Finding Harmony (2 page)

“Pitiful,” he grumbled. He got out of the cart. He’d hit
the beach and leave the deep thinking to tomorrow.

***

Harmony headed to her camp on the far side of the property
to clean herself up before going to the Cypress Corners Institute.
She
adjusted her backpack on one shoulder and walked down the path, her sturdy
boots making soft footfalls on the sand beneath her feet. Thick cotton socks
cushioned her steps and the sun warmed her through her camp shirt. She tilted
her face up to the sun and took in a breath, smelling earth and pine and fresh
air. It almost make her forget the confrontation with the guy from Chapman.

It was October, but
true autumn was months away. She loved Central Florida, especially the subtle
change of seasons. Tourists seldom noticed the slight variations of color in
their surroundings, focusing instead on the nearest theme park or closest beach.
She pitied them, mostly Northerners cramming as much “fun” as possible into
their weeks’ vacation. Thankfully, few of them came here for their holiday.
Cypress Corners didn’t hold that kind of attraction for
them. She, however, loved it.

She’d landed her dream job here five months ago, and it
seemed her work as a plant conservationist would finally make a difference. The
size of the property, sprawled over ten thousand acres of some of the prettiest
land in the region, meant she had little human contact except for checking in
at the Institute. That suited her just fine. Plants were much easier to figure
out than people. Their needs were clear cut, no duplicity or manipulation in
their world.    

It was quite
unusual that more than half the land was
set aside as
a sanctuary for native plants and animals, but that pleased her to her toes. The
rest of it was dedicated to expensive homes, retail stores, and recreational
facilities, but she felt no lure toward those aspects of the community.

The golf club and
restaurant were quite upscale, in sharp contrast to what she felt was more important.
But the Institute didn’t operate in a vacuum, and money made it possible for
more noble ideals to be realized. Who was she to question the Institute’s
arrangement with the developers?

The site for a
snack bar designed to cater to those using the proposed nature trails was the
area under contention today. She saw no need for such a thing. Self-sufficient,
she had no problem carrying her own pack with whatever essentials she needs,
whether she was hiking on Institute business or for her own pleasure. A
“recreation café?”

“Maybe.” She
shrugged. “Maybe not.”
 

Eriogonum longifolium, var. gnaphali folium
. The leggy wild buckwheat right smack in the middle of the
site would stop construction, at least for now. No matter what the Chapman guy
said.

She’d see to it.

Harmony’s camp was wired for electricity and her tent-cabin
had a separate plumbed bathroom and shower. The spot was slated to become a
lakeside recreation area within the coming year, but for now it was hers and
hers alone. Just the clear water, sprawling live oaks and towering cypress
trees to keep her company.

Her tent-cabin wasn’t large, just one room with a
screened-off private area to change. The short walk to the bathroom and shower
was no hardship. She knew where to step. Not like that fool she met yesterday.

She thought of the pain-in-the-butt corporate guy from
yesterday and felt that tremble in her belly again. What was wrong with her? He
was overbearing and cold. But when his hand had touched hers she hadn’t felt
cold. Oh, those eyes. So deep. His manner, on the other hand…

He was forceful and smooth, just like Adam. Well, she
wasn’t a naïve coed anymore. At twenty-six years old she knew better. She
removed her ponytail holder and dragged a brush through her hair. She wouldn’t
be overwhelmed again. She certainly wouldn’t be fooled.

Adam had been older than she, and he’d used his citified
skills to woo her when she was in college. She’d never forgive herself for the
loss of more than her heart. Her parents still had to work hard to recoup the
money Adam had all but stolen from them with his scheme. So did she. They
didn’t know that. They never would. She should have protected them.

Thank goodness her salary allowed her to at least start to
repay them. Little by little, the bank account she’d opened in their name was
growing. It would never be enough, but hopefully in a few years she’d tell them
about the account and take away some of their burden. As long as the guy from
Chapman Financial didn’t do anything to compromise her job.

She put Adam and her encounter with the guy from Chapman
out of her mind and, after changing into fresh clothes, reviewed her notes on
the wild buckwheat. She’d told the director about the plant yesterday, when she
stopped at the Institute. He’d been excited, for the buckwheat grew in very few
places in Central Florida. The sandy soil of the property was the perfect
habitat for the plant. That was something she could definitely identify with.

After her mistake with Adam she’d thrown herself into her
studies and a Master’s Degree in Environmental Science was the result. She
hadn’t wasted a moment of her time at the University of Central Florida, not as
an undergrad and not as a graduate student. She wouldn’t waste her opportunity
here. This job meant more than protecting endangered plants.

