Chapter 5
Mara approached the breakfast table in a determined mood the next morning. She had decided that she had to tell her parents at least part of the truth. Her mother slid eggs on to her plate and Mara nodded and smiled at her, even though she would really rather have some crunchy cereal. But all the chickens in the world would have to be dead before her mother agreed that cereal was a decent breakfast.
“Thanks Mami,” she said, then took a deep breath for courage and turned to her father. “So, Papi, when I was out at Chad’s cutting the grass the other day, there was a guy there that is going to rent the house. He talked to me a little bit about a walled garden in the back yard. I’m sure the Blanchard’s would be grateful for any improvements, as long as they don’t have to pay for them.”
Her father opened his mouth to say something, but she held up her hand.
“Just wait, Papi,” she said. “I told him I would have to work on it in the evenings and on the weekends because I have another job. He’s fine with that.”
He will have to be, she thought.
There was a long moment of silence while her father chewed and swallowed several bites. Butterflies whirled in Mara’s stomach. She really wanted to do this garden—and it would be essential to have his permission if she was going to use the company credit card for materials until they sold the sword and shield.
“I don’t like it…but if you will do this just in the evenings and on Saturdays, then I will allow it. I won’t have you working on Sundays,” he said firmly.
She grinned widely, even though he immediately said sternly, “This doesn’t change anything about your future career plans.”
She felt a little let down, but she managed to hide it. “Okay. One last job. My swan song,” she said, trying not to sound as bitter as she felt.
She gobbled down her eggs. She would tackle her new job with a vengeance. Maybe, just maybe, Mr. Keeton would let her leave early again.
The day went much more smoothly than the day before until about three o’clock. Mara had figured out the computer system and was entering information on new employees when a guy in the navy blue uniform of Keeton’s Trucking Company walked in. His name tag said “Roy.” He was young, but several years older than Mara. He would have been nice looking if it weren’t for the expression on his face—a leer described it best.
“Hey, you’re new,” he said, with an oily smile, looking her up and down. “And beautiful. What’s your name?”
Mara tried not to cringe under his stare. It felt like he was mentally undressing her. She scooted her chair further under her desk and pretended interest in the mail lying there.
When he continued to stare at her, she huffed, “My name is Mara. And I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, too bad. Who’s your boyfriend?”
“Chad Blanchard. We’ve been dating almost a year.”
“Well, the Blanchard’s moved, didn’t they? While Chad’s away, pretty girl can play.”
Mara was about to say something indignant when Mr. Keeton came out of his office
“Roy is here to collect his last pay check,” Mr. Keeton told Mara in a cool voice. “You’ll find it in the bottom drawer of Jean’s desk.”
Mr. Keeton stood beside Roy and waited while Mara retrieved the check. She slid it across the counter to him, intensely uncomfortable with the way Roy had eyed her as she walked toward them.
“There’ll be no need for you to come in here again,” Mr. Keeton told Roy, moving to escort him out of the office.
The look Roy gave Mr. Keeton was so hateful that Mara’s eyes widened in surprise.
“No need to be unfriendly,” Roy snapped. “It was just a little misunderstanding.”
Mr. Keeton only pursed his lips in disapproval and opened the door. Roy strode through in a huff, grumbling under his breath.
When it closed behind him, Mr. Keeton turned to Mara, a regretful expression on his face. “Sorry you had to deal with that. But I’m glad that’s done.”
“What did he do?” Mara asked.
“I had a lot of complaints about him,” Mr. Keeton said, “mostly from women, at the places where he made deliveries, about his behavior and suggestive comments. There were also a couple of times when the load was short an item or two. Not enough to accuse him since it might have happened in the warehouse—but enough to make me suspicious.” He shook his head. “It’s too bad. His mother goes to our church and is a lovely person. I gave him a job as a favor. I’m afraid a mother’s love can be blind sometimes.”
“Must be,” Mara agreed. “What’s his last name?”
“Fulton.”
