Community Gardens (Community Garden Series Book 1) Read online

  Community

  Gardens

  By

  Karin Boutall

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  © 2014 Karin Boutall

  All rights reserved.

  For Thelma

  who taught me kindness

  Acknowledgment

  Several years ago I was lucky enough to stumble into a Blue Moon Festival while vacationing on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The sky was clear, the evening warm. People meandered through the streets in tightly knit groups, drinking and laughing. Barkers hollered from the Blue Moon beer carts parked on every corner. So I assumed a beer company named Blue Moon was having a celebration of some kind. But I was wrong. In fact, I was reminded that it was the night of the blue moon, a rare event, and not some beer party put on by a brewery that coincidentally named its beer Blue Moon.

  Embarrassed by my ignorance, I studied a bit about blue moons and discovered that: “There were twelve names for full moons, one for each month, and the name Blue Moon was used in years which had 13 full moons... The term Blue Moon is believed to have originated in 1883 after the eruption of Krakatoa. The volcano put so much dust in the atmosphere that the Moon actually looked blue in color. This was so unusual that the term "once in a Blue Moon" was coined.”

  I learned that, not only had I stumbled into a crowded festival, I had also stumbled upon a rare event indeed; the blue moon shining on the Gulf Coast waters.

  The memory of this pretty festival stuck in the back of my mind for quite some time. Recently though, while studying the Master Gardener program, I discovered that a lot of gardeners and farmers use the lunar cycle as their planting guide. They rely on the full moons to determine when to plant and seed. At that point, the idea for this book, Community Gardens, sparked. The rest of this story is fiction, of course.

  And so, I would like to thank Dr. David R. Williams, NASA Goddard Space Flight Center for his article about blue moons. I would also like to thank the Mississippi State University Extension Service, Master Gardener Program for their horticulture publications. Their research helped me put this story together.

  Contents

  Acknowledgment

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Prologue

  Sand Hill Cove, Mississippi

  Blue Moon 2001

  A goblin hobbled beneath an ancient live oak tree dripping with Spanish moss. A ghoul followed. A tall woman, cloaked in a pointed black hat, swooped to kiss a vampire. Behind them lurked Superman, the Hulk and a monster. Together they hiked down Main Street, chatting and laughing. After the monster hooted at the moon, the crew paraded into Holden's Books. Behind the coffee bar, Blaine Holden, the owner of Holden's Books, was dressed in a massive hair wig and red-painted lips. He waved his chubby arms at the ghastly crew; the vendors from the farmer's market of Sand Hill Cove.

  In the corner, Buzz Egan, the local beekeeper, opened a laptop and tapped a microphone.

  “This is Buzz Egan broadcasting live on internet radio from Holden's Books in Sand Hill Cove, Mississippi. It is October 31st, 2001 and a very special night. It is the night of the rare blue moon, the thirteenth full moon of the year. Tonight's Blue Moon Festival is a unique event, indeed, because tonight is also All Saints Day. That's called Halloween, for you folks who aren't familiar. This celebration was kicked off earlier with a parade that was held beneath the live oak canopy of Sand Hill Cove, the busiest small town on the Gulf Coast.”

  As the crew partied, a lone woman left the shop. She passed the beer gardens. Glass mugs clinked and mingled with the music. Whiffs of smoke and yeasty beer crisscrossed in the damp air and filled her nostrils. The orange glow of restaurant lights dimmed behind her as she walked away from Main Street. Three blocks away, her antebellum home set atop a hill and within view of Sand Hill Marsh. The night was dark and the black, slick water of the marsh would be lit by the glimmer of the blue moon. A black cat darted out from under a gnarled swamp oak. She lurched, then whispered, “I just want to go home and be left alone.”

  * * *

  Early the next morning, the woman blew steam away from her coffee mug. She savored the rich, bitter taste, mixed with velvety cream. She stood on top of a hill that housed the library. To the north she could see Main Street. Smashed pumpkins and beer cans lined the walks. This Halloween was the busiest she had ever attended. The parade was noisier, the dancing wilder, and the garbage more profuse than she had ever seen. But then she could not remember a festival that included Halloween and a Blue Moon Festival on the same night. As with all town festivals though, and there were many, she and the volunteer crews would manage to clean the trash away, no matter how messy the event.

  Looking south, she eyed the quiet waters of Sand Hill Marsh as it lapped on the shore. This time of year the threat of hurricanes had passed and the waters were especially calm. The marsh was home to alligators, birds, fish and venomous creatures. Her favorite creature was the white crane, a long, graceful animal. It launched from the marsh with a gradual lift, like a giant 747 on take-off. Beyond the marsh, the Mississippi Sound was alive, with dolphins playing, pelicans diving and mullet jumping in its shallow, warm waters. Beyond the barrier islands lay the Gulf of Mexico, its deep waters stretching further than the horizon.

