Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Posted on Tuesday, 4 December 2007
Elizabeth did have to field a couple of phone calls from Fitzsnobbiam during the next couple of weeks. He really didn't have much to say, except to tell her that the backlog in the lab was astronomical, what with the camellia recall samples and the FHA samplings of nurseries and their environs all going to the same Ottawa lab.
"Don't we have a lab we can use here in BC?" she asked.
"Not the federal government. The provincial department of Forests and Agriculture has a lab in the lower mainland, but it hasn't been cleared for our use in this project."
"Seems to me it would only make sense to use it."
"We are hampered by so much red tape. I really can't go into the issues with you, but we have to answer to the Americans and their protocol is different from ours yet again."
"What can they have to say in any of this? They caused the problem."
Elizabeth heard a sigh from the other end of the phone.
"Look, I've probably said too much about this to you as it is. Just rest assured I'll let you know your results as soon as they're available."
Elizabeth shut her phone with an angry click and stared across the office at her father.
"Too much government double speak?'
"It's so ridiculous that we have to hold those rhodos and pieris when it's obvious there's nothing wrong with them. Forsters have already finished that job they wanted those special varieties for. They found them in a small nursery in Victoria that hadn't been inspected yet. We're stuck with the lot of them now."
"Something will turn up. Anyway Bob Forster said he'd use as many as he could on other jobs once they were out of quarantine. And you can take cuttings from them so we can propagate them ourselves."
"You can bet I will. The less we rely out outdoor suppliers the better, with this kind of scare going on. Who knows what'll happen next? Pyracantha has been added to the list now."
"I hate those spiny little beggars anyway," said her dad with a grin.
"Maybe, but they're one of our bread and butter sellers."
"So, how's the camellia recall going?"
"You know the FHA are treating the whole thing like it's top secret. I asked Fitzsnobbiam if it's almost completed and all he could say was it's going according to plan. Luckily Charles isn't quite so close mouthed. He says that the level of response surprised everybody but that, all things considered, the program has gone much more smoothly than anyone anticipated. He even told us some hilarious stories about what some of the samplers have had to face when going to people's houses. More than one inspector dug up and destroyed plants at the wrong address, and in one instance they weren't even camellias."
"He's seeing a lot of our Jane, isn't he? Your mother is starting to count her chickens."
"Oh God! I wish she wouldn't. It was so embarrassing the other day when Jane brought him home for dinner and mom was grilling Charles about his favourite food and continually talking about next time he comes and summer barbecues and if he prefers turkey or duck at Thanksgiving. She could scare the poor guy away -- that is if he weren't so besotted with Jane. I think he missed half of what mom said, just gazing into Jane's eyes."
"That was the point I left the room," said her father. "There's only so much of that lovey-dovey stuff I can handle. He's a nice boy with a good head on his shoulders, but he's a bit too moonstruck for my liking."
"Speaking of moonstruck -- Dad, you've got to talk to Liddie and Kate about the way they run around after all the young landscapers from Forsters."
"Yes," he said meditatively. "They should be setting their sights higher shouldn't they? And how about you my dear? No more bites since you tossed Bill Collins back into the pond?" He smirked.
"Don't even remind me! But you know that's not what I meant about Liddie and Kate, Dad. People are going to think that they're cheap."
"I'll get your mother to put higher price tags on them."
"Dad! It's not a joke."
"Teenagers will be teenagers, Bethie -- and your sisters are two of the silliest teenagers around. Forsters' boys know better than to get involved with them. They're little more than children."
"They look nothing like children in their skimpy tank tops and push up bras. And those young guys aren't much older. They're full of raging testosterone, too."
"I'll speak to Bob -- make sure he tells his guys the girls are off limits."
"Thanks. But it's their behaviour I'd like to see change too."
"That's your mother's department."
"Arrghh -- she practically encourages them!"
"Then what makes you think they'd ever listen to a thing I say? Your mother doesn't."
Elizabeth could see she was going to get nowhere with her appeal so she gave up and discussed the SOD issues again.
A few weeks later they'd honoured the last of the replacement coupons at the nursery and Charles had come by to pick up all the receipts and thank them for their cooperation with the program.
"Did you know a total of 1500 camellias were processed?" he said. "Though we can't be sure all the ones from Belgravia were turned in, and of course a percentage of those that did get turned in were Canadian grown."
"So, how many diseased ones were found?" asked Elizabeth.
"Results aren't all back yet, and if they were, you know that's privileged information."
"Come on -- we're friends. I'm just curious. I'm not going to plaster it all over the net with names and addresses."
"Even I will never know the locations when the results do get out," Charles responded with a laugh. "Is your sister around?"
"Which sister?" asked Liddie with a giggle as she sauntered by, a small pot of ground cover in each hand."
"You know Jane works at Roses Plus," said Elizabeth. "Why would she be here at the nursery?"
"She said something about getting off early and meeting me here -- that's why I left Glacierview last on my schedule."
Just then Jane appeared at the doorway and she walked up to them, smiling shyly. Charles put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.
"His sweetie."
"Hi yourself," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.
Elizabeth knew she wasn't going to get any more information out of Charles on this visit so she said goodbye to him, gave Jane a wink, and went out to see May about a problem with the potting machine.
It was almost summer by the time Elizabeth finally got the call from Darcy Fitzwilliam that all the tests from Glacierview had come back negative, She was free to take the plants from Hamiltons out of quarantine. She thanked him sarcastically and rang off as quickly as she could, though he had seemed inclined to keep talking, asking questions about how things were going. She couldn't imagine why he was interested, unless he wanted to find some kind of flaw in the way she was running her operation. She assured him that she was keeping up to date on all the suggested disease prevention precautions and sighed in relief as she hung up.
That was the last time she'd be hearing from him.
Summer brought the usual slow down in sales, but they were busier than ever re-potting, spacing plants, and keeping everything weeded and watered. July and August were hotter and dryer than typical Island weather -- everyone was attributing it to global warming. If it wasn't one thing it was another making the life of a nursery owner difficult.
