“I don’t have a guest room, Howie.”
“I can make arrangements,” he said. “Think about it and we’ll talk about it later. I’ll give you a call next week.”
“All right. Take care.”
“You, too. Love you.”
“Goodbye.”
She never said she loved him. She wasn’t sure she did. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Kaylee took Kitty to the vet that Jack recommended—Dr. Lynne Murphy. “Well, Kitty turns out to be a boy,” the vet said. “And I’d guess about eight weeks old. He’d have to be that old to eat solid food and use the litter box. Let’s give him a couple of weeks of growth and then start his shots. Meanwhile, would you like me to chip him?”
“Chip him?”
“A microchip that ID’s his name, owner, vital information so if he’s ever lost he can be returned to you.”
“Oh yes, please.”
“Is he going to get another name besides Kitty?”
“Oh man. This is actually my first pet. My mother was allergic and I know nothing. I guess that’s obvious.”
“Not to worry. This cat will probably raise you. So, he should be neutered because if he’s not he will not only make more cats, and he’ll make a mess, spraying his scent around your house. We’ll give him shots, make sure he’s in good health and check his weight. After about four months of inoculations and after he’s been neutered, if you keep him as an indoor cat you’ll be on your own unless you need us. He’s a pretty little guy.”
She had them put Tux on his chart as his name because of his black-and-white markings. She pretended not to hear when the doctor said, “Original.”
The next afternoon when Kaylee was at Jack’s having lunch, Jillian Matlock came in carrying a large cardboard box filled with vegetables. “It’s your lucky day, Jack. Is Preacher around?”
“Yep. Stand by.” He turned and banged on the wall that separated the bar from the kitchen. “Brought him some goodies, did you?”
“The harvest is winding down and these are good but not pretty enough to send out.” Preacher came through the swinging door, drying his hands on a dish towel.
“Hey,” he said. When he saw Jillian, he smiled. “Goodies?”
“For my special friend. The last of the Russian Rose and purple calabash, some artichokes, onions, turnips... Late stuff.”
Kaylee got off her stool and slowly gravitated toward Jillian and the box of veggies. There were peppers, cucumbers, a bunch of green and purple leaf lettuce and a few other things she couldn’t name.
“Have you two met?” Jack asked.
“The fire girl,” Jillian said. “We met last week. How are you?”
“I’m Kaylee,” she said with a laugh. “I’m great, thanks. Is this stuff from your garden?”
“I’m a farmer,” Jillian said. “I have a few acres dedicated to heirloom vegetables and other organic stuff. They’re some little known varieties mostly used by restaurants as garnish. Also my sister is a chef and she makes a variety of sauces, relishes, and a few dressings and pastes. She’s a cooking miracle. She’s working on some soup starters as her new line—absolutely amazing stuff.”
“You oughta see Jillian’s place,” Jack said. “It’s incredible. And she farms year-round.”
“Look at those artichokes,” Kaylee said. “They’re huge!”
“I’d love it if you came by,” Jillian said. “I’ll give you a tour. Whenever you’re available. I’m just about done for the day if you’re free now.”
She glanced at her laptop, which hadn’t seen a lot of action today, and said, “I’m free.”
“Great! You can follow me home! I’ll take you around in the garden mobile.”
Kaylee did just that, driving down Highway 36 behind Jillian and then down a long road, through the trees and up to a beautiful Victorian mansion. After she parked she admired the house.
“Completely restored, mostly by Paul Haggerty,” Jillian said. “I found it and rented it and started a small garden, then I bought it and the ten acres it’s on and planned a farm. The house is wonderful; I’ll take you through it after we tour the gardens. Colin and I live here, but my sister, Kelly, uses the kitchen to cook. She has a commercial kitchen in Eureka where she produces her sauces. But she’s always trying new things, usually on a large scale, and this kitchen is perfect. Come in and meet her.”
Kaylee followed Jillian inside and met Kelly, who appeared to be up to her elbows in dough.
“Bread,” Jillian said. “I love it when she bakes bread. You can smell the aroma all the way to the coast. If you’re interested, we can see the gardens first, then the house.”
“Oh, I’m interested. I want to see anything you have time to show me.”
“Good, I love showing it off.”
Sitting in the garden mobile next to Jillian, Kaylee bounced around the huge gardens behind the house. They were like a quilt of many colors and textures, lush and looking tasty. Most of the outdoor gardens were picked clean except for the melons, pumpkins and some late squash. But there were several greenhouses in the back, filled with raised beds that held fruits, vegetables and flowers. “Mostly edible flowers that chefs like to garnish their plates with. I just started doing that a couple of years ago.”
“How do you get your stuff to the restaurants? Because unless I missed something, there aren’t a lot of restaurants around here.”
“You didn’t miss anything. These flowers and heirloom vegetables go as far as Seattle and San Francisco via FedEx. They’re tender little things that won’t last long; they go overnight.”
The back acreage was lined with fruit trees and berry bushes. “The berries come in in spring, finished by the first of August, but the apples come in later. I don’t rely on that apple crop for much, except to satisfy the deer. I sell them out on the roadside stands—we have two large ones now. Kelly uses the fruit and berries in her creations; she ships a lot of pie filling, jams, jellies and that sort
