Sheila rose with surprising grace and looked him over. "When we heard you were coming in, we thought it was all over for us."
"Not for you." His smile had her going weak at the knees. "Have those ideas ready for me and I would like to have a look at the piles you think have some potential."
"Of course sir."
"Call me Cade."
He spent the entire day and by the time he was ready to leave, had drawn up a plan. And made a list of who would be leaving and those staying.
Chapter 3
"Will you tell her?"
"No." Dusting her hands off the gardening apron she had donned on entering the greenhouse, Abby sighed. "Mama, please don't look at me like that. I'm doing what's right for my daughter."
"Abigail Janice Black." Arlene Black turned away from her beloved plants, propped her soiled gloved hands on her hips and gave her a look that did not need words, but she decided to use them anyway. "That beautiful child will want to know who her daddy is and he has a right to know."
"He has none." Turning away from the all-knowing gaze, she dug into the pot of soil. For once she had decided to come home early after attending a ballet class for her daughter. Zoe was now tucked in front of the television in the main living area, watching her favorite cartoon. In another hour, it would be time for supper.
Her dad was still at a meeting at the bookstore but would be home soon. He never missed supper. Not if he could help it. "It was just one foolish night."
"That produced something amazing." Arlene turned back to her rose bush. Squinting her eyes, she attacked a blade of weed andmercilessly plucked it away. She loved gardening and had won prizes to show for the love and care she put into the ones inside the greenhouse and those blooming in the outdoor gardens.
Her daughter had inherited her green thumbs. So had her granddaughter. "Secrets have a way of making themselves heard."
"He probably will be leaving for another part of the world pretty soon."
Arlene glanced over and felt a smile curving her lips. "You sound hopeful."
Putting down the trowel, she threw her mother a sheepish smile. "I do, don't I? Oh mama, I was so ashamed when I realized what a mess I'd made of myself. I dreaded how disappointed you and dad would be of me."
"And look what came of it." A smile wreathed her lips, mahogany brown eyes twinkling. "Hi there sweet cheeks, why don't you come on in?"
Zoe bounced in, her favorite stuffed elephant tucked under her arm. Her hair, the untamed curls, tumbled around a face that looked like an angel.
Abby felt the familiar tug as she looked at her daughter and the jolt at how much she looked like the man she had spent only one night with.
"I want to plant."
"Of course you do." The ever indulgent grandmother went to fetch Zoe's apron and tiny gloves from the storage area and helped her on with them. "This animal will have to stay out of the dirt."
"He wants to plant too."
"I thought it was a she." Her grandmother shook her head. "Not today. We'll just place him over here out of harm's way. Now come and see what I was doing with these rosebushes. And tell me about ballet and your friend, Melissa."
And just like that, three generations of Blake women bonded over roses and weed killers.
As the afternoon sunlight filtered through the greenhouse glass, Abby felt a quiet comfort in the gentle rhythm of tending plants. The earthy scent mingled with laughter as Zoe described her latest ballet moves, and Arlene shared stories about her prize-winning roses.
For a moment, worries faded, replaced by the warmth of family and the promise that, even with secrets, love would always be the root that held them together.
*****
He had brought home some of the manuscripts with him and realized that the unfamiliar rhythm of settling down to something worthwhile was quite pleasant. Now, he no longer woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because of what happened. He would go in bright and early and come in late.
And much to his mother's displeasure, he often missed supper.
She found him at his desk with a pile of files littering the mahogany surface, his head buried in what looked like a manuscript.
