Mister Owita's Guide to Gardening: How I Learned the Unexpected Joy of a Green Thumb and an Open Heart Read Online Free Page B

that she was being so friendly. She closed the space between us with a few eager steps and I noticed the lovely auburn highlights in her hair. It tumbled freely, brushing her cheekbones.
    “It’s hard to shop with a baby on your hip,” she said.
    “Oh, honey. I know. I’ve been there. Three times over. But you look great, because all mothers of beautiful babies look great.”
    I tickled her baby on his foot and he giggled. The neighbor mom seemed happy as she left. I placed my items on the counter, one by one. Giles Owita didn’t seem aware that I was studying him as the cashier, Marie, made stabs at chitchat. I answered her remarks about the weather and a flavor of coffee creamer I’d picked out. This close to him, I noticed once again the aura of calm that seemed to surround Giles Owita. It was something I felt, but couldn’t explain. Finally, I spoke my first words to him. “Don’t I recognize you?”
    I swiped my debit card, and Giles Owita looked quizzically toward me, but not directly at me. He lowered his eyebrows, concentrating.
    “You’re Giles Owita,” I said, as if he didn’t know.
    “Yes. I’m Giles,” he said. “Have we met?”
    Time seemed to slow as I extended my hand. I took noteof every detail in the way he shook it, managing a mix of gentleness and firmness in his grip. Again, he didn’t look me in the eye.
    Marie folded a stick of Juicy Fruit into her mouth and studied us both intently. I watched as Giles Owita stacked my six-packs of cola and ginger ale in a paper bag. Another customer added herself to the line behind the girl with the purple hair.
    “I’m Sarah Driscoll’s neighbor. Carol Wall,” I said. “You left me a note today. We missed each other, though. I’m sorry, and I . . .”
    His face lit up with a smile. “How are you, Mrs. Wall?”
    And that was when my good intentions fell by the wayside. Suddenly I’d forgotten about my pledge to just introduce myself like a normal person. While Giles Owita had managed to put everyone else on our grocery line at ease, his remarkable calm had the effect on me—in this moment at least—of rendering me awkward and unsure of myself, graceless in the face of such grace. “I’ll make this really quick,” I said. “The next time you come to my yard, I’d like to be there and give you a tour. There’s a list I’m working on, and I want to go over it with you. Maybe if you call me, we could set a time at your convenience.”
    “All right.” He nodded. “We live out near the airport, but my travels often take me past your house. You have a lovely compound, Mrs. Wall.”
    I searched the depths of my purse and with a quick, apologetic glance at those in line, I hastily retrieved Giles Owita’sletter, unfolded the page, and showed him the sentence that gave me pause the first time I’d read it.
    “I have only this one concern,” I said, tapping the page with an index finger as he began to lift my bags of groceries into the waiting cart.
    He leaned closer to look. Seeing his own note, inscribed with the distinctive, right-leaning script that flowed from his pen, he flashed his million-dollar smile. Instantly charmed, I began to feel a melting of resolve.
    “Those azaleas at your compound will be beautiful,” Giles Owita said. “Soon, we are going to see their deep pink blooms.”
    Oh, Good Lord.
    “They only lack some helpful chemicals,” Giles Owita cheerfully informed me. “Which I can easily supply from my garden shed, as noted here.”
    Far back in the line, someone said, “Let’s get a move on.”
    I was embarrassed by this, and yet undeterred. “I have this quirk,” I said, my nerves on edge. “I’ve never liked azaleas. I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”
    Giles Owita looked regretful, but accepting. “What time would be best for me to visit you, Mrs. Wall?”
    Thank God. He was going to cooperate with no more arguing, however polite. And I would no longer have to live with azaleas.
    Before I could