3

 

Psyche heaved the potting soil from the back of her old pickup truck and hoisted it over her shoulder. She’d already carried her gardening tools into the garden of the Olympus Inn, a B&B she did flower arrangements for. On-site gardening wasn’t usually part of her service, however, after many of her other steady jobs had dried up—namely providing flowers for engagement parties and weddings—she’d approached Sophia, the owner of the inn, to ask if she wanted her garden spruced up.

She’d been in luck. Sophia, a sweet woman her own age, had proclaimed that she’d been searching for a gardener since she and her husband Triton couldn’t do the work themselves any longer. Neither of them had a green thumb, she’d claimed. Whether it was true, or whether Sophia had somehow guessed the dire situation Psyche was in and wanted to help, didn’t really matter. It was a job, and Psyche was grateful for it. Her small florist shop was in financial distress. She’d let her assistant go two months earlier, unable to continue paying her wages. But even with the severe cuts she’d made to her overheads, she wasn’t certain that her business would survive.

Strangely, her flower business wasn’t the only one that was doing badly. She’d noticed that all over Charleston the smaller florists had closed shop. Only the larger ones and those who could get commercial work, such as providing floral services to corporate offices and public gardens, were surviving. Psyche was determined to be one of them and not let her dream of owning her own business die, even if that meant she had to cut back on other things.

Psyche carried the heavy bag of soil into the garden and dropped it next to her tools. The garden was a beautiful oasis of colorful flowers, bushes, and small trees, with a tranquil fountain in the middle—though many of the plants needed tending to. Access from the huge villa was through French doors from the rooms on the ground level, as well as via a wooden staircase connected to the large porch on the second floor of the house. More French doors led from the house onto the porch. Several were open, and Psyche could hear the voices of several men drifting toward her.

She looked up for a moment. The voices were coming from Triton’s office. She’d visited the inn almost every week for the last year, picking up her check at the same time as she took care of the flower arrangements inside the house. She’d fallen in love with the house the moment she’d first stepped inside. She considered working in its garden a privilege.

A short while later, she wiped the sweat off her brow, admiring the new row of perennials she’d planted. She sat back on her heels and took a swig from her water bottle. It was rather warm even though it was only mid February. The fifteenth to be exact. And the only reason she knew the date, was because yesterday had been Valentine’s Day, and when she’d closed up at the end of the day, her sales hadn’t even added up to a quarter of her sales from the previous Valentine’s Day. Even the year before, Valentine’s Day hadn’t been stellar. She sighed. There was no use crying over spilled milk.

“You okay, Psyche?”

Psyche turned her head and saw Sophia descending the stairs from the balcony.

She rose to her feet and smiled at her client. “Everything’s fine. Hope you like the colors.” She pointed to the row of newly planted flowers. “I thought you could use a little variety.”

Sophia, dressed in slimming navy Capri pants and a loose cream colored blouse, joined her on the lawn. Her long dark hair grazed her shoulders and looked like she’d just stepped out of an expensive hair salon. Psyche could only imagine what she looked like in contrast. Most likely like a scarecrow, strands of hair having escaped her ponytail and dirt staining her ripped jeans and baby-blue tank top.

With a glance at the flowers, Sophia said, “They’re gorgeous! I’m so glad you’re doing this. Triton and I just don’t have the time. There’s so much to do in the house with the guests, you know.”

“I’m really grateful for the job. And it’s a wonderful property. I’ve always admired your garden. It has so much potential.” The moment she’d said it, she wanted to take it back. “I mean, I’m not trying to say it’s in bad shape or something—”

With a hand on Psyche’s forearm, Sophia cut her off. “You can say it. We made a mess of it and should have hired you a long time ago. I’m afraid a lot of plants had to die in the meantime.” She grimaced, then laughed. “But I can see this place is in good hands now.”

Psyche smiled back, not knowing how to respond to the compliment.

“Oh, before I forget it,” Sophia added, “do you think we could switch your tending to the flower arrangements inside from Wednesdays to Thursdays? It’s just that I get most of our deliveries on Wednesdays and there are just too many people swarming around.”

“That’s not a problem at all. I’d be happy to come by on Thursdays instead. It’s not like it’s very busy in the shop.”

