Back on Salt Spring, things were not going well. At least not for Barb. October had come, accompanied by chilly rains and an autumnal dearth of revenue. On this particular Monday, two days after everyone had left her high and dry without so much as a note, she closed the shop and trudged down to the relative cheer of Joe’s bakery. It couldn’t hurt to nurse a latte while she mourned over her books.
“Weather sucks, eh?” Joe demanded with false cheer. There was no one else in the shop and Barb guessed he was feeling the same retail fallout as she.
“Among other things.” She marked Monty’s balance in red, then underlined it twice, just because she was so annoyed with him. Not only had he disappeared but he’d nailed her with an unwelcome NSF charge from the bank.
Ten bucks she could have used for something frivolous, like a deposit against the phone bill.
“Seen Monty around lately?” Joe asked.
Barb grimaced. “He seems to have fallen off the face of the earth.”
“No kidding.” Joe poured himself a coffee and came to sit opposite her. “Doesn’t that figure. You try to be a nice guy and just take it in the shorts.”
Barb met his gaze with surprise. “He owed you money, too?”
“Oh yeah. Not a lot, but it grates. Coupla hundred bucks.”
“Fourteen hundred and twenty,” Barb supplied and Joe winced.
“Yeow! How’d you let him get away with that? I mean, he was a talker, but not that smooth.”
Barb rubbed her temples, not appreciating the reminder that she’d let her emotions get the upper hand on her good sense. “He paid off his old balance with a boinger of a check.”
“And you didn’t know it would boing, so you let him charge some more.” Joe shook his head. “I tell you, nice guys always finish last.” He clinked his mug companionably to hers and they sipped together. “Did he book off with that little redhead you had working there? I haven’t seen her much either.”
“Yeah, all three of them are gone without a trace.” Barb wouldn’t think it was kind of convenient to have no payroll when things were this slow. And she certainly wasn’t going to admit that she missed Viviane—let alone the nice masculine scenery. Nope, she was better off without the lot of them.
Wherever they had gone.
“But it’s the quiet ones that surprise you. She seemed like a sweetie, that Viviane, though you never can tell.” Joe frowned. “Course, you’re probably glad to be without the payroll this time of year.”
Barb nodded reluctantly. “Except she could really sell books.” She sighed and closed her ledger. Barb felt bankrupt, both financially and spiritually, and couldn’t imagine how she’d shake herself out of it this time. Maybe she should just let the bank take it all—at least then she’d have nothing left to worry about. The gray slant of cold rain only emphasized the futility of it all.
Her lone iris would probably die.
“Hey, Joe, you got anything else that needs doing?”
A rather interesting specimen of the male gender stepped out of the back of the bakery, wiping his hands on a rag. Barb wasn’t down quite so far that she didn’t notice.
A small frown marred the space between this guy’s dark brown brows and he had to be six four. He had dark brown eyes too, and a serious demeanor. He was built, if looking a bit gaunt and pale, although winter didn’t favor everybody. No, this guy looked like he’d rather be outside.
And it was lousy weather for that. Barb sipped and watched him through her lashes.
A harmless treat, after all.
He didn’t even glance at Barb, not even out of curiosity, and she tagged him as gay before returning her attention completely to her latte.
A waste, she thought absently. Figured.
Joe frowned. “Sorry, Ryan, I can’t think of another thing.”
The man shrugged and tossed the rag into the trash. “Then maybe I’ll have a look at the truck’s transmission again.”
He turned and left, even as Joe shook his head. “Poor guy,” he muttered.
“New employee, at this time of year? You surprise me.”
“Nah, it’s my kid brother.” Joe sipped as though weighing the merit of explaining, then he shrugged. “Helluva story if you ask me. Busted his ass building a business on the mainland, his wife takes it into her head he’s not good enough for her and packs it up. Gutted his business on the way—getting her half—though she did sweet bugger-all but spend all those years. Ripped his heart out and ate the sucker warm, if you know what I mean.”
Barb nodded. “Read the book and saw the movie.”
“No kidding? Well, hey, it’s hardly my business.” Joe sighed. “Anyhow, he was too good to her, I say, even at the end, and now he’s got nothing to show for all his work. She’s living in style, as you can imagine, some fancy hotshot lawyer sipping champagne at her feet.” Joe shook his head. “Another nice guy finishing last.”
Barb smiled despite herself. “Runs in the family?”
Joe grinned. “Yeah, yeah, you could say that.” He sobered and leaned closer. “Be a while before Ryan heads back onto the field, though—he’s hurting bad and won’t talk about it at all. I tell you, I’m running out of odd jobs around here, though I can understand that he wants to keep busy.”
Joe licked his lips, casting a quick glance to the doorway his brother had briefly occupied. “You don’t happen to have anything that needs doing, do you, Barb?”
Barb shook her head. “Joe, I’m fresh out of cash. I’m not going to have someone do any work for me when I can’t pay them.” Barb wrinkled her nose. “It’s not in the nice guy code.”
But Joe frowned. “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t care about the cash and neither does he. He just needs something to keep his hands busy; he’s not the kind of guy to sit still and brood. Ryan will work his way through it; he’s a pretty balanced guy.” He snapped his fingers. “You could think of it as providing therapy.”
Barb laughed. “Well, what does he do? I don’t have a car, let alone one needing a transmission repair.”
“Nah, that’s just a hobby. Ryan’s a landscape architect and I tell you, he’s damn good.”
Barb caught her breath. “You mean he designs gardens.”
“Yeah, and puts them in. You name it—rocks and patios and decks and trees and pretty posies all in a row. Got no gift for it myself, kill everything I touch. The missus too. She’s got African violets blooming on the windowsill for the first time ever and is thrilled to bits. Ryan’s even done little waterfalls and I swear to God, when he’s done, they look as though they were there all along.”
Barb was tempted. Really tempted. But one glance at her books reminded her of the realities of her situation. “Oh, Joe, I’ve wanted a garden forever.” She sighed. “But I don’t know how to do it or even where to start…”
Joe saluted her with his cup. “A match made in heaven!”
“But, Joe, I don’t have any money for it! The plants will be expensive…”
“Hey, not wholesale. And maybe we can cut a deal with someone—Ryan already was talking to some woman down Fulford way who’s setting up a nursery for the spring. They’re trying to work out a deal to the advantage of both of them. She might need books, or advertising space in your store. I don’t know, but it never hurts to ask.”
“But…”
“But nothing, Barb. This is a community and we’ll work something out. More goddamn creativity on this island than you can shake a stick at—let’s use some. It’s not like we’re busy in the winter.”
Before Barb could argue any more, Joe raised his voice. “Hey, Ryan! We might have a job for you!”
And Barb felt a tingle of excitement for the first time in years. A garden!
Suddenly, her prospects didn’t look so dreary after all.