The First Gardener Read online

Jessica’s lip turned up slightly. “No. No thank you. I ate already.”

  Mackenzie looked at Rosa and gave her a wink. Rosa turned away as a smile swept across her face. If it wasn’t made of some kind of leaf, Jessica wouldn’t eat it. Rosa had patted her own plump frame one morning and speculated in her broken English that Jessica juiced spinach for breakfast. That had really cracked Mackenzie up.

  Not that she didn’t appreciate healthy. In fact, she had drastically changed her family’s eating habits in recent years, stressing organic foods and trying to phase out simple carbs and saturated fats, much to Rosa’s frustration. But she was still left at a disadvantage with a half-Italian father, a Southern mother, a cook from Mexico, and a child who thought macaroni and cheese was a vegetable.

  Mackenzie opened the folder and looked over the schedule change. She had known about the luncheon with the educators and the meeting with the chef for Wednesday night’s dinner. But she hadn’t planned on the meeting with the Child Advocacy Coalition of Tennessee, for which she was the spokesperson. “Ooh, busy day.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ve got a lot to accomplish today. And Chandra needs a word with you today or tomorrow about the children’s volunteer curriculum.” Jessica stood stiffly beside Mackenzie’s barstool, obviously anxious for her to finish eating.

  Mackenzie had three people on her office staff, which operated independently of the household staff. Susan ran her office—answering phones, screening e-mails, handling all the nitpicky details and paper shuffling. Chandra handled all the initiatives Mackenzie was a part of. Jessica was her executive assistant, traveling companion, and the only person besides Eugenia officially authorized to tell Mackenzie what to do.

  Not that she always listened. “Why don’t you sit down, Jessica? Sure you don’t want something?”

  Jessica pulled out another barstool and sat. Her simple gold bracelet clanked against the white marble countertop as she did, and she drummed her fingers without even knowing it.

  Jessica didn’t do well with waiting. She tended to be uptight and a little hyper—the perfect balance, Gray said, to Mackenzie’s schedule-challenged attitude. Mackenzie could spend an hour or more chatting with people after an event, even when she had a back-to-back schedule. But she couldn’t help it. She’d never liked living in a hurry. She loved a plan. She just didn’t want to rush while doing it.

  “A real Southerner isn’t in a hurry,” she’d tell Gray when he complained about her tardiness. She was just like her mother in that regard, and it had driven her father crazy too. A native New Yorker with a passionate Italian mother and expressive Irish father, Lorenzo Quinn had fallen in love with Eugenia during her brief freshman semester at New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology. He’d been a senior at Columbia at the time. He’d stayed on for three years of law school while she moved back home to Franklin and worked at a flower shop. But as soon as his schooling was complete, he had moved to Tennessee to marry the chronically late, slightly ornery, very Southern girl who had stolen his heart. Southerners had driven him crazy until the day he died, but he’d been willing to endure them for Eugenia’s sake.

  Mackenzie knew she pretty much drove Jessica crazy too, and it had nothing to do with being Southern. Jessica had been born and raised in Nashville. She was just naturally tense—and seemingly oblivious to Mackenzie’s efforts to lighten her up. Mackenzie had tried pretty much every tactic in her arsenal, from changing the schedule at the last minute to jumping out from behind doors to scare her. But all these efforts just seemed to make Jessica’s edginess worse, and Mackenzie had practically given up. With her tight bun of black hair, her tortoiseshell glasses, and her two-stranded pearl necklace, Jessica had probably made about all the progress she was going to make.

  Mackenzie wiped her mouth and set her napkin down beside her plate. She ran her hands through what was left of her attempt at curling her hair, but the humidity had collapsed the curls into limp waves. Come to think of it, she should probably adopt Jessica’s strategy and plaster it all back. But no, she chose to torture herself. She pushed her barstool back and picked up her red cotton argyle sweater, letting it hang loosely from her left hand.