Liddie and Kate spent more time tubing on the Puntledge with their friends than at the nursery. Elizabeth was glad because the sight of those two in their bikini tops was testing the landscapers to the limits, not to mention the college students she'd hired for the summer.
"Don't even think about it," she'd warned them when she'd noticed the direction of their gazes.
A few more plants were added to the host list at the SOD hotline website, but other than that the situation with the disease had calmed right down. If it wasn't for those plants from Hamiltons that Elizabeth was still trying to unload, she might have thought she'd dreamed the whole thing. And then there was Charles, of course. He and Jane usually went out most Friday nights, and on Saturdays Jane was in the habit of taking a road trip to Parksville.
"Would you like me to bring you something back from Coombs?" Jane asked over the phone. "I'm on my way to meet Charlie there for lunch."
"You can't get enough of the goats on the roof of the Old Country Market, can you?"
"You know me too well. I've always been a sucker for them, ever since dad used to take us there for ice cream when we were kids."
"Have fun!"
"So don't tell me what you want -- I'll surprise you."
"I just know it's going to be one of those silly toys."
"We'll see," laughed Jane. "What are you up to today?"
"I'll call Charlotte and ask if she wants to do something tonight. I haven't seen her for a while."
But when Elizabeth phoned Charlotte, all she got was her voice mail. She left a message and went back to work. At six, when she left the nursery and walked up to the house to shower and change, Char still hadn't returned her call. ‘I'll just have to go out on my own,' she thought.
After her shower Elizabeth was tempted to simply sit on the desk and bask in the warmth of the evening, enjoying the view, but she'd been too much of a hermit lately and she knew she'd better get out and do something. A nice meal and then a walk along the river by the dam sounded like a plan.
"I'm heading to the Union Street Grill and then going for a walk after, want to come?" she asked Mary.
"Sure."
They found parking on the road just down the street from the restaurant and were walking up the sidewalk when Mary nudged Elizabeth. "Isn't that Charlotte? Look, she's going into the Golden Carriage with a guy."
Elizabeth turned her head. She couldn't see Charlotte, but there was no mistaking the man who had just walked through the door into the shadowy interior of the Chinese restaurant. "Is that the guy you mean?"
"Yeah -- I think I've seen him somewhere before."
"Are you sure it was Charlotte?"
"I think so -- she was wearing that green dress she likes so much."
Charlotte in her green dress with Bill Collins? That was the dress she always wore when she wanted to impress someone she had a thing for. But, Bill Collins? No! The very idea was revolting. "It couldn't have been her."
"Do you want to go across the road and check? We could eat there -- I wouldn't mind Chinese food."
"No. I don't want to stalk her if she's on a date -- if it is her."
"So, don't believe me," groaned Mary.
"It's not that I don't believe you think you saw her -- it's just that it doesn't make any sense. What would she be doing with Bill Collins?"
"That's who the guy is?" asked Mary. "The Bill Collins? The fertiliser guy who hit on you that time? Gross!"
"You said it," said Elizabeth. "Now let's go get something to eat."
The meal was good, but Elizabeth found she'd lost her appetite. She took most of it home in a doggy bag. Mary talked away on their walk about the novel she was writing in her spare time, expounding on the plot at length. Elizabeth nodded at appropriate intervals, but she was only half listening. All she could think of was the possibility that it really was Charlotte whom Mary had seen. What could possibly have induced her to go out to dinner with Collins, of all people?
The next morning Elizabeth woke to the sound of her cell ringing. She wondered who would be calling her so early on a Sunday morning, when she noticed the time. It was 9:00 am. She'd had a rough night, sleep-wise, and hadn't fallen properly to sleep until nearly four in the morning. She was still feeling a bit groggy when she flipped open her phone and answered.
"Beth!"
"Hi Jane. What did you get me in Coombs?"
"Get you? Oh! I totally forgot."
"That's okay. You were with Charles -- you had other things on your mind."
"Yes, I did. Beth, can you do me a favour and come over right now? I really need to talk to you."
"What's up?" asked Elizabeth, her head quickly clearing. But Jane refused to say any more.
Elizabeth showered and dressed and was out the door in ten minutes, grabbing a cheese bagel as she ran through the kitchen. A five minute drive brought her to Jane's Comox apartment. She found Jane still in her pyjamas, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes sooted with dark circles.
"You look like you had a worse night than me. What's the matter -- you sick or something?"
"It's over." Jane choked back a sob.
Elizabeth felt a chill go through her. It couldn't be what it sounded like. "I'm making coffee," she said. "I think both of us could really use some."
"Oh Beth!" said Jane, and she threw herself into her sister's arms, hampering her progress to the small kitchen nook.
Elizabeth shifted Jane so that she had one arm tightly around her shoulder, and almost dragged her into the kitchen. She filled the coffee maker, put in a new filter and a scoop of coffee, and then switched it on. "Come on -- sit," she said, pulling her to the kitchen table. "Tell me what happened."
"Charles has been transferred to Victoria," Jane whimpered.
"Okay -- he'll be farther away, so you won't see as much of him -- but it's only a three hour drive -- it's not as if he was going to Prince George or something."
"Charles says -- he says it's too far. He says that long distance relationships never work. That we'd be better off saying goodbye and . . . and . . . and being free to see other people."
"He said what?' Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"He wants to see other people. He's not in love with me -- I told you. But you said . . . and I believed you." Jane crumpled onto the table and started crying in earnest.
Elizabeth crouched down beside Jane and held her closely. "Slow down, Jane. Slow down. You can't tell me that Charles actually said he's not in love with you."
"He didn't have to. It's sort of obvious when a guy tells me that he doesn't want to see me anymore that he's not in love."
"He said he didn't want to see you anymore?" Elizabeth was incredulous. "I thought he was a nice guy but he's just as big of a jerk as the rest of them"
Jane held up her tear-stained face and looked imploringly at Elizabeth. "He didn't say it like that. He was very sweet and kind and he looked very sad, but -- it meant the same thing. He is a nice guy, Beth. He let me down gently. But he let me down and I don't know what I'm going to do." She grabbed a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and wiped her eyes. "I love him so much. What am I going to do, Beth? I feel like I've died inside."