Mara nodded. She knew the daughter, Christine Fulton. Her family lived in the apartments out on Jackson Street—not the nicest part of town. She remembered Christine from elementary school as a really sweet girl. “His sister’s nice too,” she commented. “Too bad about Roy.”
“Yes, too bad,” Mr. Keeton agreed. “But he’s not our problem anymore. You, on the other hand, are proving to be just as capable as your father promised. Not a single dropped call all day.” He walked over to her desk and studied her computer. “I see you’ve figured this out too.”
“Yes,” Mara said smiling at the compliment. However, even if she didn’t want to be outside so bad, she would still really dislike this job. The office—with just her and Mr. Keeton—was deadly quiet, except for the incessantly ringing phone and the easy listening radio station playing in the background.
“It will be more fun next week when Jean is back,” Mr. Keeton promised, smiling.
Mara just nodded. She didn’t know Jean.
Mr. Keaton said, “Meanwhile, why don’t you take off? I’m sure a young girl like you would like an extra hour in the sun.”
“I would, thanks!” Mara said gratefully, hopping up.
She was across the parking lot and in her truck before the door of the office completely closed behind her. She would go out to Chad’s and show Oliver the plans she had drawn the night before. She was glad now that she’d brought her sketch book.
When she got to Chad’s, Mara walked through the house and called out, but didn’t find Oliver anywhere. Strolling into the back yard, she saw him getting a shovel out of the tool shed.
“Getting ready to start digging the pond?” she asked, smiling.
He looked uncomfortable “Is that alright? Perhaps I should have waited for you.”
Mara was taken aback once again by the bright piercing gaze of the silver eyes. His handsome face, plus the formal way he had of speaking and the soft accent—she had to admit; all of it added up to make Oliver one very attractive guy.
You love Chad, she reminded herself. He’s just busy with a new job. That’s why he hasn’t called or texted.
Oliver was looking at her with a puzzled expression and she shook her head to clear it.
“It’s okay, but come look at these plans and see what you think,” she suggested, and turned to go in the house. After propping the shovel against the shed, Oliver followed her. He had an easy, loping gait, she noticed, then frowned, irritated with herself for noticing.
She led the way to the kitchen. “I’m thirsty,” she declared. “Want some ice water?”
He nodded slowly. Passing the thermostat on the way, Mara noticed that it was off.
“No wonder it’s so hot in here. You should have turned the AC on,” she said, flipping it on. “Sorry, I should have told you it was okay.”
Again, Oliver just nodded and went over to the thermostat to take a closer look.
She took out two glasses and filled them with ice and water from the refrigerator door. She turned to find Oliver standing right behind her, watching her with a dubious look on his face.
She wondered at it, but just handed him the glass.
“Here you go,” she said and sat down at the table. Even though it wasn’t dark yet, the kitchen was on the shadowy east side of the house so she went and flipped on the light over the table.
Oliver got up so quickly that he almost turned over his chair.
“What is it?” Mara asked. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. I apologize,” he said quickly and sat back down. The ceiling fan was whirring above them, creating a pleasant breeze and Oliver turned his face up to it and smiled a little.
“If I didn’t know better, I would think you didn’t have ice or ceiling fans in England,” Mara couldn't help saying.
Oliver just shrugged and turned his attention to the sketch book, studying the sketch carefully for several long minutes.
Mara sighed. He sure was the silent type. But when he looked up at her with an expression of delight, she couldn’t help smiling. “Like it?”
“It is wonderful,” he stated. “The path needs to have exactly thirty-five stones. And the tree must be bigger than a sapling—perhaps a year or two old? Otherwise, it is perfect.”
Mara raised her eyebrows. “I’m sure we can do that, but can I ask why?”
Oliver stared at her for a minute as if deciding something. Finally he shook his head. “That is just the way I would like it. Will that be…” he hesitated for a moment, “okay?”
She couldn’t help grinning at the way he said “okay” putting equal emphasis on the syllables. “Sure,” she said, nodding. “You’re the client. We’ll do whatever you want, as long as it looks good. I’ll need to take pictures of it when we’re done, for my portfolio.”
