Chapter 16
Nico
I’m covered in sweat and streaked with dirt, but for the first time, the empty lot is starting to resemble a real garden.
When I arrived this morning, there were bags of fertilizer, gravel, and bark and the weathered wood table in the l’orangerie—once slumped on its side—was propped up and sanded smooth, its grain coaxed back to life. I hope Isabel didn’t spend too much or work Batu to the bone, but I’m grateful. All of it feels like possibility.
I spend hours clearing, digging, and weeding until my fingers throb. I plant lavender, mint, cilantro, and a brave little artichoke bush I rescued from a permaculture homestead in Deer Harbor, one of the island’s five hamlets.
I’m bent over a stubborn clump of weeds when the crunch of footsteps on gravel makes me glance up.
Melissa appears first, her hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail. She carries a canvas tote full of pruning shears and twine.
“Reinforcements have arrived,” she calls, pushing open the gate with her hip.
Behind her are Sara and Andréia, both waving like we’ve known each other for years instead of a single dinner party.
“We figured you could use some help,” Andréia says, already eyeing the flowerbeds.
“You’re saints,” I tell them as I brush dirt from my knees and greet them with a hug.
In no time, we’ve divided up the tasks. Melissa moves straight to the fruit trees, her height a quiet superpower as she navigates the higher branches with ease. Sara commandeers the glass panels of the l’orangerie, power washing them until sunlight streaks through in golden ribbons.
Andréia kneels at the flower beds, her hands deft and knowing as she tucks in nasturtiums, borage, bachelor buttons, and violet pansies alongside dahlias and peonies. “This will be beautiful,” she says, her soft Portuguese lilt warm, threading through the buzz of bees. “Edible flowers for salads and for beauty.”
The air grows fragrant with mint and lavender, the sweetness of peonies mingling with the loamy scent of freshly turned earth. As we work, laughter weaves between us, light and surprising.
We’re smoothing the last stretch of the new path when a bag of gravel I’m hauling suddenly slips out of my grasp. It’s heavier than I thought, and I yelp in protest. As I drag it, it snags on a root, jerks sideways, and slips from my grasp again with a thud, sending a puff of earthy dust into the air.
“That bag’s winning, you know.”
A male voice—low, warm, edged with amusement—drifts over my shoulder.
A man leans against the gate, one hand hooked lazily in his back pocket.
His dark hair is a little wild, a lock falling into his eyes before he runs his hands through it to tame it. There’s a quiet confidence to him, and it’s alluring.
“I was rooting for you,” he says, stepping forward. “But your technique is questionable.”
“Questionable?” I echo, narrowing my eyes even as my lips twitch.
“Maybe more leverage, less brute force?” He steps closer and grips the bag, lifting it with an ease that makes me both grateful and mildly irritated.
“Fine,” I say, brushing at the dirt streaking my palms. “You win. I was struggling.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.” There’s the faintest glimmer in his eyes as he deposits the bag exactly where I’d been aiming for.
“You always wander around town assisting damsels in distress?” I ask, unable to stop myself.
He glances up at me. “You don’t strike me as the helpless type.”
“That’s very feminist of you.”
He shrugs, brushing the hair from his face again.
Andréia murmurs something to Sara, and they exchange a look. Melissa’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly, the corner of her mouth curving like she’s already planning to tease me later.
“Live on island or vacationing?” I ask.
“I’m here for the Doe Bay music residency.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“It is… me, not so much,” he says, and the faintest grin appears. “Basically means I play music loudly enough to annoy the neighbors in exchange for a very cool cabin, studio time, and free food.”
“Nico!” a voice calls from the sidewalk. Two guys are waving, one with a guitar slung across his back, the other balancing a drumstick between his fingers like he was born with it.
“That’s my cue.”
“Nice to meet you, Nico. I’m Ava.”
Nico brushes the dirt off his hands and extends his right one. We shake and hold each other’s gaze.
“See you around, Ava. You know where to find me.”
Before I can answer him, he’s already jogging down the path, his friends greeting him with mock applause.
I realize that the girls have all stopped to stare after him, too.
“Mmm,” Andréia murmurs. “That smile is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I ask, reaching for my gloves.
“Absolutely,” Melissa adds.
Sara lets out a slight hum. “Oooh, that one. The baristas at the bookstore are in love with him.”
“And, isn’t it convenient he’s here for the summer just like you?” Melissa adds.
“Okay, okay,” I say quickly, pulling my gloves back on.
Melissa smirks. “What? We’re not saying summer romance or anything.”
“Yet,” adds Sara.
But as I return to the garden work, I can’t help the small, traitorous smile tugging at my lips.