Arlene James - Second Chance Match

Her business ambitions were, though. A florist shop. The Monroe place would be perfect for that. She’d have to be careful not to upset the Historical Society when she put in her shop, but that shouldn’t be too tough.

Sighing, he went to work splitting a healthy violet into two shallow pots. While he worked, he pondered the situation with Jessa and the Monroe place.

He could not, in good conscience, fight her on possession of the site. She had a son to house and a business to launch, and unless he missed his guess, she didn’t have much funding. Buffalo Creek could certainly use another florist, though, almost as much as a good plant nursery, so she should be okay. He’d tell everyone at the meeting. No point in dragging it out. They were all getting together at some point later today to go over wedding plans and decide the matter of the Monroe place. It could all be settled by nightfall.

Garrett acknowledged a sharp sense of disappointment. The Charter Street site had felt right to him. It felt like home and the future and hope all wrapped up together, but not too long ago a cardboard box would have felt that way to him. He certainly couldn’t complain about living and working here at Chatam House. Closing his eyes, he found a silent place within himself and spoke to God.

Guess I jumped the gun in regard to all this, he acknowledged. Forgive me, Lord. It wasn’t just losing the Monroe place, though. He couldn’t help feeling that he was missing out on some sort of opportunity with Jessa and Hunter, too, which was pure nonsense. At any rate, Your will is always best, he prayed on. So that’s all I’m asking, for Your will to be done in every aspect of my life. Besides, we both know You’ve gotten me through much deeper disappointments. You’ll get me through this. In the name of Jesus, thanks.

Feeling a little better, he went back to work. Wouldn’t be long, he told himself, before another place came up, one as good for his purposes as the house and lot on Charter Street. Even if the new place wasn’t as good, he’d make do and be glad. Meanwhile, Jessa would have her shop and Hunter would have a real home.

Smiling to himself, he recalled Jessa’s obvious approval of his greenhouse and plants. He saw her in his mind’s eye, her big dark eyes surveying his little domain with pleasure. The image of her face had not been far from his mind since he’d first laid eyes on it.

He wondered what she was going to do with her day. Maybe he should look in on her and Hunter later. Then again, maybe he should mind his own business.

“Ms. Pagett,” Magnolia said, pausing on the stairway beside Hypatia to acknowledge the young woman and her son.

“Oh, call me Jessa, ma’am.”

“Very well. We’ll all be on a first-name basis, then. Much easier that way.”

Hypatia bent forward slightly and spoke to the boy. “How are you this morning, Hunter?”

“Fine,” he answered softly. His mother gave his hand a waggle, and he added, “Thank you.”

Hypatia smiled. “My, you are a well-mannered young man.”

“Thank you,” he and his mother said at the same time.

Magnolia opened her mouth to ask how they’d slept, but the sound of a buzz saw had her grimacing instead. Tossing a resigned glance upward, she offered Jessa a wan smile. The screech of the buzz saw ceased, leaving abrupt silence. Magnolia offered her apologies.

“It never lasts very long. Mr. Bowen is a most considerate fellow.”

Jessa nodded as she slipped past the two older women, tugging her son behind her. “No problem. Excuse us, please. We have books waiting.”

“Did you find the library, then?” Magnolia asked, pointing to the door below, across the foyer from the front parlor.

“Not yet. I meant our lesson books, ma’am,” Jessa clarified, hurrying Hunter around the curve in the stairs.

Magnolia tilted her head at that, but Hypatia just sighed and resumed her descent. Magnolia fell in beside her sister, trying not to smile at Hypatia’s exasperation.

“What happened to hand saws?” she asked. “I’m sure they were more accurate.”

The things that upset the usually unflappable Hypatia always amused Magnolia. Every flower, tree, shrub and blade of grass on the place could die overnight, and Hypatia wouldn’t blink an eye, but forget one little rule of etiquette or upset her routine, and she groused. Politely, of course. True to form, Hypatia waited until they were safely in the sunroom and out of earshot of anyone who might be offended before she complained.

“Really. Guests while the house is undergoing construction! Not to mention planning two weddings. How are we to be proper hostesses with that racket going on and our focus consumed with getting Ellie and Asher married?”

“Most of the time, we don’t even know Mr. Bowen is around,” Magnolia pointed out.

“Nevertheless, I wish he’d get on with it,” Hypatia grumbled.

“You’re the one who told the Historical Society that we would use materials only from the period when the house was built.”

Hypatia made a face. “I’m not the one who invited the Pagetts to stay without consulting another soul, however.”

“What could I do?” Magnolia asked. “The Pagetts were obviously in dire straits.”

“And you didn’t want them moving into the Monroe house,” Hypatia surmised flatly.

“Much more difficult to evict them than host them,” Magnolia conceded.

“And are you so confident that Garrett will win the day?” Hypatia asked.

Magnolia chose not to answer that. “I’m confident that the hand of God is at work here.”

Hypatia arched an eyebrow, but Magnolia took her time settling onto the chaise longue of her choice. Spreading her dark plaid skirts around her, she lightly asked, “Do you know why Jessa Lynn Pagett wants to lease the Monroe place?”

“It’s a lovely house in which to raise a child, I imagine.”

“It’s also a great site for a florist shop,” Magnolia said. “Garrett told me last night that she’s a florist, and she herself said she was opening a shop there.”

Hypatia let that sink in. “A florist, is she? Well, well.”

“Exactly,” Magnolia said with a satisfied lift of her chin. “A florist and a gardener.”

Hypatia tapped the cleft in her chin with one gleaming fingertip. “It’s something to think about, I must say. We’ve seen matches made of less.”

Magnolia crossed her ankles and folded her hands. “Indeed. Just look at Ellie and Asher.”

“Or Chandler and Bethany.”

“Or Reeves and Anna! Not to mention…” They both laughed, eyes twinkling as they thought of Odelia and Kent coming together again after a half century apart. “So you agree with me that it’s a matter for prayer.”

“Definitely,” Hypatia said.

They smiled in perfect accord. Then Hypatia touched the pearls at her throat.

“About the meeting this afternoon,” she said. “I really can’t abide the idea of another buffet.” She was still miffed that Ellie and Asher had stood firm on a buffet for their wedding reception. Worse, Hilda agreed with them! Personally, it seemed the only sensible solution to Magnolia at this late juncture, but Hypatia would never be entirely happy about the matter. “Surely, we can hire a decent number of wait staff for the June wedding. Don’t you agree?”

Magnolia rolled her eyes. Suggest that to Odelia, and she’d be out scouring the DFW Metroplex for waiters of identical height, weight, complexion and hair color—and rainbow-hued tuxedoes to outfit them. Magnolia chuckled, wondering just how pleased Hypatia would be then.

“At least,” she said hopefully, “God has provided us with a genuine florist.”

“Ah, yes,” Hypatia agreed, nodding. “There is that.”