“Here. I’ll bake rolls and serve coffee, you know, make a little party of it.”
Darcy leaned against the counter. “This is a business meeting. We really don’t have to entertain. The shop and nursery are doing well, and we make the lease payments on time. That’s any landlord’s dream. Did Stevens mention his name?”
“Yes, Griffin Moore.”
Mary Beth appeared puzzled. “Where have I heard that name?”
It took a moment for Darcy to recover from the shock. “Griffin Moore’s the man who ordered the Zen garden,” she reminded Mary Beth. “His name is on the estimate. He was here this morning, and I was out at his home on Ridgecrest this afternoon. I don’t understand why he didn’t mention a significant fact like being our landlord.”
“Maybe he wanted to see how we operate first,” Christy Joy suggested.
“He was working undercover,” Mary Beth interjected.
“You have definitely been reading too many thrillers,” Darcy warned. “The man’s a hunk, and there’s no way he could disappear into a crowd and work undercover.”
“Really?” Christy Joy’s expression brightened. “Is he nice?”
Darcy shrugged. “He plays the piano beautifully, but he’s rather distant. I can’t swear that he’s nice.”
“Now I’m worried,” Christy Joy admitted.
So was Darcy, but for an entirely different reason.
Griffin strolled into the Defy the World Tomatoes gift shop the next morning smartly dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and maroon tie. His attorney, the silver-haired Jess Stevens, was by his side.
“Good morning,” Griffin greeted them. He nodded to Darcy and then smiled at Christy Joy. “I’m Griffin Moore.”
“Christy Joy Jennings,” she responded and offered homemade caramel rolls and freshly brewed coffee. Mr. Stevens appeared to be delighted by her hospitality and accepted both, while Griffin declined politely and began a slow tour of the shop.
Darcy watched him examine everything from the scented candles to the lacy crocheted sweaters. When he reached the orchids, she finally felt justified in joining him. She’d worn a form-fitting pair of Levi’s and a pale lavender sweater, but, next to a man in a thousand-dollar suit, she felt as though she were dressed in rags.
“We’ve done very well with our orchids,” she remarked.
“Do the two of you run this whole enterprise alone?” he asked.
He’d dropped his voice to a husky whisper, and Darcy feared Christy Joy and Jess Stevens would assume they were exchanging secrets. She wished they were. “No, Christy Joy manages the gift shop and supervises the clerks, who will arrive at ten. I run the nursery, but I have help from George Kimble, a retired science teacher, who knows as much about plants as I do. A couple of high school students come in after school.
“When we have a landscaping job, like yours…” She tried not to bare her teeth, “…I hire a crew to handle the labor. We’re very proud of how well we’ve done, which I’m sure you can see.”
Griffin nodded. “I apologize for not being more forthcoming yesterday, but I was sincere in my request for the Zen garden. Go ahead and deposit my payment.”
“I already have,” Darcy assured him.
“Good. It’s important to keep a close eye on finances.” Griffin called over to his attorney. “Jess, why don’t you explain my plans? It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Jennings. Good day, ladies.”
Darcy stared after him as he walked out with the same self-assured grace that marked all his actions. She’d considered him distant, but that morning he’d been positively glacial. He was certainly a master of the abrupt departure, but she felt unsettled, as though nothing positive had been accomplished by their brief meeting.
She walked back to the counter where Jess Stevens was wiping crumbs from his mouth on a floral napkin. “What plans?” she prompted. “After all, we have a year’s lease,
and he can’t raise our rent.”
“No, of course not,” Stevens assured them. “That was delicious, Mrs. Jennings. I’m surprised you haven’t included a bakery here.”
“Thank you, but I’m as anxious as Darcy to hear Mr. Moore’s plans.”
Stevens fortified himself with another gulp of coffee. “Yes, let me get to that. Now, as obviously you were unaware, Ms. MacLeod, Mr. Moore is a well-respected concert pianist. He began winning prestigious competitions in his teens and has been touring many years. He owns property in several cities, but he’s especially fond of Monarch Bay. Now that he’s made his home here, his plans are to turn this facility into a private recording studio.”
Darcy and Christy Joy shrieked in unison, “What?”