Elizabeth grabbed a mug and poured the coffee, strong and black. "What you are going to do is drink this. Then you are getting dressed. Then I'm taking you out somewhere to eat. I'll lay odds you didn't eat anything since that lunch in Coombs."
"I can't go out! Look at me!"
"Yeah -- you look terrible. But staying inside in your pyjamas with yesterday's mascara running down your cheeks isn't going to make you feel any better. Drink!"
Jane valiantly gulped at her coffee then reluctantly headed for the shower when she realised obeying her sister would be the easiest course of action. It was a wan face that peered through the bedroom door after all Elizabeth's orders had been followed, but at least she was dressed and her hair tidied.
"We'll pick up a sandwich and eat it at the beach," said Elizabeth. "My treat."
They spent the better part of the day walking along the sand, sitting on logs, and throwing rocks into the waves. And as they talked, Elizabeth came to realise that Jane's feelings went even deeper than she'd even expected. She gave up cursing Charles outwardly, because Jane always rose to his defence, but inwardly she wished he were around so that she could wring his pitiful neck. She found it hard to believe that a guy who'd been as googly-eyed over a girl as Charles had been could let a little thing like an extra hundred and fifty kilometres get in the way of continuing a relationship. There had to be more to it than that.
And then the thing that had been evading her all day came in a blinding flash. Fitzsnobbiam was the head of the program. He was the one who said who worked where. If Charles had been transferred, it was his doing. And if he'd transferred Charles, he'd done it for a reason. But why would he purposefully separate Charles and Jane? What on earth could he have against Jane? Unless -- it wasn't so much who Jane was, but who she wasn't. That conversation at the restaurant between Fitzsnobbiam and Carrie came back to her. What was it Carrie had said? How great it was that his sister liked his friend and vice versa? And according to Jane, Charles was Fitzsnobbiam's best friend.
Nothing else made sense -- that had to be it. He didn't want his sister hurt, so he transferred Charles to Victoria where he could keep an eye on him, and convinced him to stop seeing Jane.
Elizabeth swore she'd never forgive the contemptible snob for the pain he'd put Jane through.
Posted on Saturday, 8 December 2007
In September Elizabeth heard rumours through industry grapevines that something was up with the SOD issue again. She spent her evenings cruising the various internet sites devoted to Phytothera ramorum and discovered that government action was heating up. The Americans were putting pressure on the Canadian government to take regulatory action -- they wanted all plants going through the border into the States to come from certified SOD free nurseries. If not, trade between nurseries in the two countries would be shut down.
"But it originated with them, not us!" Elizabeth yelled at her computer. "Why should our businesses take the fall?"
Even in her anger, though, she could see that something needed to be done. The list of host plants had been growing. And she knew there were one or two mainland nurseries still under quarantine because of problems with positive test results. Not all growers were taking the initiative she was to institute programs to help curb the possible spread of disease.
In October Phytothera ramorum was put under government regulation and a voluntary program for the certification of BC nurseries came into effect. The message was very straightforward. Any nursery that wanted to keep exporting plant material to the United States would find certification in their best interests. And none of those exporters would buy plants from an uncertified facility. It went so far down the line that even small growers who had no host plants would still need inspections if they wished to keep their major customers.
For Elizabeth it was more than not wanting to lose contracts with the larger nurseries Glacierview supplied. The threat of the spread of the disease was reason enough to join the certification process. Prevention was the only sensible course of action.
Samplers were to be sent out again, but this time it was not the FHA who would be doing the sampling. The Nursery Trades Association, which had assisted the FHA with the camellia recall program, was taking charge of the certification program, training their own inspectors and using the lower mainland provincial lab for testing the samples.
Glacierview was one of the first nurseries to sign up for the program.
"It's the only thing that makes sense, Dad," said Elizabeth.
"I don't see how they're going to manage to get all the wholesale nurseries in BC inspected before the deciduous trees drop their leaves."
"It's the NTA's logistics problem, not mine. I hear the FHA is assisting them by having regional workers sampling all the interior nurseries. The NTA's only responsible for the lower mainland and the island."
"So the government goes to all this fuss and bother to find out that the situation is uncontrollable anyway."
Elizabeth sighed. "We can't give up without trying. We don't want BC to end up in the same situation as California and Oregon. They have serious problems both in the wild and in their larger nurseries. What would happen if the arbutus here on the island became infected? Or the garry oaks? Or what about the Douglas firs? Think of how it could affect our forests and the forest industry as a whole. Not to mention all the decorative, landscape material like we specialise in. Some customers are shying away from buying anything that's on the host plant list. Think of what that could do for business. Being able to say that Glacierview is certified disease free will help keep our customers' confidence."
"You're right, of course, my dear. You've got a good head on your shoulders. That's why I put you in charge."
"You put me in charge because you didn't want the aggravation of running this place anymore," said Elizabeth with a grin.
"That too," her father responded. "So, any idea when we can expect more white coats?"
"It's not the loony bin, dad. White coveralls."
Mr Bennet shrugged his shoulders, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well it's all pretty crazy to me."
"I got a call from the project co-ordinator that we'll be sampled some time next week. An inspector should contact me soon and set up an appointment."
Elizabeth was sitting in the office looking out the window through a sheet of almost solid rain. She had no wish to go outdoors, even as far as the propagation house to check on the progress of her cuttings. Sometimes autumn weather really sucked. Her phone rang and she reached over to pick it up.
"Hello, is this Elizabeth Bennet?"
"Speaking."
"George Wickham here from the NTA. I'll be coming by to sample your nursery today for the certification program, if that's okay with you."
"Well you picked a good day for it!"
"Nothing like our west coast liquid sunshine!" he said with a smile in his voice.
"Is there anything you need from me?"
"A site map would be great for starters. I'm on the highway now. I should be there in about half an hour."
"Great. Stop in at the office and I'll give you a map and find someone to show you around."
"Excellent," he said, and rang off.
