We can’t use just any building, anyway. We need outdoor space for the nursery. We’re screwed.”
Christy Joy leaned over the counter to look down at Darcy. “Maybe not. We have nearly six months to come up with a plan.”
“It’s not a plan we need. It’s money,” Darcy argued.
“Moore’s rich, isn’t he?”
“What do you want to do, guilt him into paying for our move?”
Darcy had used all her savings, while Christy Joy had spent her divorce settlement to go into business. Things had been going so well, and now she felt as though they’d run full tilt into a brick wall.
She struggled to push herself up off the floor. “We didn’t call ourselves the Defy the World Tomatoes for nothing, but I’ll be damned if I know what to do.”
“I can’t work any harder,” Christy Joy complained. “I’m already exhausted. It’s a good thing Twink and I live upstairs, or I’d never get into work on time.”
“Let’s play Scarlett O’Hara and worry about this tomorrow,” Darcy said. “Then at least we’ll be able to get through today.”
Christy Joy began nibbling on a caramel roll. “Did you have breakfast?”
“Yes, and it’s a good thing too, because I sure couldn’t eat now.”
For the rest of the morning, Darcy smiled until her cheeks ached, but none of that forced sunshine reached her heart. For a few months, she’d had the job of her dreams, but now she could feel it slipping through her fingers.
George Kimble prided himself on his ability to read a face. It was a skill he’d refined over his teaching career, but that day a stranger could have glanced at Darcy’s goofy smile and known something had gone wrong. He eased himself down onto the tall stool behind the nursery cash register and nudged her with his elbow.
“Want to tell me about it?” he asked.
Darcy’s shoulders slumped sadly. “I suppose there’s no point in hiding it,” she began, and hurriedly explained their impending disaster. “I keep telling myself that we’ll cope somehow, but right now, I don’t see how.”
George shook his head in dismay. “At least the bastard will be able to sit in his Zen garden and contemplate the havoc he’s created.”
“Are you trying to put a positive spin on this?”
“Hell, no.” George raised his drooping hat to scratch the remaining fringe of gray hair above his right ear. “But you could use a boyfriend. Do you like him?”
Darcy’s gaze raked the sky. “That’s really not the issue, and believe me, he’s way out of my league.”
“That wasn’t my question,” George insisted.
Darcy backed away. “I need to make some telephone calls. I can haul the cypress, bench and rolls of plastic in my truck, but I want to make certain the sand and boulders are delivered in the right place.”
Certain he had his answer in her abrupt change of subject, George chuckled to himself. “Don’t forget to sell him a new rake.”
“I’ve got the deluxe wooden model all ready to go,” Darcy replied.
Darcy didn’t know how she was going to face Griffin, but when she arrived at his house the next day, he wasn’t home. It was her experience that homeowners usually stuck around. The worst argued about the placement of every flower and shrub. The best merely peered out their windows and waved.
She set her crew to work leveling the ground and spreading out the plastic liner that would keep weeds from sprouting up through the sand. Once the sand and boulders were delivered, the men spread the pale white sand evenly and shoved the boulders into place. Then they planted the cypress and moved the bench to the edge of the sand.
As far as landscaping jobs went, this had been an easy one. Darcy dismissed the crew and began raking the sand into a wavy pattern on her own. When she paused to survey the result, she noticed Griffin leaning against the corner of his house. Startled, she wondered how long he’d been watching her.
He was casually dressed in gray sweats and