Spring Flowers, Summer Love. Lois Richer
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to be there after lunch. Maybe the deadline she’d agreed to wasn’t quite as impossible as it seemed. She hoped. “You ready to start?”
“Just tell me where.”
She did, then used her phone to contact a disposal company who would bring a Dumpster to the site. That arranged, Rowena put on her hard hat and ear protection, grabbed the second power saw and began work.
They stopped for lunch at noon, sitting on the tailgate as they basked in the few rays of sun peeking from behind dark clouds.
“Got a few more minutes?” Connor Wingate appeared, holding out two steaming mugs of coffee. “I thought this might warm you up. Looked like you were going at it pretty hard.”
How long had he been watching them?
“Connor, this is Kent Ardell. Kent, meet Connor Wingate. He’s holding down the fort until his uncles are back.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Kent shook his hand. “This is a beautiful place. Or it will be. I’ve seen Rowena’s plans. You’re lucky to have such a good designer take this on.”
“Oh?” His gaze switched to her.
“You don’t know her work?” Kent studied him. “Have you been to Toronto lately?”
“Not that I can remember. I drove straight up here from New York.”
“You should go back midsummer.” He listed three public gardens Rowena had worked on. “She’s got real talent.”
Then what’s she doing here, in the middle of nowhere? Rowena could almost hear the question, though Connor was too polite to ask it.
Just as well. Because she was not going to explain.
“Those clouds are rolling in fast. Guess we’d better get back to work.”
“I see they brought the Dumpster,” Connor said. “Do you mind if I help you haul the brush to it?”
Rowena almost dropped her saw. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’m sick of being cooped up inside. I need a break and some exercise. You can use the help, I’m guessing.”
She opened her mouth to respond but a half ton pulled onto the grounds near hers. A tall man, younger than Kent but with all his features, climbed out, grabbed a pair of gloves and a climbing harness, then began walking toward them.
“This is my son, Quint,” Kent said, introducing them.
“Pleased to meet you, Quint.”
“We’re just getting back to work. You had lunch?” Kent asked him.
“On the way. I’m used to climbing if you want me to start on the tops of some of those,” Quint offered.
“He’s like a monkey up there,” Kent assured her.
Rowena checked his equipment, nodded. “It would be great to get them down before the wind does any more damage,” she agreed. “There are ladders in my truck. Kent, you’ll man the safety lines?”
“Sure. Thanks for the coffee, Connor.”
“You’re welcome.”
Father and son walked across the grass, teasing each other good-naturedly. A few moments later the whine of the power saw sliced through the valley and branches began to drift to the ground.
“I might as well start hauling,” Connor said, turning away.
“Wait.” Rowena frowned. He certainly looked strong enough but she was used to working with an experienced crew. Then there was the whole liability issue. She tried to explain that.
“Look. I’m not going to sue you or my uncles,” Connor assured her. “It’s my own fault if something happens. Anyway, the trees they’re working on aren’t near the brush I’ll be moving.”
“They could be. If the wind picks up—”
“I’ll be careful, Mom. Okay?” The grin did her in.
“All right. But you have to wear a hard hat.”
He made a face, but donned the hat. “Satisfied?” He looked like a model for designer jeans.
Swallowing, Rowena handed him a pair of gloves. He pulled them on, and sauntered over to the pile she and Kent had assembled. Watching him work was a temptation she couldn’t afford, so Rowena concentrated on cutting brush and smaller trees. After a while her arms began to ache so fiercely she had to stop. She quickly joined him picking up the debris.
“It’s going to take more than one of these Dumpsters to get rid of this mess,” Connor muttered.
“Yes. Some of it we’ll cut for firewood for Wingate’s fireplaces, if you like. But the elms show signs of disease and I don’t want to burn it and risk spreading. I’ve got some new elm plantings in the nursery that I don’t want infected. Most of the boughs will have to go, though.”
Connor pitched in happily enough until Chief Bud Neely pulled in.
“Hey, Rowena. Haven’t seen you around town much since you moved back.”
“I’ve been kept busy.” She waved a hand. “You can see why. This is Connor Wingate, by the way. Great-nephew to the Wingate brothers.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Connor studied the man.
“These grounds are a mess.” Bud whistled at the amount they’d already removed. “Big job to clean this up. I came out here a couple of times after Hank and Henry got in that accident. Heard they’re doing better. Too bad I can’t say the same about this place. Winter was hard on it.”
“Not just winter.” She pointed to the chopped trees. “Vandals did that.” She turned to Connor. “You didn’t notice anything wrong inside, did you? I could look around but I wouldn’t be much help. I barely glanced around last fall.”
“Everything seems fine.” He frowned. “Is there any way to catch whoever did the damage?”
“Likely long gone but I’ll keep an eye out for transients.” Bud turned to Rowena. “Checked out the mine. You were right. Someone was poking around. Best to get it closed up again.”
“I’ll do that tonight,” she promised, inwardly groaning at her expanding to-do list. “Thanks for checking.”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t you go getting a soft heart if they’re kids trespassing, Rowena. Any problems and you call me immediately,” he ordered.
Bud Neely might look like a hick but he had a steel-trap mind and an eye for detail.
“Yes, sir.” Rowena stood to attention and saluted.
“Don’t give me any of that back talk, girl. I was here when you and those two chums of yours were terrorizing the tourists’ kids with your smuggling stories. I know your history.”
“Forgive and forget, Bud. That’s what the Bible says.” Rowena stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for looking after us, you old softie.”
“Hey. Don’t be doing that in public!” He scrubbed his cheek but his eyes sparkled. “Folks on the Bay gotta watch out for each other. That’s just part of living here. Say, how’s your dad? Is he up here with you?”
“Not yet. I’m hoping I can bring him a little later on, once I’ve got Wingate on track.” If he isn’t too depressed, she didn’t add.
“You let me know. I’ve missed him. Nobody else around here can play a decent game of chess. Victor used to give me a run for my money.”
“Dad hasn’t played in a long time, Bud,” she warned. “He hasn’t been well.”
“Best thing is to get him up here in the fresh air, then.