Wildest Hearts

you propagate them?”

    She really was interested, Oliver realized. He felt ridiculously pleased. “When they're ready, I collect the spores from under the mature leaves. I sow them by tapping them from a sheet of paper onto a growing medium in the glass jars.”

    Annie peered more closely into the jars. “You just dump the spores in there?”

    “No. It's a little more complicated than that. The whole process has to be done under relatively sterile conditions, for one thing. I don't allow anyone else in the greenhouse when I'm sowing spores.” Not that anyone else was all that interested, he reflected.

    “What do they look like?”

    “The spores? They're very small. I'll show you.” He unsealed a small paper packet containing what looked like fine rust-brown dust and tapped the contents out onto a sheet of paper. “These are fromWoodwardia fimbriata , better known as a giant chain fern.”

    “What happens after you sow them in the glass jars?” Annie asked.

    “When the spores germinate, they form what is called the prothallia.”

    “A baby fern?”

    “Not quite.” Oliver picked up one of the glass jars and showed her the tiny green organisms inside. “Those are prothallia, and they have to be kept moist so that the sperm can fertilize the egg cells. The result of that process eventually produces young ferns.”

    He moved to another bench to show her the tray of hybrids he was growing. Annie followed with a string of questions.

    Neither thought of breakfast for nearly an hour.

    At eleven o'clock the following morning Oliver removed his reading glasses and set them down on Daniel's desk alongside the report he had been studying. He reached over and punched the intercom.

    “Ask Barry Cork to come in here, please, Mrs. Jameson.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    Oliver got to his feet and walked to the window, idly rubbing the back of his neck. It looked like he was going to have to pay a personal call on one of Daniel's main suppliers. That meant a trip out of town. Oliver was not looking forward to it. It would mean being away from Annie overnight. Not a pleasant thought.

    He gazed at the view beyond the window. The headquarters of Lyncroft Unlimited occupied a sprawling jumble of two-story industrial buildings in the south part of Seattle. The company had grown so fast that Daniel had had a hard time finding sufficient space.

    Oliver could see the curve of the Kingdome from the window. Beyond it was the Pioneer Square neighborhood where Annie was no doubt hard at work. His soft, sweet, exquisitely passionate Annie. Oliver smiled to himself.

    A knock on the door broke into his thoughts.

    Oliver turned his head. “Come in.”

    Barry Cork stepped into the room, a wary, slightly anxious expression on his face. Oliver was accustomed to that look. Most of the people who worked for him had it.

    “You sent for me, Mr. Rain?” Barry assumed a respectful stance.

    Oliver shifted his gaze back to the window. “What's the problem with Featly and Moss?”

    Barry cleared his throat. “As I explained in my report, they're unwilling to keep Lyncroft as a priority client now that Dan is out of the picture. I've tried talking to them. That's where I was, in fact, when you and Annie got married. But they're under a lot of pressure from other clients.”

    “And they think Lyncroft might not make it, so why keep us at the top of the hot list, is that it?”

    “Well, yes. I guess that's about it.” Barry hesitated. “No offense, Mr. Rain, but Featly and Moss are in California.”

    “So?”

    “So they're, uh, not quite as aware of your reputation down there as the Northwest suppliers are.”

    Oliver nodded. “In other words, they have no reason yet to think Lyncroft is going to survive Daniel's absence.”

    “I'm afraid that's about it in a nutshell.”

    “We need their shipments and we need them on a reliable basis. It looks like I'll have to go down there and talk to them myself.” Oliver turned around, deliberately erasing all expression from his face. “Get me everything you have on William Featly and Harvey Moss.”

    Barry frowned in confusion. “You mean on the company?”

    “No, Cork,” Oliver said with a patience he did not feel. “On the two men who own it.”

    “You mean personal stuff?”

    “Exactly. I want to know where they went to school, who they've worked for in the past, whether they drink or gamble. The usual.”

    “I see.” Barry adjusted his tie and cleared his