Under Currents Read online

  Attractive, Darby thought, maybe late forties, dressed in jeans, a navy sweater, good boots.

  She looked up as Darby closed the door. The big brown dog sleeping under the table opened amber eyes, thumped its tail.

  “Hi. Darby McCray?”

  “Yes.”

  “Emily Keller. Welcome to Lakeside.”

  She rose, walked over with a hand extended. Her eyes, sharp and green as a cat’s, added welcome, and a quick appraisal. “How was your trip?”

  “Oh. Illuminating.”

  Since the dog wandered over to sniff at her boots, tail still swinging, Darby reached down to pet its head.

  “Rufus is part of the welcoming committee.”

  “He’s beautiful.”

  “He’s a good boy. How about some coffee or tea, or a soft drink, before we tackle the paperwork?”

  “A soft drink would be great. Coke or Pepsi if you have it.”

  “I can handle that. Why don’t you have a seat? I’ll be right back.”

  “Actually, I’ve been sitting awhile. Is it okay if I look around, walk around?”

  “Sure. You can come back with me if you want.”

  A hall led back from the front office to a storage room where sheets, towels, blankets lined shelves. Salt and pepper mills, coffeepots, teakettles, toasters, blenders, glassware, plates, flatware.

  Another room held cleaning supplies—buckets, mops, brooms, vacuum cleaners, big jugs of cleaners, a neat stack of rags.

  “You’re very organized,” Darby observed.

  “Otherwise, chaos. We don’t want that for our guests.”

  She led the way into a kitchen. On the small side, but fully equipped with another long table.

  “This is our break room–slash–meeting room.” As she spoke, Emily got glasses from a cupboard, filled them with ice from an under-the-counter machine. “Your housekeeper will service your bungalow between nine and eleven every morning. If you prefer earlier or later, just let us know.”

  “No, that’s fine.”

  “We stocked your cabin with the supplies you checked off the list. We can take care of resupplying if you put in an order, give us three hours’ notice. You’ll also get information in your welcome packet on groceries, restaurants, activities, hiking trails.”

  Darby walked to the window overlooking a concrete patio as Emily poured Coke over ice. Slate, she thought again. It should be slate, mortared joints. Pots of flowers, maybe a trellis for a climber.

  “Since you’re here for a month, I imagine you’ll do some exploring.”

  Darby turned back, took the offered drink. “Thanks. Yes, I’m going to explore. I saw a woman with a baby in one of those…” She juggled a hand in front of her. “And a big black dog. He jumped right in the water to swim. It was so happy.”

  “Well, how ’bout that? You saw my niece, Britt, and our baby girl, Audra, and their fish disguised as a dog, Molly.”

  “So you have family, right here.”

  “I do. Britt and her husband, Silas, the baby. And my nephew’s coming home. Zane’s lived and worked in Raleigh since college. It’ll be good to have him home. And I have two boys—teenagers.” She gave an eye roll.

  “It’s nice.” The little twist in Darby’s heart didn’t hurt quite as much as it had. “It’s nice to have family.”

  “It is, even though sometimes my husband and I end our day shell-shocked from teenage angst. And you’re from the Baltimore area. Your family’s there?”

  “No. It was me and my mother. She died last year.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “So am I. It’s beautiful here. I pored over your brochure, and soaked up all I could on the internet, but you still don’t know exactly what to expect. It’s beautiful.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. You’re going to enjoy your stay, I guarantee.”

  Pretty thing, Emily thought as she led the way back to reception. A little on the thin side but without any delicate air. Long-lidded eyes, blue and deep, and hair the color of the chestnut mare Emily had pined for at ten cut very short with a side sweep of bangs. Angular, both face and body, and the hands of someone who used them to work.

  Other than that moment of sadness when she’d mentioned her mother, the girl seemed alive with energy.

  They chatted easily enough while they finished the paperwork. Emily didn’t ask the questions in her mind. Why Darby traveled alone, what she did for a living, what she would do for a month on her own in a strange place. If a guest wanted you to know the personal, the guest told you.

