Daffodils and Danger (3 page)

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Authors: Mary Manners

Tags: #christian Fiction

BOOK: Daffodils and Danger
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Sunlight spilled through the open service door as Kami tugged off her apron and hung it on a hook beside the back door. “I’ll be back in a few hours, Dad,” she announced as she turned to kiss his flour-dusted cheek. “Jada will handle the after-lunch crowd. Don’t work too hard while I’m gone, OK?”

“Work is my elixir.” He gave a bundle of bread dough a few smacks with the flat side of his fist before reaching for a rolling pin. The rich aroma of yeast hung in the air, reminding Kami she’d skipped lunch again.

“Well, even too much of a good thing can be a detriment. You need to rest, too.”

“I’ll rest when I’m in the grave with your mother.”

“Dad!” Kami’s throat tightened as her heart skipped several beats. “Don’t say that. You’re going to live forever, right?”

“Sure, honey.” He turned from the dough long enough to layer lasagna noodles along an abundance of vegetables in oversized pans. His movements, honed through years of practice, were like a dance. Butter and olive oil mingled with the sweet smell of rising bread while more chopped zucchini sizzled in an oversized frying pan. Veggie lasagna was on the marquee as tonight’s specialty, along with the ever-present complimentary garlic knots. “Go buy yourself some plants and get that pretty little house of yours looking all spring-like. Take your time. It’s too nice to be stuck inside today. I sense the first hint of spring in the air. Your mama always loved spring with so much warm sunshine and the robins singing to one another.”

“I know, dad…she loved flowers, too. I’m going to plant a bed of daffodils and cook you dinner one night this week. It’s about time someone prepared you a good, hot meal instead of the other way around. Let Fred handle the cooking once in a while. He’s almost twenty-two now and nearly finished with culinary school. He wants to help us get things done around here.”

“Maybe I’ll do that.” He turned back to the flour-coated butcher-block table. “I’ll have a talk with him.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I love you, Dad.” Kami kissed his cheek once more and straightened the collar of his polo shirt before brushing flecks of flour from the fabric. “Don’t work too hard while I’m gone. I’ll be back in a bit to brew iced tea and prepare the salads for tonight.”

She pulled open the door and stepped into the alley. The dumpsters were overfilled, and she was glad garbage pick-up was scheduled that afternoon. So many details to tend to, and all her dad wanted to do was hide in the kitchen. She supposed it was his therapy—she felt like hiding, as well. But she couldn’t. The proverbial ship would sink, dragging both her and Dad down with it. Maybe her cousin Fred could help shoulder a bit more of the burden once his final classes were finished, only a few more weeks away. If Dad forgot to follow through, she’d have a heart-to-heart with Fred instead and see what she could finagle in that department.

Kami rounded the corner of the pizzeria and sunlight spilled over her, warming her shoulders as she stepped from the shadow of the building and toward the street. Classical music drifted like a soft whisper on a light, warm breeze, carrying with it the sweet scent of roses. One look told her the nursery had just received a shipment. Wyatt and Reese stood at the back of a box-truck, unloading. They both wore heavy gloves to protect their hands from thorns camouflaged by an explosion of blooms. Reese was sensibly clad in his usual scuffed cowboy boots along with ancient ripped jeans and a navy T-shirt. But Wyatt wore impeccable stonewashed jeans and a long-sleeved white dress shirt…well, she was sure this morning it had been white. What had he been thinking to come to the nursery dressed like that?

As she neared the truck their conversation—good-natured jabs of bantering back and forth—carried on the breeze.

“I think you ordered too many, Reese.” Wyatt tossed his brother a bush as if it weighed no more than a feather. A few petals fluttered to cover the ground in pink confetti. “We could have done with half as many.”

Reese caught the bush and lined it up along the front of the lot with the others. “Then we’d just be ordering more by week’s end.” He climbed into the truck and slid a half-dozen more toward the drop-off. “That takes time that we don’t have. Better to do it this way, all in one shot. People expect to find what they want when they come here. If they have to return for something, it shouldn’t be because we were out of stock.”

“Throw money at any more orders like this without substantial turnaround, and the customers will find nothing but an empty lot.” Wyatt winced. Blood beaded along his arm where a thorn had snagged the skin. “That’s no good.”

“You’re the numbers guy.” Reese disappeared into the back of the truck for a moment to fetch another bundle of bushes. “That’s why you’re here, to set the books right again.”