“I can draw well,” Oliver said, after another confused look and a long moment of silence. “I can make a picture for you.”
Mara nodded slowly. He was really very strange. “Well, that would be nice,” she said, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “But I have a good camera. I’ll get some shots with it too.”
Oliver said “Okay,” again. This time it sounded a little more normal.
She smiled at him. “I’ll go get some of the materials tomorrow after work.” She said apologetically, “I have a job downtown, so I won’t be able to get here until late afternoon. But I will be able to be here all day Saturdays and you can do a lot of it during the day while I’m at work. You can get the pond dug tomorrow and I’ll bring the liner and stones after work.” She hesitated, knowing there was something she’d meant to ask him, but now she couldn’t remember what.
Oliver looked pleased. “I am very grateful,” he said and smiled, his eyes warming from silver to rich pewter.
Mara felt her stomach clench and she jumped up, suddenly wanting to get away.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she chirped brightly and practically ran out the door, flinching as it slammed behind her. She could feel the heat in her face. What was wrong with her?
“Chad, why the heck don’t you call?” she muttered as she got in the truck, feeling happy and guilty both. Which totally didn't make sense.
“Hello Mara.” The Home Design employee looked at her with surprise. “Aren’t you a little dressed up today?”
“Hi Larry,” Mara answered. “Yes. I’m working at Keeton Trucking Company in the Human Resources office this summer.” Then she smiled, “But I’m also doing a landscape project which is why I’m here.”
She and Larry went over the design and then he loaded the dark vinyl liner and pump into her truck, along with the flat rocks to line the edge. “Okay, this is enough to start with,” Mara said, brushing at her khaki slacks. “I’ll be back next week for more.”
“We’ve got some nice stone coming in for those walls,” Larry said, thumping her truck to let her know she was clear. “Check back on Friday.”
“I will,” Mara promised and backed away from the loading dock.
She didn’t want to run up a big bill until they knew how much the sword and shield were worth, which is why she hadn’t purchased more materials today. Suddenly she had a brain storm.
“Mr. Henley,” she said out loud, pounding her hand on the steering wheel. Her world history teacher from the year before collected medieval pieces. He’d brought a suit of armor in for them to examine while they spent an inordinately long time on the Middle Ages. He’d even made a couple of the them try it on, so they’d have an idea of how strong you had to be to be a knight back in those days. Mr. Henley was a collector; he would be able to give her an estimate of what the things would be worth. Heck, she thought, he might even want them himself. It wouldn’t hurt that she had been one of his favorites.
Feeling pumped, she went in the house belting out the latest Scotty McCreery song.
“Ah, querida, it is so nice to hear you happy and singing,” her mother said, washing vegetable peelings down the disposal. She smiled as Mara plopped her lunch box down on the cabinet.
“This walled garden is going to be so beautiful,” Mara said, hugging her mother enthusiastically.
Her mother’s smile faded. “Remember Mara. This is the last one.”
Mara’s happiness went down the drain, just like the vegetable peelings had. “Right,” she muttered and strode out of the kitchen. She’d been about to offer to help with dinner, but she didn’t even want to be in the same room with her mother, much less help her with anything. She sat on the side of her bed, pushing the heels of her hands against her eyes to keep from crying. She would not cry again.
After a few minutes, she was in control. She marched over to her computer and brought up the N. C. State website and clicked through until she found scholarships. She thought she remembered one just for landscape design students. Her parents were so proud of the fact that they could pay for college that she hadn’t even applied, although she was eligible. But before she’d let them decide her future for her, she’d pay for it herself. She would get a loan if she had to.
She’d do it all on her own, and Oliver’s garden would only be the first in her portfolio. Maybe it would be better that way in the long run, anyway. She wouldn’t rely on her father’s good reputation in the landscaping community. She would start fresh somewhere else—maybe she would even change her name. She’d certainly have her own logo. It would be her father’s loss—his company could have gone places he’d never dreamed of.
It would serve him right, she thought with satisfaction, and began filling in the blanks on the form.