Читать книгу Sunset In Central Park - Sarah Morgan - Страница 13

Friends are like bubble wrap. They protect you against hard knocks.

—Eva

Frankie stood on the roof terrace and shaded her eyes with her hand. The sun was baking and there wasn’t a breath of wind. New York in the peak of the summer months was stifling.

She’d seen the “before” photos and spent hours studying Matt’s construction concept, but plans and reality were two different things. He’d transformed a bland outdoor roof space into what promised to be a luxurious rooftop garden, perfect for both relaxing and entertaining. Clever use of brick, textured stones and different woods had created an architectural element that would be a significant part of the design.

It was stunning.

She felt a kick of excitement. For her, this was so much more rewarding than choosing flowers for a wedding. Those lifted the moment but this—she stared around her, imagining how the place would look when it was finished—this could lift a life.

She, more than anyone, understood the importance of green space and nature for health and happiness.

For her a garden wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity.

Through the turmoil of her childhood, their beautiful garden had offered peace and sanctuary.

No matter what she told her friends, there were times when she missed Puffin Island. Not the people or the past, but the place. She missed the sea air and the call of the gulls. Most of all she missed the feeling of being surrounded by nature. But she’d learned that with clever planting she could create the same feeling in her own backyard. And she could create the same thing for other people.

She turned her head and looked at Matt, who was deep in conversation with James and Roxy, two members of his team who were finishing off the hard landscaping.

His arms were folded, a stance that emphasized the well-developed muscles of his upper body. He rested one scuffed boot on a stack of concrete slabs.

Sunlight shimmered across his dark hair and a pair of sunglasses concealed the expression in his eyes but she could see by the way he angled his head and occasionally nodded that he was listening carefully to the discussion.

Some men did all the talking, as if their voice was the only one worth hearing, but Matt wasn’t like that. Matt was a listener.

She’d worried that working closely with him might feel awkward, but it was turning out to be easier than she’d anticipated. Apart from the fact that every time she wore her glasses he removed them, they were getting along just fine. She’d had very few moments where she’d forgotten to breathe and there had been no suggestion of intimacy, no repeat of that unsettling moment in her apartment. Of course that might have been because there was nothing intimate about working in the blaze of summer heat with a team of people.