Steady (24 page)

“I have to check, but I believe it can. I just need to make sure. How is Andrew?” she asked.

“Fine. Frightened, disappointed with himself, as well he should be. I’ve never had any trouble with any of my boys before this. Andrew is a good kid, but this was a major mistake for him.”

“Children,” she said, as if she had some of her own. “Let me review your account to make sure that the trust can help with this kind of incident. Could you fax paperwork from the attorney that you’ve hired over to me and an itemized list of the expenses associated with it?”

“Sure. I’m embarrassed by all this, by having to ask, as is Andrew. It’s been a wake-up call for him. He walks a finer line than the others. He is the next to the oldest, and, as difficult as this was, it has been good for him and his younger brothers to witness the consequences of bad choices. I don’t have to tell you how much worse it could have been. Just imagine the trouble he’d be in if they’d had an accident or hurt or killed someone. Andrew understands and sees that more clearly than he ever has.”

“I understand. Send me the information and I can get started. As with all of the requests, this will have to be reviewed by the committee, but I’ll send you an e-mail once I verify that the trust can be used for this purpose.”

“I do, and thanks, Katrina. I’ll send the paperwork and documentation to you this morning.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Franklin,” she said, disconnecting the call.

***

Katrina was summoning the godfathers via the walkie talkies: “Colburn and Uncle C, it’s time for dinner,” she said, listening to the static for a minute.

“Okay,” answered Colburn; “on my way” said C.

She’d stopped by about two hours ago and worked a little in the store in the check-out line before heading back to cook dinner. Baked salmon was on the menu tonight. She had stopped by the grocer’s on her way over, knowing she wouldn’t find anything in the godfathers’ refrigerator that she’d approve of. And she had already girded herself for the moans and groans she expected to hear after the godfathers took a look at what was on the table. But you know what? She was the cook, and they ate more pizza, fried chicken, and burgers than the law allowed.

Colburn strolled in first, his eyes scanning the table. “Lord Almighty, Katrina! When you promised me fish, I thought you meant some good old home-fried catfish, not this pink fish. What kind of fish is pink, anyway,” he grumbled as he went over to wash his hands.

“It’s salmon, and it’s good for you. Remember it has the good fat, helps to increase your good cholesterol. Remember HDL, good cholesterol, LDL, not so good,” she said.

“Don’t start that again. You and your damn facts,” Colburn said, watching C enter the kitchen and walk over to the spot at the sink.

“I only tell you these things because I love you. Would it kill either of you to eat a little healthier?”

“You’ll never nab a man by nagging, Katrina,” Colburn said, taking a seat at the table.

“You haven’t seen nagging, yet. I’ll show you nagging,” she said, enjoying the push-back she always got from the godfathers.

She was pushy and prickly when she’d first come to live with Wes and Marlene Jones; she tried to show them her worst, hoping it wouldn’t be bad enough for them to send her back. They hadn’t. Then she moved on to striving for perfection, realizing how lucky she’d gotten with her parents. She became a rule follower, helped out when most kids her age were shooting the shit, stayed close to home to be with them, and almost didn’t survive their death.

She sat down between Charles and Colburn and led them in grace. It was quiet for a while as they set about eating the dinner they had complained so much about.

“Good, huh?” she asked.

“Not too bad,” said Uncle C, chewing heartily. “So how’s it going with the Japanese fellow?”

“It’s going good. I’ve delivered the design to the city committee on his behalf—he’s in Japan on business—so all we have to do now is wait.”

“So when do we get to meet this new boyfriend of yours?” Colburn asked.

Katrina looked up, her eyes narrowing in on Colburn. “Cut it out, you two. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Is that so?” Colburn said, smiling at C.

“What’s the smile about?” she asked.

“Nothing, it’s just a smile. A man can’t smile in his house anymore without being questioned? A man can’t have any secrets of his own? That’s not right, Katrina,” he said, smiling and enjoying, as always, the ribbing he gave her.

“So things are going okay with you working with him?” Charles asked.

“Yep, all’s good,” she answered. She wasn’t going to talk about him anymore, was going to keep it strictly professional and garden-related. It was hard, though. She was still interested in spite of her fears, but couldn’t seem to get past them.

She and the godfathers finished dinner and then she cleaned up the kitchen. She kissed them goodbye and left for home, enjoying, as always, her time with them.

***

First weekend in June

Katrina sat at her home computer checking the website for the list of those selected for the top five. There, listed among the other four, was Shining Creek. Yes! They’d been selected. Her phone rang. She noted from the caller ID that it was John, probably as excited by the results as she was. “Hello.”

“Katrina, did you see the results? We made it again!”

“Yes, I just finished checking, and yes, we did.”

“This is proof positive that choosing Will for the job was the correct thing to do.”

“It would seem so,” she said, noncommittal. Being selected in the top five did not a winner make, although she had to admit they were off to a great start.

“Well, you two have to really get moving. Have you gotten the planting schedule and budget worked out? I don’t have to remind you that all of it is due to the committee by July 1. Will you be ready?”

“Yes, we’re ready. I worked up the preliminaries for both budget and schedule for Will to review before he left for Tokyo.”

“Will’s in Tokyo? Has he returned?” John asked.

“Think so, I don’t know. I’ll promise to get with him and make sure we are on schedule, okay?”

“All right. Have you talked to Thomas? You know you and I need to meet with him to make sure that we have enough equipment and volunteers. The major work should begin in September if we’re on schedule. You must give the volunteers time to plan it into their schedules.”

“I know, John, I’ve been at this for a while now.”