  “You’re set. You can follow me to your bungalow, and I’ll walk you through.”

  She took the dog, who rode with his head out the passenger side window, ears flapping, tongue lolling as if tasting the wind. A short drive, no more than a quarter mile, behind Emily’s truck. They passed a wonderful old house with a wraparound porch, lots of windows, a rambling roofline that—to Darby’s eyes—desperately needed creative landscaping.

  When she pulled up at the cabin, her heart skipped. After she got out of the car, she turned a circle, turned it again.

  “Oh God, it’s perfect! Perfect, just perfect.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  “I mean it. Oh, the views. I wanted water. Not the ocean, just something. And this lake is beyond what I imagined, even after seeing it on the website. And the mountains, the trees, this house just growing up right here. It’s just exactly exact.”

  “Do you sail?”

  “No.”

  “Fish?”

  With a laugh, Darby shook her head.

  “Well, you may before the month’s up. You can rent a boat, a canoe, a kayak—no motors on the lake—in town. Or we can facilitate that for you. Same with fishing gear, the license. There’s good hiking, and maps for that in your pack.”

  “I’m going to sit on that porch later with a big glass of wine and watch the sunset, watch the colors spread over the lake.”

  “Now, that sounds perfect. Do you paint?”

  “Not at all. You must love living here.”

  “All my life.” She led the way—gravel path again—to the porch, unlocked the front door. “Welcome to your home away from home.”

  It smelled of orange zest and polished wood. A fire lay, ready for the match in the stone hearth, with a big sofa covered in quiet blues and greens facing it. A deep chair for a guest and conversation, another tucked in a corner for reading.

  A long table—it seemed the only kind here—provided eating space and the demarcation between living room and kitchen, a kitchen obviously updated in the last few years.

  It gleamed with stainless steel, pearly white counters, deep, dark wood cabinets. On the counter sat a coffeemaker, toaster, a bright red kettle on the stove top, a blue bowl generous with fruit on the long table.

  “I love it.”

  “More music. You have two bedrooms, and I expect you’ll take the master. Second bath here.”

  She waited for Darby to poke in.

  Smallish, but adequate with its corner shower, pretty vanity, the bud vase of Asian lilies, fluffy towels.

  “Second bedroom.”

  That, too, would be adequate, with its white duvet–covered bed, the colorful throw artistically placed at the foot, the dresser, the closet space, the lamps with pretty white shades.

  “It’s adorable.”

  “It is sweet, isn’t it? Now the master.”

  Her heart skipped again. The four-poster—thick posts—faced a wide window. The lake, and the mountains filled it.

  “To wake up to that, every morning?” Darby let out a breath. “Amazing. Mrs. Keller—”

  “Emily. We’re neighbors.”

  “Emily, it’s just wonderful. I may not make it to the porch. I might just lie here and gawk all day.”

  She wandered, skimming fingers over the duvet, the windowsill. And all but danced when she saw the bathroom.

  “Pretty great?”

  “Extremely great.”


  It held a big oval freestanding tub, a deep shower with jets, a long counter with double vessel sinks that gleamed copper. The stone tiles held tones of earth and sun.

  A pretty basket of amenities stood on the counter along with more Asian lilies. Another long, wide window opened to the view.

  “We updated a few years ago,” Emily told her. “I decided to go for it.”

  “You got there. You definitely got there.”

  “You might want the fire in the evenings or the mornings. There’s wood on the back porch.”

  She listed off other practicalities, operating systems. Darby tried to take it in, but she walked through a dream.

  “If you need anything, or have questions, call the number in your packet. Why don’t I help you bring your things inside?”

  “Oh, no, that’s all right. I don’t need anything but my duffle for now.”

  “Then I’ll leave you to settle in. But you call if you need anything.”

  “Thank you. So much.”

  Alone, Darby wandered, room to room, back again, walked out on the back patio (such as it was), did a little dance, walked out to the front, did another.

