turned her lips up in a smile, but the motion felt forced. Hopefully Jacob wouldn’t notice. This wasn’t the time to get into a conversation about Owen’s lack of relationship with his own grandfather. But she couldn’t help the melancholy ache that spread across her chest. Memories of their argument from yesterday clouded her previously good mood. She pretended to study the collection of dolls on display until the heavy moment passed.
“You okay?” Jacob turned away from the window toward her, concern etched in his expression.
Marissa tried to brighten the plastic smile as they started walking again. “I’m fine. It’s that … Owen isn’t close to his grandparents. My mom, somewhat, but not my dad.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Which is partly my fault. I’m not close with my dad, either.” She looked away, sudden heat flooding her neck. Great, Marissa, why don’t you just plop your family issues right here on the cobblestones in front of him?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Jacob hesitated before pulling open the door of the nursery. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Marissa shook her head abruptly. “No. Thanks, though. It’s not a big deal. I’d rather talk about the fundraiser.”
“If you’re sure.” Concern lingered in his expression as he pulled open the door.
It was sweet of him to care. But this wasn’t the time—and with him as her client, there would never be the right time. It simply wasn’t his business.
Even if the sympathy in his eyes made her want to spill the whole story.
Marissa took a deep breath and allowed the air-conditioning rushing through the open doorway to cool her flushed face. “Maybe this place will give us some ideas for what we’ll need to finish the festival. I’d really like to find a way to include the kids that attend.”
“This nursery is one of the best.” Jacob pointed to a row of plants lining the far wall. The large store, built onto the end of a row of shops, featured an open greenhouse area in the back that was crowded with a variety of bushes and flowers. “I often buy here for my clients.”
Marissa gently touched the red petals of a nearby Gerber daisy. “How long have you been in the yard service industry?”
Jacob squinted as if mentally calculating the total. “Off and on, about ten years now, I’d guess.”
“You must really like it.”
“It’s not bad. Hey, look!” Jacob fairly tugged Marissa to a display at the end of the next aisle. “Olivia loves these mini-cacti. We could have a table at the festival set up with individual cartons of dirt for kids to plant in. Some of these minis don’t have sharp needles. We could set an age limit for the table.”
“We could also set out gloves as a precaution. They are pretty cute.” Each tiny cactus had one or more equally small blooms in red, pink or yellow sprouting from the top of the plant. “I could see Owen liking something like this. He’s always digging in our flower beds with a spade.” She wrinkled her nose. “I say flower bed loosely. It’s seen better days.”
“Kids and dirt are usually a winning combo, regardless of how worthy the flower bed.” Jacob winked. “These are on sale, and I get a discount here. If you want, I can come back and buy a few flats of the cacti to store at my house.”
“That’d be great. I wouldn’t know what to do with them until the festival, otherwise.” Marissa stepped back as Jacob made arrangements with a salesman to reserve the cacti for pickup, then they headed back outside into the fading sunlight.
“That went well.” Jacob checked his watch. “Where to next?”
Marissa pointed down the row of shops. “We could check out the party supply store. It’s right around the corner.”
They headed in that direction. “Any suggestions for Olivia’s big day?” Marissa asked. As hectic as her schedule was, she was looking forward to helping make the birthday girl’s party a hit. Girl parties were usually more involved, but also more fun—probably because it gave Marissa a break from the constant little-boy-world of superheroes, worms and fire trucks in which she daily resided.
Jacob opened the door to the party store and motioned for Marissa to walk in first. “Olivia’s mom—Liz—suggested anything pink, frilly or princess. Pretty much everything I know nothing about.” He snorted. “If she wanted a superhero, however, I’d be her man.”
Marissa grabbed a shopping basket and led Jacob toward the far right section of the store where the girlier items were located. “Closet comic book fan, huh?”
He offered a guilty grin, pausing to examine a box full of old-fashioned Slinky toys. “It’s not that big a secret. My coworkers tease me all the time whenever a new superhero movie comes out.”
She could see that. After all, Jacob already possessed a superhero vibe, playing the role of rescuer to his brother’s family and even saving her from a lonely Friday night.
But his potential hero status had nothing to do with the party plans in question, and she’d only get in trouble following that line of thought. She led the way past the balloon counter. Interesting that he referred to his lawn service employees as coworkers. Such humility, if that’s what it was, would certainly be a refreshing attribute in a man. Not that it mattered—Jacob was her client.
So why was she constantly reminding herself of that fact?
She shook her head to clear it, trying to focus on their conversation instead of on her own wayward thoughts. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with superheroes. Owen would attest to that.”
“I don’t think Olivia would agree. She’s easy to please, but evil villains and red capes at her party is pushing it.” He chuckled.
They rounded the corner and were suddenly surrounded by pink fluff. Jacob threw his arms up to shield his face in an exaggerated, dramatic duck. “Yikes, it’s the princess row.”
“Nothing on this aisle bites, I promise.” Marissa laughed, swatting his arm. “It’s the right decision, trust me. Girls Olivia’s age usually love a princess theme, and there are a ton of options for games and food. It’s a win-win.”
Jacob picked up a plastic jeweled tiara. “I guess you’re right. Every girl—or woman, for that matter—deserves to be a princess for a day.”
Their gazes collided and lingered before Marissa quickly looked away. Did she agree? Princess for a day—nice concept for a seven-year-old, not so realistic for a single mother. She lifted her chin, hoping to steer the conversation back on course and away from the heavy. “So, princess theme it is?”
“Princess theme it is.” Jacob picked up a sparkly fairy wand from a box on the shelf. “What about some of these?” He waved it through the air, sending a shower of glitter cascading to the floor. “On second thought, Liz might kill me—or even worse, make me vacuum after the party is over.”
Marissa took the wand and replaced it on the shelf. “I actually already have some less glittery versions of these in my leftover-prop box at the office, along with some other things the girls will like.” She smiled. “The biggest problem with this party is going to be narrowing down my list of ideas.”
“Good. I was hoping this would