Sophia cast her a look of pity. “Not a lot of weddings going on, huh?”

Psyche shook her head. “Even considering how many florists have already closed, there’s still not enough work for everybody.” She shrugged. “I’ll make do.” She tried for a laugh. “At least that gives me plenty of time for fighting with my insurance company.”

Sophia’s forehead furrowed. “Are you telling me they still haven’t paid up?”

“Nope. Not a cent.” She and Sophia had been discussing the water damage to her little condo on and off over the last few weeks. “They claim it was a pre-existing condition.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sophia huffed.

“That’s what I told them too, but they said the previous owner should have disclosed it when I bought the place, or at the very least the building inspection should have revealed it. They told me to sue the previous owner.”

Sophia shook her head in disgust. “Well, isn’t that typical? As soon as an insurance company is supposed to pay up, they blame somebody else. So what now?”

Psyche lifted one shoulder in a helpless gesture. “I sent them the report from the plumber, who claims that the damage came from normal wear and tear. His professional opinion is that the previous owners wouldn’t have known about it either. So the insurance should cover it. But in order to do his report, he had to open up a lot more of the wall so he could really see what was going on. The place is practically uninhabitable right now.”

“Oh, my! Are you staying in a hotel?”

Psyche shook her head. “I wish! But since the insurance company is refusing to pay for the damage, they’re also refusing to pay for alternate accommodation. I’m sleeping in my office in the back of the shop. And I shower at the gym.”

“I’m so sorry, Psyche,” Sophia said softly. “I wish I could help you. But we’re fully booked because of that Mystery Writers Convention that’s in town. And the week after there’s a big—”

Psyche waved her off, interrupting quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I would never expect that. But thanks for offering; it’s really nice of you. I’m fine. And who knows, maybe the plumber’s report will finally sway the insurance company.”

But she had her doubts. Still, it wasn’t Sophia’s problem that Psyche was sleeping on a lumpy couch in her office, because she couldn’t afford to rent another apartment. There was no room in her budget, not after paying the plumber and continuing to pay her mortgage and the rent for the shop.

She smiled at Sophia and joked, “There are few moments when I regret not being in a relationship. Right now, a boyfriend with an apartment would come in handy.”

Sophia chuckled softly. “They are good for other things, too, you know.”

“So I hear. But I haven’t been interested in anybody in quite a while. Can’t force those things, right?” Even though she’d met a few men, there just hadn’t been any spark, and she’d given up on dating.

“It always happens when you least expect it. It did with Triton and me. And I don’t know what I’d do without him,” Sophia mused. “He’s everything to me.”

“You’re lucky you found each other.”

“You could find somebody, too.”

Psyche wiped a few drops of sweat from her brow. “It’s not that easy. And to be honest, I’m happy on my own.” She pointed to the flowerbeds. “I should get back to work.”

Sophia nodded. “If you need a cold drink later, just stop by the kitchen. Alice will give you something.”

“Thanks Sophia.”

Sophia walked back into the house, and Psyche kneeled down in the grass again. She picked up her tools and devoted all her attention to the plants in front of her, all the while ignoring the voices still drifting down from Triton’s office. She blocked them out as best she could, but while she couldn’t make out any specific words, she could tell that the men were agitated.

She sighed and shook her head. They were probably discussing something trivial like the latest football match or baseball game. Not that she even knew whether it was football or baseball season. Another advantage of not having a boyfriend: she didn’t have to keep up with sports games on TV.

By the time Psyche was done with the planting, the sun stood high in the sky. What was wrong with this weather? It was only February and already it was sweltering hot. Sweat ran down her neck and disappeared beneath her tank top. She felt sticky and uncomfortable and kept wiping her nape and forehead with her earth-stained hands. She needed a cold drink and a shower. But first, the new plants needed watering or they would wither away in no time.

Psyche rose and stretched her back, then glanced around for the garden hose. She spotted it hanging on a hook outside the little storage area next to the house. She walked over and took it off the hook, turning on the spout. Nothing happened. No water came through the hose. When she followed the pipe, which lay exposed along the building’s foundation, the reason became evident in an instant: the pipe led nowhere. It had been disconnected.

Great, now she’d have to lug water from the house.