“In order to do that, I have to spend time in the office, not unloading trucks like we’ve been doing all day.”

“Unpacking shipments and displaying stock comes with the territory at this time of the year.”

“Even so…I need to look at the books.”

“Is that a whine I hear in your voice?” Reese paused to gape at him. “Living in the city has turned you soft, bro.”

“No, it hasn’t.” Wyatt gave his head a stiff shake and tapped a temple. “It made me smart.”

“Yeah, you look like a real genius in that dress shirt and pretty-boy jeans.” Reese’s laughter sprinkled the air as he handed down the last of the bushes. “Better relegate those clothes to your work pile now, ‘cause the stains will never come out.”

Kami cleared her throat with exaggeration as she neared the truck. “Hey guys.”

“Hey, Kami,” Reece said.

He was his usual, jovial self but Wyatt’s head snapped up, the telltale furrow creasing his forehead. At the sight of her, a scowl flashed across his eyes like a threatening thunderstorm.

“What are you doing here?” The words carried an unwelcome bite. “We’re busy.”

“Well, that’s some top-rate customer service.” Kami stepped around the rosebushes, enjoying the sweet fragrance while her belly roiled at Wyatt’s obvious displeasure. What was it about her that set him off? “Do you greet everyone that way?”

“No. Sorry.” Wyatt hopped from the truck and removed his gloves, stuffing them into his back pocket as Reese followed. Dust wafted as the gravel spat and he wiped his hands on the thighs of his jeans. His smile was stiff and failed to reach his dark eyes. “I meant, what can I do for you today?”

“Don’t mind him,” Reese chimed in, a dimple at the corner of his mouth deepening as he smiled. “Wyatt’s been gone so long, sequestered all by his lonesome in a corner office, that he’s a little rusty in the people-skills department.”

“I see you have a way to go.” Kami turned toward a rose bush and slipped her fingers along a velvety, crimson petal. “So I’ll overlook it this time. These roses are gorgeous, by the way.”

“Discerning eyes.” Reese clipped a bud and handed it to her. “They’re knockouts, and around here they bloom almost year ‘round.”

“Good. I’ll take a pair of the pink—no, make it one pair of pink and another of red.”

“See, I told you.” Reese jabbed Wyatt with an elbow. “Barely out of the truck and they’re already going like hotcakes.”

“That’s only four out of forty, ten percent.” Wyatt countered with a return double-jab. “Still a way to go before you can claim bragging rights, little brother.”

“Not a bad start, though.” Kami hid a grin as she sidestepped to avoid the m
ȇ
lée. “Hattie mentioned you just got in a shipment of daffodils, as well.”

“That’s right.” Reese wiped sweat from his brow with the palm of his hand. “Yesterday morning. They’re in the back along the wall, in both half-gallon and one-gallon containers.”

“And those are pretty.” Kami continued to wind her way down the aisle toward a slab of palettes that displayed a waterfall of color. “What are they?”

“Wave petunias. They look great in flower beds and hanging baskets.” Reese joined her at the display. “You can make your own baskets, or we have some already arranged. Mom did them herself just yesterday.”

“I see. She’s got quite the touch.” Kami turned, pointed. “And what do you call those little flowers that look like they have faces?”

“They’re pansies.” Wyatt stepped between her and Reese, lifting one of the containers to show her. “They’re hardy and good for this cooler early-spring weather. You can purchase them by the six-pack or by the flat. With a little luck and proper care, they’ll bloom through the first frost.”

“Whoa, careful there.” Reese smacked him on the back, grinning. “You keep talking like that, bro, and you might actually start to sound like you’re glad to be here.”

“I’ll be glad when I can get to the books.” Wyatt replaced the plant, shrugging out of Reese’s reach. “Until then…”

“Do you have a cart? I’m going to need quite a bit of stuff.” Tuning out their banter, Kami drew her lower lip between her teeth as she conjured a mental picture of the barren flowerbeds that lined her front porch and considered all the possibilities. She’d moved into the house two winters ago, only months before her mom fell sick. Given the unexpected turn of events, all her plans to beautify the neglected grounds had fallen by the wayside. Now, there was so much space to fill. A twang of excitement coursed through her as she imagined turning the barrenness to beauty. Judging from the mass of blooms and greenery that surrounded her, the choices were endless. “Can I have a flat of those and two or three of the potted daffodils to go along with the roses? They’re so beautiful. Oh, and I’ll need a few hanging baskets, too.” She took a mental count of the hooks along her front and back porches. “Five, to be exact. I like the deep, violet-colored ones…so vibrant. And I suppose a few bags of potting soil are in order along with a couple of those ceramic planters in the brick-red color.”

