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Must Love Flowers(15)

Author:Debbie Macomber

“How long have you been a widow?” he asked.

“How did you know…” Her eyes widened, as if Joan couldn’t remember mentioning her marital status.

“You mentioned your husband had passed away when we first spoke on the phone.”

“Ah, yes, I did say that, didn’t I? It’s been four years now.” He remembered how frazzled she’d sounded when he’d listened to her voice mail. He suspected she hadn’t reached out much since then. The isolation from COVID likely had only complicated her healing process. He didn’t judge, seeing how long it had taken him to move forward.

“If you decide to hire me, I promise that I can whip your yard into shape in quick order and I’ll be fair in my pricing.” He wanted to reassure her that he was honest and would do a good job.

She nodded as if she believed him.

“I’ll get an estimate from the nursery for any plants you would like, and I’ll get back to you within a day or two with a bid.”

“Would you be able to bid on regular maintenance at the same time?”

“Of course. Every two weeks? Or every week?”

“Every week for now.”

“I’ll be happy to do that.” He’d taken notes as he’d surveyed her yard and was ready to leave when she stopped him.

“Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” she said, as if she felt she should.

Phil didn’t mind. He was happy to give her the reassurance she seemed to need.

“Of course. What would you like to know?” He lowered the clipboard and met her gaze.

“How long have you been in business?”

“My father started the company back in the early seventies. He’s mostly retired now. I took over five years ago. I’m bonded and can offer references if you’d like.”

“So you’ve always worked with your father, then?”

“Actually, no, I had another career before I decided to become a landscaper. Funny how life is,” he said, without going into any details. “My dad needed me, and I realized the time was right for me to make a change. But Harrison Lawn and Landscaping has been in business for nearly fifty years.”

“I think I remember reading that now.”

“The fact is, I grew up pushing a lawn mower and learning just about everything there is to know about the local trees, bushes, and flowers. I never thought I’d end up following in Dad’s footsteps.”

“Why’s that?”

“At sixteen I was more interested in girls and football. Yardwork was the last thing on my mind. Any other job was preferable to mowing lawns. I flipped hamburgers, parked cars, and carried out groceries. Anything that meant I didn’t need to work for my dad.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” he admitted with a wry grin. “and I’m loving it. As a teenager I couldn’t see what Dad found enjoyable in his work. It made no sense to me that he’d be out in the rain, day after day, and come home with a satisfied smile.”

“What changed?” Joan asked.

He didn’t answer her right away, wondering how much to reveal. He lowered his eyes, unwilling to let her read him. “Unexpected turns in the road, I suppose. Life can sometimes kick us to the curb, you know? After years of wearing a suit day in and day out, I had the inexplicable need to dig my hands into the soil, to get back to the basics. You probably understand that better than most.”

Joan nodded. “I do.”

He’d said more than he intended. He liked Joan Sample and understood her hesitation. “I’ll get back to you in a day or two with the cost of the initial cleanup and clearing the flower beds for you to plant.”

“Plus the weekly maintenance,” she added.

“I’ll add that to the bid.” He had all the business he could handle as it was. Nevertheless, he hoped to get this job. This widow needed help, and if there was anything Phil understood, it was loss and heartache.

Chapter 9

Joan walked Phil to the gate and watched as he returned to his truck, which he’d parked at the curb. He didn’t leave right away, and seemed to be going over the notes he’d made when assessing her property.

The most lighthearted feeling came over her. It wasn’t meeting Phil, or Maggie moving into the house, or even finding the contact information for the counselor. It was all of it. For the first time since that awful day when she’d followed the ambulance to the hospital, praying Jared would be okay, she felt ready to deal with life again.

Joan remembered a quote from Winston Churchill she’d read years ago. If you’re going through hell, keep walking.

She’d made her way out of the darkness that felt like it had nearly buried her. She’d stepped out of the oppressive night and into the early light of morning. Freed now, Joan felt as if she could breathe again.

* * *

Joan was just starting toward home when Maggie returned with her things from her father’s house. As soon as Maggie climbed out of the car, Joan knew something was wrong. The girl’s face was streaked with tears and her lower lip trembled.

Joan hurried across the yard to her. “What’s happened?” she asked, immediately concerned.

Maggie’s startled gaze met hers. Tears continued to rain down Maggie’s cheeks. Attempting a small smile, which failed, Maggie sniffled. “I’m okay…It was harder leaving my dad than I thought it’d be; he never thought I’d actually leave. When I started packing up my things, he got kind of aggressive. He…wouldn’t let me take anything out of the house. Thankfully, I had my laptop with me, or he’d have that, too, but all my clothes and toiletries…Everything that’s important to me is there.” With that, Maggie broke into sobs.

Joan wrapped her arms around her, wondering how best to help. Her first thought was to reach out to the authorities. Calling the police, she feared, would complicate matters and cause more hard feelings, creating an even bigger rift between father and daughter. Besides, who knew how long it would take for them to respond to a low-priority situation. Not knowing what to do, Joan looked to Phil, who remained parked outside her home. She was at a loss, and Maggie was too upset to think clearly.

The landscaper seemed to read the desperation in her eyes. He climbed out of the truck and asked, “Is everything okay here?”

“No,” Joan said. “Maggie is moving in with me and her father is preventing her from taking her belongings out of the house.”

“He can’t believe I am actually moving out. I’ve been telling him for weeks that as soon as I found a place, I was leaving. He refused to believe me. He…drinks,” Maggie added between sniffles.

Phil didn’t hesitate. “Come on, I’ll go with you and do my best to distract him while you collect whatever you need.”

Maggie didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “You’d do that?”

Phil nodded. “No worries. I’m happy to help and make sure things don’t get out of hand.”

“I’m going, too,” Joan insisted.

Maggie’s watery eyes revealed her appreciation.

Offering reassurance, Joan squeezed Maggie’s arm and was grateful Phil was willing to keep watch while Maggie and Joan collected Maggie’s things.

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