Under Currents Read online

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Friday might have proven a stormy mess, but Saturday dawned beautiful. And Darby rose with it.

  She downed coffee and a bowl of Cheerios with a handful of blueberries while she checked the short- and long-range weather forecasts.

  She dressed in her spring uniform of cargo pants, T-shirt, and hoodie, pleased to top it off with the High Country Landscaping cap in dark blue, accented with a dogwood blossom. She figured using North Carolina’s state flower hit the right note.

  As she walked to the truck, she glanced back at the ground excavated for her equipment and tool sheds. With luck she’d have the concrete poured and inspected by early the following week.

  She heard morning birds singing, saw trillium popping color through the trees that edged her little world. The wind chime she’d gifted herself caught a breeze, adding more music, more color.

  What could be better than that?

  Optimistic, she drove down to the lake, misty with the sunrise currently painting the eastern sky. A heron, bridal white, slid through the mist like a dream.

  An early riser all her life, through wiring and career choice, she found seeing a new day dawn a perk of her job.

  Alone on the quiet lake road, she went over the day’s schedule in her head. It could all be done, with maybe some time in the evening to deal with her kitchen cabinets.

  Doors off, she thought. Zane’s glass fronts had inspired her. She’d remove the sorrowfully ugly doors, paint the rest, and be done.

  Easier to see what she wanted anyway.

  She let herself wonder about Zane for just a minute. He hadn’t responded to her email, or the attachments. Unusual for him, she admitted. Normally he got back to her fairly quickly.

  Probably still reeling some, and she couldn’t hold it against him. Plus, she didn’t expect he’d go for the whole shot. She just hoped he worked out his priorities carefully so she could give him what worked for him.

  She pulled up at reception, pulled on her gloves, got her tools.

  She had an hour in before Hallie pulled up, then Roy—a little hungover from a Friday night party. She’d given them the morning hour, as she intended to take an hour herself to watch a little baseball.

  By the time Emily pulled up, they were down to mulching and pot planting. She walked over to where Darby gently wound tendrils of clematis around the hooks she’d screwed into the new lamppost.

  “I’m getting used to it.” Emily let out a sigh. “Used to thinking, Sure, go ahead with that. Moving into the panicked ‘oh my God, what is she doing’ stage, and into this ‘it looks just perfect’ ending.”

  “We aim to please.”

  “Well, you really do, even if I’m still in stage two at the house.”

  “We’re heading there when we’re done here. Final stage next week.”

  Still, when Emily looked around, Darby saw the worry line dig between her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep it all alive.”

  “Low-maintenance,” Darby reminded her. “And I’m going to teach you.”

  “Uh-huh. What’s that tree again Roy’s mulching?”

  “Crepe myrtle. Perfect late summer bloomer. I’m putting one at your house, too.”

  “Okay, and good luck to it. I’ve got to get a couple hours in before Marcus takes over here so I can make it to Gabe’s game.”

  Sitting back on her heels, Darby scanned the clematis, deemed it good. “I’m going to try to get there for an hour.”

  “I’ll save you a seat. Darby, while I’m benefiting from your admirable work ethic, I also know the pressure of running your own business. Honey, you should take a day off.”

  “I had most of yesterday off, and it’s going to rain next Wednesday, so that’s another.”

  Emily crouched down. “And what do you do with your days off?”

  “Plot and plan on how to make potential clients panic.”

  With genuine affection, Emily patted her cheek. “I bet you do. See you at the game.”

  She finished in time to take photos for her files, to get the crew started at Emily’s, and to wash up with the garden hose.

  “Back around one. Or one-thirty if you want me to pick up lunch. My tab.”

  “Hot and spicy sub!” Roy called out.

  Hallie, her hair now in dozens of artful braids bunched at her neck with a band, leaned on her shovel. “I’ll take a half ham and pepper jack with tomatoes—mustard not mayo.”

  “Got it.”

  “And chips,” Roy added. “Jalapeño chips.”