“If it’s your first planting, you’ll need some peat to mix into the flowerbeds, as well,” Wyatt advised.

“Sounds like she’s going to need some assistance with such a tall order.” Reese climbed back into the truck. “Seems like you know what you’re doing, Wyatt, so help her while I finish up here.”

“But, the books—”

“They’ll be there when you’re done.” Reese waved him off. “It was nice seeing you again, Kami.” He tugged a ball cap low over his dark eyes. “Mom had to run to the store. She’ll be sorry she missed you.”

“Tell her hi, and that veggie lasagna’s on the menu for tonight if she feels like stopping by. I know how much she loves butternut squash.”

“I’ll pass it along.” Reese winked as he turned away from them before Wyatt could lodge a second protest. “You two have fun now.”

 

****

 

“You’ll need more than one cart.” Wyatt followed Kami down the aisle, watching her pause here and there to admire the array of plants. She burrowed her nose in the blooms, inhaling deeply, and the look of pure bliss on her face made him grin despite his foul mood. He’d been at the nursery since seven that morning and had yet to make it past the check-out counter and to the office. Numbers needed crunching, but stock got in the way.

And, to top it all off, the coffeemaker in the office was on the fritz. Wyatt’s head buzzed from caffeine deprivation.

“I’ll take two flats of those, one of those…” Kami swung back to face him, her green eyes dancing with excitement. “And, do you have any spikes?”

“Spikes?” Wyatt put on the breaks, nearly plowing into her as she dipped to sniff the begonias. The scent of her perfume, a blend of woodsy spices, was a subtle complement to the fragrance of the blooms. “You mean nails? Are you planning to landscape with timbers?”

“Good idea. I hadn’t thought of that.” Her lips curved into a Mona Lisa grin. “But I don’t mean nails. Not now, at least. Besides, I think I actually like the river rock more than timbers.”

“That’s duly noted, and I have to agree. But I’ll need a little more explanation concerning the spikes.”

“You know…” Her arms yawned wide as she mimed the shape of the plant. “I’m talking about those spiny green things you stick into a pot to add height to an arrangement and fill in bare spots.”

“Oh, yeah,
spikes
.” Wyatt turned, motioned. “I think they’re that way, near the monkey grass.”

“Monkey grass… such a funny name. But it looks like it would make a nice border.” Kami’s eyes glossed over at the thought. “I suppose you’re right…I should fetch another cart.”

“Good idea but let me.” Wyatt made short work of going after one. He shoved it back and began to add pots of the grass. “How many?”

“Oh, I have no idea. Six? No, eight.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed a moment as she tapped the side of her head with an index finger. “Maybe we should make it an even dozen. The flower bed is pretty long.”

“OK, then. Where’s your truck?”

“My truck?” Kami combed a hand through her hair, catching the braid that snaked down the center of her back to her shapely hips. “I don’t have a truck.”

“A van, then?”

“Nope.”

“Please, tell me you drive an SUV.”

“Sedan, two doors. Gets great gas mileage.” She shrugged. “And it’s parked back at the restaurant. I walked over.”

“Well, that presents a bit of a problem.” Wyatt scanned the load she’d amassed. “How are you planning to get all these plants to your place? Not to mention the river rock you’re so fond of.”

“I hadn’t considered that. I didn’t mean to buy so much, but I guess my eyes are bigger than my, well, trunk.” She huffed out a breath and turned back toward the pizzeria—and her car—as if it was a life raft drifting farther away. “I suppose I’ll have to make a few trips.”

“A few? Moving all this will take you the better part of a day.”

“Then, I guess I’d better get started. Maybe you can just pile it all over there in the corner while I go fetch my car.”

“Pile it?” Wyatt swiped sweat from his eyes, frowning. The breeze died at the entrance to the main greenhouse and his mom was right—he was already wishing for the cool rain to return. Spring had barely unfolded and he was already burning up, such a change from yesterday’s temperatures. He’d forgotten just how unsettling East Tennessee weather could be. “We don’t
pile
our merchandise, unless it’s mulch. We stack, or line, or—”

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