flowers. Obviously the Daniels’s gardener knew his work well and spent a lot of time on selection and maintenance of all the plants in this yard. Shifting the heavy hanging basket to her other hand, Lauren reached out and pressed the doorbell. Several seconds passed with no response, so she rang it again.
She couldn’t believe that no one was at home. Surely there was someone inside polishing the silver or dusting the heirlooms. Changing the basket back to her other hand, she walked back down the steps and followed the flagstone walk around the side of the house to the backyard, thinking that perhaps she might find one of the maids or the gardener.
But the backyard, too, appeared to be deserted. The basket seemed to be growing heavier by the moment, but she couldn’t see any place near the house to leave it where it would be protected from the sun and the wind. Actually, geraniums were pretty tough plants, but she didn’t want it to lose a single bloom or round, stiff leaf before Jordan’s mother received it. What she did with it afterward was entirely her business, but it was Lauren’s job to deliver it in perfect condition.
When she spotted a large greenhouse next to the garage, she breathed a sigh of relief. Deciding she would hang it in there and leave a note at both the front and back doors of its location and purpose, Lauren headed toward the glass building. Her fingers were stiff from holding the brass chain hanger and it took her a couple of seconds to turn the doorknob. Lifting the basket so the tendrils of blossoms and leaves didn’t drag on the ground, she stepped inside.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burst in here without knocking, but I didn’t know anyone was here,” she rushed to explain as soon as she saw the person who was obviously the gardener bending over a table.
The gardener turned around and asked in a calm, curious tone, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Lauren Nelson and I own the Pretty Petals florist shop over near Hermann Park. I was trying to make a delivery to Mrs. Daniels, but no one seems to be at home, so I thought I would hang this plant out here and leave a note. It’s Mrs. Daniels’s birthday today and this is from her son.” All of this information rushed out before Lauren had time to get a good look at the gardener. But after she took time to study the person in front of her, she saw that it was an attractive middle-aged woman. “You’re not the gardener, are you?”
“No, dear, I’m not. Here, let me help you with that plant. It looks as if it’s heavy.”
“Yes ma’am, it is,” Lauren replied, gladly helping the woman attach the chain onto a hook that was suspended from one of the ceiling beams.
“Good Lord, you’re pregnant!” the woman exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be carrying around heavy things like that. Come sit down for a minute. There’s a chair that doesn’t appear to be too dirty. Let me dust it off for you.” The woman bustled around like a mother hen, practically pushing Lauren down onto the wicker rocker.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Lauren smiled. “You’re Jordan’s mother, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I am. How did you know? I look pretty awful whenever I work out in my yard, but it’s one of the things I truly love to do. My husband humors me, letting me borrow his old clothes and never asking how much I’ve spent on the flowers. Not that I would tell him, anyway. As long as the yard looks nice and we aren’t out the expense of a gardener, then he really can’t complain, can he?”
“You mean,
you
are the one who takes care of all those flowers? That’s got to be a monumental task. There are so many and they’re all so beautiful,” Lauren said in amazement.
“I enjoy doing it,” Mrs. Daniels replied. “Oh, sure, I have a man come in to do the mowing and trim the hedges, but the flower beds are mine and I take great pride
She couldn’t believe that no one was at home. Surely there was someone inside polishing the silver or dusting the heirlooms. Changing the basket back to her other hand, she walked back down the steps and followed the flagstone walk around the side of the house to the backyard, thinking that perhaps she might find one of the maids or the gardener.
But the backyard, too, appeared to be deserted. The basket seemed to be growing heavier by the moment, but she couldn’t see any place near the house to leave it where it would be protected from the sun and the wind. Actually, geraniums were pretty tough plants, but she didn’t want it to lose a single bloom or round, stiff leaf before Jordan’s mother received it. What she did with it afterward was entirely her business, but it was Lauren’s job to deliver it in perfect condition.
When she spotted a large greenhouse next to the garage, she breathed a sigh of relief. Deciding she would hang it in there and leave a note at both the front and back doors of its location and purpose, Lauren headed toward the glass building. Her fingers were stiff from holding the brass chain hanger and it took her a couple of seconds to turn the doorknob. Lifting the basket so the tendrils of blossoms and leaves didn’t drag on the ground, she stepped inside.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burst in here without knocking, but I didn’t know anyone was here,” she rushed to explain as soon as she saw the person who was obviously the gardener bending over a table.
The gardener turned around and asked in a calm, curious tone, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“My name is Lauren Nelson and I own the Pretty Petals florist shop over near Hermann Park. I was trying to make a delivery to Mrs. Daniels, but no one seems to be at home, so I thought I would hang this plant out here and leave a note. It’s Mrs. Daniels’s birthday today and this is from her son.” All of this information rushed out before Lauren had time to get a good look at the gardener. But after she took time to study the person in front of her, she saw that it was an attractive middle-aged woman. “You’re not the gardener, are you?”
“No, dear, I’m not. Here, let me help you with that plant. It looks as if it’s heavy.”
“Yes ma’am, it is,” Lauren replied, gladly helping the woman attach the chain onto a hook that was suspended from one of the ceiling beams.
“Good Lord, you’re pregnant!” the woman exclaimed. “You shouldn’t be carrying around heavy things like that. Come sit down for a minute. There’s a chair that doesn’t appear to be too dirty. Let me dust it off for you.” The woman bustled around like a mother hen, practically pushing Lauren down onto the wicker rocker.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Lauren smiled. “You’re Jordan’s mother, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I am. How did you know? I look pretty awful whenever I work out in my yard, but it’s one of the things I truly love to do. My husband humors me, letting me borrow his old clothes and never asking how much I’ve spent on the flowers. Not that I would tell him, anyway. As long as the yard looks nice and we aren’t out the expense of a gardener, then he really can’t complain, can he?”
“You mean,
you
are the one who takes care of all those flowers? That’s got to be a monumental task. There are so many and they’re all so beautiful,” Lauren said in amazement.
“I enjoy doing it,” Mrs. Daniels replied. “Oh, sure, I have a man come in to do the mowing and trim the hedges, but the flower beds are mine and I take great pride
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