Page 36 of The Gift of Seeds
Relieved to have something to offer, he jumped to his feet and went to the table, picking up the book, and then handing her the volume.
She ran a finger under the title,Les Liliacees, and opened the compendium about a third of the way, to an illustration ofStrelitzia Reginae. “I’m familiar with this one. I believe this is considered Pierre-Joseph Redoute’s masterpiece.” She tapped the page. “Doesn’t this have the loveliest drawings and descriptions of the flowers from Empress Josephine’s estate atMalmaison? This bird of paradise looks so exotic.”
For the first time, Dale’s gaze lingered on Rose’s face, seeing the intelligence in her gray eyes that even her spectacles didn’t hide. He couldn’t help remembering Miss Smith’s blue eyes, also intelligent, yet shy, and brought his attention back to the librarian. “My favorite part.” He swallowed, feeling his Adam’s apple bob. “I like to plan what I’ll plant in the spring. Bird of Paradise won’t grow here, of course. Too bad, that.”
Dale wondered if he should mention the conservatory he had in mind to build in the next year or two, or the tropical garden he’d cultivated in his imagination. He dismissed the idea.I don’t need any critical remarks about being too fanciful.He’d had enough of those to last a lifetime. By the time he realized probably neither guest would be critical, the conversation had lulled.
“Winter is a time for dreaming.” Miss Collier smiled in obvious agreement of his spring garden plans and handed back the book.
Her remarks fired up his horticultural zeal, releasing his words. “Why, yes. You understand.” He gazed at her in admiration.
Andre cleared his throat.
Miss Collier ignored the man’s obvious attempt to get her attention and pressed on. “In New York, I’ve listened to many enthusiastic outpourings from library patrons eager to talk over gardening books and plants. Their yards might be small, but they make the most of what they have.”
Dale nodded, grateful for his large plot of land. “I consider myself fortunate to be surrounded by natural beauty.” The more they talked, the more comfortable he became.
As if stopping a growing intimacy, Andre laid a hand on the table. “Perhaps you’ve heard,” he said in a gruff tone. “We are soliciting donations of books for the library.”
Dale clutchedLes Liliaceesto his chest, his gaze flying to the buffet, anguished by the thought of parting with any of his treasures, the idea of the loss almost too great to bear.
“You don’t have to donate your own books,” Miss Collier said quickly, her tone reassuring as if she understood his possessiveness. “The other possibility is to donate money for books, or you can order new copies of your favorites to donate.”
“I can do that.” Relieved, Dale bobbed his head. He tapped the book still held tightly to his chest. “This one. Good to have a copy of this one for others to read.”
Miss Collier smiled. “And dream away the winter.”
Surely more of Sweetwater Spring’s inhabitants would enjoy reading and dreaming about gardens to escape the doldrums of winter. His brow crinkled. “Better order two. One won’t be enough.”
Miss Collier held his gaze, her eyes understanding. “I believe you’re right.”
“Bill me.” Dale glanced out the side window for a moment to the yard next door but saw no glimpse of Hester and Lucy. He squared his shoulders and then looked back at Rose. “Also order one calledLanguage of Flowers. It’s a book for children by Kate Greenaway. I think they’ll find the colored illustrations and poems interesting.”
“Oh, yes! That book is charming. Adults will enjoy the poems and illustrations, too.” Miss Collier eyes kindled with enthusiasm. “Thank you.” She glanced at the hutch. “Perhaps, at another time, I can look through your other books. I’m used to a city library, and I’m sure there’s more need for horticulture books here in Sweetwater Springs than what we offered there. I need to educate myself as to which ones to order. Maybe you can advise me.”
He’d had gardening conversations with men here and there who’d sought his advice. But never a lady.
She is aptly named.“Rose.” Dale said aloud in a tone of wonder. “If I’d had daughters, I’d have given them all flower names.”Rose, Lily, Violet, Poppy.He’d never dreamed of family and children, especially not girls. But the flower names gave the idea a poignant sweetness. “Your parents chose well.”
Frowning, Andre suddenly stood. “On that note, we should go.” His words were clipped, with barely any drawl at all.
Dale couldn’t help an inward kick of humor. Despite his disclaimers, the man was in love with Miss Collier, else he wouldn’t be circling the wagons around her so abruptly.
Andre reached for his bowler on the table and placed it on his head. “Best not keep the Falabellas waiting in the cold.”
Ah, yes. The little horses.Dale wondered if Hester watched them through her window with the same longing she’d displayed in town.
The faint sound of a dog’s joyful barking made him glance toward the back yard next door. Miss Smith frolicked in the snow with her pet. Their playfulness made him smile.
Feeling more confident than he could ever recall, at least when interacting with one lady and thinking of conversing with another, he looked back at the librarian. “I’d be delighted to show you my books at another time.”
Miss Collier stood and smoothed her skirts. “After Christmas, then, when I’m in need of dreaming. Will you be attending the Christmas Eve service tonight and the party at the hotel, Mr. Marsden?”
He tilted his head, the idea making his fingers drum nervously on the table. “The service, of course. I hadn’t thought about attending the party. I never do.” He straightened, met her gaze, and smiled. “But perhaps I will.” He resisted looking out the window again.
“Wonderful. How lovely to have a new acquaintance with whom to exchange visits.” Miss Collier clasped her hands together. “We’ll see you later tonight.”
“Here.” Dale thrustLes Liliaceesinto her hands. “I’ll let you borrow this for a bit. Then you won’t have to wait to dream.”
