Margo refused to budge anyway, so I shrugged and headed over to the back. The area had a table, two chairs and about a hundred books filled to the brim with landscaping ideas. I was immediately overwhelmed. My idea of landscaping was a lot of flowers in one area with maybe some rocks and some herbs. It looked pretty, it smelled good, and sometimes I could eat out ofit.
Some of the examples in the book were so elaborate they gave me anxiety. I appreciated Hank’s knowledge, but I wasn’t going to do anything like the projects here. I was hoping he’d tell me to plant some oregano under a lemon tree and call itmultipurpose.
About ten minutes later, just as I’d talked myself out of ever doing anything with permaculture, Hank came over and sat in the seat across from me. A smile lit his mouth as he saw my expression. “Permaculture doesn’t have to be elaborate,” hesaid.
I blew out a relieved breath. “Oh thank the gods,” I said. “This is terrifying.” I pointed to the stacks ofcatalogs.
“Listen, Ms. Reaper, you don’t have to do anything. I was wrong to jump all over you about your landscaping. Plants are just important to me and I think we should do all that we can to make sure they live out their full lifecycles.”
Hank seemed like he was just full of caverns waiting to be discovered. Anyone could tell he loved plants. Just based upon the way his shop looked and felt, anyone would have to be a fool to doubt hisdevotion.
"What about you?" I asked. "Do you do permaculture forpeople?"
Hank blinked in surprise. "Can't say that I do. I've never beenasked."
A smirk pulled the side of my mouth. "I can only assume that's because you haven't lambasted them about their lack of plantlove."
To his credit, two spots of red appeared on his cheeks. He reached back and rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah. Sorry aboutthat."
"Listen, I have some land. I like landscaping. I appreciate what you're trying to do. How about I hire you to come in, look at the land, and tell me what youthink?'
At first, Hank didn't seem inclined to agree to my proposal. But for some odd reason, my instincts were screaming at me to try. "I'll pay you well. Just come look at it first and then decide.Okay?"
He speared me with those warm eyes. I stared back at him. At first his gaze narrowed, then he gave a short nod. "I'll come look at it. That's all I can promise. I'll have to work in the evenings if that's okay. If I decide to take thejob."
"Fair enough," I said. I stuck out my hand for him to shake. "How about tomorrow you come over andlook?"
The jangle of a collar alerted us to Margo trotting over to us. "As long as she's there," Hanksaid.
"I can't seem to get rid of her, so I agree to thoseterms."
Margo gave a whoof ofagreement.
Hank plucked a couple of books from his massive stack and pushed them over to me. "Take a look at some of the plans in these and see what you gravitate to. Is 6 okay fortomorrow?"
I took the books and stood. "Perfect," Isaid.
"See youthen."
I nodded, turned, and headed out of the nursery with Margo walking beside me. I felt his stare on my back all the wayout.
When I got home,I led Margo to the utility room, plopped an obscene amount of food into her bowl and headed into the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. I'd need to look at my calendar before I went to bed so I knew what appointments I had tomorrow. I knew for a fact I had a court date to attend for a woman who was convinced her deceased husband meant to leave her everything. This, of course, meant she also thought he left his kids nothing. I was mentally exhausted just thinking about it. Although it was easy money, contesting wills meant drama and lots ofit.
I opened the fridge only to see I desperately needed to go to the store. I didn't know a lot of single people who cooked, but my mother had taught me when I was very young. This ensured I always had something to eat even with meager ingredients. Except...ingredients for good food could be expensive so when I was saving for this place, I had to buy as cheap as possible. But once I had the place and the money from my business, my fridge was usuallyfull.
Unless I was a total slacker, which this week Iwas.
I groaned as I looked at the meager offering, closed the door, and walked over to the pantry. I had the staples: flour, sugar, salt, butter,etc.
“Waffles,” I murmured. “We shall have waffles!” Margo had finished inhaling her supper and she sat down beside the kitchen island as I got out all of the ingredients. Her head tilted to the side when she saw my massive containers of flour and sugar. I’d gotten tired of constantly buying bags of pantry staples, so I’d bought three massive ten gallon jars. One had flour, one had sugar and the other was full of brown sugar. They were heavy, but it was worth it not to have to buy them all thetime.
I took out a stick of unsalted butter, unwrapped it and popped it in a bowl to melt in the microwave. I whipped a few eggs until they were light and fluffy, and added the rest of the ingredients to the bowl. I mixed it just enough to incorporate everything and left it to sit on the counter for a bit. I dug out my waffle iron, plugged it in and turned iton.
While I was waiting for it to heat, my doorbell rang and I practically growled. Who dared interrupt the sanctity of waffle time? Margo didn’t bark. Instead she trotted over to the front door andsat.
I peeked through the privacyhole.
“Hey!” I exclaimed as I opened thedoor.
