303 Days
Rhea did find it odd, the copious amount of time she spent choosing an outfit for her appointment with Patricia.
But she concocted a way to justify it: Patricia was Danny’s colleague, so she might call Danny after the appointment and say, “Hey, I just met the perfect woman for you, she’s super stylish and attractive. ”
Rhea guessed this was a long shot, but she would never know if she didn’t try to put her best foot forward, so, on that foot, she wore a Toteme leopard-print ballet pump.
She squeezed into her most flattering high-waisted Khaite jeans; they were her “standing jeans.” They could only become “sitting jeans” if she unbuttoned a few buttons, but her intuition told her this would be a standing appointment.
She topped it all off with a crisp white T-shirt.
One of the few things she knew about Danny was that he, too, wore white T-shirts, and maybe Patricia would mention that as one of the things they had in common.
She probably put on a bit too much eye makeup for the occasion.
Getting a quote for a garden bed in the middle of the day did not necessarily demand a smoky eye, but once she started applying shadow, her anxiety pushed her to keep going.
She was wiping off the anxiety-driven red lipstick when she heard a knock at her door.
She swung open the door with her best I am a confident woman and an incredible catch for your boss energy, but that energy drained from her body when she saw Danny Beckett standing on her porch. He smiled at her with his goddamn beautiful face, leaving her speechless.
“I heard you wanted a bullshit garden,” he said with a grin.
“Yeah, I am…so…sorry about that. I was drunk and…please forget everything I said.”
“I wasn’t offended,” he said with a laugh, then added, “Can I come inside?” Rhea pushed the double entendre from her mind.
“Of course, yes.” She stepped out of the way, allowing him to enter.
“Such a great house…so few of these hunting cottages have survived. Is this the original floor?” He gestured to the decaying planks of wood under their feet.
“As far as I know. I wanted to get new flooring, but that’s a whole thing.”
“Just refurbish them. They don’t make ’em like this anymore. You don’t wanna throw this wood away. I bet there’s more of it under that carpet.” He pointed to the humiliating brown carpet a few feet away in the living room.
Rhea’s heart was vibrating from his surprise visit. “Yeah…I…was told someone named Patricia would be doing the initial consultation?”
“Well, I fired Patricia so I could see you again,” he said, and Rhea laughed too loudly. “No, I, uh, saw your name on the schedule and it’s kind of an unusual name, so I wondered if you were the same Rhea I met at Tiny’s house…then I googled you.”
“Stalker.”
“Says the woman who made an appointment with my company.” Danny’s eyes twinkled.
“I didn’t know it was your company.”
“Oh, so this is all just a big coincidence?”
“Complete coincidence.”
They stood there smiling at each other.
Years ago, Rhea had made a vow to stop sleeping with men on the first date, or even the second.
After two decades of intense market research, she discovered that if you make a guy wait at least a month for sex, one of two things happens: One, they ditch you pretty quickly, which exposes their only motive was getting laid.
Or two, even if their original motive was getting laid, they have had enough time to get to know you and actually care about you, so when they finally do get laid, they are emotionally invested enough to stick around.
Rhea was one of those women who suffered from the horrible affliction of getting too attached to their partner after having sex for the first time.
This phenomenon occurred regardless of how toxic her suitor was.
If Rhea had sex with the devil himself, she would lie next to him afterward, admiring his goatee, convincing herself his horns were barely noticeable and his pitchfork made him look quite dignified.
She would look around and think, It’s not that hot down here, I could get used to it.
Because of this affliction, no matter how sexually frustrated she got, she would never break the internal vow to make her partner wait.
But there, in her entryway / living room / dining room, if that gorgeous gardener had picked her up, put her on the table, and slowly unbuttoned her standing jeans… she would have let him.
Unfortunately for Danny, he didn’t know that, so he said, “Wanna show me your backyard?”
Rhea took the five steps to the back of her cottage, forced open her swollen French doors, and led Danny into her dry backyard.
“Steve, no!” she said to the coyote that was lifting its leg on a decrepit lounge chair. Steve abruptly stopped doing his business and bolted over the fence.
“Friend of yours?”
“It’s just part of living in Topanga; they’re everywhere.”
“You named it Steve?”
“I named it Steve.”
Danny smiled.
“So, yeah, this is the yard. There’s not a lot of space.”
“It’s actually a really special yard. There’s so much you could do with it.
I mean, the view is incredible.” He pointed across the canyon at Dead Horse Trail, and Rhea squinted, trying to see the beauty of a view she thought was only subpar.
“I live in the valley, so I’d kill for this expansive feeling you get out here. ”
“What part of the valley?”
“Pasadena.”
Rhea took a beat, silently acknowledging their tragic geographic incompatibility. But she decided to keep an open mind, because, as of now, she thought Danny might be worth the torture of sitting in traffic for ninety minutes.
Danny took some measurements of the space while Rhea explained she wanted a garden that was roughly one-one-hundredth the size of Tiny’s.
“I really just want…tomatoes and maybe some…” She could not think of another vegetable she would honestly prepare in her microscopic kitchen. “Carrots?” she offered weakly.
“Tomatoes and carrots. We can do that,” he said with a teasing smile.
She felt as if they could read each other’s minds, as if he knew she had no actual interest in purchasing a garden.
You know I like you, she said with her eyes.
I do, he replied with his own.
And you like me? her eyes inquired.
I do….
But you don’t even know me….
Well, you don’t know me either.
But I feel like I’ve known you…for a very long time.
Strange, isn’t it?
But since neither one of them could read minds and there was a viable chance this was merely a business transaction, their audible words were much more guarded.
He asked if she wanted his company to keep up the regular maintenance of the garden or just complete the initial installation.
She lied and said she really wanted to do the maintenance herself.
Truthfully, she didn’t know if she could afford to outsource the maintenance, since even Tiny had balked at the cost.
He asked how much time she wanted to commit to gardening, and she managed to say, “Like, three or four hours a week,” with a straight face.
He asked her to pick a day and take pictures of her yard once every hour so he could figure out the best placement for sunlight.
She pretended this did not sound like a giant pain in the ass and agreed to take hourly pictures that weekend.
He told her about various essential oils that acted as natural insecticides, as if he believed she would use them, and she typed it all into her phone, as if she were going to buy them.
He jotted some things down on his iPad, then said, “So, there are a couple of options payment-wise. You could pay the entire cost up front or just make a ten percent deposit now and pay the rest when we come back.”
“Hmm, interesting, and what is the grand total?” Rhea tried to sound cool, although she was unable to even imagine what the number might be.
“Well, you actually have excellent timing, ’cause we are running a special on first-time installations of single raised beds. Right now it’s, uh”—Rhea watched his eyes crinkle into a smile—“zero dollars if you let me take you to dinner.”