Second Chance Match. Arlene James
“Yep. What’d you think?”
She spread her hands in amazement. “I—I don’t know. Abby thought you might be a nephew.”
He straightened. “A Chatam nephew? Nope. My sister’s married to one, though. Good guy.”
“Then you are family.”
“Nope.” He hunched over his plate again. “My sister is family. I’m just hired help.”
Hilda “humphed” but said nothing. Garrett ignored her and, using his remaining biscuit, began mopping up the mess of honey, egg yolk and bacon grease on his plate.
Jessa tried to digest this information, but she couldn’t seem to make sense of it all. Family but not family, both Monroes marrying into the family, and Garrett Willows turning out to be the gardener. Plus, there was a greenhouse!
Garrett sat back with an “aahh” and patted his flat, firm middle. “Looks like I have violet pots to divide. Thankfully, we have a few weeks left to force some more blooms.” He waved a hand at Jessa’s plate, saying, “Eat up. We’re burning daylight.”
Jessa looked down, surprised that her plate remained full while Garrett’s had been cleaned. He turned his attention on Hunter, smiling. Hunter froze, glancing to her for guidance, but she didn’t know what to signal. She didn’t know what to make of Garrett Willows yet. He could be rude or kind, nefarious or an open book, a threat or a blessing. She just didn’t know what to think of him. She recalled again how easily he’d caught her when she’d fallen from the ladder, his strong arms supporting her. It had been too long, perhaps forever, since she’d felt so safe with a man, and that, above all, she must not trust. That didn’t mean she couldn’t take a tour of the greenhouse, though.
In fact, she should tour the greenhouse, she told herself, if only to get a feel for the sort of flowers that the Chatams liked best. Yes, indeed, she told herself, that was wise. It had nothing at all to do with the man next to her with the startling blue eyes.
Nothing whatsoever.
Chapter Three
Jessa gulped down the remainder of her meal, made sure that Hunter thanked Hilda and followed Garrett out the door. She found herself on a narrow, covered walkway that linked a smaller house with the mansion.
“Carriage house,” Garrett informed her with a wave of his hand. “All the staff live there.”
He was staff, she told herself silently. And family. Almost. Sort of. She still didn’t know what to make of that.
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