Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“These things are so finicky,” I say. “They need to be watered from the bottom. If not, you risk crown rot or blotchy leaves if water touches them—and these plants have both.” I turn a leaf over gently. “I think she’s misting them. She must be. That’s the only explanation.”
“It’s easier not to have plants. No plants, no kids for me. I can barely take care of myself at that level.”
“I feel ya,” I say as my throat tightens.
The idea of having a baby terrifies me, but not for the reasons it scares the crap out of Courtney. For her, it’s all about losing freedom and the increased responsibility a child would require. Legit concerns. But for me, it’s inviting another adult into my life that’s paralyzing.
Kids I can do. Plants are great. But adults—especially men?
Kill me now.
It’s so paradoxical to want something so much but having to get it from something you don’t. True, I could adopt, and I might. I could also go to a sperm bank and do things that way. But when I consider myself with a little baby, I envision a family.
Then I want to puke.
“Hey, is your godmother coming to your party?” I ask.
“I think so. Why?”
I take a final look at the violets and am satisfied that I’ve done all that I can. Then I place the violet back on its stand, put all my tools in my gardening belt, and head to the bathroom sink.
“Because we had a great conversation about her plants at your last get-together,” I say. “And I was going to poke around and see if she was interested in using Plantcy.”
“That’s a great idea. She’s in London right now, or I’d ask her.”
“Oh, I’ll talk to her. It’s not a problem.”
“If I hear from her, I’ll feel her out. Oh!” She giggles. “I’ll plant a seed. Get it?”
“You’re so funny,” I say, shaking my head and grinning. I turn on the tap and give my hands a good scrub. “I’m about done here for the day. What are you up to tonight?”
“I’m getting ready to attend a play tonight with Gretchen. Someone from her sorority’s involved somehow.”
“I take it you don’t know what play?”
She laughs. “Not a clue. I didn’t pay too much attention to the details. But plays are fun, and I don’t have any plans. So I thought, why not?”
“Well, have fun. I’m finishing up here and then heading home. Let me know how the play goes.”
“Will do. Love ya, girlie.”
“Love you. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I dry my hands and head back to give the workbench one last cleaning before I leave.
The sun warms my face as I work quietly, getting the room back in order. I love the days I work here in the late afternoon. The evening sky is beautiful over the fields behind the house, and I always pause to appreciate the beauty.
I stop to gaze across the lawn, and my mind goes to Gannon.
Our interaction has played through my head on repeat all day long. I’ve second-guessed everything I said, dissected every look he gave me, and wondered why he hasn’t followed up a million times. I feel things went well, even if I got more personal than I wanted and expected. A part of me fears that he’ll see that as a negative. But, in truth, I was only answering his questions honestly.
Who the heck knows how he’ll process things?
I spray the bench down and reach for a towel. As my hand passes over my phone, it rings.
My eyes fall immediately to the screen. I hold my breath … to see it’s my mother.
“Hey, Mama,” I say, wiping down my work area.
“Don’t sound so happy to talk to me.”
I sigh. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Really? Why?”
“I had a meeting at five thirty this morning.”
“What? Why?”
“A potential client only had that slot available, so I took it.”
There’s a pause. “It must be some client for you to get up that early.”
You could say that. “He’s not a client yet. I’m trying not to get my hopes up.”
“How’s Plantcy going?”
I toss the towel in my bag and scoot in the chair. “It’s good. I’m just wrapping up a job right now, actually.”
“We miss you around here, you know.”
“I miss all of you. Just not the job.”
She laughs. “Insurance isn’t for everyone, just like plants aren’t for everyone. I’m just happy you found what makes you want to get out of bed in the morning. How was dinner with your father last night? Are you comfortable sharing? If not, we can forget that I asked.”
I move slowly through Mrs. Galbraith’s house with a deep sense of gratitude. Because as crappy as my father can be, my mother always goes above and beyond. Sure, we argue like any mother and daughter—and working with her is a little too much togetherness—but I can count on her, and I’ve never once wondered if she loved me or would fight for me.