As Elizabeth put the phone down she reflected that he sounded a lot easier to work with than Fitzsnobbiam. A nice voice and a friendly manner. She was looking forward to her day a bit more than she had been earlier. She was debating calling Mary in to drive George and his team around when the phone rang again.
"Elizabeth -- I was hoping to catch you."
"Yes?" she said, her voice wary. "How can I help you Mr Fitzwilliam?"
"I wanted to let you know that your nursery didn't get put onto our FHA survey so you'll be sampled by the NTA."
"FHA survey?" Elizabeth couldn't figure out why Fitzsnobbiam felt the need to phone her about a thing like that when she'd never expected the FHA to be doing her sampling.
"Yes. The federal government is doing some spot checks, but we're mainly concentrating on nurseries we felt were more likely to have issues. I tried to get Glacierview on the list but I got overruled."
"So in your opinion my nursery does have SOD issues?"
"That's not what I'm saying. It's simply that any nurseries we sample will come under the FHA budget and since we're passing the results of our testing over to the NTA, you would have been saved the cost of the inspection."
"Thanks for the thought," Elizabeth said, still wondering why he was telling her all this. "Actually, I've got George Wickham coming from the NTA today. He should be here any minute."
"George Wickham! They're sending him?"
"Why? What's wrong with that?"
"I was just . . . no -- nothing. Have a good day, Elizabeth. I hope things go well for you."
Elizabeth shook her head as she hung up the phone. What in the heck was that all about? And why had he gone all weird when she'd mentioned George's name? She didn't have much time to contemplate Fitzsnobbiam's strange behaviour because a moment later the door opened and a figure dripping rain walked into her office.
He pushed back his rain hood and smiled. "Hi."
The smile alone made Elizabeth change her mind about calling Mary to take George Wickham around the nursery. She held out her hand. "I'm Elizabeth Bennet."
"Excuse me for coming in here like a drowned rat and dripping water all over your office."
"Think nothing of it," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I'm always tracking water and mud into here. It goes with the territory. Would you like a coffee before heading out into the monsoon again?"
"Love one."
"Take off your jacket, then, and stay a while." She indicated a coat hook and then went to the back of the office to pour two cups of coffee. "Cream and sugar?"
"Just sugar. I like it hot and sweet."
Elizabeth returned and passed him a steaming mug. "What about your team? Would they like to come in for coffee too? I can put on another pot."
"Team?"
"Yeah. When the FHA were here in the spring, they had five people."
"You're not dealing with the feds now. All you've got is me."
"Just you? But it took them five days to get all their samples last time."
"Exactly how big is your place?"
"Ten acres. Just a sec -- I'll give you that map you wanted." Elizabeth brought up the map on her computer and clicked the print icon.
"It took five people five days to do ten acres!" George snorted. "Don't you just love to see your tax dollars at work? I'll be out of here in three hours -- four max. And that's just because the bad weather'll slow me down."
"I don't believe it! We had Mr Fitzwilliam and his crew getting in our way for days and you can take all the samples you need in a few hours?"
"Fitzwilliam? He was here?"
"Yeah."
George must have caught something in Elizabeth's tone because the next thing that he said was, "What did you think of him?"
Elizabeth eyed him speculatively. First Fitzsnobbiam and now George. What's up with the guys? "Well . . . he was rather . . . highhanded."
George let out a bark of laughter. "You are a master of diplomacy. Admit it -- the man is a pain in the ass."
"Okay, he was totally obnoxious." Elizabeth gulped down the last of her coffee and looked at the time. "You'd better get your jacket on again and I'll take you out and show you around."
"I've got to sport my stylish white suit too." He passed his empty cup back to her. "I'm really supposed to spray my boots as well, but in this rain it seems sort of futile."
"No need. I've got a foot bath set up at the gate. No one can go in or out of the nursery without sanitising first."
"That's awesome. Do you know this is the first place I've been that understands the problem enough to set something like that up?"
"It was in the recommendations. I thought everyone was doing it."
"Nah. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've seen."
"Well I'm all for prevention. The landscapers have to spray their tires before driving onto the grounds too. Here we go."
They'd reached the gate. Elizabeth opened it and gestured for George to go through and into the little hut where the foot bath was. Elizabeth went in after him and then they walked down the roadway. She had put the map on a clipboard and put both inside a plastic bag.
"This is where we are," she said, pointing to the markings on the map. "Here's the potting shed and the propagation house. Then the greenhouses start. They're all numbered. Beyond them are our container blocks and the field stock is in the back. We've got host plants growing in almost every area."
"Thanks." George grinned at her through the drips that were trickling off the peak of his hood. "I'll take it from here. I'm sure you've got important work to do in your nice, dry office."
"Actually, I have to go to the propagation house. If you need me for anything, that's where I'll be."
"Sure thing. I'll look in on you before I leave."
Elizabeth watched him as he headed towards the greenhouses, then turned and walked the short distance to the propagation house. Once inside she took off her wet jacket and hung it on a peg. She shivered at the damp and cold, reaching for a plaid shirt from a hook by the door. Why had she changed the subject back in the office? Sure, George needed to get his sampling done, but she'd gone and let him know how she felt about Fitzsnobbiam without getting any information out of him. Obviously he didn't like the man either and she was dying to find out why.
She looked over the flats of cuttings and checked the heating cables. The cuttings were rooting well and new little leaf buds were opening. She went over to check an older batch -- soon they would need to be transferred to four-inch pots. And the flats at the very end were ready right now. She pulled on her gloves and was soon filling flats of pots with soil mix, carefully separating the young cuttings, and pressing them down into the soft earth. The repetitious actions settled into a rhythm that overtook thought.
Three hours later the door opened and brought her out of the zone. George put his cooler bag on the bench and pulled his hood back.
"All done -- forty lovely samples."
"Thanks. How did everything look?"
"In this rain I couldn't see anything," he joked. "Elizabeth, your plants all look great. You've got a ship-shape operation here."
"You had no trouble finding everything you wanted?"
"I got turned around once or twice, but your helpful employees got me back on track."
"Oh -- did you run into Mary and May?"