  The woman set her coffee aside and pulled a new pair of garden gloves over her well-manicured hands. She had planned on planting the knock-out roses in early October, but the heat and humidity had been unbearable. This morning was much better. She started planting just before dawn. She chose knock-out roses for the bright red color, like the red of Christmas ribbons, but doubted they would bloom through the season. In fact, even though they were the hardiest of all roses, she expected them to go into shock. She carefully crumbled some dirt and mixed it with peat, then shoveled the mixture in the hole where she'd planted the roses. Next, she capped the hole with pine mulch then watered it to completely remove any air pockets.

  While watering, she heard a car pull up to the library. She turned and saw a familiar white vehicle with a red light on top. It was the Sand Hill Cove sheriff, Ed, coming to visit. Ed slowly parked the car. The woman pulled off her gloves, plucked a cigarette from her apron, lit it and drew a long inhale.

  Ed tipped his hat while walking toward her. “Morning.”

  “What's got you up so early this morning Ed?” She drew another plume of cigarette smoke through her teeth.

  “Same to you.” Ed stared directly into her eyes. He removed his hat and held it across his chest. “Your husband's not home?”

  She shucked her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “So what's new. Have something to say sheriff?”

  “This time I do. You see...”

  “You won't surprise me.”

  “We found your husband's boat drifting in the marsh. It was empty.”

  The woman tossed her cigarette on the ground. Then rubbed it out with her shoe.

  Chapter 1

  Sand Hill Cove, Mississippi

  Spring 2011

  Joan Louen pulled a wagon full of flower pots across her renovated living room and parked it next to a bulb display. Sh
e stepped back to check the display. Pots of thyme and jasmine should surround the wagon, she thought. While she searched the room for the pots, she also checked for further flaws. Lights on? Windows clean? Bamboo fans on? Everything was in place. Finally, The Community Gardens, the garden shop she'd built from a decrepit two-story house, had come to fruition. Now, after months of restoring and landscaping, it was time for the grand opening ceremony.

  She found the needed pots setting in front of Buzz Egan's honey display. The pots were so tightly clustered around the display it was difficult to see the honey jars, sweet sticks and beeswax soaps setting behind them. She had promised Buzz that his display would be the first one customers saw when they came through the entrance. He had earned the front entrance spot because he had broadcast her grand opening for weeks over the internet radio. When she shoved the pots aside, the honey jars stood out like pots of gold setting next to rainbow-colored sweet sticks. She left a few blooming pots of clover around the display and took the others back to the wagon.

  Gazing around the room, she made a mental note to thank Roz for convincing her to create a consignment shop so the inventory, with the exception of her nursery-grown plants, would come from local store owners, artists and Farmer's Market vendors. The arrangement eliminated much of the burden inventory management posed for small retail stores like hers. It also gave her more time to find new customers and work in her beloved nursery.

  The suggestion had proved brilliant. The shop was now loaded with merchandise. Handmade garden stones and flags from Ivy's Garden Club spruced up a sparse corner near the back of the store. Lavender sachets and mint soaps, courtesy the Herb Shop, decorated the shelves. Wine bottles from Sippy's lay in racks next to baskets of tightly wrapped goat cheeses. Near the register, an enclosed case of small cakes from The French Bakery, sat next to a gleaming silver coffee pot. The specialty brewed coffee inside came from Holden's Books.

  Another check of the room for misplaced items set her at ease. The Community Gardens would finally open. She had dreamed of owning a garden center since earning her biology degree. Buying this old house, after moving back to Sand Hill Cove, had been the perfect choice to build that dream. She had turned the greenhouse behind the store into a nursery. She refurbished the gardens by connecting the old azalea, herb, and flower beds with walking paths and added a few gardens of her own. And with the Farmer's Market just across the street, a steady stream of customers was practically guaranteed. Not only had moving to Sand Hill Cove proved a smart choice, it was also the town where she had married Chris and where Zack was born.

  Remembering her husband felt like a black cloud rising. A pit rumbled in her stomach. An aching sense of loss swept through her. If only the Air Force hadn't transferred him to Colorado, would he still be here?

  She could have stayed in Colorado after Chris' horrible accident. There were plenty of opportunities to restart life and open a store. But in Sand Hill Cove, she could raise Zack in a small town surrounded by old friends and pleasant memories. She wanted to cloak herself with happier times and drown the bitter wound of losing the only love she had ever known.

  Joan snapped to attention at the sound of clapping hands. “Are we ready?” Roz asked.

  “Ready as ever. This wouldn't have happened with out you and the girls.”

  “You'd have gotten around to it someday, but it wouldn't have been as fun.” Roz handed Joan a steaming cup of coffee, topped with thick cream. Joan wrapped her manicured fingers around the oversized mug as she watched Roz swirl a large gob of honey through her tea.

  “How are the girls coming with the lettuce baskets?” Joan quizzed.

  “Over fifty so far. The burlap made a great basket wrap. Lindsey and Chloe choose Easter pastel colors for the ribbons. We'll sell out fast.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You know so.” Roz grinned and pushed her dark bangs aside. “Look at everybody milling around the market. Even the blueberry truck made it today.” Roz opened the front doors revealing a cloudless blue sky. The rich scent of freshly pruned rosemary drifted in the shop.

