A New Hope - Robyn Carr Page 0,9

Matt’s last nerve, adored and pampered him and called him Mattie. And so it went in big families. Feuds, alliances, shared failures, victories, spats, celebrations and reconciliations. But they were family and Matt would go balls to the wall for any one of them.

After supplying the bruschetta, he chose to walk down to the marina. Though it was Friday night, crowded and the closest thing to fine dining Thunder Point had to offer, at least half the people present were dressed as casually as he was. He took a seat at the bar, ordered a beer and asked if he could get a table for two in about fifteen minutes. The man behind the bar said it was no problem.

It was only five minutes later that Ginger walked in, also early. And if possible, prettier than before. She looked a little fresher, like she’d fluffed her hair and wet her lips. She’d changed clothes. Still jeans, but this time with a jacket and boots with heels instead of clogs. He stood and smiled at her and checked her hands. They weren’t green. He waved her over. “We’re ready whenever you are,” Matt said to the guy behind the bar.

“Hey, Ginger,” the man said.

“Hey, Cliff. How’s life?”

“Always good. Always. This a friend of yours?”

“This is Peyton Grant’s brother Matt. Matt, this is Cliff. This is his restaurant.”

After a little chat, mostly from Cliff about how grateful they all were that Peyton worked with Scott and that Scott had had the wisdom to marry her, though probably not for the sake of the town, he took them to a table in the dining room. He bragged a little about the lobster bisque, said anything on the menu with crab was outstanding and that there was mahimahi on the specials tonight. Ram—presumably the chef—didn’t fry too much, he recommended the blackened salmon or Cajun ahi.

Then they were alone.

“I see you got the green stains off your hands,” Matt said, smiling, making her laugh.

“Flowers are dirty work,” she said.

“Tell me about dirty. I’m in fruit. And potatoes. And sometimes sheep.”

“Sometimes?”

“I work with Paco on the farm and George, my oldest brother, he has the sheep end of the business. When it’s time to shear or breed or anything real busy, I help. Everyone helps. And Uncle Sal has the vineyard—we go to the wine harvest on and off between August and the end of September, the same time we’re bringing in the pears. The whole extended family is running around the state—grapes here, sheep there, pears and potatoes.”

“That orchard,” she said. “One of the most beautiful places on earth.”

Cliff brought a glass of wine for Ginger, and they both ordered the same thing—Cajun ahi. “There’s a small butcher shop in Portland where you can get ahi steaks. They cost the moon but you can eat them with a spoon, they’re that fresh and good.”

“Portland? You live in Portland?” he asked.

“It’s where I’m from. I live here now. I really hope it works out and that I can stay. At least for a long time. I love the town, the shop.”

“Tell me about flowers,” he said.

“What can I tell you? I work for Grace, who owns the shop. I’ve only been there a short time but I’m learning to make very nice displays—bouquets, centerpieces, wreaths, wall hangings. I love it when she gets an order from a big hotel or resort and we do something huge, like an underwater obsidian stem in a tall cylinder glass vase. It’s more of a sculpture than an arrangement.”

“How’d you know you wanted to do that?” he asked.

“I didn’t,” Ginger said. “I was visiting with Ray Anne, just sitting around completely unmotivated while she went to work, and she told me I had to do something, no matter how small it was. That very day Grace asked me if I’d consider her shop. She was in desperate need of help and I had absolutely no experience. Honestly, I took it because it was there. I had no idea I’d like it. I shouldn’t be surprised—I like all those sorts of things.”

“What sorts of things?” he asked.

She laughed a little uncomfortably and looked down at her hands. “For lack of a better description, girl things. I’ve worked in retail, in clothing, in housewares, in domestics. I’m the youngest of three with two older brothers and am the only member of the family who doesn’t work in the family business, my dad’s trucking company. Small but pretty successful. My dad runs