Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ rubbing it between her fingertips as if she could tell from that who the culprit might be.

      Connor took one look at her Goodwill coat and the ancient rubber boots that swallowed her legs to her knees and narrowed his gaze.

      “You don’t happen to know who would have done such a thing?”

      “No idea.” She shook her head, glanced right, then left, as if she were assessing the damage. “It looks really bad but it’s reparable. If this moisture would ever stop, that is.”

      The rain droplets became sleet. Connor winced at the sting against his cheek. He’d be in Australia right now if Cecile hadn’t—

      “Does that dog want out?” his visitor asked, head tilted to one side as she studied the drooling beast.

      “No.”

      “Oh.” She blinked the spiky bangs out of her eyes. “What’s his name?”

      “Tobias.” He did not want to talk about the dog.

      “The Lord is good.”

      “Pardon?”

      “Tobias. It means the Lord is good.” Her eyes twinkled when she grinned. “Names and their meanings are a fascination with me. What’s yours?”

      “Connor.” It slipped out without thinking.

      “Hmm. Gaelic. It means high longing, I think.”

      High longing. Well, that about covered his recent past. Conner huffed out an indignant snort to cover his frustration.

      “You’re the brothers’ nephew.”

      Clearly the meaning of names wasn’t her only gift.

      “Great-nephew. Look, Miss, er, Ms.—what is your name?”

      “I should have introduced myself.” She wrinkled her nose and chuckled. “Sorry. Rowena Davis.”

      This was the landscape designer? Connor choked on his disbelief. She was all of what? Nineteen? Twenty? Maybe a hundred pounds if she stayed out in the rain all night?

      This elf was going to cut down trees and carry them away?

      “Don’t worry, Mr. Wingate,” she said after studying his face for several moments. “I can do the job. That’s why Hank and Henry hired me. They know my work.”

      “I see.” The dog had started up a mournful howl that made conversation difficult. On second thought, maybe he should let Tobias out before he wrecked his brand-new car. “Excuse me.”

      “Sure.”

      Connor turned and opened the door, but before he could step out of the way, Tobias, in his usual blustering way, jumped against him, knocking him to the ground. Mud oozed through Connor’s fingers, splatted his coat and began to seep through the seat of his trousers.

      The dog licked his face in apology.

      “Perfect.” He shoved the chocolate lab’s muddy paws aside and rose, disgusted with everything to do with his life.

      The landscaper, on the other hand, seemed to welcome the dog’s affection. She knelt, let him swipe his pink tongue across her face as she ruffled his fur and smoothed his ears.

      “Oh, you’re a beauty. Thank you for the welcome. Do you know how to fetch?” She picked up a stick and tossed it. The dog raced after it, grabbed it in his jaws, but after one last look at his new friend, took off into the bush.

      “He doesn’t know how to do much except eat and sleep. And run away.” Connor stopped, reading her expression. Dog hater. He wasn’t, but she couldn’t know Cecile had died because of Tobias.

      “Does he belong to your children?” she asked sympathetically.

      “I’m not married.” Struggling for composure, Connor cleared his throat. “Look, Miss Davis…”

      “Rowena.”

      “Miss Davis,” he repeated, wishing he’d waited another day. Or week. Till the rain had stopped. Or until the trees were cleaned up. Until he’d figured out his future and life made sense.

      “I realize my uncles made an agreement with you to do the work around Wingate Manor and restore it to its former glory.”

      She smiled at that, her lips spread wide across her face in a grin that lit chips of gold in the green of her hazel eyes.

      “Maybe not glory,” she agreed. “But at least I can make it look a whole lot better than it does now. In return for the nursery,” she added, her smile disappearing like the sun behind a cloud.

      “Nursery?” Connor struggled with that for a few moments. “Oh, you mean that land they bought years ago. Yes, I believe it did used to be a nursery. Don’t worry. They told me about your, er, understanding.”

      Why did she want that hunk of overgrown bush?

      “The thing is, Connor, your uncles and I made that agreement last summer. Before I’d seen all this damage.” She glanced around, frowned. “I should warn you that the job may cost more than I’d originally estimated. The ice storm was bad enough, but all this hacking—”

      “How much more?” he asked. Suspicion feathered its way across his nerves in a warning he’d made a fortune listening to. If she thought she was going to soak two old men who were recovering from an accident she was in for a second thought.

      “I don’t know yet. I’ve poked around a bit. Those terraces don’t look stable. The bottom layers of bricks are crumbling. They’ve been repaired piecemeal, shored up for a lot of years but—”

      “Look,” he interrupted as the wind whipped through his wet pants. “We’re both going to catch cold if we stand in this sleet, chattering. Maybe you could conduct your assessment and give me the overrun figures. Then I’ll decide whether or not we’ll go ahead.”

      She stared at him for several moments while her eyes brewed a storm, turned to green daggers. When she spoke frost edged her words. Her voice was low, determined and showed not the slightest hint of apology.

      “Make no mistake, Mr. Wingate. This project is going ahead. I turned down a year’s worth of designing to come here. Your uncles and I signed a contract. It’s too late for you to back out now.”

      They’d signed something? Even after he’d warned them to let him handle things? Connor shoved his hands into his pockets but refused to show his frustration in any other way. He was here now. He’d protect their interests.

      “I’ve already begun pruning,” she told him. “If the weather clears up I’ll be back on-site tomorrow morning with a helper to continue. But the grounds are too wet to work. I’ll have to hold off on the flower beds until they dry out.”

      “Fine.” He turned to leave.

      “Mr. Wingate?”

      “Yes?”

      The СКАЧАТЬ