  “Breakfast was absolutely perfect, Rosa. Just like my mom would make, but don’t tell her I said that.” She winked and turned to Jessica. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  They left the kitchen and headed for her office. But then Mackenzie caught sight of a familiar figure through the windows. “Be right back, Jessica.” She didn’t wait for the protest. “Jeremiah!” she called out to the figure standing over a bed of hydrangeas that formed a sea of pom-poms at his feet.

  Jeremiah Williams turned as she came out on the veranda and stood smiling as she descended the stone staircase.

  “You late today, Miz Mackenzie,” he said softly.

  She leaned in and kissed him on his freckled cheek. “My life has officially changed, Jeremiah. My baby just walked out of my house with a book bag and lunch money, and I don’t quite know what to do with myself.”

  He reached out one hand and took hers, his calluses hard against her soft palm. The other hand extended the most perfect thorn-free red rosebud. “Well, it still be Monday.”

  “This is the most beautiful one yet, Jeremiah.”

  He pulled a blue handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the beaded sweat from his high forehead. “You say that every Monday. But I sure ’nough think it be the purtiest one we findin’ today.”

  She removed her hand from his and pointed at the hydrangeas. “Do you mind cutting me some of these for our dinner Wednesday night?”

  “Thought that there florist gon’ do your flowers for that dinner.”

  “She is; she is. But ours are beautiful and I’d like to use them.” She smiled mischievously. “I’ll let Jessica tell her.”

  “You let me know how many you be needin’, and we’ll be gettin’ you some.”

  “I’ll have Jessica give you a count.”

  He shook his head. “She all wound up, Miz Mackenzie, and now you gon’ go on and wound her up some more.”

  Mackenzie laughed. Jeremiah missed nothing—probably knew more about what went on in the house than she did. “Jessica’s good at her job,” she said.

  He shook his head in that sweet manner he had, as if he would have to trust her on that one. “How’d our Maddie do today?”

  The emotion came hard. “It was even tougher than I thought. For us, that is. But she didn’t even notice we were gone. What did she say to you this morning?”

  “She gone and ax me to go with her.”

  Mackenzie laughed. “I’m sure she did. She would have dragged you around there like you were a kindergartner too.”

  “My baby girl, she do the same thing her first day a kin’ergarten. Don’t know what it is ’bout little girls and schools. My boys, they run fast as they could ’side that schoolhouse and forget they gots a mama and daddy soon’s they feet hit that concrete. But not my girl. My girl wanted me in the whole way. And they love ’em some purty outfits too, don’t they.”

  “They sure do.”

  “Maddie Mae showed me that outfit a hers.”

  “I saw her swinging around for you.”

  He patted her arm and spoke, his cadence soft and slow. “She gots to grow up, Miz Mackenzie, even though it be hard on her mama.” He chuckled. “Way I figure it, though, that girl gon’ be principal a that school by the time her first week’s all used up.”

  Mackenzie laughed, grateful that it pushed the tears back to their place. “You’re probably right about that.” She looked down at her flower. “Well, I’ve got a packed day. Thank you for my flower today, Jeremiah.”

  He nodded and turned back to work his magic. He made these grounds come to life in a way that rivaled the Garden of Eden.

  If God was the very first Gardener, Mackenzie was certain he had taught Jeremiah Williams everything he knew.

  “No heart is bigger than a child’s. And at no time is a heart more moldable th
an in childhood. So our job is to offer children the opportunity to see where the needs in their community lie. And I am confident that when they see the need, they will have a desire to help meet that need. All we have to do is lead them. I’m willing. Are you?”

  Mackenzie let the silence linger. Then she walked from the stage back to her chair. Lola sat in the chair beside hers. Picking up the doll, Mackenzie hurried from the auditorium into the bathroom. She pulled a thermometer from her purse and took her temperature. The baby-making hour was upon her. And she had two more appointments before it was time to pick up Maddie. She returned the thermometer to her yellow leather handbag and exited the bathroom.

  She couldn’t skip the after-luncheon conversations, but she moved more quickly through them than usual. When the door of her car finally closed, she set Lola between her and Jessica, noting the stickiness in Lola’s wiry blonde hair and wondering how many layers of syrup were actually in there.