She stepped outside her cabin and walked around to the
electric scooter plugged into an outlet behind it. The small trunk behind the
seat accommodated the bag holding her notes and stuff and the scooter’s fat
tires made it perfect for her infrequent trips to the Institute. She stashed
her bag and hopped on, fastening her bike helmet over her curls.

It didn’t take long to reach the Village Center where the Institute was located. Her scooter tires bounced gently over the brick walk as
she turned toward the Institute. The Center was pretty, and designed to serve
as the heart of everything in Cypress Corners. With its charming retail stores
and plenty of benches lining the walk for residents and visitors to sit, it was
a popular spot. Though it was just a few years old, it had the feel and
appearance of an old-fashioned small-town.

Several people took advantage of the place this afternoon. Children
indulged in their quickly-melting ice cream at the quaint soda shop at one
corner, couples and friends talked over coffee at tables set in front of the
coffee shop, folks walked their dogs and called “hello” to people they passed. She
received several nods of greeting but she doubted anyone outside the Institute
knew her name. That didn’t bother her. She preferred her solitude.

The one exception was Antoinette Fairfax. Hettie, as
everyone in town called her, waved enthusiastically from her customary perch
set near one corner of the outdoor space. Under the shade of a sprawling Crepe
Myrtle tree, a tall glass of sweet tea held in her other hand, Hettie was hard
to ignore. She wore a large straw hat only a woman born and raised in the South
would ever wear, her bangs a silvery fringe beneath. A flower-print smock,
denim overalls, and a pair of bright green Crocs completed her outfit. She was
outrageous and sweet, and Harmony found it harder and harder to maintain her
distance from this particular resident of Cypress Corners. She was in her
seventies but looked closer to fifty. She claimed this was due to healthy
living, big hats and the liberal application of sunscreen.

Harmony slowed her scooter to a stop at the railing beside Hettie’s
table. “Hi, Hettie.”

“Hello, Harmony. Join me?”

Hettie waved to the chair opposite. It was piled with
gardening magazines and seed catalogs, as was much of the tabletop in front of
her.

Harmony smiled. “Sorry, I’m on Institute business.”

Hettie’s mouth turned down, then she waved a hand. “You’re
always on the go. I hope Doc Robbins knows the treasure he has in you.”

Hettie referred to the Institute director, and Harmony hoped
to prove herself worthy of the faith he put in her from her very first day.

“I love my job, Hettie.”

Hettie’s blue eyes narrowed, and for a moment Harmony
feared she tried to read her aura or something. Goodness knows Harmony’s mom
was always doing that. To her relief, Hettie simply clicked her tongue.

“Your job. Yes, you love your plants.” She held up the
magazine closest to her. “I share that passion. But what about the other kind?”

She flushed, the hunky Chapman guy coming swiftly to mind. “I
don’t know what—”

“Men,” Hettie crowed.

Two young mothers at a nearby table turned at the word,
their brows arched. Harmony managed a smile at the women and faced Hettie. “I
don’t have time for men.”

Hettie let loose with a laugh. “Girl, you have to make time.
Why, when Mr. Fairfax was alive… ”  Her eyes sparkled. “Mmm, he was fine, Mr.
Fairfax was.” She winked at Harmony. “He knew how to get me to focus on something
other than plants.”

Harmony chuckled. “Hettie.”

Hettie nodded. “Go on. Get to your precious Institute. All
of us here in Cypress know how important that work is.”

Harmony started her scooter. “See you, Hettie.”

Hettie saluted her with her glass and took a long sip as
Harmony continued on to the Institute. Hettie wasn’t too far off with her last
comment. The Institute was responsible for the Village Center, its agreement
with the Cypress developers making sure the area didn’t put nature last. Plenty
of native trees shaded the area and mounds of Florida wildflowers and plants
lent color. She recognized most of them as she passed, bluestem and cupseed and
cat briar. They were pretty despite their unusual names.

She parked her scooter outside the Institute and removed
her helmet. She took her bag out of the trunk, walked up to the wide glass
doors and stepped into the air-conditioned lobby.

“Hello, Miss Brooks,” the receptionist said.

She smiled at the red-haired girl behind the desk. “Hi,
Becky. Is the director in?”

Becky nodded. “Yes. I’ll buzz him.”

Harmony looked around the lobby as the girl spoke softly
into the intercom. The sunlit space reflected the Institute’s worthy agenda. Decorated
in the colors of true Florida—rich greens, soft tans, and clear blues—it was
filled with handmade rattan furniture and breathtaking photos of native flora
and fauna hung on the textured walls. If she had to be inside, this was one
place she could tolerate.

“Dr. Robbins said to go right in,” Becky said.

Harmony nodded. “Thank you.”