“I know I can always count on you, Katrina. I’m sorry to bother you, but you do know as head of the neighborhood gardening committee, I have to ensure that the winning tradition of Shining Creek continues.”

“I know, and it will.”

“You’re a gem, Katrina. I knew you wouldn’t let the neighborhood down. I must tell you that your parents would be really proud of the young lady you’ve become.”

“Thanks, John. I appreciate that and I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, hanging up.

She sat at her home desk. She hadn’t told John that Will had been due back a week ago, not that she was keeping tabs or anything. His house had been dark this week when she’d driven by. Maybe he’d had to stay longer. Good thing she’d given him her plans before he left. He hadn’t called since calling to make sure the plans had been dropped off. She had been professional, needing to squash his interest before it made her life miserable. It must have worked. He hadn’t called again; why did that make her sad?

They were now heading into the first week of June. She’d give him until the middle of this week before calling.

Bringing her mind back to the business at hand, she needed to check his design one final time to make sure the budget and planting schedule would work. Once they submitted it, there would be no going back. Plus, the city divvied up their monies based on the entrant’s projections, and if you were under, you were shit out of luck. So she and Will needed to accomplish two things—one, walk through the site again, reviewing the design; and, two, go to Uncle C’s and Colburn’s place to shore up Will’s plant selections and their pricing. She knew that they had the best prices in town, and she wanted to get the budget nailed down. The city was particular about the pricing when it had to fork over money. John was correct; they needed to get moving. July 1 would be here before they knew it.

***

Will sat on the patio of his home looking over his backyard, legs stretched out, taking in the calm of the evening and the fresh air. It wasn’t quite dark out, and it was pretty cool for June. He had changed into shorts and a T-shirt, his feet bare, which was how he preferred them to be. He tried to calibrate his breathing to the sound of the chimes to release some of the stresses he’d accumulated from his trip and the firestorm at work that followed. He had ended up staying another week. He blew out another breath at that, still tired, still jet-lagged. Returning hadn’t been a picnic, either, as he’d been knee-deep in calming down clients. Finally, at the end of today, the end of a long month, things appeared to be looking up. Finally, he’d get to take a breather.

Tomorrow was Saturday and, for once in a long time, it wasn’t taken up with work. He owed himself a trip somewhere to pay homage to his freedom, but he also needed to get to work on the gardening stuff. This was the reason his instincts had told him to say no initially.

He’d taken the budget and planting schedule with him on his trip, managing to review both, and was impressed by Katrina’s attention to detail. He knew he needed to check in with her, see what was next on the gardening schedule, but her behavior since the backyard incident still bothered him. He’d hoped his desire for the body of one Katrina Jones would have slackened during his break from her. Nope. If anything, he was more interested.

You could go see if she is home now
. Where had that thought come from? But it had him standing up, walking to his back gate. He rarely exited from this entrance and hadn’t seen much of the greenbelt in a long while.

He passed the Sheppards’. Their backyard was filled to capacity with all things children—swings, toys, goals, swimming pool—enough for their large brood, six boys and one little girl. No way would he ever have seven children. They had that iron fencing, making their yard visible to him.

He walked by Oscar and Lola’s yard, arriving at Katrina’s. She had the same fencing as the Sheppards, so you could see into it. He proceeded to her gate, opened it, and walked in.

He stood there for a second, looking over her yard. It was his first time seeing it, taking in all her flowers; they were everywhere and in every shade and hue imaginable, filling the huge beds, leaving only a small amount of yard. Along with the flowers were flowering shrubs and rose bushes. It smelled wonderful. He was impressed by the sheer amount of work that was required to maintain this garden.

A very large and very old oak tree stood sentinel in the yard. It could very well be sixty or seventy years old. He appreciated that about this town; they loved their trees and enacted large penalties for chopping them down. You could shoot your neighbor or beat your children as long as you were kind to trees. He appreciated the city’s firm desire to protect the earth. Her tree was huge and provided shade for her backyard, making it feel somewhat cooler. To the right, toward the back of her yard, stood a large shed painted in bright yellow, with what looked like butterflies in different colors painted on it. Pots in different sizes sat next to a potting bench near the shed and a small rainwater system.

He continued walking until he reached the steps leading to her deck. As he placed his foot on the first step, her back door opened and out she stepped to greet him.

“Doing a little wandering of your own, I see,” she said, walking over to stand at the top of the stairs, looking down at him.

“One good turn deserves another, don’t you think?” he said, returning her look. She was predictably dressed in her large T-shirt and shorts, only it didn’t matter anymore, because he knew what was underneath, and that was all he saw whenever his eyes landed on her.

She smiled, but not the full, dangerous, promising one that he’d come to love. She wasn’t his usual idea of beauty, but she had slowly, insidiously worked at changing his idea of what he wanted.

“How was your trip?” she asked, breaking into his reverie.

“Successful, but never-ending. I had to stay longer than I’d planned. Then work here was crazy, which is why I hadn’t come sooner to discuss the competition.”

“I figured as much. In case you didn’t know, we were one of the five finalists selected. Congratulations, they liked your design.”

“Thanks, and we’ll see. It’s not over yet,” he said, looking intently at her.

“Did you have time to look over the budget and schedule?” she asked, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

“Actually, I did, on the trip home. It all looks great.”

“Thanks. Then you know we need to get moving. I was hoping I could drag you to the site to review it against your design. Would some time this week or next weekend work for you? John called, anxious after finding out that we’d been selected. He’s going to get in touch with the volunteers. He and I and Thomas are meeting to plan their schedules, to maximize their help. It’s full steam ahead now, no going back,” she said, in full-on professional mode.