"No -- I think they said they were Lynnie and Kath. Nice girls"
"Liddie and Kate -- my little sisters. I hope they didn't bother you -- they can be a bit . . . friendly."
"Not at all. They were quite sweet. Like their older sister."
Elizabeth blushed. "Hardly," she said.
"I've never felt more welcome at a nursery. Some places it's like the Spanish inquisition -- as if I'm somehow to blame for this whole SOD mess."
"Well I'm thrilled that you were able to come in such terrible weather and do the job so quickly. I really appreciate it. Do you have any idea when I'll get the test results?"
"They tell me it generally takes about three weeks, but I'll get them to put a rush on yours." He fumbled with his cooler bag as he picked it back up and slung it over his shoulder. "I've put ribbons on all the blocks I took samples from. Try not to move things around too much -- but if you have to, please make sure the ribbons are left on till you get the results."
"I know the drill from last time."
"Good. If you have any concerns call me at the NTA office and I'll get back to you right away."
"Will do."
"See you," he said a he backed out the door.
Elizabeth waved. She was left thinking of his warm smile and honey coloured eyes. Damn, why did the good ones have to come and go so quickly while creeps like Fitzsnobbiam took forever to get the job done? It wasn't fair.
Elizabeth finished off the flat she was working on and watered all the four inchers she had potted up. She hung the shirt on its hook and pulled her jacket back on. As she took one last look around the propagation house she noticed a flash of red on the bench. A shiny pair of clippers lay there, half hidden in a pile of vermiculite. She grabbed them up with a quick smile and ran out the door.
"That was some hot guy taking samples today," said Liddie as she sauntered into the office and pulled her timesheet from the shelf. "I'm glad I came to work, even if it was raining."
"How could you tell he was hot, with all that gear he was wearing?" asked Elizabeth, though she'd noticed George's good looks too.
Liddie tossed her head. "I can spot the hot ones a mile away. I think he liked me too. When's he coming back?"
"Forget about it. He took all his samples so he doesn't need to come back." Elizabeth wasn't going to tell her sister about the clippers, which she was hoping he'd stop in for at the end of the day. If not she'd have to give the NTA office a call, but she preferred to think he'd come by on his own. She didn't think she'd imagined that spark, like electricity, between them.
"That stinks. Anyway, I'm outta here." Liddie tossed the filled out timesheet down and headed through the back where stairs led up to the house.
Elizabeth sighed and got up from her desk. When would Liddie put things back where they belonged? She was putting the sheet of paper into the correct basket when the door opened behind her.
"Hi again."
She turned, and there was George, no longer in his rain gear, his athletic build looking better than she had expected in faded jeans and a leather jacket.
"Looking for your clippers?"
"Don't tell me you found them! Thanks. I thought I was going to have to search all over your nursery."
"They must have fallen out of your bag when you came into the propagation house. I found them on the bench in a pile of dirt."
"What a relief. You don't know how stupid I felt when I got to Rivervalley and realized I'd lost them. Luckily I was able to borrow a pair and get my samples taken."
Elizabeth went back to her desk and retrieved the clippers. She walked over and held them out to him. "Take care of them -- you might not get so lucky next time."
"Speaking of getting lucky," he said, a hopeful smile shining in his eyes, "I was wondering . . ."
"Yes?"
"I know this might seem a little presumptuous of me -- I mean you barely know me, but . . . you do eat don't you?"
Elizabeth laughed. "Of course I eat -- it's sort of obvious, isn't it?"
He looked at her appreciatively. "What I meant was, here I am in town by myself and I hate eating alone. I usually pick up take out and go back to my hotel room with it -- eat in front of the TV all by myself."
"Is this where the violin starts playing?"
"It's a sad, sad story I know. But here's what I was thinking -- since we've established that we both eat -- and it's no fun eating alone -- why don't you join me for dinner? You know the best restaurants and I'd really enjoy your company."
"Well . . ." Elizabeth hesitated.
"Please say yes. You'll be saving me from clogging my arteries with another meal from Burger King."
"If you put it that way," she conceded. "How hungry are you?"
"Starving."
"Do you like Chinese?"
"Does it rain on the west coast?"
"Okay, I'll meet you in an hour at the Dynasty -- it's an all you can eat buffet. Do you know Cliffe Avenue in Courtenay?"
"I haven't got a clue. What if I pick you up in, let's say, forty-five minutes and you can give me directions."
"Fine." Elizabeth smiled in agreement. "I'll be up at the house."
"I'll see you then."
As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to the house, she wondered at herself for agreeing to go out with George. After all, what did she know about him besides the fact that he was incredibly good looking and overflowing with a sort of boyish charm? He did work for the NTA, though. It wasn't as if she'd picked him up on the street. They checked everyone's credentials when they hired them. The NTA would hardly send someone untrustworthy around to all the nurseries. Besides, she was a pretty good judge of character, and he had the kind of open personality that was easy to trust. She had to face it -- she liked him, and she didn't expect to find her confidence in her decision challenged that evening.
Posted on Friday, 28 December 2007
"You're going out with him?" cried Liddie. "You lied to me! Just because I said he liked me."
Elizabeth was fluffing her hair out in front of her mirror. "I didn't know George would come back. Anyway we're just going out to eat. It's not a date or anything."
"So why are you putting such an effort into looking good?'
"I had a shower and now I'm wearing clean clothes and drying my hair. Was I supposed to go out in my work clothes?"
"I see mascara and lip gloss."
"So?"
"You never wear makeup."
"You can hardly call mascara and lip gloss makeup," said Elizabeth, ignoring the fact that what Liddie said was true.
"Next thing you'll put on fancy earrings."
Elizabeth slid her dresser drawer closed and got up. "Nope -- I'm ready." The earrings she had chosen would have looked great, but she'd had enough of Liddie's comments. She wasn't trying to impress anyone -- sometimes it just felt good to dress up a little.
Kate came running into the room. "That hot guy that was at the nursery today is here to pick you up for your date, Beth! How did you get him to ask you out? Liddie and I were trying everything we could think of."