  “I need to make a change on our itinerary today,” she said, knowing the mere mention of a scheduling blip would make her assistant squirm. But she’d warned Jessica when she and Gray started their new round of fertility drugs that on certain days the schedule would just have to bend. Thankfully, Jessica hadn’t asked a lot of questions and, for the most part, had handled it well. She twitched a little more, but Mackenzie could deal with that.

  Now Jessica tugged at her skirt as if that would fix what she was about to have to undo. “Are we talking change everything or just an appointment?”

  “Well, what’s Gray’s schedule today?”

  Jessica reached into her portfolio and pulled out a piece of paper. “He’s just finishing up his Monday afternoon lunch briefing. And he has a two o’clock meeting with the joint Education Oversight committee and the TEA.”

  Mackenzie glanced at her watch. It was one fifteen, and Gray’s office was only a ten-minute drive away. That gave them thirty minutes before Gray had to leave for his meeting.

  “Perfect,” she said. “Let’s head to the capitol. Move my meeting with the Child Advocacy Coalition to another day this week if they can. Let them know I’m really sorry, but this is something that can’t be avoided. Ask Chandra if we can talk first thing tomorrow. Then we can move the meeting with Chef Robert to after I pick Maddie up, and all will be well.”

  By the sound of Jessica’s voice as she began her conversation with their one thirty, she guessed that all was not quite as well with Jessica.

  As many times as Mackenzie had visited the Tennessee state capitol building, she always felt a little twinge of pride when she approached it. Finished in 1859, the white limestone Greek Revival building—one of only eleven state capitols without a dome—had served as a fortress during the Civil War and still struck a dignified presence amid the bustle of downtown Nashville.

  Their car pulled into the underground entrance. Mackenzie had already made Gray aware that she was coming and that her intentions were completely sordid. He had laughed out loud—and told her that was exactly what he had wanted to add to his day. Though he sometimes wearied of the demands the fertility treatments made on their life, he never objected to impromptu visits like this.

  She made her way straight to his office, having encouraged Jessica to take a thirty-minute break. She knew her assistant was incapable of taking time off, however, so she supposed Jessica would find a place to work. Mackenzie had considered forcing the woman to take a vacation, but she feared a complete emotional breakdown would ensue.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. London.” The senators from Memphis and Clarksville greeted her as she hurried up the elegant hallway.

  “Good afternoon, Stan, John. Looking forward to seeing you Wednesday night. Tell Jane and Meredith I can’t wait to see them either.” She took two more strides toward Gray’s office, then turned. “John, how did Carlton do in his cross-country meet? I forgot to ask Meredith.”

  The senator’s eyes registered surprise. “He was in the top ten.”

  “Tell him great job.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  The thickness of the navy carpet stopped the noise of her heels as she entered the governor’s offices. Gray stood in the doorway to his private office, leaning against the doorframe, smiling. His executive assistant, Sarah Hughes, was behind her desk, glasses perched atop her nose, fingers moving like woodpeckers across the keys of her computer.

  A young law clerk looked up from the small desk by the hall doorway. “Hello, Mrs. London.”

  “Hey, Troy, studying hard?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned and looked at Gray. She smiled. It was evident he wanted the governor to know he was a hard worker.

  The announcement caused Sarah to raise her head. A smile swept across her face. “Hello, Mackenzie. Our governor here has been expecting you.”

  Sarah and Mackenzie had known each other since Mackenzie was a little girl, and Sarah’s daughter, Anna, was still Mackenzie’s best friend. Sarah had worked for Gray’s law office for ten years before she made the move with him to the capitol. There was very little she didn’t know about Gray, including what an afternoon visit from Mackenzie usually meant.

  She had to know for it all to work. But knowing that Sarah knew still made Mackenzie’s face flush.

  Gray’s smile was wide as he backed into his office, white shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loosened around his neck. He closed the door behind them. Sarah would make sure they were not disturbed.

