All They Need - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,36
that,” he said when she returned to set the table.
“Thanks. Push all that junky stuff to the other end.” She’d been doodling with some ideas for the orchard earlier and there was a stack of scrap paper and a fistful of pens and pencils cluttering the table.
She busied herself at the oven, using a knife to check that the pasta layers were tender before sliding the dish from the rack.
“You’ve been working on your orchard design.”
She saw that Flynn was studying one of the rough sketches she’d made that afternoon. “Butchering it, more like. Design is definitely not my forte.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Apart from the fact that I really suck at thinking in three dimensions, you mean?”
“Apart from that.”
She cut the lasagna into two portions and slid one onto each plate.
“I want to include a vegetable garden into the design, but I can’t work out how to integrate it with the orchard.”
“Right. That’s what these boxy things are. Garden beds.”
She shot him a look. “Are you making fun of my stick drawings?”
“Only a complete boor would dis a woman’s stick drawings when she was about to feed him lasagna.”
“Exactly.”
She ferried the dishes to the table. “You might want to give it a moment to cool.”
“So, do you want to use the whole clearing for the garden?” he asked.
She saw that he’d grabbed one of the scraps of paper and taken up a pencil.
“I don’t see why not. It seems stupid not to use all the available space.”
“The thing with incorporating different design elements into the one space is about making sure they either complement or contrast with each other…?.”
He quickly blocked in the cottages and the surrounding pathways and trees, creating a site plan.
“Is that all from memory?” she asked, impressed.
“Sure. Obviously it’s not to scale, but it’s an idea.”
“It’s bloody close to scale. It’s amazing.”
She studied him and his sketch intently as he added the orange tree and shaded in a few other details. Bits and pieces of information came together in her mind. His gardening expertise, the way he’d spoken about “incorporating design elements,” the way he’d rendered her garden plot in a few easy pencil strokes…
“I thought gardening was a hobby for you. But you’ve had training, haven’t you?”
He glanced at her and smiled briefly before returning his focus to the page. “Three years of horticulture and landscape design. I even had my own design firm for a while.”
“What happened to it?”
“I folded it.” He shifted in his chair, angling the piece of paper toward her a little more as he added ideas onto the page. “I think the key to making this work might be materials, and making a virtue of the demarcation between orchard and garden. How do you feel about using railway ties to create a series of interlinked garden beds? Keeping things really rough and rustic?”
He was playing it very cool, but there had been something in his eyes when he’d talked about his business.
“Why did you fold it?” she asked.
“Dad got sick. So, railway ties, yes or no? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”
She sat back in her chair. “You gave up your business for him?”
He shrugged. “It was always going to happen. Randall Developments is a third-generation business. You don’t walk away from that kind of legacy. When Dad retired I would have stepped into his shoes. In that respect, Verdant Design was always a pipe dream.”
He said it so calmly, so rationally. As though he’d simply swapped one make of car for another instead of abandoning something he obviously loved and changing the whole course of his life.
“You still haven’t answered my question about railway ties.”
She wanted to ask more questions about the business, about him. She wanted to understand, because suddenly he was a lot more than a handsome face and a hard body to her. Suddenly he was a person with depth and flaws and unimagined character.
But he was clearly uncomfortable with her probing, so she dropped her gaze to the paper between them.
“I have absolutely nothing against railway ties. In fact, I’m rather fond of them.”
“Good. How about we think about something like this…?.”
He filled in detail, describing his ideas so she could see it the way he obviously did in his mind. She asked questions, made suggestions, and at some point realized their lasagna was stone cold. She heated both portions in the microwave while Flynn finessed his design and they both studied his finished sketch while they ate.
“You’re really good at this,” she said after he’d explained