Bonnie Winn - Return to Rosewood

“Something else, son?”

“Peter. Put him on probation today.”

Robert frowned. He hadn’t been happy that employees who had been with him since the start of the business had retired, but he’d understood. “That boy doesn’t belong in a position where he deals with people.”

“I know. Maybe I can find someone else. Budget’s still tighter than a bale of cotton.”

“I hadn’t wanted to say anything, with all you’ve got on your plate, but Herb got laid off.”

“When?”

“Last week. Your mother and sister insist on sounding positive all the time about how he’ll get another job. I guess they’re afraid I’ll wilt under the strain.”

Herb, Bret’s brother-in-law, had worked for an independent oil man, heading the local office. “How are they going to manage the office without Herb?”

“They’re not. Decided to close it, consolidate it with operations in East Texas.”

While Rosewood was a wonderful place to live, a mecca of new jobs it wasn’t. “Do you think Herb would want to work at the nursery? I know it’s not as high-tech as what he’s used to, but maybe it would help in the interim.”

“You just said the budget’s—”

“Herb’s family. How are Janie and the kids going to make it without his income? It’d be a cut in salary, but more than unemployment. And, maybe, if he’s around, it’ll light a fire under Peter.”

“A tanker full of gasoline wouldn’t do that.”

They both laughed.

“Or Peter might get mad enough to quit.” Bret shook his head. “Of course, knowing Peter, he’ll stay on just to get under my skin.”

Herb and Janie’s small house sat on the end of a quiet lane. His sister had the family green thumb and their yard was the prettiest on the street.

He rang the bell. The sounds of his niece and nephews running and shrieking poured out when Janie swung open the door.

“Wow. You never come at dinner time. What’s up?”

Sibling shorthand made it easy for them to get straight to the point.

“Don’t want to eat. Thanks anyway. Herb around?”

“He’s out back.” Janie frowned. “Something wrong?”

“Yep. You could have told me about his job.”

Her face fell. “We didn’t want to worry you.”

“First Dad, now me?”

She trailed him as far as the kitchen. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

The conciliatory gesture made him smile. Especially since Janie hated cooking.

Out back he found Herb trimming the already precisely edged shrubs lining the back fence.

“Hey.”

Seeing that it was Bret, Herb smiled. “Not like you to brave the rugrats during the week.”

“Actually came to see you.”

Herb gestured to the padded lawn chairs surrounding a wide, planked table. “What’s up?”

“Hoping you can help me out.” Bret outlined Peter’s behavior the last few months, ending with the disastrous morning. “So I’m wondering if you’re interested in working at the nursery.”

Herb’s expression was knowing. “A pity job to keep me employed?”

“Nope. I know it’s not ideal for you. And I’d expect you to keep on looking for something better—something like you’re used to. And no problems if you find a job and have to leave without notice. But I almost fired Peter today, which would leave me with no one. I probably shouldn’t have let him off with probation. I’m really hoping he’ll quit.”

Herb rubbed his forehead, pushing back short, light hair. “If it’s really not a pity offer, I’m grateful for the work.”

“Can you start tomorrow?”

“You are serious.”

“Peter’s good with the plants. But he treats people like they’re just another root vegetable. With the falloff in business, I need someone who’s good with the customers, especially to push our living Christmas trees. We’ve been setting them up for seniors—bringing them in, taking them out after the holidays. Now, I’m thinking we ought to make the same offer to any customers. It’s not just for business. You know how I feel about living Christmas trees.”

Herb grinned. “One less tree needlessly chopped down.”

“I’ll meet you there at eight.” Bret thought about the breakfast he needed to bring over to Sam. “Make that eight-thirty. Peter should have the nursery open by then, but I’m not counting on it.”

“Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

Bret grinned. “The way Janie was waving that spatula at the kids, I’m sure it’ll be a gourmet feast, but I’ll pass.”

“Coward.”

“You betcha.”

“Hey, Bret.” Herb’s gaze turned soberly sincere. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

The next morning Bret took a critical look at the crude porch ramp at Sam’s house. It wasn’t very attractive, but it was sturdy. The temporary threshold adapter he’d fashioned out of a few pieces of wood worked. And it would do until the one he’d ordered from the hardware store arrived.

He rang the bell, then tried the door. Since it was unlocked, he walked in. “Sam? I’ve got your breakfast.”

Dropping the breakfast on the dining room table, he headed into the kitchen. Wasn’t any easier to look at.

Charred black, the remains of the cabinets no longer resembled their original design. He could replace them with something easy that wasn’t nearly as beautiful, but he was fond of Sam’s parents. When he and Sam had dated, they’d treated him like a son. And they were always kind when he saw them at church, or anywhere in town. He sensed they felt guilty about the way Sam had ended the engagement.

Rolling toward the table, she looked at him tentatively when he walked back into the dining room.

“Do you know if your parents have any pictures taken in the kitchen?”

“Good morning to you, too.” Sam glanced at the ignored food. “I imagine there are some pictures. We always had lots of suppers at the kitchen table.”

“Where do you think the pictures are?”

“Um. Good question.” She turned toward the built-in bookcases flanking the tall, wide fireplace, craning her head to see. “Mom has some albums there.”

Knowing she couldn’t reach that high, Bret searched the shelves.

“The leather-bound album to your right,” Sam directed. “That one should be full of pictures.”

He pulled the volume down, then carried it to the dining room table. “Let’s take a look.”

Although Sam wasn’t accustomed to navigating her wheelchair, after a few tries she got in place at the table. Bret picked up one of the dining room chairs and placed it next to her. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”

As the pages of the book turned, the years fell away. Shots of Sam’s family were bittersweet memories. Many of the photos captured the closeness of brother and sister.

Sam gently touched a picture of Andy standing alone, proudly showing off his Eagle Scout award.

Bret swallowed. Andy had been an example to him as well. Three years older than he and Sam, Andy had been the golden boy, destined to do good. From early on, Andy knew he wanted to be a teacher so that he could improve the fates of underprivileged kids. While in high school, he’d volunteered for a summer in Africa. He fell in love with the land and its people. He decided to return, to build a school and make sure “his” kids had better lives. But five years earlier, a doomed flight during a monsoon had ended his life and his dreams. Until his parents stepped in to make them happen.

Glancing surreptitiously at Sam, he swallowed.

Head down, hands covering her cheeks, she was trying to hide her tears.

Remnants of feelings he’d long put aside stirred. Despite them, he couldn’t abandon her. Not until she recovered her once unstoppable tenacity. Then he could walk away, forget she’d returned.