Page 233 of Romeo

I stared at the number and shook my head.

“Unreasonable.”

But I left it there.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Romeo

By six o’clock, I’d spent most of the day arguing with a supplier over a shipment of pavers that had arrived in the wrong fucking color, explaining to one of my crews that decorative gravel and river rock were not interchangeable, and listening to a homeowner insist the maple tree we planted three years ago was somehow our responsibility because squirrels kept climbing it.

Some days, owning a landscaping company made club business seem easy.

I shut down the computer in my office and leaned back in the chair, rubbing both hands over my face. The shop had gone quiet nearly an hour ago. My crews were gone, the equipment was locked up, and the last of the October daylight had faded beyond the windows while I finished invoices I’d ignored all afternoon.

Normally, I liked the quiet after everyone left. It gave me a chance to get shit done without somebody knocking on my door every five minutes with a problem they could’ve solved themselves.

Lately, quiet came with its own problem.

It left too much room for Virginia.

I reached for my phone and found a picture waiting from Fiona. Granny stood in a kitchen beside a basket overflowing with tomatoes, one hand planted on her hip while she stared directly at the camera with an expression that said she had either grown every damn one herself or was prepared to take credit for whoever had.

Ma Belle: Granny wants to know if Nebraska has good tomatoes

I smiled as I stood and reached for my jacket.

Me: I’m a landscaper, not a farmer.

Her answer appeared before I made it out of the office.

Ma Belle: That sounds like an excuse

Me: Tell Granny Nebraska has excellent tomatoes.

Ma Belle: Have you personally grown one?

I locked the office door behind me.

Me: That wasn’t the question.

Ma Belle: Jasper.

I laughed as I crossed the yard toward my truck.

Me: Fiona.

Ma Belle: Have you ever grown a tomato?

I climbed behind the wheel but didn’t start the engine.

Me: I’ve successfully purchased several.

Ma Belle: Fraud

Me: Never claimed vegetable expertise.

Ma Belle: Tomatoes are fruit.