One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays by Irene Hannon

Author:Irene Hannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 1999-10-13T04:00:00+00:00

At nine o’clock the next morning Nick punched in the number for Taylor Landscaping. He waited with an impatient frown as the phone rang once, twice, three times. By the sixth ring he was drumming his fingers on the desk. What kind of an outfit was this, anyway? Every business office he knew of was open by this hour. Hadn’t anyone ever told this company that an unanswered phone meant lost business? Nick was just about to hang up when a slightly breathless voice answered.

“Taylor Landscaping.”

“This is Nick Sinclair from Sinclair and Stevens. I’d like to speak with Mr. Taylor.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the line. “Do you mean the owner?” There was a hint of amusement in the voice.

Nick bit back the sarcastic retort that sprang to his lips, confining his response to a single, curt syllable. “Yes.”

“Well, everyone’s out at the job site right now.”

Nick debated. He could just leave a message. But it might not be a bad idea to see this outfit at work. “All right. Just give me the address,” he said in a clipped, authoritative tone.

“Well, I guess that would be okay.” The voice sounded uncertain. “Hang on a minute.” A sound of papers being shuffled came over the line, and after several interminable minutes the information was relayed. Nick jotted it down. A residential job, in a nice area of large homes and expansive grounds. But not a commercial commission.

“Thanks,” he said.

“My pleasure.” The amused tone was back.

Nick frowned at the receiver, perplexed by the woman’s attitude. But he wasn’t about to waste time trying to figure it out. Instead, he glanced at his watch. If he hurried, there was time to pay a quick visit to Taylor Landscaping before his eleven o’clock meeting.

A half hour later Nick pulled up at the address provided by the woman on the phone. Four people, dressed in jeans and work shirts, were visible. Two wrestled with a large boulder. Next to them, a guy with a mustache fiddled with a jackhammer. Another slightly built worker, who appeared to be only a teenager, stood apart with a hose, watering some freshly planted azalea bushes.

Nick had no idea who the owner was, but the kid with the hose was closest to the street. Besides, he had no desire to approach the group with the jackhammer. It was now in use, and the bone-jarring noise was already giving him a headache.

Nick stepped onto the lawn and took a moment to look over the grounds. It was a new house, built on a vacant lot in an already established neighborhood. The ground had been cleared during construction, and it was obvious that a complete landscaping job was under way. The work appeared to be just beginning, and it was difficult to tell whether a cohesive plan had been developed. But a well-maintained pickup truck bearing the name Taylor Landscaping stood parked in the circular driveway, and the crew seemed energetic.

The jackhammer stopped momentarily, and Nick opened his mouth to speak.

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