it would add value to the site.
Getting a security company to come out and give a bid wasn’t easy. Many of the companies were closed on Mondays, like we were. I finally cajoled two representatives to appear before the end of the day.
To bide the time until they arrived, I decided to respond to emails and such. Invariably customers who had taken their materials home to build their own fairy gardens had additional questions.
Midmorning, I settled at the chalked chestnut desk in the office to flesh out the ideas for more how-to videos, using ideas that I’d received from my online chat friends. Most of them said I’d need at least five videos to drive traffic to my YouTube channel. Using a fresh notepad, I jotted down: how to arrange foliage; how to position environmental features; which sized fairies went with which pots; how big a pot; and color scheme.
The landline phone jangled. I answered, “Open Your Imagination.”
“Courtney Kelly, please,” a woman with a crackly voice said.
“Speaking.”
“Big Valley Nursery.” The wholesale company that supplied many of our planting mixes and potted plants. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we’ve put a flag on your credit.”
“What’s wrong?” I’d never had any problem with making payments. All the company’s credit cards were at zero balance, and all its bank loans were up to date and paid.
“It seems you have broken a loan covenant. We’ll have to hold shipment on your next delivery until this matter is cleared up.”
“But I haven’t broken any covenant. Who claims I have?”
“As I said, there’s a flag on your account,” the woman said. “Once you clear it up, please send us the proper paperwork.”
“There’s got to be a mistake,” I cried.
The woman hung up. No room for debate.
I grumbled under my breath. How many of these phone calls did she make a day?
As I pulled up the Big Valley Nursery file on the computer, I wondered whether someone had deliberately messed with my standing at the bank. A loan covenant usually required that the borrower could not break the law or engage in immoral activity. I’d done neither.
Out of the blue, I thought of Logan Langford. Had he had a hand in the issue? Had he figured out that I’d spoken to Hedda Hopewell? Even though I hadn’t pressed her for his information, was he retaliating because I’d considered poking my nose into his business?
I sent an email to Joss outlining the problem. She would have to look into the matter; she was a tiger when it came to negotiations. In an instant, she wrote back saying she would come in and handle it. I reminded her it was her day off. She replied that work would be more fun than doing laundry.
My cell phone hummed. I lifted it off the desk blotter and scanned the readout. Victoria Judge had sent a text. Plain and simple: The wheels of bureaucracy move slowly. You are still a person of interest. Working to resolve this. Keep your spirits up.
I set the phone down, and it hummed again. I lifted it. My father was responding to my text about tea: How about now?
Me: Perfect. Hideaway Café on Lincoln. I’d seen people entering earlier, so I knew it was open on a Monday.
Ten minutes, my father replied.
Quickly, I refreshed my makeup, assured Pixie and Fiona that I’d return soon, left a note for Joss, and made a beeline across the street.
Brady greeted me at the hostess’s station. “Nice to see you again.”
I toyed with the hair at the nape of my neck, suddenly aware that I was underdressed in a floral long-sleeved T-shirt and bib-and-brace denim overalls. Why dress up when I planned to do grunt work all day at the shop?
“You look nice,” he said. “As fresh as a summer day.”
My cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Only saying what’s true.” I liked the way his eyes sparkled, as if he were having the best day of his life.
“I’m meeting my father,” I said.
“Great. Follow me.” He guided me to a table on the rear patio. “Here you go.” He handed me two menus. “Coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please. With raw sugar. Coffee for my father. Black.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” He walked away with a jaunty spring in his step.
A minute later, my father strode across the patio, admiring the flowers and vines and lights strung across the expanse. Like me, he had dressed casually—denim shirt, jeans, and work boots. He smoothed his thick hair before kissing me