  Darby liked the spicy herself, but Roy went for the flames. “One-thirty. Text if you have a problem.”

  She wound around the lake, admired all the bloomings, gave mental thumbs-ups to the home gardeners out at work in their yards, and continued through town already busy with Saturday shoppers.

  And out the other side to the ball fields.

  She had to hunt to park, considered that an excellent show of community support. As she walked the full block from her truck to the field, she listened to the crack of bats, the calls of fans, smelled the hot dogs and sloppy joes.

  She paused to watch the little guys play, pint-size athletes learning the game and the value of teamwork. In the sunshine, she walked to where the older kids battled it out, spotted Zane, Emily, and Lee high in the long run of bleachers.

  She’d only missed two innings, she noted by the scoreboard, and the home team had a run.

  Top of the third, two outs, a man on first.

  Gabe played the batter deep at third.

  She waited to make the climb up until the batter—powerful swing—struck out.

  As she threaded her way up, a number of people greeted her, and that was nice. Nice to live where people knew you, and took time to say hello.

  Zane gave her a long glance from under his ball cap, behind his dark glasses, as she settled in beside him.

  “How’s Gabe doing?”

  “Got the RBI, solid double in the first. Fielded a hot line drive and beat the runner to second, snagged a pop-up.”

  “Excellent. What do you want on your dog?”

  “Mustard.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Got it. Hey.” She leaned in front of him to speak to Emily and Lee. “I’m buying dogs at the end of this inning. How do you like yours?”

  “Thanks. Just mustard.”

  Lee leaned past his wife. “Loaded.”

  “Now, that’s a dog.”

  She watched the first batter fly out on the second pitch.

  “So where’s Brody?”

  “Around here somewhere with his non-girlfriend girlfriend.”

  “Jenny? She’s adorable. He’s probably working up to asking her to the end-of-school dance. He wanted to do it casual, so a ball game works.”

  That pulled Zane’s attention away from the next batter. “How do you know that?”

  “He mentioned it. He knows she’s waiting for him to ask, and probably knows he knows, but he doesn’t want to make it a big thing. Gabe’s on deck.”

  “Yeah.”

  They watched the first pitch to the batter, a called strike. Muttered together: “High and inside.”

  In solidarity, Darby gave him a light elbow to the ribs. “So have you worked through your sticker shock, figured out any priorities?”

  “Maybe.”

  The second pitch brought the count to 1–1.

  “You’ve got a chance for revenge Wednesday.”

  “Why Wednesday?”

  “Forecast for rain throughout the day, so I called your office late on Friday afternoon, made an appointment. All right.” She clapped as the batter took another outside pitch for ball two. “Good eye.”

  “Emily said you’re nearly finished with reception.”

  “Am finished, looks awesome. We’re back at the house the rest of the day. I’m going to hit Bungalow Six for a couple hours tomorrow between checkout and check-in.”

&n
bsp; Late swing, fouled back.

  She turned her head so their eyes met briefly, shielded by sunglasses, shadowed by the bills of ball caps.

  “Is that how you spend your Sundays?”

  “Gotta dig holes while the sun shines, Walker.”

  Ball three. Full count.

  People clapped, buzzed, stomped.

  A kid of about three sat on his father’s shoulders on the grass beside the bleachers and waved a little plastic bat. A trio of girls with yards of hair and legs strolled by a group of boys who pretended not to notice.

  A couple of levels below where Darby sat, a woman plied yarn with a crochet hook and shouted, “Knock it outta here, Willy!”

  “It’s coming inside,” Zane mumbled.

  “You think?”

  “You watch. Gonna try to crowd him, make him swing.”

  Darby watched. It came inside, missing the corner of the plate. Instead of knocking it outta there, Willy did the smart thing. He took the pitch, and his base on balls.

  “Somebody else has a good eye,” Darby commented. “Willy’s got fast feet. He can stretch a solid single into a double.”

  Once again, Zane gave her a long look. “How do you know?”

