Steady (9 page)

She seemed to be on a roll, so he just continued to watch.

“Well, reason number one is that it’s a Japanese garden. Nothing special about that, is there? Two, you’ve only worked on a small scale, one backyard to be exact,” she said, ticking the reasons off on her hand as she talked. “Isn’t that correct?” she asked.

“This is your story,” he said, calmly.

“And if those reasons aren’t enough, there’s the issue of your availability and commitment. You would have to be willing to commit to a year, to being here working. The competition can’t work around or come second to bike road trips, jeep rides to Kalamazoo, or hiking the Amazon, or whatever it is you do in your spare time.”

He gave a short laugh at that.

“It’s not funny. But back to that garden of yours. The final limitation, and it’s a major one, I think, is that I don’t see the committee getting hyped about or being impressed with a
Japanese garden
,” she said, irritated that she couldn’t pierce his cloak of calm. Or maybe she had; he dropped his arms and straightened, looking down into her face now.

“And why is that?” he said, all traces of patience gone.

“It’s my experience from having worked with them, that’s all,” she said, looking up into his eyes.

“You’re a sore loser, Katrina, and a bit of a snob when it comes to gardening,” he said calmly. His voice had dropped in volume, though. Katrina stepped closer to him, close enough to see the hairs on his chin, a day’s growth.

“Bet you don’t have the nerve to say that to me again,” she said, too angry now to appreciate being this close to him again. If she wasn’t so mad, she would have been turning cartwheels over his body’s proximity to hers, maybe even trying to test his interest in her again.

John opened the door and looked at them standing inches apart, shock and surprise registering on his face. “The committee is ready for you. You can come in now,” he said, standing back to let them enter. Katrina turned abruptly and entered. Will followed, and John closed the door behind him.

Mrs. Washington sat up. Will guessed she’d been designated the spokesperson, and she was a good choice, he thought, as he watched Katrina resume her place standing in front of the committee. He remained standing off to the side.

“Katrina,” Mrs. Washington said, “the committee would like to first say thank you for all of your hard work and dedication to this neighborhood, past and present. I’m not sure we’ve told you that as often as we should have. To most of us, you’ve been like a daughter. We knew your parents and watched you grow up trailing along behind them in all things gardening. After their deaths, we’ve watched you grow into a lovely woman and exceptional gardener. This year, we have decided to go in a different direction, and I’m sorry to say that your presentation today did not sway us from that decision.” Will could tell she was trying to be gentle with Katrina, who stood there listening, her face blank.

“This was nothing personal against you or your abilities. It was a decision to give someone else a chance as well as move in another direction. We would very much like for you to seriously consider working with Will. Your talents and knowledge of the competition and the overall process would be so invaluable to him.”

Katrina shook her head.

“I’m asking you, Katrina, as a personal and dear friend of your mother’s, to please think about it,” Mrs. Washington said.

“Thank you all for listening,” Katrina said abruptly, walking over to the table and collecting her designs. She stuffed them into her bag and slung the bag over her shoulder. “Good luck, Will. I’ll see myself out,” she said, turning and walking toward the front door with John trailing behind her.

It was quiet in the room after her departure. “I wish that had gone better,” Mrs. Washington said.

“There wasn’t ever going to be an easy way to do that; we all knew it,” John said.

“You all baby her too much as it is,” Stan said, standing up to leave. “It should have been done last year, especially after we came so close to losing. I’ll see you all at the next meeting. No need to see me out, John. Goodbye everyone. Good luck, Will. I look forward to seeing your designs.”

Turning to Will, John said, “Don’t let this put a damper on your selection. It really wasn’t anything personal against Katrina. Most of us have known her since she was adopted. Her parents were excellent gardeners, one of the founding families in our neighborhood. I believe Katrina somehow thinks it’s her responsibility to maintain their mantle, or to win the competition as proof of her place as their daughter. This isn’t the first time we’ve wanted to change leaders, but we have been reluctant to for this very reason.”

They all sat silently for a minute or two. Sandy stood up to leave and Will joined her, saying their goodbyes and walking to the door. Once outside, Sandy turned to him and said, “Really, congratulations on your selection. It’s an honor, and Katrina will come around; she just needs some time.”

***

Will walked home, passing by Katrina’s. He didn’t quite know what to think or to make of her now. She’d gone from major interest in him to major anger in the span of two weeks. He felt bad that she’d been hurt, and he knew hurt when he saw it. You couldn’t fake the expressions she’d worn earlier. This was a very different Katrina from the night of the party or the one he’d seen working in her yard.

She’d lost her parents, adoptive ones at that. He wondered what happened to her birth parents. He was more than a little captivated by the fire he’d seen in her today as she argued with him, the same fire mixed with desire that had been on display New Year’s Eve. It was so at odds with Katrina, the shy farmhand.

He didn’t need this fuss, and he hoped he hadn’t gotten in over his head accepting this job. Katrina was correct—his work
was
demanding. He was responsible globally for ensuring customer satisfaction with his company’s product. It was the reason behind his travel, usually for weeks at a time. So he really didn’t have time for any gardening competition. He could send others in his place, and sometimes did, but he liked the travel. As he had told her that night in the gardens, he placed a premium on his free time. He loved to be outdoors doing something other than work, something physical, something that pushed him beyond the daily grind, to quiet the restlessness he often felt.

He learned gardening at an early age at the feet of his grandfather in San Francisco. Nature had calmed and soothed him almost from the beginning. He entered his house, found his keys, and walked to his garage, where he hopped into his jeep and backed out. He needed a little space so he started driving with no particular destination in mind, but he realized a little later that for the last fifteen minutes he’d been driving in the direction of his sister’s home. He had three sisters, and the oldest had moved here five years ago. The other two were married and lived in San Francisco with his mother and grandfather. He was the baby and the only male.

