foyer from the front parlor.
“Not yet. I meant our lesson books, ma’am,” Jessa clarified, hurrying Hunter around the curve in the stairs.
Magnolia tilted her head at that, but Hypatia just sighed and resumed her descent. Magnolia fell in beside her sister, trying not to smile at Hypatia’s exasperation.
“What happened to hand saws?” she asked. “I’m sure they were more accurate.”
The things that upset the usually unflappable Hypatia always amused Magnolia. Every flower, tree, shrub and blade of grass on the place could die overnight, and Hypatia wouldn’t blink an eye, but forget one little rule of etiquette or upset her routine, and she groused. Politely, of course. True to form, Hypatia waited until they were safely in the sunroom and out of earshot of anyone who might be offended before she complained.
“Really. Guests while the house is undergoing construction! Not to mention planning two weddings. How are we to be proper hostesses with that racket going on and our focus consumed with getting Ellie and Asher married?”
“Most of the time, we don’t even know Mr. Bowen is around,” Magnolia pointed out.
“Nevertheless, I wish he’d get on with it,” Hypatia grumbled.
“You’re the one who told the Historical Society that we would use materials only from the period when the house was built.”
Hypatia made a face. “I’m not the one who invited the Pagetts to stay without consulting another soul, however.”
“What could I do?” Magnolia asked. “The Pagetts were obviously in dire straits.”
“And you didn’t want them moving into the Monroe house,” Hypatia surmised flatly.
“Much more difficult to evict them than host them,” Magnolia conceded.
“And are you so confident that Garrett will win the day?” Hypatia asked.
Magnolia chose not to answer that. “I’m confident that the hand of God is at work here.”
Hypatia arched an eyebrow, but Magnolia took her time settling onto the chaise longue of her choice. Spreading her dark plaid skirts around her, she lightly asked, “Do you know why Jessa Lynn Pagett wants to lease the Monroe place?”
“It’s a lovely house in which to raise a child, I imagine.”
“It’s also a great site for a florist shop,” Magnolia said. “Garrett told me last night that she’s a florist, and she herself said she was opening a shop there.”
Hypatia let that sink in. “A florist, is she? Well, well.”
“Exactly,” Magnolia said with a satisfied lift of her chin. “A florist and a gardener.”
Hypatia tapped the cleft in her chin with one gleaming fingertip. “It’s something to think about, I must say. We’ve seen matches made of less.”
Magnolia crossed her ankles and folded her hands. “Indeed. Just look at Ellie and Asher.”
“Or Chandler and Bethany.”
“Or Reeves and Anna! Not to mention…” They both laughed, eyes twinkling as they thought of Odelia and Kent coming together again after a half century apart. “So you agree with me that it’s a matter for prayer.”
“Definitely,” Hypatia said.
They smiled in perfect accord. Then Hypatia touched the pearls at her throat.
“About the meeting this afternoon,” she said. “I really can’t abide the idea of another buffet.” She was still miffed that Ellie and Asher had stood firm on a buffet for their wedding reception. Worse, Hilda agreed with them! Personally, it seemed the only sensible solution to Magnolia at this late juncture, but Hypatia would never be entirely happy about the matter. “Surely, we can hire a decent number of wait staff for the June wedding. Don’t you agree?”
Magnolia rolled her eyes. Suggest that to Odelia, and she’d be out scouring the DFW Metroplex for waiters of identical height, weight, complexion and hair color—and rainbow-hued tuxedoes to outfit them. Magnolia chuckled, wondering just how pleased Hypatia would be then.
“At least,” she said hopefully, “God has provided us with a genuine florist.”
“Ah, yes,” Hypatia agreed, nodding. “There is that.”
And, Magnolia hoped, much more.
“Very good,” Jessa praised, watching Hunter practice the last of his letters in his copybook.
“Done now, Mommy?” he asked hopefully.
They’d taken several breaks throughout the day. He’d watched his favorite program on TV and played with the tiny cars that were his personal delight. The remainder of his few toys were stuffed in a box stacked with several others in Abby’s tiny living room. Jessa wondered if she ought to move the boxes here. Chatam House certainly had more space for such things.
She shook her head. Chances were that she and Hunter would be out of here today or tomorrow. Where exactly they’d go, she didn’t know, but surely she could afford a cheap motel for a couple days until they could return to Abby’s. Then what? A knock at the sitting-room door derailed that unhappy speculation.
“Come in.”
A fortyish woman with long, lank, dark blond hair opened the door and peeked into the room. “I’m Carol, the housemaid.”
“Oh, yes. Your sister mentioned you earlier.”
Carol slipped fully into the room. Dressed in polyester pants and a cotton blouse, she did not quite meet Jessa’s image of a maid, but then the cook had worn a flowered muumuu under her apron that morning. “The misses would like you to come down to the library now, if it’s convenient. Miss Ellie and Mr. Asher have arrived.”
Jessa’s heart leapt into her throat. So the moment had come. It was sooner than she’d expected, not even 3:00 p.m. She patted Hunter’s hand comfortingly and rose from the floor in front of the coffee table where they had conducted their lessons. “We’ll be right down.”