  “Fresh blueberries are gonna draw crowds.” Roz said as she stepped on the porch with Joan following behind her.

  Joan waved to Buzz as he strolled across Town Park toward them. He waved back with his baseball cap. “All the vendors made it. This is gonna be busy. You ready?”

  Just as Buzz reached the porch, Lindsey and Chloe stepped outside, each carrying a tray of lettuce baskets. “Look at them. Aren't they perfect?” Chloe chimed.

  “Lovely. I see you're wearing matching ribbons on your aprons.” Joan had a strict dress code; white t-shirts, light khakis and a denim apron. No buttons or jewelery. She didn't want colorful clothes distracting customers away from the plants and inventory. Even though she preferred a uniform appearance, she admitted the ribbons were adorable and decided a little distraction might actually help sell those lettuce pots.

  “Not exactly code,” Lindsey said. “But we thought it might help.”

  Joan stroked Lindsey's blond head. At twelve, Lindsey was the eldest of the two girls. A budding artist, she took the lead designing floral arrangements for the shop.

  “I believe you are correct. How about the two of you, go carry your trays through the market and send customers over here?”

  “Come on, I'll take you girls over,” Buzz said. “Should Zack come too?”

  Chloe giggled. “Zack won't like carrying lettuce baskets. Besides, he's on Xbox.”

  “Xbox?” Joan hollered up the stairs and listened for a minute. When she heard his feet shuffling, she knew he'd be down within five minutes. She wanted Zack in the store with her where he could stay focused on tasks instead of Xbox. She knew he'd sneak back upstairs and play Xbox for hours if she didn't keep him busy. She started to tell the girls to go on without him when she realized the mayor was missing.

  “Roz, where's the mayor?”

  “She should be here.”

  Joan grabbed the phone from her apron and dialed. No answer.

  Zack stepped onto the porch, blinking his wide brown eyes.

  She glanced at her son for signs of life. His neat brown hair was combed. His t-shirt was clean and right side out, but his shoes were untied. “Hi sweetie. I want to ask you a favor. After you tie your shoes, will you run over to Sara Coach's house? You remember her, the mayor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If she's home, will you ask her when she's coming to the store?”

  “Sure mom.”

  He said hi to the girls, then jogged across the park toward the mayor's house.

  Joan turned to Roz. “We did agree we wanted her to cut the ribbon, right?”

  “Correct.”

  Joan stuffed a dangling curl into a hair clip.

  “And we followed up with a call, right?”

  “We did. And remember, we spoke to her last week and confirmed nine a.m.”

  Joan studied Roz as if she were a notebook. Whenever a plan went awry, Roz remembered small details as if she'd photographed the plan.

  “But,” Buzz interrupted, “last night Sara was at Holden's having coffee with Cal. I heard them say they were meeting with the principal today. Discussing some awards program.”

  “Awards program? Are you sure they weren't talking about grand opening program?” Roz asked.

  “Positive.”

  Joan winced. Although she didn't want to hear it, she knew Buzz was right. Not only was he the local beekeeper, but he was also Sand Hill Cove's reporter. He never missed a story that could be broadcast on internet radio or published in the Sand Digs newspaper.

  “Damn, how could she do this?”

  “Maybe her plate was full or she forgot.” Roz said.

  “Not good.” Joan narrowed her eyes, cradled her cell phone and dialed the principal. No answer.

  “All right, let me think this through. Do we need her here today?”

  Before Roz could respond, Zack rushed to the porch. “Not there mom.”

/>   “Hmm.”

  “Can I go back inside now?”

  “Not yet. How would you feel about cutting the yellow ribbon across the gate?”

  “Cool.”

  “Good, that solves the problem.” Joan looked at the girls. “You girls get going and sell those baskets. Tell those customers the grand opening starts in half an hour. And the coffee's free.” Joan paused for a moment to make sure she hadn't overlook any details. “How's that sound Roz?”

  “You're making us winners again.”

  Joan looked at her old friend. This wasn't the first time they used a backup plan at the last moment. This time, Zack would cut the ribbon instead of the mayor and she would give a speech then thank everyone for their support.

  She watched the girls mingle through the Farmer's Market and hoped her luck would continue.

  Chapter 2

  The grand opening had been a huge success. Blaine Holden had given Joan a contract to maintain the bookstore's plants. He had been adamant that she liven up the place. She realized it would be difficult to do so at Holden's, the only gathering spot in town for local news, coffee and books. Patrons knew that any discussion held at Holden's, could be published in the Sand Digs, or broadcast over the internet radio. Still, the merchants who frequented Holden's thought of the bookstore as a great place for free marketing. Holden's reputation had turned the bookstore into a lively gathering spot for news and entertainment. Even though Joan's work could not make the coffee house more “lively”, she could revive the plants clinging to life in the ancient urns that greeted customers at the entrance.

  The French Bakery, next to Holden's, had also contracted with her to keep up an outdoor courtyard. When she realized the stores were four blocks from her shop and within walking distance, she signed the maintenance agreements. Her luck was improving.