He turned on to her street, her home three houses from the corner, a fairly large home in a beautiful gated neighborhood, as befitting a part-time ophthalmologist and her doctor husband. His sister had married well, if outside her race, and had produced three kids of mixed heritage. They were beautiful children: one boy, thirteen, and two girls, ages ten and five.

He pulled up into the drive. The garage door was open, and two cars were inside; his sister and brother-in-law were both home. He had to park close to the edge of the drive to avoid the portable soccer goals and hockey sticks that lay on the ground.

He parked and walked into the garage, knocking on the door. He heard his name and turned to look over his shoulder. It was his nephew.

“Hey, Uncle Will,” Dennis Jr. said. He was tall for his age; that definitely came from his father’s gene pool. Will was the only height exception in their family.

“Hey, Dennis,” he answered. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, dude. This is my buddy, Trevor,” he said, pointing to a tow-headed kid, also tall, following behind him. They both walked up to him, skateboards in their hands. Will stepped back, allowing his nephew to pass. Dennis Jr. opened the door and entered, Trevor trailing, Will bringing up the rear.

“Mom, Uncle Will is here,” Dennis screamed at the top of his lungs as he went into the kitchen and grabbed two sports drinks out of the fridge. He handed one to Trevor and said, “Come up when you get done talking to Mom. I’ll beat Trevor first in Halo, and by the time you’re done, I’ll be ready to whoop your aspirin, too,” he said, grinning wickedly at Will.

“Watch your mouth,” Will said, smiling back at him as he started up the stairs, Trevor following.

“Hi, Will. This is a surprise,” his sister said, entering the kitchen. “What brings you by?”

“Just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”

“Okay. Want something to drink? Dennis is out back working in the yard,” she said, walking to the refrigerator, grabbing a soda, and handing it over to him.

“Thanks.”

“You okay?” Jennifer asked. When work at the store had demanded a lot of her mother and grandfather’s time, she’d managed her younger siblings. Since she’d helped with the rearing of her sisters and brother, she could tell when they were bothered by something.

“Nothing much. I was asked to be the lead of the garden competition for our neighborhood.”

“You?” Jennifer asked, surprised.

“Yes, me, and don’t act so surprised. You’ve seen my backyard. Some of my neighbors were impressed with it, too,” he said, watching her take a seat in one of the chairs next to the kitchen bar area. He stood with his back to her sink, drinking his soda. “They felt my design fit this year’s theme, ‘A World of Gardens’.” He smiled and added, “You should be proud of your little brother.”

“That’s great! I am. So what’s the problem?”

“It’s no problem, really. I was selected to lead over a woman who is having a hard time accepting the decision. She’s led for the past four years, three of which she’s won. They would like her to work with me, assist me, but I don’t think she’s going to agree. Apparently, she knows all there is to know about gardening and this competition and she can’t fathom why I was selected,” he said, pausing for a second. “I knew gardening was a big deal, I just didn’t know it was such a big deal.”

“Where have you been? Oh, I know, off traipsing across the globe on one trip after another. But, yes, gardening in this city is a huge deal,” she said.

“I get that now,” he said, finishing off the last of his soda. “I was going to tell the committee no initially, but I didn’t, and, well, after I agreed to accept the lead, I sat down and started to design my entry and I actually started to get excited about it. To accept an opportunity and challenge to create a new space and a chance to showcase another style of gardening to the city held a huge appeal. You know how it can be. Other cultures are displayed and appreciated, ours not so much, or not as much as I’d like. It seemed that if you weren’t black or Hispanic, mostly black in this country, you were the invisible minority.”

He had grown up fighting against being invisible or something more than the smart Asian. He’d had friends who were Asian, but he’d also opted to hang out with people of other races; the world seemed to be moving in that direction. But sometimes it was tough fitting into all worlds, and he wondered sometimes if it was worth the effort.

“I don’t see the problem,” she said.

“There’s not one, really, besides me feeling a little sorry for her. She likes me, underneath all her anger.” Will told his sister about Katrina at the party, consciously omitting the bedroom scene. “I think gardening is all she has, and I found out today she lost her adoptive parents. I’m not sure when, but I know that’s hard.”

“Interesting,” Jennifer said, watching him.

“What?” he said, looking up and catching that look in her eye. “Don’t start. I just feel bad for her is all,” he said, putting his hands up to ward off her comments.

“What does she look like? Oh, no, let me guess,” Jennifer said, smiling as if she had his number. “Let’s see, she’s tall, willowy, or athletic. She’s not merely pretty, she must be closer to gorgeous. Oh, yes, you like them with long hair, mustn’t forget that,” Jennifer said, tilting her head to the side, her finger softly bumping against her forehead, striking a thinking man’s pose. “Let’s see, moving past the outside attributes, they must also be commitment-phobic, ambitious, attached to you, but not too dependent on you; you don’t do cloying. Isn’t that your usual type?”

He laughed, taken aback by her callous description of his dating preferences. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? And, no, Katrina is not my usual, but as I’ve told you, I’m not interested in her in that way. Let’s see, she’s short and pretty in a sisterly kind of way,” he said, stopping to laugh at his sister’s frown at his comment.
And sometimes not so sisterly,
he thought, remembering her the night of the party.

“But you’re right, she is not my type, no. She favors large clothing, and I can’t tell what she looks like under there. Hair stuck in a ponytail mostly, nerd glasses, contacts the night of the party. Let’s see, she’s African-American, and she has a temper,” he said, smiling a little at the image of Katrina squaring off with him earlier that morning.

“Nope, that’s not your usual type, that’s for sure,” Jennifer said, looking at him speculatively. “So what happens next?”