  “I try to catch a couple innings when I can. Maybe a practice after work. All right, Gabe!”

  Gabe walked to the plate, shuffled, tested the bat, took his stance.

  The kid had really good form, Zane thought. Excellent focus and instincts. He remembered standing in that same spot on a sunny afternoon with the smell of grilling meat, green grass, brown dirt, white chalk. How he’d blocked out the noise of the crowd, or used it.

  How, in that moment, those smells, those sounds, the feel of the bat in his hands, the sight of the white ball winging toward him comprised the entire world.

  Gabe didn’t waste time, and banged the first pitch past the diving first baseman.

  As Darby had predicted, the solid single put runners on the corners. She hooted, whistled, exchanged high fives with Zane.

  “Bring ’em in, Luke!”

  “Do you know all the kids?” Zane wondered.

  “If you’re going to live and build a business in a community, be the community. Plus, baseball.”

  The count built to 2–2 before Luke popped a one-hopper to left center. It brought in the run, advanced Gabe to second.

  While the coach called time and walked to the mound with the catcher to settle down the pitcher, Darby turned back to Zane. “Depending on your schedule, we can stretch my appointment Wednesday if you want to go over options. Or you can come by my place tomorrow, or I can come by yours. Either way around ten in the morning, or after three.”

  She waited a beat. “Unless I’ve scared you off the whole thing.”

  “You don’t scare me.”

  “Good. Just let me know when works for you.”

  Emily leaned forward. “You’re talking about Zane’s place. He showed me your drawings. It’s like a movie!”

  “But livable,” Darby returned with a smile.

  The conference at the mound worked. The pitcher worked the batter to a 1–2 count before crowding him into an easily fielded pop-up.

  The next looped one to second, couldn’t outrun the throw to first, and ended the inning.

  “Two up.” Darby slapped her hands together. “It’s hot dog time.”

  “Zane, give her a hand.”

  Darby waved Emily off. “I’m good. A deal’s a deal.”

  Darby worked her way down, then over to the cook shed to get in line. The woman in front of her turned.

  “Hey, Darby.”

  “Laurie.” Who worked at Best Blooms, and knew her stuff. “How’s it going?”

  “Going good. My husband’s sister’s boy’s playing, and we’re winning. I saw you in the bleachers.” She gave a quick eyebrow wiggle. “I didn’t know you were with Zane Walker.”

  “Sure, we’re—Oh, no, not with-with. I wanted to see Gabe play for a bit. I’m just sitting with the family.”

  “Well, that’s a genuine shame, because you sure look good together.” Laurie shook back flyaway curls as she glanced back at the stands. “It’s good to see him out here, at a game.”

  They shuffled up in line, paused as the crowd cheered a long fly ball snagged by the center fielder for an out.

  “I was a few years ahead of him in school,” Laurie continued, “but my sister was in his class. He was the star of the team, won State Player of the Year, two years running.”

  “That’s big stuff,” Darby commented.

  “Oh, yes, indeed. He’d have won it again if it hadn’t been for…”

  She seemed to catch herself, shifted her feet. “He had an injury that took him out.”

  “For the season?”

  “For good, from what I know. Bad broken arm or something like that. Anyway, it’s good to see him back in Lakeview, back at the field.”

  Laurie gave her order, leaving Darby to think it through.

  Broken nose, father, she thought. Broken arm? The same source? Maybe. And maybe it explained why no one ever mentioned his father, or his mother, come to that.

  And why he and Britt had lived with Emily and Lee.

  Laurie gathered up her cardboard tray loaded with drinks, dogs, fries. “You come and see us at Best Blooms, now.”

  “You know I will.”

  Darby ordered the dogs, doctored them as specified. And thought of a teenage boy, star of the team, player of the year, one who’d dreamed of playing in Camden Yards.

  Her heart broke a little.

  She had to push it away as she carried the food up the bleachers. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her.

  She passed out the dogs, with napkins. “Down payment,” she told Zane. “We still have to negotiate your million-dollar fee.”

