The Red Book of Primrose House: A Potting Shed Mystery (Potting Shed Mystery series 2) Read Online Free

to Greenoak, their home in Hampshire, and Pru would spend two more nights with them in London before she left to meet Christopher for the weekend away and then begin her job at Primrose House in Sussex. In the meantime, he had asked her to dinner at his flat—to meet his son, Graham, who was visiting. The way her stomach was feeling, she thought that meeting your date’s son might be scarier than meeting his parents.
    The weather had turned cold, and a wind whipped down the street and through the branches of the plane trees of Chartsworth Square, scattering leaves over the road. But chilly weather was nothing to a gardener, so when she got in the car and Christopher said he would’ve been happy to park and come to the door if she’d given him the chance, she responded by kissing him and just barely slipping her tongue between his lips before saying, “We’d best be off.” He gave her a narrow look and smiled.
    The atmosphere inside the car, as Christopher drove from Chelsea to Chiswick, was one of quiet joy and nervous anticipation—not just for meeting his son, but also for their upcoming weekend. Alone. The first time.
    While stopped at a traffic light, he took one of her cold hands and began rubbing it vigorously. “Graham offered to cook for us. I believe we’re having shepherd’s pie.”
    “Excellent. This Rioja I brought should go well.”
    They parked in the garage, walked into his building, and pressed the button for the lift. She glanced at him and said, “I’m a little nervous about meeting him.”
    As the lift doors closed, his fingers lightly caressed the back of her neck. “There’s no need for that.”
    She looked up at him. “You’re a little nervous, too, aren’t you?”
    He smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Yes, a bit.”
    But there was no need for nerves, because she and Graham, a talkative, engaging young man of twenty-two, got on famously. He stood several inches shorter than his father, and his hair, which just reached his collar, was blond like his mother’s—a woman Pru had met only once.
    The three of them chatted about the countryside, gardens, and Graham’s recently finished course of study—environmental sciences. As the evening progressed, she began a long discussion with him about the quality of urban soils. Pru looked over at Christopher. They had taken their coffee in the living room after an apple crumble for dessert. He had leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs; he had a smile on his face as he listened to them and a look of contentment such as she had not seen before.
    When the evening was over, she insisted on taking a taxi back to the Wilsons’ instead of dragging Christopher out to drive again.
    “I’m glad to have met you,” Graham said as Christopher helped her with her coat. “Dad was in a right state when he thought you were headed back to Texas. I wouldn’t be surprised if he bit off a few heads at the station.” He had that same smile playing about his lips as his father. “You don’t mind me saying that, do you, Dad?”
    “No, son, I don’t mind.”
    “Good night, Graham. It was a wonderful meal, thanks so much,” Pru said as she gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed.
    In the hall as they stood waiting for the lift, Graham stuck his head out of the door. “Oh, there you are. Pru, would you like me to email you that article on the depth of substrate needed for the new building codes?”
    “I’d love to read it, yes, thanks. You’ll get my address from your dad.”
    “Right, then. Well, carry on. Cheers.” He closed the door of the flat just as the lift doors slid open.
    Pru laughed. “I don’t know what he thinks we’re going to get up to in a lift.”
    Christopher raised his eyebrows. “You never know,” he said, and grabbed her around the waist.
    “He’s a lovely young man. You should be very proud.”
    “I didn’t have much to do with that.” Christopher had been divorced from Phyl, Graham’s