Frankie’s expression turned from surprise to wonder and she glanced at Brittany. “You’re a gardener?”
“Hell, no. I’m an archaeologist. I’m more likely to kill the plants while I’m digging than do anything healing to them. This garden was my grandmother’s baby. She spent every spare moment here. She passed away a few years ago, but one of her friends—our neighbor—still comes and tends it.”
“It’s beautiful. Calming. Unbelievable for a coastal garden—how does it survive the harsh winters?”
“No idea. You’d think all the plants would freeze like the rest of us.”
“It’s not the freezing that’s a problem, it’s the thawing. You want them to remain dormant.” Frankie bent down and examined the soil in the bed nearest to her. “Seaweed mulch.”
“Yeah?” Brittany glanced at Matt and grinned. “If you say so.”
“It’s great for the soil and the slugs hate it.”
“Grams fought a constant war against slugs.” Brittany pushed her hands into her pockets. “You think there’s something here that can make a decent bouquet for Em?”
“Plenty. Is there anything you don’t want me to touch?”
“Strip it bare if you need to.”
“Phlox Carolina—the white one.” Frankie walked toward the border closest to her. “We call it wedding flox. And there’s Leucanthemum vulgare—” She was talking to herself, distracted, excited as she stepped eagerly into the garden, and Brittany raised a questioning eyebrow toward Matt, who shrugged.
“I don’t know what that is, either, but no one knows flowers like Frankie so we can leave her to it.”
“Great. In that case, I’m going to finish getting ready. Feel free to use the kitchen table to assemble your masterpiece. Yell if you need anything. And don’t let Zach feed Jaws any of the bacon.”
She left them to it and Frankie dug her sketches out of her bag.
Matt watched her. “What can I do?”
“Stand still and hold whatever I hand you.” She moved around the garden like a butterfly, pausing, admiring, snipping and gathering.
In under ten minutes she had a large armful of flowers and foliage. “I can work with this. Let’s take this through to the kitchen and I can start making up bouquets.”
The kitchen of Castaway Cottage was the heart of the house. A large table dominated the center of the room, and shelves were adorned with driftwood, jars of sea glass and shells.
Matt could imagine Frankie sitting there, lost and confused by what was happening at home.
The front door was open and Jaws ambled in and out freely, trailing sand from the beach beyond. Sunlight played over the polished floorboards and the rug in striped blue tones added to the beachy feel.
It was at times like this when he missed the island.
In the height of the summer it was idyllic, but Matt knew that when winter came the place would take on a different feel. Snow would blanket the roads and the garden, turning it into a mysterious frozen wonderland. The community would be stripped down to locals and a few die-hard winter sports enthusiasts.
Zach put mugs of strong coffee on the table. “I cooked bacon and there are fresh rolls in the basket. Help yourselves. It will be a long time until you eat. I’m going to change.” He walked out of the room and Matt filled a roll with bacon while Frankie worked.
“You should eat something. You must be starving after all that exercise.”
“I’ll eat in a minute. I have three of these to make.”
“Give me a job.”
“Could you cut me some lengths of string?” Frankie pushed it toward him and went back to work with the flowers.
He cut string and watched as she transformed a heap of flowers into a stunning bridal bouquet. Her fingers worked swiftly as she snipped stems and twisted leaves.
“For someone who hates weddings you’re certainly good at this.”
“This isn’t about weddings, this is about flowers. And it’s not going to be perfect. It would have helped to see the dress, but it’s the best I can do.”