"Fine print. So, I'll take you. When's your day off?"
"I... It depends. You'll take me to Graceland?"
"You can't settle in down here until you've experienced Graceland. Pick a day, I'll work around it."
"I'm trying to understand here. Are you asking me for a date?"
"I wasn't heading into the date arena. I'm thinking of it more as an outing, between associates." He set
the empty mug on her desk. "Think about it, let me know."
* * *
She had too much to do to think about it. She couldn't just pop off to Graceland. And if she could, and had some strange desire to do so, she certainly wouldn't pop off to Graceland with Logan.
The fact that she'd admired his work—and all right, bis build—didn't mean she liked him. It didn't mean she wanted to spend her very valuable off-time in his company.
But she couldn't help thinking about it, or more, wondering why he'd asked her. Maybe it was some
sort of a trick, a strange initiation for the Yankee. You take her to Graceland, then abandon her in a
forest of Elvis paraphernalia and see if she can find her way out.
Or maybe, in his weird Logan way, he'd decided that hitting on her was an easier away around her new system than arguing with her.
Except he hadn't seemed to be hitting on her. Exactly. It had seemed more friendly, off the cuff, or impulsive. And he'd asked about her children. There was no quicker way to cut through her annoyance, any shield, any defense than a sincere interest in her boys.
And if he was just being friendly, it seemed only polite, and sensible, to be friendly back.
What did people wear to Graceland, anyway?
Not that she was going. She probably wasn't. But it was smart to prepare. Just in case.
In Greenhouse Three, supervising while Hayley watered propagated annuals, Stella pondered on the situation.
"Ever been to Graceland?"
"Oh, sure. These are impatiens, right?"
Stella looked down at the flat. "Yeah. Those are Busy Lizzies. They're doing really well."
"And these are impatiens too. The New Guinea ones."
"Right. You do learn fast."
"Well, I recognize these easier because I've planted them before. Anyway, I went to Graceland with
some pals when I was in college. It's pretty cool. I bought this Elvis bookmark. Wonder what ever happened to that? Elvis is a form of Elvin. It means 'elf-wise friend.' Isn't that strange?"
"Stranger to me that you'd know that."
"Just one of those things you pick up somewhere."
"Okay. So, what's the dress code?"
"Hmm?" She was trying to identify another flat by the leaves on the seedlings. And struggling not to
peek at the name on the spike. "I don't guess there is one. People just wear whatever. Jeans and stuff."
"Casual, then."
"Right. I like the way it smells in here. All earthy and damp."
"Then you made the right career choice."
"It could be a career, couldn't it?" Those clear blue eyes shifted to Stella. "Something I could learn to
be good at. I always thought I'd run my own place one day. Always figured on a bookstore, but this is sort of the same."
"How's that?"
"Well, like you've got your new stuff, and your classics. You've got genres, when it comes down to it. Annuals, biennials, perennials, shrubs and trees and grasses. Water plants and shade plants. That sort
of thing."
"You know, you're right. I hadn't thought of it that way."
Encouraged, Hayley walked down the rows. "And you're learning and exploring, the way you do with books. And we—you know, the staff—we're trying to help people find what suits them, makes them happy or at least satisfied. Planting a flower's like opening a book, because either way you're starting something. And your garden's your library. I could get good at this."
"I don't doubt it."
She turned to see Stella smiling at her. "When I am good at it, it won't just be a job anymore. A job's okay. It's cool for now, but I want more than a paycheck at the end of the week. I don't just mean money—though, okay, I want the money too."
"No, I know what you mean. You want what Roz has here. A place, and the satisfaction of being part
of that place. Roots," Stella said, touching the leaves of a seedling. "And bloom. I know, because I
want it too."
"But you have it. You're so totally smart, and you know where you're going. You've got two great kids, and a... a position here. You worked toward this, this place, this position. I feel like I'm just starting."
"And you're impatient to get on with it. So was I at your age."
Hayley's face beamed good humor. "And, yeah, you're so old and creaky now."
Laughing, Stella pushed back her hair. "I've got about ten years on you. A lot can happen, a lot can change— yourself included—in a decade. In some ways I'm just starting, too—a decade after you. Transplanting myself, and my two precious shoots here."