Chapter 11
“Indeed.”
“Be there in an hour.”
I hung up, dug into my laundry basket for a worn pair of jogging shorts, and headed downstairs. I didn’t bother with a shirt, but I slipped on a pair of ragged boat shoes left by the front door. Outside, a shell-pink sky and distant mountains cloaked in morning mist greeted me. The brisk lavender-scented air belied the sweaty, desert-sticky heat a California June promised.
I admired my surroundings, inhaled, and listened to the rustling lavender bushes. The common and, I must add, unfair notion that lavender is only for old ladies and detergent baffled me. Bottled, it rivaled any aphrodisiac. While many believed it induced slumber, I had other theories. The lavender, and the future of my parents’ business, relied on my ability to mold it into something new.