Community Gardens (Community Garden Series Book 1) (4 page)

Joan
winced at his brush off. “I do hope this works well for him.”
She switched her gaze to Sara, who still stood behind Cal as if she
wanted to remain unnoticed. “Sara, good to see you too, but I'm
sorry we missed you at the opening.”

Sara
opened her mouth as if to speak, then paused for a moment. “Opening?”

“You
remember, the ribbon cutting ceremony for Saturday?”

“I
don't recall.” A faint blush crossed Sara's cheek.“My
staff must have missed the message. I am so sorry.”

Joan
watched Sara straighten her back then elongate her neck like a crane
preparing for flight. Either Sara was a liar or absentminded. Unable
to determine who the real Sara was from this conversation, she
dropped the subject. “How unfortunate. I know it happens
sometimes, but we do hope to see you soon.”

Cal
swooped into the conversation. “It's been good to see you,
Joan.” He tapped Sara's arm as if it were a familiar signal to
leave.

Joan
watched them stroll underneath the live oak canopy that enveloped
Main Street. They walked in unison, her rich red hair shining, his
linen safari shirt tucked in his belted slacks. They were woven
together in private conversation and looked as comfortable as she and
Chris had when they were married. Watching them together made her
wonder if Cal would stop coaching. She tried to dismiss the thought,
but continued to worry. Zack would be so hurt if he left. Her stomach
turned.

As
her stomach rumbled, Joan stepped into Holden's Books. Blaine grinned
and waved.

“Darling,
you've come to dazzle my customers with your eye-popping designs?”

Joan
smiled. Blaine's flashing eyes always lifted her spirits. “Possibly.”

“Possibly?
You mean absolutely. Do you need my special brew?”

Before
she could answer, Blaine poured her a cup of dark roast.

“So
tell me, what's on your mind?” he asked as he plopped the mug
of coffee on the counter.

“You
and your eagle eyes.” Joan said as she sipped his brew and
looked around the store. The only customers left in the store were a
man and woman, engrossed in morning newspapers.

“Sara
and Cal, I ran into them outside,” she said. “Did you
know that she forgot about my opening ceremony?”

“I
had heard.”

“Of
course, Mr. Editor and town historian, how could I even ask? Anyway,
when I asked her about it, she blamed it on her staff.”

“Very
possible, she relies on them.”

“Hmm.”
Joan sipped on her coffee. “And then there's Cal.”

“Oh
really?” Blaine arched his thick eyebrows.

“Not
like that.” Joan felt her cheeks flush. “Besides he and
Sara seem to make a great couple.”

“
Svveetheart
,
he is buttering her up so he can get approval to launch his new
business, Eco-tours.”

“I
see. So he plans on running the business from Sand Hill Cove? How's
that going to work when the mayor figures out she's just his pawn?”

“Should
work out well for everybody, including Sand Hill Cove. Sara's tough
and can change on a dime. If her demands aren't met, she'll bury ya.
Her only goal is to keep Sand Hill Cove thriving, just like her
ancestors. And, as you can see, this town is thriving. So who is
really using who?”

Joan
sighed, “So I don't need to worry about Zack.”

“Whoa,
fill me in dear.”

“I
mean I can't believe Cal has Zack playing baseball. It's odd for
Zack, but good for him. I thought that Zack might be brokenhearted
when Cal left. I didn't realize he'd still be in town.”

“You
are correct. No worries at all.” Blaine patted Joan's hand.
“With this settled my dear, shall we walk through the outdoor
caf
é
where you are
going to create a positively enchanting garden?”

“Absolutely.”
Joan swallowed the last of Blaine's fresh brew before they headed
outside.

After
showing Blaine the plans, he seemed even more impressed with her
work. On the walk home, she recalled which designs he liked and which
he wanted changed or, “popped-up a notch” as he described
it. Working with Blaine had been smooth. Talking to him over coffee
had become a ritual that gave her a sense of clarity, like putting
missing pieces together.

