“I was, but you’re busy.”

“Not that busy, and this one’s an angel. I don’t care how many grandmothers say the same, for my Audra it’s pure truth. Come on in.”

Grandmother, Darby noted, not aunt or auntie. Interesting.

She followed Emily in, where reception now held a baby pack and play area and a baby swing.

“You’re prepared.”

“When Britt called, I ran to the house for a few essentials, including several stuffed animals, stacking toys, banging toys.”

“Softie.”

“Oh, you bet.”

She settled the baby in the swing, gave her a little stuffed lamb, set the swing to a gentle rock.

“I can’t believe my baby’s ten months old and starting to toddle. Now, what can I do for you?”

“It’s actually what I hope you’ll let me do for you.”

Emily’s eyebrows lifted. “Then why don’t we sit down?”

“I should give you the quick background first. My mother and I ran a landscaping business in Maryland. After she died, I realized I just couldn’t do it without her. It wasn’t the work. It was the heart. I didn’t have the heart to keep the business there, or the house, or anything really.”

“What you did there, you did together.”

“Yes, and without her I just couldn’t find my balance, just couldn’t see staying. I decided to sell the business, relocate, and come here.”

“I didn’t realize you’d planned to stay in the area.”

“Well, I couldn’t be sure until I got here. I did my research on the area, on the growing season, the native plants, the businesses—well, I did my research, but I needed to be here, to see, to, you know, feel it. I intended to take two weeks to be sure, but, well, when you know, you know.”

“You’re hoping to start a business here?”

“I’ve already applied for the license, got the process started.”

“My goodness.” Emily let out a rolling laugh. “Girl, you’re greased lightning.”

“When you know, you know,” Darby repeated. “I still need to look for the right location where I would set up, but in the meantime, I’ve talked to local suppliers. Joy and Frank Bestor at Best Blooms are just great, aren’t they?”

“They are.”

“I’ve talked to lumber suppliers, stone suppliers, and so on.”

“Lumber and stone?”

“Fences, walls, patios, pavers—it’s all part of landscaping. It’s not just plants, though they’re the heart.”

“All right.” While Emily didn’t know much about it, she knew a lot about people. As she’d thought the first time, the girl was alive with energy.

“If you want me to spread the word—”

“Oh, not yet. I mean, I can give you a client list from Maryland, lists of references and all that, but it’s not the same as seeing. So I’d like to offer you a proposal.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got the bungalow here for another three weeks. I’d like to, at my expense, landscape its grounds. Time, material, labor—at my expense.”

Caution flickered over polite interest. “What sort of landscaping?”

“I’ve got a drawing.” Darby opened her pack, handed a computer-generated drawing to Emily, then got up to crouch beside Emily’s chair to explain it.

As Darby bent her head, Emily saw the tattoo in deep, dark green on the back of her neck. An infinity symbol.

“You see the hardscape, the walkway, the back patio in slate,” Darby began. “Rustic, but finished—and you won’t have the expense of replacing the gravel every few years. A good, attractive, still rustic pole light—that adds welcome and security. For the plantings you want low-maintenance.”

“The lowest. I have two black thumbs.”

“Bet you don’t. People just think they do. But we stick with native plants, and accents that are proven in this climate and zone. Mountain laurel, azaleas, soften the foundation.”

Greased lightning, Emily thought again as she studied the drawing.

“You’ve got shady areas where I’d do some elderberry, some high bush blueberry—you get the flowers, then the birds get the fruit. And you could have some rosebay rhodos—they’ll grow on the edge of the woods here, and so will some more wildflowers I’d coax in, some bulbs like daffs and lilies for naturalization. Your guest would have all that bloom and color in different seasons. And I’d do—again easy to maintain—pots of mixed annuals for the porch, the patio.”

“But what about watering all this?”

“Drip hoses, self-watering pots. Low-maintenance.”

“Honey, this is … ambitious to say the least. And even if I said yes, you can’t take on all this expense.”

