Chapter Thirteen
Introductions were swiftly made when Rob and his mother caught up with Lily and Aidan on the terrace.
“You two don’t have anything to drink yet,” Aidan noted.
“We spotted Lily as soon as we got away from Buchanan,” Rob explained. “Haven’t made it to the bar yet.” He looked around.
“Allow me,” Aidan offered. “I know where the bar is. What will you have?”
Rob glanced at their wineglasses and then his mother. “White wine okay, Mom?”
“Of course, dear.”
Aidan squeezed Lily’s hand and headed off for the bar a second time.
“This is delightful,” Olivia Shaw gushed, “finally getting to meet Rob’s boss. He has told me so much about you.”
Lily’s gaze shot to Rob who grinned and lifted his shoulders in a Rob-like shrug.
She knew he had only recently begun to repair the rift with his family when each had disowned the other over Rob’s choice of profession and his refusal to follow his father’s footsteps into the family business.
Rob’s mother had been only too happy to meet her son halfway, but not so his father who maintained the estrangement.
Lily was not altogether shocked at the appearance of Rob’s mother on his arm at the barbecue.
“I hope he didn’t tell you anything bad,” Lily said, and Rob barked out a laugh.
“Of course not,” Olivia said, beaming, “he adores you.”
Lily raised her brows at Rob.
“What can I say?” Rob said.
“Well, maybe we should celebrate,” Delia Armstead said, as she sidled up behind Rob and his mother.
“Oh hello, Delia,” Olivia said graciously. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Olivia,” Delia cooed. “And where’s your handsome husband, Arnold?”
“He had a last-minute business meeting, so I asked Rob to escort me. I wouldn’t have missed Rhett Buchanan’s Spring Fling barbecue for the world.”
“Hello, Rob,” Delia said, an edge creeping into her tone.
He gave her a curt I’m-not-that-glad-to-see-you nod. “Delia.”
“So, Olivia, you didn’t say whether you felt like celebrating or not.” Delia’s eyes glittered dangerously.
Lily got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach and wanted to step in and protect Olivia. She glanced over at the bar, but Aidan had vanished.
“I don’t understand,” Olivia said tentatively.
Delia wore the smile of a lurking crocodile. “You just said your son adores Rhett’s gardener.”
Olivia’s eyes widened, and Rob stiffened next to her.
Delia was attacking Lily through them, and before Lily could step in and intervene, the witch added, “So, I’m wondering if you feel like celebrating. I know I do. Now maybe the gardener will stop chasing after my Rhett for his money, and she can concentrate on chasing Rob for his.”
Olivia cast an uneasy glance at her son, and Lily’s heart sank. Olivia believed Delia’s poison.
“Delia Armstead, you—” Rob started, but Lily put a hand on his arm.
“If you have something to say, Ms. Armstead, please say it to me and leave Rob and his mother out of it,” Lily said indignantly.
“Oh, I have plenty to say to you, you little gold digger,” Delia hissed. “You only chase after men for their money. First, Rob at the charity gala last week and now, Aidan Cross. What’s your scheme? May the best man win? Or may the easy money win.”
“Stop it, Delia!” Rob ordered.
Olivia stared worriedly at Rob as though he had just validated Delia’s accusations.
Delia raised her voice a notch. “Garrett said you designed the floral displays today, and two beds in the back garden are just awful.”
Delia’s voice had carried across the terrace, and dozens of heads turned to listen, all potential customers. Delia stomped down the path into the garden, and Rob started after her, as furious as Lily had ever seen him. She stepped in front of him.
“No, Rob,” she whispered. “Everyone’s listening, and Bloom & Grow’s reputation is at stake.”
“She just wants everyone here to think you’re one of the servants and not a guest,” he fumed.
“My personal reputation takes a backseat to the nursery, Rob, and always will. She’s right. I did the designs, and today I work for her. I have to do as she asks.”
“No, you don’t,” he argued. “Garrett asked you to do the designs for Rhett.”
“For Rhett and Delia,” she said flatly.
“Rob,” Olivia called, “are you coming?” His mother was headed indoors.
He gave Lily a nod. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk to my mother.”
“I did love meeting her,” Lily whispered.
“Ms. Foster, I’m waiting,” Delia snapped, a hand on her hip.
“I’m right behind you.”
Lily started after Delia then cast a glance back toward the terrace.
Rhett stood only ten feet from where Delia had accosted her. He had heard everything and let Delia go on. He had sided with Delia.
Lily blinked back the tears suddenly stinging her eyes.
She had been a fool to allow the hope of a reconciliation with Rhett to grab a foothold in her heart, and now her heart ached as though split in two.
