Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer

cooked, and never in a kitchen as well-appointed as this.

      “That was great!” Quint smirked a cheeky grin. “If this landscaping thing doesn’t work out for you, Rowena, maybe you could hire on here as a chef.”

      “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”

      “What’s not to work out?” Kent snorted as he gathered their plates. “She’s got degrees in horticulture, has won more than fifteen awards, including some big-name trophy for a rose garden gig she did in England.” He turned to glance at Rowena. “Right?”

      “The Chelsea Flower Show,” she admitted, surprised by his knowledge. “How did you know?”

      “My son’s the television addict, not me. Serenity Bay has a library and they have a computer linked to the Internet.” He shrugged. “I checked you out, wanted to see where else besides Toronto you’d worked.”

      “Oh.” She hid her surprise.

      “Dad has a thing for England. My mom was from there. I told my wife we’d spend our twenty-fifth anniversary there. Tell us more about it, Rowena.”

      “Well, it happens in May when the grounds of the Royal Hospital in Chelsea come alive with the finest collections of flowers in the world.” She could close her eyes and smell those heady fragrances even now. Rowena could have so easily stayed in England, continued her work there—if it hadn’t been that her father needed her here.

      She realized Connor was staring, so she hurried on.

      “The show gardens are created by some of the world’s leading garden designers.”

      “Sounds pricey,” Connor mumbled.

      “Not necessarily.” She thought of a daisy garden that had won awards several years earlier and immediately wondered if the idea would work in the roughest terrain here at Wingate. “I came away with memories that still awe me. It’s the best place for inspiration.”

      They sat silent for a moment, then Kent resumed clearing the dishes, assisted by Connor.

      “My wife loves flower gardens. Losing the business almost broke her. I hope she gets to see Chelsea one day.” Quint’s words were so quiet Rowena wasn’t sure the others heard.

      “I’m sure she will. You seem like a person with a lot of determination.”

      “So do you. Getting the nursery running—that’s a mighty big goal.”

      “I guess. I’m hoping my dad will move back soon, and be able to help out a little.”

      Conscious of Connor listening intently to their conversation, Rowena decided to change the subject from her personal life. But Quint wasn’t finished.

      “The place wasn’t kept up very well,” he said. “The trees—most of them wouldn’t meet retail standards. You’re basically starting from scratch.”

      “I know.” There was no point in denying the obvious. Rowena shrugged. “But hard work doesn’t scare me.”

      “Good thing. You’re going to have lots of it.” He moved to help the others with the dishes.

      “You look tired.” Connor handed her a cup of coffee, spoke to father and son. “Since we cooked, we’re going to watch TV while you guys clean up.”

      “If you’re sure we won’t break anything,” Kent teased.

      “Or take too long,” Quint added with a wink at Rowena.

      “You do and I’ll forget about any more steak dinners.”

      “Come on, Dad. Work faster.”

      Connor laughed, leading the way out of the room. Rowena followed. He wanted to talk to her privately—she got that. But about what?

      The television lounge looked more like a library. A plasma screen sat above the big marble fireplace but Connor didn’t bother to turn it on. Instead he motioned her to one of the red leather wing chairs in front of the fire and sat in the other himself only after pushing the door so it was almost shut.

      “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m really concerned about the time frame of the projects,” he said, his face troubled.

      “Connor—”

      He held up one hand. “Hear me out. You’ve got the rest of the cutting to do, reworking the grounds, plantings, borders and a whole lot of things I’m sure I don’t know about. Putting that fountain on hold until another year only makes sense.”

      “It doesn’t make any sense.” Rowena braced herself for the argument. She had to do this, had to make this first project in Serenity Bay a showstopper, because it was going to be the showcase for everything that came after.

      “That fountain is the grand finale at the bottom of Wingate’s gardens. It’s the perfect place for a fireworks display on Canada Day or after a big party. In the evening, with the fountain running, it will be a gorgeous backdrop for a wedding ceremony. It’s the culmination of all of the rest of our work. And I’m not putting it off until next year.”

      He studied her for several tense moments, then rose.

      “Wait here for a minute.” Connor left the room. When he returned he held out a Toronto newspaper. “I’m planning a spread like this for the grand reopening. I’ve already blocked out coverage and a reporter for the end of May,” he told her. “They’re sending someone who’ll take a ton of pictures, do a write-up and feature the place in their weekend edition. I had to sign a contract. There’s no way I can cancel without losing a lot of money. If we’re late—”

      Rowena took the paper, glanced at it, then set it down. She drew a deep breath. “We’re not going to be late, Connor. We’re moving along as planned. We’ll be in fine shape by the end of May.” I hope.

      “You’re sure?” Connor’s hard look pierced through her bravado, searching for some indecision.

      Rowena refused to show any doubt. “I always make my deadlines,” she told him softly.

      He heaved a sigh. “You’d better.”

      “So we have our goal, we have our plan. Now we just need time and no more nasty comments to pull it off.” She glanced at Connor. “We’ve got enough pressure. I don’t need you adding to it by constantly reminding us of what has yet to be done. I warn you, when I’m on a deadline I can be very intense. If you don’t stop pushing, things are going to get heated between us.”

      “I’ll survive.” His dry humor echoed the sloped grin he wore. “Feel free to tell me whenever I’m becoming obsessive.”

      “I will,” Rowena promised. She paused in the doorway, saw that Quint and Kent had left. The kitchen sparkled. “Looks like those two know their way around a kitchen.”

      “Yeah.” But Connor was watching her.

      Rowena shifted uncomfortably under that scrutiny, grabbed her ringing cell phone like a lifeline. “Rowena Davis.”

      “Hey, Row. This is Ash. How are you?”

      “I’m fine. Just finished dinner.”

      “Not at home, because I stopped by ten minutes ago. Where are you?”

      “I’m at Wingate. Connor treated Kent and Quint and me to a steak dinner. It was delicious,” she added, lifting one eyebrow as she glanced at him.

      He bowed from the waist like a well-trained maître d’.

      “Oh, good. If he’s there with you, you’ve just saved me a phone call.”

      “Really?” A wiggle of dread tugged at Rowena. She didn’t need Ashley to start matchmaking. “How can I help?”

      “Michael and I are making dinner for Piper and Jason tomorrow night. We want you to come. It would be nice if you