She passed the desk and turned down the hall toward the
director’s office. The door was ajar, not unusual for her boss and mentor. He
sat hunched over his desk, poring over papers scattered on his desk. His
glasses sat on his balding head as he nodded agreement at something he read. She
rapped softly on the smooth maple door and his head shot up.

“Harmony!” He smiled, dimples showing in his cheeks. “Come
in, come in.”

She stepped inside and closed the door. She gestured at the
papers. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“What?” He shook his head. “No, no. I’m just working
through the latest expansion plans. The lakeside recreation center will take a
lot of planning.” He waved a hand toward the chair opposite him and stacked the
papers into an untidy pile. “So tell me.”

She nodded and settled into the chair. “It’s definitely a
scrub wild buckwheat.”

Dr. Robbins blinked then grinned. “Good! Do you have
photos?”

“No, I—”

“I know, I know. No digital camera.” He opened a drawer in
the desk and pulled out a small silver camera. “Here. Take as many photos as
you need. You can upload them here when you’re finished.”

She took the camera. She knew she should have a laptop and
camera in her tent, but she preferred using the Institute’s facilities. It gave
her an excuse to go into the village. That realization surprised her.

“I’ll ride out to the site and snap some pictures later
today,” she said.

She put the camera into her bag and settled back in the
chair. Toying with the frayed cuff of her shorts, she tried to decide how to
tell Dr. Robbins about the guy from Chapman Financial.

“I hear Chapman’s field man paid a visit today,” the
director said.

She lifted her head to face him. Well, that was easy. “Yes,”
she said. “He wasn’t pleased with my discovery.”

Dr. Robbins laughed lightly. “I don’t imagine so. He has
investors to consider. Quite an interesting fellow, don’t you think?”

He popped into her mind again, tall and strong and gorgeous.
Interesting? Oh, yes. “I suppose.”

Dr. Robbins narrowed his blue eyes on her and she felt her
cheeks heat. “He called.” He smiled again. “And according to Becky, he wasn’t
happy.”

The guy’s threat came back to her.
Out on her cute
little butt,
he’d said. Her stomach dipped. Oh, no. She couldn’t lose this
job.

“Did he… stop by here?” she asked.

“No. He said something about heading to the beach.”

A flash of him in nothing but swim trunks filled her mind
for a moment. She’d felt that strong, broad chest when she shoved him away from
the ant mound. Oh, my.

“That gives me a reprieve, then,” she said. She came to her
feet. “I’ll get the photos and stop back here later.”

Dr. Robbins stood. “Why don’t you have dinner in the
village, Harmony? A few of us are heading over to The Clubhouse, and—”

“No, thank you,” she said quickly. “I’ll make sure I’m back
here before. What time are you going?”

“That wasn’t what I—”

She waved her hand. “I’ll be back in a little while, Dr.
Robbins.”

He opened his mouth to protest further, then nodded. “Tomorrow
is soon enough, dear. I’m trusting you to keep the habitat secure, Harmony.”

She blinked. “Me? I thought I’d just get the proof and let
the Institute take it from here.”

“You have the knowledge. Your degree proves it. You have
the spirit.” He nodded. “I saw that when you were still in grad school. You’re
the one to keep Chapman Financial at bay until we find a solution to this
dilemma. We can’t have the buckwheat compromised.”

She was the one? “I… Thank you, Dr. Robbins. I’ll do what I
can. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Dr. Robbins nodded and she left the office. She stepped out
into the bright afternoon. The director trusted her to keep Chapman Financial
in line? To keep
him
from destroying the buckwheat? She was floored.

That’s when she saw him again, standing in front of a shiny
black SUV. A Hummer. Her lip curled. That figured. He was talking to one of the
women who worked in the Sales Office, a tall leggy brunette who managed to look
fresh and crisp despite the humidity. Well, years of working in artificial air
would take its toll on her skin eventually.

As Harmony watched, the woman patted his arm then tossed
her shining black hair as she sashayed back into the office. Harmony tugged on
her own curls, out of control from the heat and the helmet. She hopped on her
scooter and sat for a moment, unable to look away from the Chapman guy. He
turned then, his eyes finding hers. Again that rush of heat struck her. She
shook her head. It was just the sun. She jammed her helmet on her head and
started the scooter, heading toward the access road.

***

Rick saw her again. Wild and pretty, standing near a shiny
little blue scooter. The girl from the sales office, Tammy, faded from his mind
as he watched the plant angel ride away from the Institute. He’d hoped to stop
there himself but the director hadn’t had time to see him. Or so he was told. The
director had time for her, though.

He ran his gaze over her and felt that stab of lust again. He
couldn’t really blame the guy. The little tree-hugger was something else.