"It's not a date," said Elizabeth, grabbing her jacket and purse. "Anyway you're both too young for him, and I've told you a million times not to try picking up men at the nursery."
Liddie wasn't listening. She'd already gone to the living room to try her luck with George. Kate just rolled her eyes at her older sister and followed her out of the bedroom.
"Sorry if I kept you waiting," said Elizabeth.
"Barely a moment. Your sister Liddie has been doing a great job of entertaining me." He held out his hand. "Shall we go? You'll be glad to hear it's stopped raining."
"Good," said Elizabeth, zipping up her jacket.
Once they were in the car, George turned to her and said, "You look great -- but I knew you would." His honey coloured eyes warmed as he spoke.
Feeling a little awkward, Elizabeth turned her head away. "It's probably best to turn left at the top of the drive. Back Road will take you to Ryan, then you drive down to the Fifth Street bridge. I'll show you where to turn."
"Sounds good."
Elizabeth was able to relax on the drive to the Dynasty as the conversation returned to a discussion on the SOD issue. George entertained her with his experiences in the camellia recall program. He had a knack for telling a story and making it amusing.
"So there I was in that stupid white suit, the hottest day in May, digging up camellias on the patio of this place and the people have invited all their neighbours over to watch. I swear there were twenty of them leaning over the side of the deck and asking me when the mother ship was landing. I gave them their reimbursement package and thanked them in the best Martian I could come up with."
"You didn't."
"I swear. Not one intelligible word passed my lips the entire time I was there."
"I bet you're glad it's over."
"I met some crazies, but most of the people were great. But you know, I really wonder if we accomplished anything. To hear the FHA talk, it was a big success, but do you know how many diseased plants we actually recovered?"
"None of my contacts have ever divulged that top secret information."
"What difference does it make if anyone knows? I think they take the secrecy too far -- it makes people like Darcy Fitzwilliam feel important."
Elizabeth interrupted George for a moment, indicating that he needed to turn left for the restaurant. As he drove into the parking lot and stopped the car, she urged him to go on.
"Eleven. They recalled fifteen hundred plants and came up with eleven positives."
"But . . . that's a good thing. It shows the problem wasn't as bad as they thought. That most of the diseased plants were caught before being sold and spread out into gardens all over the place."
"Seems like a big waste of money for eleven plants."
They walked up to the restaurant and George opened the door for her. When they were seated, Elizabeth looked at him and said, "Do you really think the program was pointless? Think what could have happened if those eleven plants hadn't been found."
"You're right," he conceded. "It smells great in here. Let's go fill up our plates."
When they came back with their food, Elizabeth still wasn't prepared to leave the matter alone. She cut off George's small talk and asked him straight out what she most wanted to hear. "What is it with you and Mr Fitzwilliam?"
"Darcy Fitzwilliam? I don't want to bore you with my problems. It's all in the past now anyway -- I've risen above it."
"Now I'm even more intrigued. Tell me."
"I used to work for the FHA. I was at the Victoria office. Darcy was my boss. To make a long story short, he screwed me over. Got me fired to cover up his own mistakes."
"He did what? I knew he was a jerk but I never thought he was so corrupt that he would do something that uinethical."
"After I got my degree, I was hired by the Victoria office. My first boss was great. She respected my abilities and appreciated the effort I put into the job. She helped me rise through the system until I got a permanent position. The problem was, the new position put me in Darcy's department. He resented me from day one. He'd wanted them to hire a friend of his."
"Not Charles Bingley?"
"Yeah -- that's him. A nice guy but he does whatever Darcy tells him to do, kinda like a pet spaniel."
"You got that right," Elizabeth muttered.
"Hey -- let's talk about something else. I was out of work for a year or two because of Darcy, but the good people at the NTA gave me a break and hired me -- first for the camellia program and now for this -- and it looks like it's going to be a full time gig. Who knows -- he might have done me a favour in the long run. After all, here I am having dinner with you."
Elizabeth reached across the table and patted his hand. "You've got a great attitude. I don't know if I could be so forgiving."
"Yes you would. Enough talk about me -- I want to hear your story. How did you become the amazingly competent manager of a nursery at such a young age?"
"It helps having a father who was sick and tired of running the business."
"Don't be modest -- there's much more to it than that." He leaned forward and gave her his full attention as she told him about growing up at the nursery, falling in love with plants, and leaving home to study horticulture.
They sat over their food for a long time, talking about a variety of subjects. Afterwards they went for a walk in the cool of the evening. The river trail was easily accessible from the parking lot. They strolled along, all the way to the small airpark the trail circled around, and leaned against the railings of the adjacent marina where a few boats were moored. The water rippled black in the night, highlighted here and there by the moon.
"Look," said Elizabeth, pointing to a rounded shape breaking the surface. "A seal."
"How cool is that? Thanks for bringing me here," said George. "I don't know when I've had such a good evening."
"I think I'm getting a bit cold," said Elizabeth at last, after watching the seal's antics for some time. "Do you mind if we get back to the car? I've got another early morning tomorrow."
"So do I." George pulled her arm through his. "Do you want my jacket?"
"Thanks -- that's sweet of you, but I'm not that cold. When we start walking I'll warm right up."
"Or I could do this," he said, putting his arm around her.
Elizabeth was sure that his next step would have been to lean in and kiss her, but she wasn't ready for anything like that yet. She let his arm remain around her shoulders, but began walking faster and he had to do the same to keep pace with her. She kept up a light stream of conversation until they got to the car and he seemed content with it. When they finally pulled into her drive, all he did was kiss her lightly on the cheek.
"Let's do this again. Are you free tomorrow?"
"Yes." She knew she ought to have demurred, put him off for a day or two, but he was only in town for a short time, and being with him close like that in the dark car made her feel all fluttery inside.
He walked her to the door, holding her hand all the way, then gave it a squeeze as he turned to go. "Pick you up at six tomorrow."
"Six" she echoed, and slipped into the house. She closed the door behind herself and then leaned back against it. She couldn't help but feel that it would have been nice if he had kissed her.
