Second Chance Match Page 5

  Oh, it would not do to like him. Gratitude was one thing, but liking was something else altogether, the first step on a dangerous path that could only lead to heartbreak. He was her adversary, not her friend. If only he weren’t so breathtakingly handsome....

  Chapter Four

  “So,” Asher Chatam said, effortlessly taking command of the meeting, “here’s what I gather so far. Ellie spoke with Jessa at the school about nine-thirty yesterday morning, Wednesday. They made an agreement for Jessa to lease the house on Charter Street and Ellie received a check, which she has not deposited.”

  “Yes,” Ellie said.

  “Ellie then told Jessa that she could go ahead and move into the house.” He looked pointedly to Ellie, adding, “Even though I hadn’t yet had a chance to draw up papers.” Ellie gave a little shrug, smiling wanly. Clearly, Jessa noted, she was not troubled by his thinly veiled scold.

  “At about the same time as Ellie was talking to Jessa,” Asher went on, “Kent spoke to Garrett here at Chatam House about a lease/purchase agreement. They agreed on a monthly consideration, and funds were deposited with Kent to seal the deal.”

  “Uh, no,” Garrett interrupted. “That’s not correct. No money changed hands on our end.”

  Kent cleared his throat, and Magnolia sighed. “Actually,” she muttered, “money did change hands, so to speak.”

  “She had the money transferred into my bank account,” Kent clarified.

  Garrett closed his eyes and shook his head. “And you were going to tell me this when?”

  “When you needed to know,” Magnolia answered primly.

  He clamped his jaw, looking away. An uncomfortable silence ensued, broken moments later by Asher. “Well,” he said, “there you have it. One property. Two legally identical transactions.”

  “Quite the coincidence,” Jessa mumbled.

  “Oh, my dear,” Hypatia said with a chuckle that proved the acuity of her hearing, “we don’t believe in coincidences around here, not for God’s children.”

  “Indeed, not,” Magnolia commented.

  “A coincidence is just God at work,” Odelia tittered.

  “That’s good,” Asher said, “because we’re going to need some divine guidance to resolve this. Unless....” He looked from Garrett, who appeared to be brooding, to Jessa who, admittedly, was doing a bit of the same. Unless what? she wondered, but before she could ask for clarification, Magnolia spoke up again.

  “I propose that we put this issue aside until after Ellie and Asher’s wedding.” Jessa bit her lip in dismay, but Magnolia hurried on. “Of course, Jessa and Hunter will remain here with us as our guests in the meantime.”

  “But the wedding’s a month away, isn’t it?” Jessa spoke up quickly. “We couldn’t impose that long.”

  “It’s no imposition,” Magnolia insisted, sitting forward. “More like a blessing.” She glanced around the table, adding pointedly, “Jessa just happens to be a florist.”

  “That’s true,” Ellie chimed in, “and I admit that when she told me about wanting to open her own shop at the house on Charter Street, I immediately thought about asking her to help out with the wedding.” She looked to Jessa, saying, “I meant to let you get settled first.”

  “Well, I’m happy to be of assistance, of course,” Jessa said, brightening, “especially if it will help cover our room and board here.”

  “Now, now,” Hypatia interrupted. “None of that. Our guests do not worry about room and board. We will pay you for your help, of course.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Asher commented, sitting back in his chair.

  “Me, too!” Ellie declared.

  Jessa beamed. This could all work out in her favor, after all. She already had most of the material she would need, other than the flowers, and she could find many of those in the greenhouse. More importantly, if she did a good job for them, Ellie and Asher just might start to argue on her behalf in regard to the Monroe place. Staying here wasn’t the same as Hunter and her having their own home, of course, but it wasn’t exactly slumming, either, and they wouldn’t have to impose on Abby, at least not for a good while.

  “Now that that’s settled,” Hilda said, “could we finalize the menu? This May wedding isn’t exactly a small family affair. Not that there’s any such thing with the Chatams.”

