Hope's Garden Read online

  “Your mother was a Christian?”

  “Yes.” Cat dug a shallow furrow and began planting the alyssum border.

  He didn’t know what to say next. From a few remarks Laurette had made, he didn’t think Cat’s father had been a man of faith. So had Cat taken after her mother?

  Then the sight of Cat working irritated him. In her holiday dress, she should be sitting in the shade. “Hand me your weeding fork.” He held out his hand.

  “You don’t—”

  “Hand me the fork.”

  She grumbled, but pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him.

  He began weeding around her mother’s marker.

  Cat felt the awkwardness of the situation. “I’m sorry Laurette talked you into coming.” She grimaced while she set the alyssum in place.

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  Cat gave a wry chuckle. Whether he meant that or not, she realized she felt better having him here with her. She had waited until after most other mourners had come and gone because she didn’t want an audience for the tears she knew threatened. But Gage’s presence helped her feel less alone, less set adrift.

  Gage tossed ragweed and dandelion roots to the side of the marker. “I’ve never done this before. My grandparents lived in two different states and died while I was very young. I think I missed something important. I see why it was really bothering Laurette not being able to come with you. I think this is a fine tradition.”

  Should she warn him that Laurette appeared to be taking the role of matchmaker and that might have been her cousin’s true motive? No. It was best to act like she didn’t have a clue. Laurette probably wouldn’t be trying to push them together if she had been busy with her normal life. On bed rest, Laurette had much too much time on her hands.

  “Have you decided about the Hadley bid?” Gage asked.

  “You never give up, do you?” She couldn’t keep the resigned amusement out of her voice. Was she getting used to the fact he never backed down?

  “Well, we need to make a decision. It’s due in ten days.”

  She cautiously hinted at her secret fear of not being good enough. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to draw the design? I’m still learning your software program.”

  “Our software. And no, you should do it. The city committee will jump at the chance to have a local person, a blood relative of the Hadleys, design the garden. Cat, they only have three months to get the grounds ready in order to be included in the new state guide of historic landmarks due out next summer. They want the grounds done for the photo in the guide.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Cat finished planting the border, then began patting the zinnias into the dry, loose soil. Even if she disregarded her own feelings of inadequacy and just looked at this as business, didn’t Farrell ever think about the fact that they might be taking on too much? “I doubt it’s feasible to take on a big project, one with such a tight schedule, right now. We’re stretched to our limits. This won’t be a moneymaker.”

  “It would be great advertising for Hope’s Garden.”

  “And a big drain on all our time and resources. We might have to hire another person and do a lot of research. I read the prospectus. They want it to be as authentic as possible. I’ve never designed a nineteenth-century flower garden before!”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t be difficult to find all kinds of information on vintage garden design on the Internet.”

  “Farrell, you’re impossible!” She turned toward him.

  Cat’s expression was disgruntled. Her eyes scorched him with indignation. A smudge of dirt decorated her nose.

  Suddenly Gage was caught by the urge to lean forward and kiss her.

  Chapter Six

  What’s going on here? Gage tried to think what they’d been talking about. He couldn’t. His out-of-the-blue reaction to Cat’s sweet face, abundant gold-streaked hair and that ridiculous smudge on her nose had roared through him and left him reeling inside.

  “Farrell, I don’t know anything about the Internet!”

  He grabbed this clue, the mention of the Internet, to return to the topic at hand. “The Internet isn’t difficult to navigate—”

  “Time. I don’t have time! Why don’t you grasp the facts of the situation?”

  He was getting more than the facts—way more. His sudden attraction to his business partner spelled trouble in a big way. Take it easy, Farrell. Mixing romance into the partnership would bring an emotional dimension to every issue. That set up any partnership to make business decisions on the basis of emotion, not logic.

  When he had become engaged to Daria, he had arranged to have her consult with an associate of his, so they wouldn’t be working together. Business and romance made a bad combination. He looked down and automatically began pulling up encroaching tufts of grass around the brass marker. Feeling the smooth grass and gritty dirt between his fingers reassured him things hadn’t changed that much. Had they?

