Until It's Gone: Romantic Garden Tales, #1

Also by Jenna van Berke

Romantic Suspense:

White Nights (free)

Dark Nights

Bleak Nights

Romance:

My Husband’s Secret

Meeting Her (free)

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1

Layla

AND THE OSCAR GOES to... Terence Kim! Terence accepts the golden statuette with a dazzling, yet humble smile and steps up to the microphone.

Thank you everyone, you have no idea how much this means to me! I’d like to thank my management and my fans, but most of all, I’d like to thank my girlfriend! His gaze sweeps over the audience until he finds me. Magnified on the vast screen, his beautiful golden brown eyes light up. Thank you, Layla! I couldn’t have done this without you. You and your exquisite herbs have given me the creativity to—

Layla! Are you even listening to me?

Yes. Yes, of course. I blink, and Terence Kim’s handsome features are replaced by my accountant’s weary ones. Joan takes off her glasses and massages the bridge of her nose. I don’t like it when she does that. It means she isn’t happy with my finances. Next she’s going to sigh and say my name with that painful expression.

Layla, Joan sighs.

I knew it. Clearing my throat, I say, So, there’s no—I didn’t do any better?

I’m afraid not. In fact, it looks even worse than last time. What exactly did you do to improve things?

Well, I... I sold a rosemary to what’s his name, that famous English chef who’s always swearing. He used it in his cooking show and couldn’t stop praising its aromatic taste, saying my rosemary was the true hero of his dish. After that he and dozens of celebrity chefs from all over the world came to buy and admire my herbs, turning me in something like a celebrity myself. But that was just a fantasy. I thought about things...

"Okay. And did you actually do anything?"

When I remain silent, Joan sighs once more. Layla, I’m only trying to help. She gets up and paces the floor of my office, which isn’t easy since the room is both small and littered with boxes of flower pots I haven’t had the time to unpack. Normally we meet in her home office down the road, but her schedule is busy right now since she’s been on a holiday for a month, and I have to be at the shop until six, so she suggested dropping by instead.

And frankly, I don’t understand, Joan continues. I mean yes, this might not be the most favorable location for a store like yours, but I’m sure there are ways to make more money than you do. After two circles, she gives up the pacing and comes to a stop by the glass door that leads to the backyard. Suddenly her posture stiffens. Then she opens the door and steps outside.

What...? I follow her.

What are you doing with all those fruits and veggies?

I let my eyes wander over the citrus trees, the melons, the tomatoes, zucchinis, cucumbers, squash, beans, potatoes. I only sell herbs and spices, but there was room for more. I eat them?

But surely not all of them. What happens with the rest? she demands.

I pickle them. My cellar is bursting with jars of pickles and jam. Or give them away, I mumble.

You give them away? she repeats and shakes her head.

She plugs a cherry tomato, rolls it between her fingers, sniffs it, and, closing her eyes, pops it into her mouth.

This is exactly what I mean, she says once she has swallowed. Why on earth don’t you charge for them?

But I only give them to close friends and family. That’s not exactly true. I told all my friends they can just come by and help themselves, and when there’s something left and I’m too lazy to do pickles, I just place a box in front of the store so passersby can take what they want.

You’re not a charity. You’re trying to run a business here; trying and failing. You can’t afford to give stuff away. Not in your situation. These are tasty, delicious-looking, and no doubt organic fruits and veggies. You should sell them for a nice profit. Start right now. From now on, I want to be paid in naturals.

You don’t have to do that, I—

I insist. And not because I’m friends with your brother, or because I like you, but because this is the best tomato I have ever tasted.

All right, I shrug.

And Layla, I mean it. She takes my hand and looks straight at me, her expressive features sincere. We’ve talked about this—more than once—but I’m not sure you really grasp the gravity of the situation. Ever since Thao left, your finances have been taking a downward turn. And I know you don’t want to talk about it, but since the designs you did for him are basically your sole income, you could as well—

What designs? What do you mean?

She squints at me, talking slowly and studying me while she does. The designs you did for Thao. The ones he’s still paying you for.

He’s paying child support, but that’s hardly—

Don’t you ever look at your bank statements? she cuts me off. He’s paying far more than you guys agreed on.

But I don’t want his money! I told him I don’t want anything for those silly doodles. I’ll pay him back.

"And how exactly are you going to do that? You can’t. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You are not making enough money with the store alone. It’s the design jobs you used to do for Thao that made the money—that still make the money. And according to him, you deserve every penny for the ‘silly doodles’, as you call them. Anyway, your income from the shop doesn’t even cover the mortgage."

But... I’m such an idiot. I was aware I don’t have as many customers as I would like to. Every day when I do the settlement I notice I’m not making all that much money. But I was hoping things would add up somehow and get better in time.

Why don’t you work for him? Joan’s tone is soft now, soothing. Just for a while? Thao says he’d love your help.

No! My voice sounds sharper than intended. This isn’t the first time she’s suggested this. Joan does Thao’s taxes, too, and I’m sure he’s been pestering her about it, if his constant calls and letters to me are any indication. Though, to be frank, he hasn’t been bothering me these last few months. Which is a relief—and something else, too, but I’m not going down that road.

Sorry. It’s none of my business, I’m just trying to help.

I know. It’s just—I want as little to do with him as possible. If it wasn’t for Frida, I wouldn’t talk to him at all. I pluck a single weed from the patch and wind it around my finger. So, how bad is it? If Thao stopped paying right now, how much would I need to come up with?   

Well, I’m not the bank. I don’t know how tolerant they are; you might be able to renegotiate your payment plan. But under current conditions you’d have about two weeks to come up with at least two thousand bucks, or you’d lose your store.

2

Layla

FRIDA IS WATCHING Sesame Street, so I have half an hour to concentrate on something else before dinner. I should follow Joan’s advice and think about my finances, maybe do some research or something, so I fire up my laptop. Unsure where to start, I Google how to save a business, and am promptly bombarded with thousands of tips, guides and cheat sheets that all use terrifying terms like SWOT analysis, positive variable contribution or in-depth market research. Am I supposed to know what that means?

Groaning, I rub my eyes. Why does everything have to be so damn difficult? All I want is to sell some herbs. I’ll continue with this in a minute, now I’ll just quickly indulge in my guilty pleasure: cyber-stalking Terence Kim. Yes, I know, I’m too old to go crazy about celebrities, that’s why I only do it in private and not often. Plus, it’s my only guilty pleasure: I don’t smoke, I don’t drink more than a cup of coffee per day, I don’t do late night snacking, and I don’t watch reality TV shows. So I totally deserve a bit of swooning over Terence Kim.

I’ve had a crush on him ever since My Husband’s Secret came out when I was fourteen, and now, seventeen years later, I still think he’s the sexiest man alive. While my friend Theresa drooled over everyone from Leonardo di Caprio to the Backstreet Boys, I restricted myself to Terence Kim and Terence Kim alone. Of course I did listen to the Backstreet Boys, but their posters never made it to my walls. I just didn’t think they could compete with Terence. And the nice thing is, he sort of matured along with me. He’s no longer a teenage heartthrob. He’s a serious actor, nowadays. I mean, you can’t deny his performance in Dark Nights was just brilliant. I can’t wait for his next movie to come out, it’ll be... oh, my god. He’s dating that playmate? I can’t believe it! Since when is he into silicone tits and porn star lips?

Mommy?

I glance at the watch. Damn. Time flies when I’m stalking Terence Kim. Hey, Darling. I close