She set out the roses and shrubs first, still in their pots, followed by perennials. Somewhere she’d read that they looked best in “drifts,” giving the impression they’d spread on their own, she supposed.
Studying the results, she saw an awful lot of bare soil in between puny plants. When she heard footsteps, she turned. Wiping sweat from his forehead with his forearm, Cole stopped at her side and studied her effort.
“Looks good.”
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “I guess I can buy some annuals to fill in the gaps.”
“Things’ll grow faster than you expect.” What might have been a smile lifted his mouth. “Think about grass. And blackberries.”
Erin made a face. “You have a point.”
“I’ll get back to work.”
“I wonder if Mr. Zatloka will be willing to give up maintaining the yard on his own after this.”
“I don’t know.” Cole frowned. “Place could use some work. Is their money tight?”
“I have no idea. A lot of the houses in the neighborhood are getting shabby. The owners are all elderly.”
“They’re living on Medicare?”
“Maybe. But Nanna and Grandpa had investments and his retirement income. She could have hired help. She just didn’t.” Erin sighed. “Maybe she didn’t notice that the place was deteriorating. It could be the same with the others.”
He grunted, but more as if he was thinking than rejecting what she’d said. “Mrs. Zatloka will be in a wheelchair soon. Even with the walker, she’d do better if they had a ramp.”
“That’s true.” Which gave her an idea. She hesitated, then decided not to say anything.
“I’ll build it for them if they can buy the lumber,” he said.
“That’s nice of you.” She tried for matter-of-fact. “Will you join us for dinner?”
A struggle showed on his face. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”
Erin gaped at him. “For heaven’s sake! I’m pretty sure she thinks you walk on water. I know she kept looking to you, not me.”
Was that embarrassment burnishing his angular cheeks?
“Yeah, I’ll have dinner with you,” he muttered, and left her, going around the house and out of sight. A moment later, the buzz of the small engine began again.
You can run, but you can’t hide, she thought, feeling…exhilarated.
* * *
MR. ZATLOKA CAME home the next day, complaining nonstop about how ridiculous it had been to call an ambulance or for that foolish doctor to think he needed something as fancy and expensive as an MRI.
That tiny dimple showed in Erin’s cheek as she suppressed a smile.
“We didn’t know what had happened,” Cole said mildly, getting out of the Cherokee in the driveway to help the old guy down from the back seat.
“And keeping me overnight!” Mr. Zatloka exclaimed. “It’s just greed, that’s what it is. Do you know what they charge for a hospital bed these days?”
“No idea,” Cole admitted. He didn’t like to think these bills were going to put an old couple like this in a hole financially.
The neighbor scowled. “Well, we won’t be paying for it, but I see what things cost. It’s greed, that’s all.”
Erin laughed. “You know better than that, Mr. Zatloka. It’s not the bed or clean sheets you’re paying for. It’s the building and all that high-tech stuff that beeps, and the nurses and doctors and aides. Dieticians and a kitchen and meals delivered three times a day. They took good care of you, didn’t they?”
“I suppose,” he said grudgingly. Looking at his yard, he said, “You mowed for me again.”
“And didn’t mind doing it,” Cole agreed.
From the front seat, Erin said, “We were wondering if you should have a ramp from the house. I worry about Mrs. Zatloka.”
The old man was nodding. “I been thinking about it. The wife says she’s fine, doesn’t need anything like that, but walking is getting harder for her. Just wasn’t sure whether I needed to call a decking company or what.”
Cole frowned at Erin. She frowned back, looking annoyed, but shut her mouth.