  “Farrell?”

  Glancing up, he steeled himself against reacting to Cat. “You’ve got a smudge on your nose.”

  “What has that got to do with anything?” But she pulled a white handkerchief out of her pocket again and dabbed at her nose.

  “Cat, I understand your concerns. I just hate to let such a great opportunity slip through our fingers.” He tossed away another handful of grass.

  “I realize that. But facts are facts. There are only so many hours in the day and only so much money in the budget to pay wages.”

  Everything she said was true. He nodded. “I’m still not ready to let this drop. There’s still time.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Your middle name should be Stubborn.” Cat paused with a reluctant smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

  Her soft mouth beckoned him. He looked down.

  “I have prayed about this, Farrell, but so far I haven’t seen anything that would change the situation.”

  Hearing the hesitance in her voice, he nodded. “Maybe something will come up.”

  She shrugged, then stood to water the bedding plants she had just set in place. The water made a soothing trickling sound as it poured from the large jug. Something had distracted Farrell right in the middle of the discussion. But what?

  A few days later, Cat stood in one of the greenhouses with Phil as she added black potting soil to a few more hanging plants to display in front. “Okay, Phil, how many hours can you work?”

  “About ten a week. I’m doing a lot of yard work, too, this summer.” Hands in his pockets, Phil looked at her feet, not her face.

  “Cat,” Hetty’s voice carried over the lush green tomato and pepper plants in the full greenhouse.

  Cat looked toward the just beginning-to-show, pregnant young woman. Hetty’s normally cheery face looked worried. “There are some strange people out front asking for the owner.”

  “Strange people?” Cat repeated and waited for Hetty to explain.

  Hetty just shrugged.

  “Okay, then.” Cat decided to finish with the planting and send the boy back home and get up front. “Phil, get the work permit at the high school, fill it out with your mom and bring it back to me Monday.”

  “Thanks. Great!” Phil smiled, then walked outside to his battered bike.

  Cat put down her trowel and rinsed her hands in cold water at the nearby sink and dried them. She followed Hetty out to the front.

  Hetty was right. Cat braced herself. These weren’t the usual customers at Hope’s Garden. The woman who looked to be in her middle years was tall, extremely slender, fashionably dressed in a three-piece royal-blue pants suit. She also wore a lot of chunky gold jewelry. The man with her was her counterpart, distinguished-looking with silver at his temples and wearing an expensive sport coat.

  “Did you ask for the owner?” Cat asked.

  “Yes,” the woman replied, “where is he?”

  “I am Cat Simmons. I own Hope’s Garde
n.”

  “Oh, you’re the partner,” the woman said casually. “Where’s Gage?”

  The question stumped Cat. “You want Gage Farrell?”

  “We are his parents,” the woman said slowly as though Cat couldn’t understand normal speech. “We came to see him. Where is he?”

  Cat looked to Hetty. “Did Farrell get back from handling that delivery yet?”

  “No—” Hetty began.

  “Delivery?” Farrell’s mother snapped. “Don’t you have people that handle that sort of thing?”

  “We all handle that sort of thing around here, Mother.” Farrell spoke from behind Cat. “How good to see you.”

  Cat turned to see him walk from one of the greenhouses. He didn’t look thrilled to see his mother. But maybe they’d just surprised him by coming unexpectedly. She knew the feeling.

  “Son, good to see you.” Farrell’s father held out his hand.

  Farrell shook his father’s hand and kissed the meticulously blushed cheek his mother offered him. “What brings you two this way?” He smiled.

  “Thought we’d see how you were doing,” his father replied.

  His mother looked Gage over with a calculating eye. “Do you all wear those same green shirts?”

  “We do.” Farrell stood tall. “Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  “But it has your name embroidered on it like some kind of tacky bowling league shirt. As the owner, couldn’t you wear something in better taste?”