  The hell with waiting till sunset, she thought. She got the wine they’d stocked for her, used the provided corkscrew, poured herself that big glass.

  She carried it out, sat in one of the big porch chairs. She toasted the lake, toasted herself. And toasted what might just be her future.

  * * *

  It seemed reasonable to take a day or two to bask and absorb. Especially when the basking and absorbing included long walks, taking note—mentally and literally—of local flora and fauna, studying the topography, analyzing the soil, getting a sense of what both homeowners and landlords chose for landscaping, gardens.

  It included walking tours of the town proper, chatty conversations with shopkeepers and their customers.

  People tended to chat with her, often telling her details of their lives as if she already knew them. Her mother had called her an emotional magnet. Mostly Darby just thought she was a good listener.

  But she learned, in that day or two, the area held lake people and hill people. Natives and transplants, summer people and year-rounders. And, to her mind, Lakeview and its environs had plenty of room for a new business.

  She spent another day or two visiting nurseries and garden centers, starting with Best Blooms on the edge of town, owned and run by a delightful couple with three grown kids, five grandkids, and a pair of twins on the way.

  They’d been married for forty-three years, had been high school sweethearts. He’d proposed after the romantic picnic he’d so carefully planned had been invaded by fire ants.

  People did tell her things.

  She hit every garden center within fifty miles, made more notes, ran more figures, drank more wine on the porch while she worked out details in her head.

  Dreams were essential, creativity a must, but details, sweat, and a business plan made dreams a reality.

  By the end of the first week, she had her plan nailed down, her details lined up. She wanted to sweat, and knew just where she hoped to start.

  She walked up to reception—more time to work out her approach in her head. A lot of the working out came in mumbles of dialogue, which she managed to shut down as she spotted Emily standing outside with the woman who had the baby and the swimming dog.

  No dog this time, and Emily bounced the dark-haired baby on her hip.

  “Hey, Darby, come meet the prettiest baby in the history of babies—and her mom.”

  The mom had dark hair, too, worn in a sleek tail, and green eyes that blurred in just the faintest hint of blue. She wore a navy suit as sleek as the ponytail, low heels, and came off just a little frantic.

  Darby crunched up the gravel path. “Hi. Darby McCray. I saw you and Audra and Molly taking a walk on my way in on Saturday. I gave Molly straight tens on the Olympic scale.”

  The baby, as babies often did with Darby, threw her arms out, gurgling, legs kicking.

  With a laugh, Darby held hers back. “Is it okay?”

  “Wow.” Britt shifted the diaper bag on her shoulder. “She’s friendly, but that’s still a first. If you don’t mind—”

  “Are you kidding?” Darby took the baby from Emily, nuzzled her. “She already knows I’ll sneak her a cookie whenever possible.” As the baby tugged cheerfully at Darby’s hair—what she could grab—Darby smiled. “I’m interrupting.”

  “No. Sorry. Nice to meet you. Sorry,” Britt said again. “Our regular sitter’s in urgent care.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Possible broken toe. Not serious, but not easy when she has a toddler. Emily—”

  “We’ll be fine. I’m emergency backup. You go, don’t worry about us.”

  “I’m not worried, it’s just—thanks.” She passed over the bag, added a strong hug.

  “You let me know when you find out how Cecile’s doing.”

  “I will. You’re a lifesaver. I have to run,” she told Darby. “I have an appointment in … fifteen minutes,” she added with a glance at her watch. “She may spit up on your shirt.”

  “I do that myself.”

  With a half laugh, Britt leaned in to kiss Audra’s cheek, then jumped in her car. “If anything—”

  “Go!” Emily ordered. She watched Britt pull out, waved her off. “She’ll check on Cecile if she has time before the session. They’ve been friends since middle school.”

  “Oh, does Britt work at the medical center?”

  “Yes. She’s a therapist. Child and family therapy. You were coming to see me?”

  “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.”

  “Lumbe
r 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.”