  Conversation shifted to food and then to the guest list, which was considerable. Finally, Hilda rose to depart, saying that she had to start dinner.

  “And I have another meeting,” Asher said apologetically, already on his feet.

  “Thanks for working around my schedule,” Ellie told him, turning her face up to receive his kiss.

  “I’m happy to work around your schedule, sweetheart,” he told her.

  They murmured between themselves for several seconds before he left the room. Jessa tried not to watch, only to have her gaze land on Garrett. He seemed troubled, caught in his own thoughts, until Asher left, at which point he roused himself and turned to Ellie.

  “About the violets…”

  “I think they’ll be perfect on the cake,” she gushed. “Don’t you?”

  “Those are candied violets,” Garrett pointed out. “That’s not my department, but I have several dozen potted violets that we can use for decoration. I’m just not sure they’ll be enough to strike a real theme, you know?”

  “I think you’re right,” Jessa interjected quickly. “I suggest going with mixed bouquets with as many purples as we can find.”

  Ellie clapped her hands. “Excellent. Why don’t you meet with Garrett and figure out what we can use, then maybe put together something I can look at?”

  “I’ve already seen the greenhouse, so I can go ahead and draw up some designs,” Jessa told her.

  “What a blessing you are!” Ellie exclaimed, coming around the table to hug her again. “And after all the mix-up, too! Don’t you worry, though, it’ll all work out. Right, Garrett?”

  “Right.” He nodded, smiling wanly. “Wedding, property issues, all of it.”

  Beaming, Ellie danced away, her hopes and dreams secure. Jessa wished that she could be so sure about her own life, but she had never been among the blessed, not like these people.

  No matter. Things had been worse, much worse. Maybe her life wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be at this moment, but it was a far cry from what it had been, and her son would never, never again, live with fear. She would uphold that vow, whatever it took.

  Right now, that would have to be enough.

  As Jessa excused herself and hurried from the room, Garrett looked around for Magnolia. Knowing that she would be eager to avoid him, he didn’t bother looking in her chair. He found her speaking to Odelia and Kent. She skirted the balding, portly old gent, making a beeline for Ellie.

  Garrett trailed her, arriving in time to hear Ellie say, “I think you’re right. I’m sure she’ll be a great help. Frankly, I’m a little concerned about the boy, though.”

  “What about the boy?” Garrett couldn’t help asking.

  “Well, Jessa’s homeschooling,” Ellie said, “and while I’m not against homeschooling on principle, I do wonder if Hunter is being socialized enough. He seems unusually timid and quiet.”

  Given Ellie’s occupation as a kindergarten teacher, Garrett wasn’t surprised at her conclusion. He’d made a similar judgment himself earlier, but something compelled him to defend the boy.

  “That might not have anything to do with his schooling. He could just be naturally shy.”

  “That’s true,” Ellie conceded, “but he would still need large-group experience to help him overcome his natural tendency to fade into the background.”

  “Couldn’t he get that, say, at church?” Garrett pressed.

  “Po
ssibly.”

  “He’s certainly well-mannered,” Magnolia observed, “but he does stick close to his mother. You don’t suppose he was bullied in the past, do you? I’ve heard of that happening to quiet children.”

  Bullied, Garrett thought, his heart sinking, or, more likely, abused. He fervently hoped that was not the case, but he’d already recognized the signs. Maybe he’d find out the truth while he and Jessa worked on the flowers for the wedding.

  He certainly didn’t mind the idea of working with her. She seemed to have a good eye and even if her skills turned out to be only mediocre, they would be better than his or Magnolia’s when it came to bouquets and such. Besides, he didn’t exactly find her repulsive. Prickly, yes, but somehow that only added to her appeal. That didn’t really explain why he’d kept his mouth shut about backing out of his deal with Kent, though.