Her
warm feelings chilled when she thought of Cal as a politician
schmoozer. To her, all politicians were notorious liars and cheats,
and Sara seemed no better. She wasn't sure she believed Blaine's
story about her relying on staff either. Could the beautiful Sara
Coach actually be above the norm? Regardless, they both deserved each
other and she certainly didn't want either of them to influence Zack.
Neither of them could help Zack the way her friends had. He learned
dependability from Roz, sociability from Blaine and honesty from
Buzz. Just thinking of friends warmed up her cold feelings. Zack
would be fine.

She
decided to forget about Sara. If fact, she no longer wanted her
involved with the box garden project. She felt more confident than
ever that she and Roz would make a plan that city council could not
refuse.

When
Joan approached her front porch, she brushed against the rosemary
bushes. The heavy scent relaxed her senses.
Smells great. What's
that old wives tale? Rosemary wards off evil spirits,
she
reminisced while rubbing the spiny leaves between her fingers. W
aves
of snapdragons drifted above the dark green monkey grass lining the
sidewalk. Spanish moss hung like webs from the ancient live oak tree
that cradled the front porch. This place and time felt like Eden.

“Can you believe
it's already May Day?” Joan asked Roz. “Where have the
last two weeks gone?”

“Planting,
pruning, the usual for spring,” Roz sighed while clipping a
ribbon tied around a petunia cup. “And that's not including
these seasonal gifts we're making.”

To
jump start May sales, Lindsey had suggested they make petunia cups; a
single serve petunia growing inside a decorated paper cup. Placed
near the register, customers could grab them instead of candy bars.
Joan bought the idea and set up a temporary assembly line to make
them. Joan poured the potting mix into paper cups, Lindsey
transplanted the petunia seedlings, and Roz tied the ribbons. Chloe
stacked the finished gifts into trays.

May,
she predicted, would be the busiest month for sales. To increase
inventory, she had asked local nurseries and artists to supply her
with plants and gifts on consignment. Kayhill Farms brought in tubs
of crape myrtle, azalea and camellia. Potters delivered vases,
fountains and birdbaths that she kept near the nursery in order to
keep a close eye on them. But Potters most stunning creation, a
fountain of sculptured cranes, was on display near the entrance.

“And
don't forget the power point presentation you're making after hours,”
Roz reminded her. Roz had spent hours proofing the slides. Her
trained eyes could spot the remotest flaw, like an Osprey on the hunt
for food. Proofreading had been grueling, but the presentation was
perfect and they still had two days left before the meeting.

“Any
word from Sara?” Roz asked.

“Nothing,
and I'm not worried either. You and I, we get things accomplished.”

“We
do.” Roz picked up a tray of completed petunia cups and lugged
them to the register.

Joan
finished filling the last cup with potting soil and glanced at her
phone. “I have a half an hour to get to Zack's first game.”

“At
your pace, you could make ten more trays, and still get to the game
on time.”

After
they filled the display case with petunia cups, Joan slipped off her
apron, dusted her pants and headed for Hanly Park.

* * *

From
the top of the stands, Joan looked for Zack and found him sitting by
himself in the dugout. She waved, but he didn't wave back. Instead,
he nodded and returned a limp smile. “He's so tense,” she
thought. “but it is his first game.”

She
recalled how diligent he had been getting ready for the first
practice. He had set his alarm, laid out his clothes, and put his new
baseball glove next to his shoes, all without prodding from her. But
after the last few practices, he stopped laying out his clothes and
rarely mentioned the word baseball. She wondered if he was nervous
about the first game and studied him closer. He wasn't talking to any
of his teammates. Instead, he was focused on the game. She tried to
recall the last time he had talked about baseball, but before she
conjured up an image, she saw Cal climbing the stairs toward her.

“May
I?” He swept the seat beside her with his hand.

“Of
course.” She slide sideways to give him room, even though the
bleacher was empty.

“Big
day for them. I'm glad you could make it. These kids like parents
watching them at this age. They get to show off.”

Joan
laughed. He was right. Now was the time to enjoy Zack's games. The
teenage years would soon be creeping in and he would probably be too
embarrassed to have his mom at the games. “How true,” she
said. “And by the way, how's practice been?”