  “Didn’t I mention that’s my hourly fee?”

  “You did not. Will my LLC come gold-plated?”

  “It’s the only kind I do.”

  She ate her dog, stayed through the fourth inning.

  “Gotta get back. Emily, be sure to take a look at reception. Good seeing you, Chief. Zane.”

  Once again she worked her way down the bleachers, started toward the road.

  “Hey!”

  And turned back when Zane came after her.

  “Where are you parked?”

  She pointed, tapping her finger in the air a couple times to indicate distance.

  “I’ll walk with you, stretch my legs.”

  “Well, you’ve got a lot of them.”

  The little guys had wrapped it up, and the next age group looked about to. Zane paused a minute, watched the center fielder misjudge a fly by about a mile and a half.

  “Coach used to take us out for pizza, win or lose, after a Saturday game.”

  “Good coach.”

  “Yeah. So, I’ve given your staggeringly ambitious plans for what would have to be termed my estate considerable thought.”

  “As you should. But I think you need more acreage, a guest house, and an infinity pool to qualify as an estate. Possibly a tennis or squash court.”

  “I’m getting a freaking waterfall,” he reminded her. “I’ve given it thought, started after my admin managed to bring me out of the fugue state induced by shock, and a little awe.”

  She shifted, hooked her thumbs in her front pockets. “I considered giving it to you in smaller bites, but it felt like cheating. Why don’t you tell me what’s an absolute ‘no, forget it, are you crazy,’ and I can adjust the plans and the costs?”

  “Nothing.”

  She stopped dead. “You don’t want any of it? It’s your place, Zane, but I have to tell you, you need, at minimum, the foundation plantings, a couple of trees. With that, I could handle the work myself and give you a better break on labor.”

  “You misunderstand me, though that was exactly my first reaction. Absolutely no, forget it, she’s crazy. Then I made a couple of mistakes.”

  “What kind of mistakes?
” She wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, even though she started to get a little buzz under her skin.

  “First? I showed the plans to some friends, my family. Big mistake there. Next, I did a little tour of the bungalows you’ve finished. I even ran into a couple of guests outside one, a couple who’ve come every spring for the last three years. Emily gets a lot of repeats.”

  “Having been a guest myself, I can tell you why. Good accommodations, stunning view, exceptional and personal customer service.”

  “Which is pretty much what they said. Then they added that with the work done on the outside, they liked sitting on the front porch and looking out at the yard as much as the lake. Or having a drink on the back patio after spending the day on the lake. How everything looked so nice, how it felt like—I quote—their ‘little private Eden.’”

  “That’s very nice.”

  “Then I still went home and thought: No, no, and no, maybe here, maybe, I’ll consider that one. I got to the game today, after thinking more, with: No and no, maybe, okay, probably. And then…”

  He stopped by her truck, looked around. He could see the mountains, shining under the pure blue of the sky, the houses, green grass, painted porches, flowers planted. He could hear the game—sound carried.

  He knew the ground under his feet, the taste of the air.

  “Then watching the game, sitting with Emily and Lee, saying hey to people I know, who know me. Who knew me. I thought, This is it for me. This is it. That’s my house up there, this is my home, these are my people. That’s why I came back. That’s why I’m staying. That’s why, fuck it. It’s mine. And I want it all.”

  “All of … this.”

  “Of this,” he agreed when she gestured around her. “And all of your staggeringly ambitious plans.”

  She held up a finger, turned away, walked a few steps away. “This is unexpected.”

  “Are you saying you can’t do it?”

  “Of course I can do it.” She spun back. “I don’t offer what I can’t deliver. I didn’t expect you to—I didn’t expect. Well, hot damn.” She came back, punched him lightly in the arm. “Hot, steaming damn. This is going to be great. You’re not going to regret it.”

  “I better not. I just said yes to everything you wanted.”

  She shook her head. “You wanted it, too, or you wouldn’t say yes.”