She faced a future with no Rhett, and that felt like no future at all.
Left with no choice, she followed Rhett’s witch into the garden.
~ ~ ~ ~
Aidan appeared next to Garrett at the bar and ordered a scotch.
“Where the hell have you been?” Garrett growled.
Aidan leaned back and frowned. “What the hell’s eating you?”
“You’re supposed to be with Lily!”
Aidan accepted his scotch from the bartender. “I was. Then I went to the bar to get drinks for Rob and his mother, and a client pulled me away.” He glanced over to where he’d left Lily and did a double take. “Where’d everybody go?”
Garrett glared. “Because you weren’t doing your job today, Delia went after Lily.”
“What?” Aidan looked all around. “What happened?”
“I’m not exactly sure, but Rob’s mother stormed off for the house with Rob following in her wake, and Delia dragged Lily into the garden with her.”
“What the hell are you doing sitting here then?” Aidan wanted to know.
Garrett narrowed his eyes to a squint. “Rhett ordered me not to interfere.”
“Oh for the love of—” Aidan drained his scotch, slammed the glass on the bar, and started for the garden.
Garrett put a hand out to stop him. “Hold your horses. Rhett just escorted one of the garden club matrons into the garden.”
“So what?” Aidan barked and tried to jerk free.
Garrett tightened his hold. “The matron and Delia came out. Rhett and Lily didn’t.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Lily reined in her temper as Delia spent a full five minutes carping over two of the prettiest annuals beds she had designed for the garden, Delia’s bitchy voice growing louder when anyone drew near.
Still no Aidan or Garrett. Some protectors those two had turned out to be.
Rhett had watched their little two-woman parade from his vantage point on the terrace as Delia dragged Lily to the back of the garden. That was the most painful part of the whole ordeal, Rhett passively watching.
Confident she had made a sufficient spectacle of Lily, Delia finally let her go with a last rebuke. “I expect you to get someone to fix these beds. Now. Rhett has placed me in charge,” she finished with a smirk.
Lily wanted to shout, “I work for Garrett, not you,” but evidently Rhett had placed the party in the witch’s hands. So when Delia departed for the mansion, Lily crept to the far end of the garden to catch her breath and calm down.
There was nothing to fix and no one to call. There was nothing wrong with the beds, and Delia wouldn’t be able to tell if the beds had been changed or not—if or when she bothered to return. The witch had only wanted to humiliate Lily, and she had succeeded.
This was Lily’s own fault. She should never have come here today. Maybe she should just stay back here in the garden. Cowardly yes, but she’d had enough. Aidan would eventually come looking for her, and she would ask him to take her home.
Lily sighed. All she had wanted was a chance to explain her reasons for playing Cinderella. All she had gotten was more humiliation. But enough was enough. Rhett let his watchdog Delia go after her. Lily had her answer now. No explanations. No hope.
She mentally focused on tasks she needed to finish back at the nursery to keep her tears at bay. She would die before she let Delia or anyone else see her cry. Voices sounded on the path behind her, and she turned her back, so she wouldn’t have to face anyone.
“You just have to tell me where you got these two rosebushes,” an older feminine voice said, approaching Lily’s spot in the garden.
“I’m sure I won’t know,” a familiar male voice answered.
Rhett!
“I’ll have to ask my landscape architect,” he said, his voice growing closer.
Oh please, Lord, no! Don’t let him walk back here.
Lily stepped further into the garden and made a show of closely examining a Portulaca tree made out of stacked six-inch pots and strategically placed near one of the half-dozen garden fountains. She wanted to disappear.
The voices continued closer.
“But I have to show you which bushes I’m talking about, or you won’t know what to ask your landscape architect,” the elderly woman prattled on.
“All right, show me the bushes,” Lily heard Rhett say resignedly.
He obviously didn’t want to run into her out here. She blinked several times to clear her tear-blurred vision, and with the help of two deep breaths, she felt close to calm. Until the voices sounded again at the landscape bed right behind her.
“Here they are,” the woman proclaimed. “These are the ones I’m interested in, right here by this fountain.”
“I don’t know them and will have to check with my landscape architect. Don’t worry. I’ll remember which bushes, Mrs. Berube, and I’ll call you,” Rhett said, his voice low.
“Thank you very much,” she said. “I can’t wait to tell my Garden Club I’m getting roses exactly like the hunk, Rhett Buchanan.”
Lily heard Rhett’s chuckle, and the sound tore at her heart. She had so loved making him chuckle just like that. Two deep breaths.
Keep calm. He’ll walk away any second.
“Oh, is this your landscaper?” Mrs. Berube said suddenly.