Black Rose

by a wide space where more tables stood under a screened shelter. Even now he could see a field where someone worked a machine to dig up a pine—or a spruce, or a fir. How could you tell the difference?

    He caught a glimpse of a little pond, and a small stream, then the woods that shielded the business from the main house, and the main house from the business.
    “I’ve got to say, wow. I didn’t expect anything this expansive.”
    “Mom doesn’t do things halfway. We started a little smaller, added on two more greenhouses and an additional space in the retail area a couple years ago.”
    More than a business, Mitch realized. This was a life. “It must take an incredible amount of work.”
    “It does. You’ve gotta love it.”
    “Do you?”
    “Yeah. That’s my castle over there.” Harper gestured. “Grafting house. Mostly, I deal with grafting and propagation. But I get pulled out for other things, like the Christmas tree end this time of year. In fact, I was grabbing ten before I head out to the field when I ran into you.”
    As the rain began to fall, Harper nodded toward one of the greenhouses. “That’s the propagation area. Since we’ve got Stella, Mom spends most of her time in there.”
    “Then I can find her from here. Why don’t you go on, catch what you’ve got left of your break.”
    “Better get right out in the field.” As the rain fell, Harper pulled the bill of his cap lower on his head. “Get those trees up before the rain scares the customers away. Just go ahead in. See you later.”
    Harper set off at a jog, and had made the turn toward the field when Hayley rushed up to him from the opposite direction. “Wait! Harper, wait a minute.”
    He stopped, lifting the bill a bit to get a better look at her. She was wearing a short red denim jacket over jeans, and one of the In the Garden caps Stella had ordered for employees.
    “Jesus, Hayley, get inside. This rain’s going to cut loose big-time any minute.”
    “Was that Dr. Carnegie?”
    “Yeah. He was looking for the boss.”
    “You took him to the propagation house?” Her voice pitched up over the increasing drum of rain. “Are you just stupid?”
    “What? He’s looking for Mom, she’s in the propagation house. I just left her there five minutes ago.”
    “So you just take him there, say go right in?” She made wild gestures with both hands. “Without letting her know ?”
    “Know what?”
    “That he’s here, for God’s sake. And now he’s going in, and she’s all dirty and sweaty, with no makeup on and in her grubbiest clothes. You couldn’t stall him for five damn minutes to give her some warning?”
    “About what? She looks like she always does. What’s the damn difference?”
    “If you don’t know, you are stupid. And it’s too late now. One of these days, Harper Ashby, you’re going to have use of the single brain men pass around among them.”
    “What the hell,” he grumbled after she’d given him a punch on the arm and dashed inside again.

    MITCH DUCKED INTO the propagation house out of the rain. If he’d thought the houseplant section seemed exotic, it was nothing compared to this. The place seemed alive with plants in various stages of growth. The humid warmth was almost tropical, and with the rain pattering it seemed he’d walked into some sort of fantasy cave.
    The air was pungent with green and brown—plants and soil. Music twined along with the scents. Not classical, he noted. Not quite New Age. Something oddly and appealingly between.
    He saw tables and tools, buckets and bags. Shallow black containers holding delicate growing things.

    And he saw Roz at the far end, on the side. Her back was to him as she worked.
    She had a gorgeous neck. It was an odd thought, and, he admitted, probably a foolish one. But again, facts were facts. She wore her hair short and straight and to his mind, the style showed off that long, lovely neck perfectly.
    Then again, all of her was rather long and lovely. Arms, legs, torso. At the moment that intriguing body was camouflaged in baggy pants and a shapeless sweatshirt she’d pushed up at the sleeves. But he remembered, very well, that willowy figure.
    Just as he remembered, even before she heard his approach and turned, that her eyes were long as well. Long lidded and in a fascinating shade of deep, deep amber.
    “I’m sorry. I’m interrupting.”
    “That’s all right. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
    “I got the paperwork, and thought