  He’d intended to do it, and Asher had clearly expected it of him or Jessa. In his defense, Garrett had been momentarily blindsided by Magnolia’s admission concerning the money. When they’d talked, Kent had detailed the kind of investment that would be expected in order to finalize the deal, but he hadn’t asked for the money then. Garrett had assumed that it would be expected at the signing of the papers. He’d never dreamed that Magnolia would take it upon herself to pay the funds herself. That reminded him why he was standing there.

  Tugging at her sleeve, he cleared his throat. “I need a word with you, please.”

  Ellie split an amused look between them. “I promised to spend a few minutes with Grandpa,” she said, pirouetting off in Kent’s direction. “You’d think we were never going to see each other again after I move into Asher’s house.”

  “Now, Garrett,” Magnolia began immediately.

  “It was very generous of you to give Kent cash out of your own account, but you know I can’t accept your money,” Garrett said.

  “I only wanted—”

  “I have money,” he went on firmly, “and I would have paid Kent what he needed when we signed the papers.”

  “But I have so much more than—”

  “It goes back into your account, Magnolia. Every penny.”

  “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” she grumbled.

  Grinning, he bent and smacked a kiss on her leathery cheek. “Why do you?”

  She folded her arms, fighting a smile. Garrett left her there, wondering yet again why he hadn’t just ended the whole debacle earlier by dropping his claim to the Charter Street site. As he hurried back to his duties, Garrett admitted the truth. He didn’t drop his claim because then Jessa Lynn Pagett and her too-quiet son would leave Chatam House for good. Before he knew them better. Before he knew her better. Before he knew the truth about them.

  Before he knew why he couldn’t stop thinking about her or looking forward to their next encounter.

  Garrett stayed busy that evening. He ignored Magnolia’s summons to the dinner table, knowing that if he let her turn him up sweet now, she’d harass him about accepting her money. Instead, he made a little space in the greenhouse by moving some of the topiaries outside to the patio, something he should have done a week or so earlier. After that, he gathered up all of the containers scattered around the building. After a late supper in the kitchen, he stopped by the family parlor in hopes of arranging to meet with Jessa and Magnolia the next day.

  Jessa was nowhere to be seen, however. She and Hunter had declined to join the family for dinner, too. Garrett told himself that they were not avoiding him, just still settling in, but then Hilda reported the next morning that not only had they elected to take dinner in their suite the night before, but also breakfast. Garrett nursed a secret emotional bruise while demolishing a bowl of Hilda’s grits with stewed pears, then headed out to the greenhouse to seek out every purple flower he could find and some ferns he’d had in mind.

  The instant he stepped through the door, he knew someone was there. Glancing around, he eased through the front space and into the next, slipping through the heavy plastic curtain. Surprised at whom he found there among the flowers, he took a moment to make certain that his voice remained calm and level.

  “Hello.”

  The boy whirled away from the rose bush to face Garrett, tension in every line of the small body inside his oversize clothes. “I didn’t touch it,” he said.

  “Okay.” Hunter’s hands trembled at his sides, so Garrett casually bent to shift a container and clear the pathway a bit. “It won’t hurt if you touch it, though. Just be careful you don’t get scratched by a thorn. That variety has some big ones.”

  “It does?”

  He heard the curiosity in the boy’s voice and smiled to himself. “Yeah, it does. Check it out.” Moving closer, Garrett carefully parted the heavy, rust-colored blossoms. “See? That’s a nasty thorn right there.”

  The boy peered at the sharp, green protuberance as if expecting it to jump out and bite him. Then he looked at Garrett with puzzlement in his dark eyes.

  “It’s a protective mechanism,” Garrett explained, “to keep animals like cows from eating the bushes down to the ground. If that had happened, roses would have vanished long before we were able to propagate them. Grow them for ourselves, I mean. And wouldn’t that be a shame? A world without roses.”

  “Mommy likes roses.”