“They've
started to merge together, but there are a few loose ends.”

“Loose
ends?”

“Just
minor. They have all improved significantly, but independently. I was
hoping for a bit more camaraderie, acting like a team, if you know
what I mean.”

“I
do.” Joan heard the crack of a bat hitting a baseball. The ball
arched up and landed in the outfield between first and second base.
Before the outfielder stopped the ball, the batter safely made it to
first base. “You mean they spend more time batting the ball,
than throwing the ball to one another?”

“You
got it.” Another crack launched the baseball into the outfield.
The batter ran and slid into first base. The previous batter ran from
first base all the way to third base.

“And
this is what happens when the don't act as a team.”

“I
see.” Joan shielded her eyes to watch the next batter. This
time, when he hit the ball, it rolled. An infielder scooped up the
ball and flung it to home plate, killing any chance for the runner on
third to score. Next, the catcher whipped the ball to first base
before the batter could reach the base. With two outs and no score,
the next batter stepped to the plate.

“Now
that's better,” Cal remarked as they watched the batter take a
few practice swings. After several attempts, the umpire called strike
three. The teams scrambled to change positions.

“We're
up.” Cal smiled as he hoisted himself from the bleacher. “I'm
off to the field. Will you be staying until the end of the game?”

“Planning
on it.”

“Good,
when this is over, I hope I could walk you and Zack home. We could
have a shaved ice on the way too.”

“That
would be great.”

“See
you in a bit.” Cal waved his baseball cap then clomped down the
bleachers.

As
he stepped into the field, she noticed Della Stone sitting next to
Sara in the first row of seats.
“
What
are they doing here?” she wondered. “Sara has no children
and Stone's daughter, Stephanie, isn't playing ball.”
She
leaned her back against the metal bleacher, hoping to remain
invisible while she watched the two of them.

They
looked like opposing partners, to her. Della resembled a British
royal going to tea, dressed in a wide brim hat and a sundress. Sara
looked like a baseball mom, dressed in an oversized jersey and
baseball cap. She watched them chat, but couldn't hear a word. They
seemed at ease. Joan reflected whether this would be a good time to
talk with Sara about the upcoming council meeting. Joan shrugged.
Sara's brush off still irked her enough that she could wait for a
better time to bring up the topic. With no reason to speak to either
woman, she sat back to watch the rest of the game, confident that
Sara and Della were too engrossed in chatter to look up and notice
her.

Finally,
Benny stepped up to bat. The pitcher threw a high ball. Benny took a
miserable swing. Joan swallowed, “what was he thinking?”
Another pitch, this time low to the ground, fired across the plate.
Benny swung and missed again. He stomped away from the plate and
pounded the bat on the ground. When the umpire yelled, Benny came
back to the plate. The third and final pitch, tore across the plate.
Benny swung again, but to late to hit the ball.

“Strike
three,” the umpire yelled.

Benny
flung his bat, pivoted and stormed back to the dugout. At the dugout,
Benny shrieked at Zack. Before Zack could stand, Benny lunged and
swung his fist, barely missing Zack's head.

Joan
started to walk to the field, then hesitated when she saw Cal break
apart the two boys. “Should I help? Will I make Zack look like
a sissy?” she debated. She watched Cal scolding the boys until
he had the fight clearly under control. Then she headed for the
field.

When
she was within earshot, Zack looked up. “How's the first game
going for you guys?” Joan hoped a low-key approach would
diffuse any shreds of animosity remaining between the two boys. She
wasn't going to talk about what just happened unless one of them
talked first.

“Okay.”
Zack looked away.

“It's
not fair.” Benny punched his fist into his hand.

“What's
not fair?” Cal asked.

“I've
practiced every day. It's not fair to strike out.”

Cal
leaned toward Benny. “What do you think just happened Benny?”

“He
gets help from you and I don't.” Benny pointed to Zack. “He
doesn't even have to practice and he doesn't strike out.”

Cal
placed his hand on Benny's shoulder. “I see, and what do you
think will help?”

Joan
watched Zack squirm. “That's right Zack,” she said. “what
do you think will help make this game better.”