Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer

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      “You do and I’ll forget about any more steak dinners.”

      “Come on, Dad. Work faster.”

      Connor laughed, leading the way out of the room. Rowena followed. He wanted to talk to her privately—she got that. But about what?

      The television lounge looked more like a library. A plasma screen sat above the big marble fireplace but Connor didn’t bother to turn it on. Instead he motioned her to one of the red leather wing chairs in front of the fire and sat in the other himself only after pushing the door so it was almost shut.

      “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m really concerned about the time frame of the projects,” he said, his face troubled.

      “Connor—”

      He held up one hand. “Hear me out. You’ve got the rest of the cutting to do, reworking the grounds, plantings, borders and a whole lot of things I’m sure I don’t know about. Putting that fountain on hold until another year only makes sense.”

      “It doesn’t make any sense.” Rowena braced herself for the argument. She had to do this, had to make this first project in Serenity Bay a showstopper, because it was going to be the showcase for everything that came after.

      “That fountain is the grand finale at the bottom of Wingate’s gardens. It’s the perfect place for a fireworks display on Canada Day or after a big party. In the evening, with the fountain running, it will be a gorgeous backdrop for a wedding ceremony. It’s the culmination of all of the rest of our work. And I’m not putting it off until next year.”

      He studied her for several tense moments, then rose.

      “Wait here for a minute.” Connor left the room. When he returned he held out a Toronto newspaper. “I’m planning a spread like this for the grand reopening. I’ve already blocked out coverage and a reporter for the end of May,” he told her. “They’re sending someone who’ll take a ton of pictures, do a write-up and feature the place in their weekend edition. I had to sign a contract. There’s no way I can cancel without losing a lot of money. If we’re late—”

      Rowena took the paper, glanced at it, then set it down. She drew a deep breath. “We’re not going to be late, Connor. We’re moving along as planned. We’ll be in fine shape by the end of May.” I hope.

      “You’re sure?” Connor’s hard look pierced through her bravado, searching for some indecision.

      Rowena refused to show any doubt. “I always make my deadlines,” she told him softly.

      He heaved a sigh. “You’d better.”

      “So we have our goal, we have our plan. Now we just need time and no more nasty comments to pull it off.” She glanced at Connor. “We’ve got enough pressure. I don’t need you adding to it by constantly reminding us of what has yet to be done. I warn you, when I’m on a deadline I can be very intense. If you don’t stop pushing, things are going to get heated between us.”

      “I’ll survive.” His dry humor echoed the sloped grin he wore. “Feel free to tell me whenever I’m becoming obsessive.”

      “I will,” Rowena promised. She paused in the doorway, saw that Quint and Kent had left. The kitchen sparkled. “Looks like those two know their way around a kitchen.”

      “Yeah.” But Connor was watching her.

      Rowena shifted uncomfortably under that scrutiny, grabbed her ringing cell phone like a lifeline. “Rowena Davis.”

      “Hey, Row. This is Ash. How are you?”

      “I’m fine. Just finished dinner.”

      “Not at home, because I stopped by ten minutes ago. Where are you?”

      “I’m at Wingate. Connor treated Kent and Quint and me to a steak dinner. It was delicious,” she added, lifting one eyebrow as she glanced at him.

      He bowed from the waist like a well-trained maître d’.

      “Oh, good. If he’s there with you, you’ve just saved me a phone call.”

      “Really?” A wiggle of dread tugged at Rowena. She didn’t need Ashley to start matchmaking. “How can I help?”

      “Michael and I are making dinner for Piper and Jason tomorrow night. We want you to come. It would be nice if you could bring Connor with you. We’d like to get to know him better.”

      Rowena stalled, trying to think of a way out.

      “Unless of course there’s a reason you don’t want him to come?” Ashley’s voice took on that hint of suspicion that Rowena knew better than to ignore.

      “Don’t be silly, Ash. If you’ll hold on a moment, I’ll ask him.” She put her hand over the phone. “My friend Ashley and her husband are having some people over for dinner tomorrow night. She’d like to know if you’d be available to join them.”

      “Tomorrow.” He studied her with those intense eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “For dinner?”

      “Yes. For dinner. It’s not a big deal, just them and another couple, I think. Piper and Jason Franklin. I don’t know if you’ve met them.”

      “No, I haven’t. But I’ve heard about him—he’s the mayor, right?”

      She nodded.

      “Sounds interesting.” He nodded. “Sure. I’d be happy to accept. I can drive us both there.”

      Rowena swallowed her refusal, pulled her hand from the phone and told Ashley, “Connor says he’d like to come. What time?”

      She got all the particulars, agreed she wouldn’t be late and finally hung up. Connor was frowning. “Is something wrong?”

      “No. Just sorting things out.” He gazed at her, his forehead pleated in a tiny frown. “You said Masters. Any relation to the florist where your employees are staying?”

      “Mrs. Masters is Ashley’s mother-in-law,” she told him, surprised by the funny smile that suddenly appeared. It made him look far less forbidding. “What?”

      “Just thinking about the connections. They say everybody knows everyone else and their history when you live in a small town. I guess it’s true.”

      The odd glint twinkling in his eyes made her nervous. Rowena struggled to maintain her equanimity. “Yes, well, I’d better get on home. I’ve got some stuff to do tonight.”

      “You have something going almost every minute of the day, it seems,” he mused quietly, an edge to his tone. “Reminds me of someone.”

      She lifted her freshly washed jacket from the second dryer in Wingate’s big laundry room, glad she wouldn’t have to go to the town Laundromat tonight.

      “Who could I possibly remind you of?” she asked, only half paying attention.

      “Me.”

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