Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer

He gets top dollar for his work here, free accommodation, the winters off to spend with his family in France. He’s not hurting.” Connor accepted the phone, waited till she’d clicked a button on the console. “Hello, Pierre. I understand you’re resigning.”

      Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Esther leave the room, gray head shaking. Connor sat down, tilted back in his chair. He listened for about ten seconds, then cut in.

      “You’re not sure? Well, I’ve got an ad waiting to run. I can’t wait for you to dither back and forth. I want all my staff in place at the end of April. My uncles are counting on me to have the place in top shape for our first booking and I have no intention of letting them down. So will you be here or do I consider your contractual agreement broken?”

      Connor listened, smiled and eventually hung up. One chef hired.

      “The meat company is on line two,” Esther told him, “complaining about the distance they have to travel to get here. They’re talking a major delivery surcharge.”

      He thought for a moment. “Is there a butcher in town, Esther?”

      She blinked. “John Purdy. He and his family own the local grocery store.”

      “Get me their number, will you, please? And tell the meat people I’ll call them back.”

      “Yes, sir.” A glint of humor lit up her round face. “Would you also like the name of a cattle rancher I know who raises his animals organically?”

      “Thereby allowing us to advertise that we use only organically raised beef.” He followed her line of thought with delight. “Good thinking. Yeah, let’s talk to him, too. The uncles’ figures from last year will help us estimate how much we’ll need. You don’t happen to also know a chicken supplier, do you, Esther?”

      She shook her head, but her eyes gleamed at the challenge.

      “I’ll check around, but John might be the best resource for that, too. You wouldn’t have to pay shipping fees and he’s got tons of freezer space. If he comes across a deal, he could buy ahead.”

      “Esther, you’re a genius!”

      Her smile faded. “I wish Henry thought that.” She handed him a stack of résumés then padded out of the room.

      Connor stared after her. A case of unrequited love for his stodgy old uncle? He shook his head.

      “I can fix a lot of things around here, but that isn’t one of them,” he said to himself.

      By the time he emerged from the office it was after five. Rowena and her men were still hard at work, this time on a lower section his uncles called the dale—as in “over hill, over dale.” Connor had to admit she’d made amazing progress.

      “I’m leaving now.” Esther glanced out the window. “They must be tired and half-frozen after the day they’ve had. It’s too bad the old house at the nursery’s in such a state. I expect it needs a lot of work after all these years. I’m sure Rowena hasn’t got extra money to spend on that.”

      “Oh?”

      “Piper Franklin told me Rowena came back earlier than she’d anticipated because her father isn’t well. She thinks it will help if he can get back on the land. He always did love that nursery.”

      “But he sold it to my uncles.”

      “Didn’t have a choice after a storm nearly wiped him out. I think it almost broke his heart. Hers, too.” Esther frowned. “Several of us have invited her for meals just to give her a break. Ida Cranbrook went up there to drop off a pie for the girl. She said the place is practically falling down around her ears. Apparently she can’t even use the kitchen, it’s so bad. Just a hot plate.”

      Which meant that she was paying restaurant prices for her meals. That would cut into her nursery’s start-up capital.

      “Someone ought to do something about that house,” Esther said with a dark look in his direction. She snugged her plastic rain bonnet around her permed curls. “It should never have been passed on in that condition. It’s a bad reflection on Wingate and I intend to tell Henry so when I see him next. Good night, Mr. Wingate.”

      Connor didn’t even hear her leave. His mind drifted back to his conversation with Pierre and his demand that the freezer be emptied of old stock before his arrival, ready for zee fresh ingredients.

      There were steaks in that freezer, thick ones that men like those working outside would enjoy—far too many steaks for one great-nephew to consume.

      Tobias nudged his nose under Connor’s hand, gargling a noise somewhere deep in his throat.

      “You want to go for a walk?” Connor translated. The dog woofed his agreement. “You’ll get filthy again and I’ll have to bathe you again.”

      Tobias didn’t have a problem with that. His tail thumped the floor eagerly.

      “Go get your leash, then. I think we’re having company for dinner.”

      “You didn’t have to do this,” Rowena murmured as she tossed the salad.

      “What? Thaw out some meat?” Connor grinned. It changed him from a severe-looking boss to a cohort in this scheme. “Not so hard. But you should know that’s all I’m doing because I don’t cook. You’re totally on your own.”

      “Not a hardship. It’s a dream kitchen,” she murmured, glancing at the gleaming stainless steel surrounding them. “A bit intimidating, though.”

      A burst of laughter from the room across the hall interrupted.

      “Sounds like they found a good show to watch.”

      “It was nice of you to let them. I think it’s been a while since they’ve had much time to just enjoy each other. Kent told me the business they ran together went under. That’s hard on a relationship.”

      “Where are they staying?”

      “Above the florist.” She shrugged. “It’s probably a little cramped but at least they’re dry and close to work. Quint told me that when it warms up he wouldn’t mind camping out.”

      “Why?” Connor shuddered. “I camped out once. I remember it vividly.”

      “Once?” She giggled. “Wow! Mr. Worldly.”

      He shrugged. “I don’t do nature. Numbers are my thing. The stock market’s always been my element.”

      “But you sold your business.” Rowena blushed, turning away to study the steaks sizzling on the grill. “Your uncles mentioned it.”

      “I wish now that I hadn’t,” he admitted quietly.

      “Why?” The potatoes were finished so she switched off the oven. Connor had set places at the kitchen table. Everything was almost ready, and he still hadn’t answered.

      Too late she remembered his fiancée.

      “Oh, I’m sorry. That was too personal.”

      “No, it’s fine. It’s just that since Cecile’s death, I’m not sure what to do next. I’m in this kind of limbo state. No good for someone like me,” he explained with a self-derisive laugh. “I need to be busy.”

      “I imagine Wingate Manor will take care of that once the season starts.”

      “I guess. It’s the future that I was thinking about.”

      “Only God knows what comes next for any of us.” She smiled to encourage him. “You’ll have to talk to Him about it, though I’m not sure He always gives us the whole picture. In my own case all He usually lets me see is into the next day. Sometimes that’s enough, don’t you think?”

      Connor tossed her a veiled look that hid whatever he was thinking. Judging by the downturn of his mouth, they