  “It helps customers know who they can ask for help,” Farrell replied evenly.

  Cat couldn’t figure out what was going on. What did their shirts have to do with anything? Wasn’t his mother happy to see Farrell looking tanned and healthy?

  His mother shook her head and heaved a pained sigh. “Waiting on customers at a gardening place! When I think of the thousands of dollars we spent on your education—”

  “Hey, Gage, how’s it going?” Another tall stranger slipped out of the back seat of the gold-toned luxury sedan.

  “Harry!” A look of genuine gladness took over Farrell’s face. He hurried forward and the two young men grabbed each other in a playful bear hug, began slapping each other on the back and grinning widely.

  Cat found herself grinning, too. Harry looked too much like Farrell, not to be his brother. Except, of course, for the ponytail and gold earring.

  “Didn’t that thing in California work out?” Farrell led Harry to Cat.

  “Of course not!” their mother snapped. “Do Harry’s things ever work out?”

  The comment sounded rude to Cat, but neither Harry nor Farrell acted as if they had heard it.

  “Cat,” Farrell said with obvious pride, “this is my brother, Harrison Farrell.”

  Cat held out her hand.

  “Harry, this is my partner, Cat—”

  “Well, just ignore us!” their mother complained.

  “Mother,” Farrell said, “you were busy critiquing my clothes. If you’re done with that, I would love to introduce you to Cat.”

  The introductions were made. Farrell’s mother’s name was Nikki and his father was called Duke. Farrell ended by introducing Hetty and added, “Hetty is a professor at Eden College.”

  “Really?” Nikki’s voice showed interest. “But why are you working at Gage’s gardening center?”

  “Summer break. Hope’s Garden is a wonderful place to work.” Hetty beamed.

  Cat wanted to make them feel welcome. “Farrell, maybe your parents would like you to take them around and show—”

  “What we really need is a decent place to stay!” Nikki interrupted. “Would you believe not one motel in this burg is AAA approved? And the places we drove by…”

  Duke spoke for the second time, “We are accustomed to better, Son. I wouldn’t ask your mother to stay in any of those places.”

  Farrell looked concerned.

  “Why don’t I call Aunt Fanny?” Cat offered.

  “Your Aunt Fanny?” Nikki chuckled. “Do you really have an Aunt Fanny?”

  “Mother,” Farrell said in a low cautionary voice.

  Cat ignored the rudeness in the woman’s question. “Everyone calls her Aunt Fanny. She owns a beautiful Victorian home only a few blocks off the town square. She usually runs it as a bed-and-breakfast, but she had surgery earlier this year and hasn’t been taking reservations. But since you’re friends, she’ll probably be glad to let you rent her two rooms upstairs.”

  Mrs. Farrell looked unconvinced.

  “Is that the bed-and-breakfast on Third?” Hetty asked.

  Cat nodded.

  “You’ll love it!” Hetty enthused. “My husband and I stayed there on our last anniversary. It’s gorgeous—all authentic antiques. The decor is exquisite.”

  “Really?” Nikki ran an assessing eye over Cat again. “I suppose we could look at it.”

  Cat made the call and soon Farrell drove away in his work truck, his parents in their car following him to the bed-and-breakfast.

  Hetty and Cat looked at each other. Cat didn’t want to be rude and talk about Farrell’s parents, but the shock had been a big one. It must have shown in her expression.

  “I thought people like that only existed on TV,” Hetty said in an awed voice.

  Cat couldn’t help nodding in agreement. Hetty’s assessment matched hers completely. Two cars drove in and both Hetty and Cat went to help customers.

  As Cat talked about composting to a college professor, her mind recalled the scene that had just taken place. She had thought having the most pigheaded man in Iowa as her father had been a challenge for her. Poor Farrell.

  And poor her. After Farrell’s parents left Eden, she expected she’d owe Aunt Fanny big-time.