  Garrett smiled. “Me, too. Thorns and all. But we have to know that sometimes beautiful things are also dangerous.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, think of an eagle. Beautiful, right?” Hunter gave a tiny nod. “Or a bear.” This time he got a hint of a smile. “Or even a snake.” Hunter pulled his lips down and back in an expression of distaste. Garrett laughed. “Hey, I’ve seen some really beautiful snakeskin boots.” A husky chuckle escaped the boy. “You want to see something else?” Garrett asked, suddenly inspired.

  Hunter nodded and followed as Garrett gestured and moved deeper into the tables and rows of flowers.

  “I only have one, and it’s not all that pretty, in my opinion, but it is fascinating.” He came to the table with the terrarium. “This is a Venus Fly Trap. It never has more than seven leaves. One day it will have a very tall flower, but not just yet. Guess what I feed it?” Hunter’s brow furrowed. “All plants eat,” Garrett explained. “They eat by absorbing nutrients from the soil, air and light, but this plant eats insects.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s right. I feed it bugs that I pick off the plants outside. Watch.” Garrett carefully picked a leaf from an azalea, rolled a section of it into a tight ball and stuck it on the end of a piece of wire. “Pretend this is a bug.” He touched the leaf ball to the inside of one of the spiny leaves, which immediately folded over it. Hunter gasped. Garrett wiggled the wire until the leaf ball came off the end. The trap slowly closed around the azalea leaf. “Since that’s not a bug, it’ll spit it out in a few hours, but we’ll get some real bugs and feed the other leaves.”

  Hunter beamed. “Cool.”

  “It is kind of cool, isn’t it?” Garrett said. “Now, want to tell me why you’re here?”

  Hunter shrugged. “Mommy’s working in her room. She said I could do lessons or play. I didn’t want to do lessons.”

  Garrett grinned. “Not much room to play in here.”

  The boy pulled a pair of diecast cars from his pockets and looked up at him.

  “Okay,” Garrett said, moving toward the potting bench. “I have some stuff to do over here. You can come along if you want.”

  As Garrett thought he might, the boy followed. He settled down at the end of the bench and began to run his cars around the rim of an empty plastic pot. Smiling, Garrett went about his business. At least one of the Pagetts wasn’t avoiding him.

  Garrett worked in silence for a few minutes, then felt compelled to engage the boy again, but how did he st
art a conversation with a six-year-old? After thinking a moment, he asked, “What’s your full name?”

  Several long seconds of silence later, Garrett glanced at the boy and found himself being regarded with a solemn expression. Finally, the boy whispered, “I’m not s’posed to tell.”

  A shock ran through Garrett, but he maintained a calm expression, saying, “Yeah? I’m not supposed to know your middle name? Mine’s Jackson. My mom’s last name was Jackson before she married my dad, so it was her way of naming me after my grandfather.”

  “I’m named after my grandfather, too,” Hunter immediately reported. “No,” he amended, his brow furrowing. “Mommy’s grandfather.”

  “Your great-grandfather, then. And what was his name?”

  “Lynn.”

  Garrett smiled. “So you’re named after your mom and your great-grandfather. That’s neat.”

  “My mom, her mom and her grandfather,” Hunter corrected.

  “Oh? Your mother’s mother was named Lynn, too?”

  The boy shook his head. “Pagett.”

  “Ah.” So the name that Hunter wasn’t supposed to tell was his last name, Pagett clearly being Jessa’s maiden name or her mother’s maiden name. Garrett felt cold in the pit of his belly. They were hiding. But from whom?

  “Hunter Lynn Pagett is a good name,” Garrett said lightly, betraying none of his suspicions.

  Smiling, Hunter went back to his play. Garrett told himself that he could be mistaken. But he wasn’t. Somehow, he knew that he was not mistaken in his assumption that this mother and son were in hiding.

  The theory proved true when Jessa appeared, breathless and wild-eyed, her hair streaming from the clip on the back of her head. She clutched a sketchpad in one hand, the other fisted around a pencil.