  “Baby-making time?” Gray bent down to kiss her.

  She ran her hand down the side of his head, his hair soft beneath her fingers. She loved the way he wore it—short, neat, with just a hint of distinguished gray at the temples. “You only have a few minutes.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “You’ve been checking my schedule?”

  She crinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

  He took her hand and led her across the yellow-and-blue Tennessee seal rug that virtually filled his entire office. He opened the door to the quaint study off his main office and let her go inside, pressing his hand against the small of her back to guide her. This was where he read his briefs, made his phone calls, and—sometimes—made love to his wife.

  He closed the door behind them. Mackenzie was already facing him, reaching for his tie. “We only have about twenty minutes. I know you don’t need all of—”

  He pulled her hands from his tie and pushed her back slightly.

  She giggled. “But you can take all twenty minutes if you want to.”

  He reached up and slid her jacket from her shoulders. “Thank you. I think I will.”

  “Wonder what your constituents would think if they—”

  He kissed the side of her neck, his words brushing against her ear. “I’d prefer not to think about my constituents right now, if you don’t mind.”

  Mackenzie laughed again. She didn’t mind one little bit.

  Mackenzie wrapped the tie back around Gray’s neck. She knew him so well. She remembered those early days of dating when she began to learn his history and then his quirks. And, Lord have mercy, he did have his quirks.

  The one that always got her the most tickled was how the covers on their bed had to be just so at night. The top sheet had to be neatly folded over the coverlet before he could actually go to sleep. But she liked her covers stuck up underneath her chin. After their first year of marriage, he had finally given up on her side.

  He also had to sleep with a box fan in the room, turned on him just so. Every night before he climbed in, he would situate it precisely so it would blow on his face. Before she married him, Mackenzie had never liked noise at night. She wanted it completely quiet and totally dark. But now she had gotten used to the sound of the fan.

  Oh, and he didn’t like to be touched when he was ready to go to sleep. He wanted Mackenzie on her side and he on his. But that was where she drew the line. She couldn’t help it. If it was with nothing more than her big toe, she was going to touch him. And he either had gotten used to that or was just tired of c
omplaining about it.

  Thinking about each of his quirks made her smile.

  “Thank you, baby,” she whispered as he buttoned the final button of his shirt.

  He leaned down and kissed her softly on her lips. “Mack, you don’t ever have to thank me for making love to you.”

  “I know. Just thank you for always making me welcome.” She finished knotting his tie and pushed it up closer to his neck. She knew Sarah was well aware of what was happening, but she still didn’t want it to be too obvious.

  “You are always welcome.”

  She leaned her head against his chest. “I love you, Gray London.”

  “I love you too, babe.”

  “Let’s pray this worked.”

  His lips moved against her forehead. “Even if it doesn’t, I like it when you visit me like this.”

  She leaned her head back, laughing. “You like this wild woman, huh?”

  “Love it.”

  She moved toward the door and turned the gold doorknob. “I’ll see you at home.”

  “Call me when you pick up Maddie,” he said. “I can’t wait to hear how her day went.”

  “How ’bout if I have her call you.”

  He was slipping his feet into his shoes. “That’d be perfect. Love you, Mack.”

  “Love you too.” She turned back toward him, then grinned. “Oh, hey—your zipper.”

  “What?” He reached down and felt his exposure. “That wouldn’t give anything away, would it?”

  “Might give away more than you intended.” She laughed.

  He zipped his slacks as she walked across his office and out the door. She prayed silently that this one was it. That this afternoon encounter would result in the baby boy they both desired and they both deserved.

  Chapter 7

  Gray struggled to get his mind back on work. It was difficult because Mack’s visit had taken over all of his senses and co-opted his thoughts.

  The truth was this whole baby-making process left him badly torn.

  He certainly didn’t mind the afternoon trysts with his wife. And it was true that he wanted another child—especially a boy. He wouldn’t trade Maddie for the world, but there were still days when his heart ached for a son. He wanted so much of what a father and son could share, what he and his own dad had shared.