  That evening after supper, Gage sat in Chuck and Laurette’s living room. He’d left his parents at the bed-and-breakfast and told them he was expected to help out with the youth group tonight. The four teens and Cat lounged around on the white Berber carpet or matching plaid red-and-green chairs while Laurette, finally beginning to show her pregnancy, reclined on the forest-green sofa. Laurette was having another bad day, so though she had prepared the lesson, Cat was going to do the talking.

  Holding a black Bible, Morgan read in a serious tone, “My brothers, as believers in our Lord Jesus Christ, lord of glory, you must never treat people in different ways according to their outward appearances.” She passed the opened Bible to Phil.

  He began reading in his reedy, sometimes cracking voice, “Suppose a rich man wearing a gold ring and fine clothes comes to your meeting and a poor man in ragged clothes comes. If you show more respect to the well dressed man…” Phil stopped abruptly. “That’s where it’s marked. Is that where you wanted me to stop?”

  “Yes, close the Bible please.” Cat looked at the young people. “Okay, tell me the end.”

  “What?” Ginny twisted her ash-blond hair and made a grouchy face.

  Cat went on, undaunted, “What happens if you show more respect to the well-dressed man?”

  Good question, Cat. Gage had been embarrassed by his mother’s rude attitude toward Cat and their work shirts—of all things!

  Showing subdued bewilderment, the teens looked at Cat, then at each other.

  Morgan ventured in an uncertain tone, “That’s not good, is it?”

  With an encouraging smile, Cat nodded. “Why?”

  Ginny heaved a disgusted sigh. “Why ask us? We’re not the ones judging people by what they wear! Grown-ups do that.” Ginny’s voice switched as though mimicking someone. “Can’t you keep that hair out of your face? I don’t like girls wearing slacks to church, go change right now. You cut those jeans off way too short, young lady. Throw them in the rag bag.” Ginny glared at Cat.

  Gage recalled Laurette telling him that Ginny’s mom had remarried recently and now had two sets of children to make into a new blended family. He’d bet Ginny was quoting her new stepfather. And it didn’t sound like the man was building bridges. He was building walls. Who am
I to criticize? I’ve never been a father, not even a husband.

  “Excellent!” Cat beamed at Ginny.

  Ginny looked shocked.

  Gage sat up, too. He’d thought he knew where this discussion was heading.

  Cat continued, “Human beings just naturally seem to choose to judge people by what is on the outside.”

  So what else is new? Daria certainly had been put out over his scar. Gage tried to will away rancorous thoughts from his recent past.

  “Yeah,” Ryan spoke up. “But Ginny’s right. I asked my dad if I could get my ear pierced. And he said if I wanted another hole in my head, he’d put one in, but not in my ear.”

  Wondering what he would have said in a similar situation, Gage kept a straight face. “Why did you want an earring, Ryan?”

  Ryan looked at him as though the question were a stupid one. “Because all the cool guys have them.”

  “Exactly.” Cat picked up the thread, “And that’s why we dress certain ways to be accepted, to be cool. Because we know people are judging us on our appearance.”

  “You mean,” Morgan asked, “it’s like a vicious cycle?”

  “Vicious circle,” Phil corrected.

  It’s just plain vicious, Gage thought.

  “You’re both right.” Cat smiled at them. “What’s the real issue in this?”

  The four teens looked at her.

  “Whenever we read scripture, one of the main purposes is to understand how to live our lives.”

  Phil chewed his bottom lip. “I know what you want us to say, but we can’t do it.”

  “What can’t you do?” Cat asked gently.

  “We can’t just ignore what other people are wearing and what we wear. People would think we were nuts,” Phil said in an aggrieved tone.

  “But that isn’t what I wanted you to say.” Cat looked at each teen.

  “So what’s your point?” Ginny gave Cat a petulant look.

  Yes, Gage echoed silently, what’s your point?

  “My point is, none of us is perfect. But all of us can make a realistic attempt to judge others by more than just their appearance.”