Elizabeth went out to dinner with George the next three nights. Since coming back home from college she hadn't had a boyfriend or even gone out very much with her friends. She'd thrown herself too deeply into her work and was on the verge of becoming a recluse. The change of pace was fun. Plus the company.
They talked less and less about work related topics, but if they did speak of the certification program, the conversation usually came around to Darcy Fitzwilliam. George had nothing good to say about him, and everything he told her seemed to back up the impression Mr Fitzwilliam had already made upon her.
"Have I told you my nickname for him?" she asked one evening when they were sitting by the fireside at Serious Coffee, drinking lattes.
"I hope it's repeatable. The one I call him can't be used in mixed company."
"It's pretty lame really. I call him Fitzsnobbiam because of his incredibly superior attitude."
George laughed. "I think I'll use that one from now on." He took a sip of his coffee. "You know what surprised me about you at first?"
"What?"
"That you could see through him. He has all the woman in Victoria trying to get into his -- trying to get a date with him."
"That girl Carrie, from his office, was always trying to impress him. I don't get it. He's got no charm and no conversation. He may be good looking, but his attitude and expression are such turn offs -- what do they see in him?"
George made a gesture with his hand, rubbing his thumb against his fingers. "Money. He's loaded."
"The FHA pays that well?"
"His father was a millionaire -- made his money off real estate way back when. Darcy and his sister inherited quite a fortune when the old guy croaked."
"His sister. She's a student, isn't she? Do you know her?"
"I've met her a few times."
"What's she like?"
"I wish I could say something nice about her, but she's just like her brother."
Elizabeth thought of her sister Jane; how Charles had dumped her and was probably going out with the little rich b**ch now. A troubled look spread across her face.
"Did I say anything to upset you?"
"No -- it's just . . . I can't understand how someone as nice as Charles Bingley could be friends with them."
"Darcy acts different with people he thinks are worth knowing. Hell, he even sets himself up as a philanthropist in Victoria's high society. Charles' family has money. That kind of friendship is valuable to him. I'll bet Charles has never seen his dark side."
"But Charles is nothing like that -- he's so down to earth and unpretentious."
"Charles is a great guy, but he's a bit gullible." He eyed Elizabeth. "What's this all about? Do you have a thing for him?'
She laughed. "No, not me." Then she sobered up again quickly. "But when he was here, working on Fitzsobbiam's team, he met my sister Jane and they were going out together for a few months. I'll swear he was in love with her . . . and she -- well she hasn't been the same happy person since he broke up with her."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"And you know what I think? I think Fitzsnobbiam orchestrated the whole break up because he wanted Charles to go out with his sister. He transferred Charles from Parksville back to Victoria and somehow he convinced him to break it off."
"I wouldn't put it past him," said George. "That's just the underhanded type of thing he's good at."
"I'm so worried about Jane. She's trying to put up a good front, but all I see is the sadness in her eyes."
George reached out, took Elizabeth's coffee mug from her hand and put it on the table, and cupped both her hands in his. His warm, honey glazed gaze held hers -- his eyes brimming with empathy. "She's lucky to have a sister like you who cares so much for her. With you to comfort her she'll soon get over him."
Elizabeth was feeling lost in the spell of his eyes. His head was bending closer but his eyes never gave up their contact with hers. She knew he was going to kiss her, and this time she didn't want to stop him.
"Elizabeth! Long time no see!" boomed a voice from across the room.
Jumping back in her chair, Elizabeth watched as Bill Collins and Charlotte made their way across the floor towards them. Bill was beaming, but Charlotte looked a little shamefaced.
With an apologetic shrug to her companion, Elizabeth made the introductions. Bill pulled over a chair for Charlotte and then found one for himself and set it close to George.
"Have you known Elizabeth long?" he asked.
"It's hard to remember a time when I didn't know her," George said smoothly.
That seemed to almost satisfy Bill. "You do appear to know her quite well."
"We're getting to be good friends."
"I noticed that." Bill winked suggestively. "Charlotte and I are getting to be good friends too, and I have Elizabeth to thank for that. She introduced us."
As the men talked, Charlotte said to Elizabeth in a low voice, "Damn, girl! You've been holding out on me'."
"I could say the same."
Charlotte blushed. "Beth and I need to go to the little girl's room," she said, addressing the Bill and George. "We'll be back in a mo."
As the girls headed downstairs to the washrooms, Bill said to George. "They're going to talk about us."
When the door was closed firmly behind them, Charlotte sat on the small counter beside the sink and said, "I can explain."
"You'd better. Way back in April I get you to sit beside him, to save me the aggravation of talking to him, but I never imagined it would lead to you going out with him. What are you thinking? I told you how he came on to me in the propagation house. He's such a slime ball and he's so full of himself, and boring."
"Elizabeth . . ."
"Wait. One time in the summer Mary saw you going into the Golden Carriage with him. I'd invited you to go out with me that day and you never returned my call. Since then you've never mentioned him so I thought Mary'd made a mistake, but I realise now that you've been avoiding me."
"I knew you wouldn't like it."
"Wouldn't like it? It's beyond comprehension. He's such a . . . dipwad!"
"He's okay when you get to know him -- you just have to give him a chance. Anyway, I'm not like you, Beth. I don't have guys falling all over themselves to get to know me."
"Me? I haven't had a boyfriend in a couple of years."
"What about George?"
"He's not my . . . we've just met."
"From the looks of things you're getting off to a pretty quick start. If I'm not mistaken Bill and I interrupted a very intimate moment."
"I was feeling upset about Jane, and George was comforting me. I've known him for a week. He took samples at the nursery and he asked me out to dinner with him a few times because he doesn't like eating alone."
"I'll bet he doesn't," said Charlotte. "Don't you see, Beth? Guys are drawn to you. That other guy who came to the nursery in the spring couldn't keep his eyes off you."
"Fitzsnobbiam? Give me a break. He liked me about as much as I liked him."
"And Bill. He had the hugest crush on you. But he felt intimidated too, because he knew you were out of his league. That's why he came on so strong -- to compensate. He's really not like that. Besides, he's got a good, stable job which he is dedicated to. He's not a big drinker, or into drugs, and he doesn't have anger management issues. Behind his swagger he's a decent man. A family man. He'll make a good husband."