Darby tracked her gaze up to Emily’s. “We had a house. I sold it. And sold the business. Then there was my mom’s life insurance. I’ve run a business already, and I have a business plan now. This is an investment in that. If you like it, you might hire me to do another bungalow. You’ll tell your neighbors I do good work. They’ll see it for themselves.”

She sat back on her heels. “You run a business, so you know what goes into it. Yours came through your family, too, so you know the pride and responsibility of that. Worst case, you don’t like my vision once it’s realized. Best, you do. And there’s a lot between worst and best.”

So young, Emily thought, but good God, confident.

“You’re taking all the risk.”

“I’ll be doing what I love, and what I’m good at. I have a degree in landscaping, and one in business management, and I’ve worked in the field for fourteen years. I’m confident in my skill, enough to offer this knowing you’re going to be happy with the result. If you let me try.”

“God, girl, you really know how to make a pitch.”

Now Darby flashed a smile that danced into those deep blue eyes. “It’s part of my charm.”

“If I agreed, when would you start?”

Inside her head, Darby pumped fists in the air. “If you say go, I can have the slate and builder’s sand I have on hold here this afternoon.”

“On hold?”

Darby’s smile only pumped up brighter. “Optimism’s also part of my charm.”

“I don’t know why I’m more nervous about this than you are, but I am.” There was something, Emily thought, something about the girl. “Okay, Darby, we’ll try it out.”

“I want to yell yay, but the baby fell asleep. I’ll wait until I’m outside.” But she gripped Emily’s hand. “You won’t regret it.”

“Lord, honey, I hope you don’t.”

“Not a chance. I am really damn good at this.”

“Aren’t you going to need help? Stone has to be heavy.”

“Stronger than I look, but I’ve got a helper in mind. Joy and Frank said Roy Dawson’s a good worker.”

“He is,” Emily agreed. “Affable, too. He mostly does odd jobs. He’s prone to wander from one to the next, when the whim strikes him.”

“So they said. Anyway, I talked to him yesterday. He said he’d give me a hand, so I’ll give him a call.” Darby pushed to her feet. “Thank you, Emily. I’m going to send you my client list—you can contact anyone on it. I shut down our web page when I sold, but you can still get to some of it. I’ll send you the URL.”

She blew out a breath. “Now I’m going to go get started.” She bolted for the door, stopped. “I’m going to make you a low-maintenance showpiece.”

Emily sat, a little shell-shocked, and heard the echoing “YAY!” as Darby raced back to the cabin.

CHAPTER NINE

Roy Dawson proved a good and affable worker. He sang or whistled as he worked, didn’t haggle about salary, and had no problem taking cash as payment as casual labor until Darby’s business license came through.

A beefy guy with a scraggly beard, he wore more scraggly hair under a faded New Orleans Saints gimme cap. With his help, Darby removed the old gravel, widened the existing path, leveled it, poured the builder’s sand.

Though she wanted the path to look organic, she rented a wet saw to trim some of the slate to suit her. The first time she used it, Roy had shaken his head.

“I’ve seen girls use saws before, but never seen one use one of those. You’re a caution, Miss Darby.”

He wouldn’t drop the Miss, so Darby ran with it.

And since the man was as strong as a pair of oxen and didn’t quibble about sweaty work, they had the path nearly done in two days.

“Here come the po-lice,” Roy said as she laid the level on the next piece of stone.

Darby looked around when the cruiser pulled into the driveway.

The man who got out had a strong build, a lot of gray shot through his hair. He didn’t wear a uniform, but jeans and a T-shirt.

Rising, Darby brushed off the knees of her own jeans, hoped she didn’t smell too bad after a day of hauling and placing stone.

“Hey there, Roy. Ms. McCray. I’m Chief Keller, Emily’s husband.”

“Nice to meet you.” She pulled off a work glove to shake. “I’m grateful for the opportunity here.”

“I haven’t had a chance to get down, take a look before this. You’re damn near done with the walk. Looks—it looks good.”

“Miss Darby says it won’t have grass growing up in the cracks. She’s gonna plant stuff there instead.”

“Irish moss. You’ll have Irish moss planted by somebody named Darby McCray—it’s lucky. We’ll finish the stone today.”