Page 11 of Wishes on Wildflowers
Nathan thumped a sheaf of papers together, laid them on the table, and folded his hands over them before looking at each of them in turn.
Jasmine raised her chin and met his gaze for those brief seconds. This was a business meeting. Nothing personal. She could do business.
“Let’s clarify the purpose of Bridgeview Backyards, what you plan to accomplish this year, and where you hope to be in five years.”
Not massaging strangers’ backs anymore. But that was more of a wish than a plan.
“The startup this year is expensive.” Peter leaned forward. “We’re putting in the infrastructure, like the garden shed, the raised beds, and the soil. The tools. We’ve all contributed from our savings to get started.”
“How much money can you make out of this one backyard in one summer?”
“We have three yards. Mrs. Essery next door, and another yard a few blocks west.”
“So there are signed legal arrangements in place?”
“A verbal agreement at this point, but Jasmine is writing something up for them to sign.”
Nathan flicked a glance her way.
“Sorry. I haven’t done it yet.” Basil had been correctwhen he accused her of hating computers. Why did secretarial work always get slid off to women as though they were automatically better at it?
“You’ll want those documents before you begin work in their yards.”
Now he was a lawyer? Jasmine fought the urge to roll her eyes. “They’re friends. Neighbors. It’s fine. We’ll get to it.”
“You never know when someone will sell. Or, for that matter, the woman next door is getting on in years. What if she dies?”
Jasmine waved her hand. “Yes, I know. I’ll do it. Soon.” Probably not before Eden and Jacob’s wedding next weekend, but soon.
Nathan stared at her as though gauging her intent before nodding. “So three backyards this year. And then expanding, I take it? If you and Peter plan to leave your jobs and go full-time?”
“Yes. Not sure if you remember Dan Ranta. He’s my roommate’s brother, and he runs their family landscaping business. He has a couple of clients who are interested in having someone take over their space.”
“We figure we can manage eight or ten yards,” put in Peter. “A lot of work with all the planting, weeding, watering, and harvesting.”
“And selling it how?” Nathan asked.
Basil thumbed his chest. “I’ll be doing a lot of that this year at the Night Market in Kendall Yards on Wednesday evenings and the farmers market downtown on Saturdays.”
“Oh.” Nathan leaned back. “I’d assumed you’d be going for a subscription program.”
Jasmine blinked.
“I mean, isn’t it easier to keep selling to the same peoplethan continually finding new ones? When you expand production, will you just add new outlets, so all of you are tied up at a different farmers market every weekend? What if you don’t sell out?”
Uh. Hiring Nathan — or someone — had been a good idea. “I definitely don’t want to sit at a market every weekend. Basil’s the schmoozer, not me. That’s what we’ve got him for. I want to work with the plants.”
“There’s only so much you can sell from one venue, I’d think.” Nathan looked between them. “This isn’t my area of expertise, so feel free to convince me I’m wrong.”
What, he didn’t have all the answers? That was something new. Jasmine squashed back the irritation. He was doing them a good turn, even if they were paying him to shoot down their plans, such as they were.
Peter shrugged. “I don’t mind doing a market on Saturdays. But a subscription service... we’ve talked about doing one next year. Not sure if we’ll have enough produce consistently this summer.”
Jasmine leaned forward. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing, does it? I mean, if we had half a dozen subscribers this summer, that’s some guaranteed income, and we can sell the rest at the farmers market.”
Now why did Nathan’s nod of approval, his gray eyes lingering on her, make any difference? She wasn’t interested. Neither was he.
She yanked her gaze over to her brother. “Bywe, I mean Basil.”