"Husband?' Elizabeth's voice reflected all the shock she felt.
"The clock's ticking, Beth. I'm not as young as you. I've always wanted to have kids -- well he's my chance. I'll be happy with Bill, and I'll make him happy too. I understand him, and I know how to manage him, so please, not another word against him. I want us to stay friends, and if you want that too, you'll have to accept the fact that he's my fiancé."
"Your fiancé?"
Charlotte waved her left hand in front of Elizabeth's face. A gold ring with a tiny diamond flashed on her third finger.
"You should have told me sooner."
"You didn't give me a chance."
"When did this happen?"
"He popped the question last week."
"Congratulations."
"That didn't sound very sincere."
Elizabeth wanted to say that she couldn't be sincere because she thought Charlotte was making a big mistake. Charlotte was such a special person she shouldn't have to settle for the likes of Bill Collins -- she could do so much better. But she didn't want to alienate Charlotte. "Give me some time and I'll try my best to feel good about this, Char. It's been a bit of a shock."
"I guess we'd better go back out there or they'll think we've drowned ourselves."
Elizabeth giggled and took Charlotte's arm as they walked back through the coffee shop to the spot by the fireplace where the guys were.
"Our ears are burning," said Bill when they returned.
"And so they should be," said Charlotte. "I just wanted some privacy to tell Beth about your proposal."
Bill turned to Elizabeth. "What did you think? The karaoke. Down on one knee in front of the entire pub. The ring on the bottom of her champagne glass."
"Very romantic," said Elizabeth. "You're a lucky man." ‘Damn lucky because you don't deserve a gem like Char.'
"Congratulations," said George. "I hope you'll excuse us but I've got to get this young lady home before my car turns into a pumpkin."
Bill laughed and shook both their hands with an excess of affability.
Elizabeth gave Charlotte an overdue hug and whispered in her ear, "If you're happy that's all that counts."
When they got to the car George turned to Elizabeth and said, "Don't ever leave me alone with that guy again. I know more about fertiliser now than I ever wanted to."
After sampling all the nurseries in and around Courtenay and Campbell River, George had to return to the mainland to take care of the stragglers -- nurseries that had signed up for the program late. He told Elizabeth that he was going to make their last evening together a special one and that dinner was a secret destination. When they drove through town and past Wal Mart and the other big box stores Elizabeth had a pretty good idea of where they were going.
"If you're taking me to Royston, it's either At Bob's or the Kingfisher -- and I don't think At Bob's rates special by anyone's standards."
"At Bob's?"
"It's a little schnitzel house. For five bucks you get a huge chicken or pork schnitzel on a bed of fries that must be the cheapest no-name oven baked fries in the universe."
"Now you tell me. And to think I've already gone and made reservations at the Kingfisher."
"We'll just have to suffer through gourmet dining."
The meal was delicious and afterwards they drove along Marine Drive in Royston and parked by a little jetty. They walked arm in arm along the shoreline looking across the bay to the lights of Comox. It was a cold October evening but they kept each other warm.
"I have a confession to make," said George. "I left those clippers on that bench in the propagation house on purpose. And I'm glad I did."
"I should be mad at you for tricking me," said Elizabeth, "but either it's the dinner or the wine or the moonlight, or a combination of the three, because I can't bring myself to feel upset at all."
"I'd prefer to think it was me," said George, and he pulled her around into his arms and kissed her.
Elizabeth was taken by surprise by the kiss. Not that she wasn't expecting it. She'd just expected to react differently to it. He had left her feeling breathless with anticipation on more than one occasion, but she found the kiss a bit of a let down.
George continued to kiss her and slipped his hands inside her jacket and up her back. When he began to slide one hand around to her front she squirmed away.
"Not so fast."
He reached for her again and put his lips to hers. "I'll take it slower. Promise. I told you I wanted to make tonight special," he said between kisses, "and we'll go as fast or as slow as you want." He trailed his lips down her cheek and nuzzled her neck.
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
He brought his head up and searched her face. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted this as much as me."
"You're leaving tomorrow -- what's the point of starting something?"
"Baby! Is that what's bothering you? You know I'm coming back as soon as I can -- I'm crazy about you."
Elizabeth drew back from him and took his hand. "If that's how you feel then you won't mind waiting till you do come back."
"Yes, but I wouldn't mind a little something to tide me over." He brought her hand to his lips. "I'm only human and you are so damn gorgeous."
"You said we could go as slow as I liked. Please don't ruin this beautiful evening."
He pulled her tightly against him and kissed her hair. "Whatever you say, baby, but you're killing me." His voice was warm and rough and incredibly sexy.
"We'd better go home now," said Elizabeth.
"Afraid you'll change your mind?" he teased as they walked back to the car, his arm still tightly around her.
"No, I'm afraid you will," Elizabeth said, too quietly for him to hear.
They had another short kissing session in the car when he dropped her off, then he walked her to the door. Under the porch light he gave her his most swoon-worthy gaze with those honey brown eyes of his. "I'll call and email you every day, but I'm still gonna miss you, baby."
"I'll miss you too," she whispered.
One last kiss and she was safely inside, wondering why there had been no fireworks. No magic. George was great looking, funny, and charming. He'd even respected her wish to slow things down in a situation where most guys would have kept trying. What more did she want?
He called her when he got back to his hotel and again when he arrived on the mainland the next day. They emailed each other regularly at first, but then it slowed down and his calls grew less frequent too. He wasn't sure when he'd make it back to Courtenay -- work was keeping him swamped. She knew it ought to have bothered her, but she really didn't mind. ‘That was pretty nice while it lasted,' she finally admitted to herself, ‘But it wasn't love.'
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Liddie was standing close to George, who was just inside the front door. She was talking animatedly and twirling the fingers of one hand in her hair. He appeared quite attentive, but he looked up as soon as Elizabeth came into the room and caught her eye. Liddie turned to see what had distracted him and broke off in mid sentence, changing to, "Looks like Beth's finally ready."