Sister Swap. Lilian Darcy

I owe my family, but you will always be—”

      “Okay, here’s my answer. Go take a flying leap! Is that enough of a decision for you?”

      “Rowena…?”

      “Go take a flying flip at the moon, Francesco Di Bartoli. Clear now?”

      With a tingling, light-headed sense of satisfaction, Roxanna slammed down the phone.

      Chapter Three

      So…I, um, said no to Francesco for you, Rowie.” They’d already discussed the major change to the design concept of the garden. At just after six on a Thursday morning in Florida, Rowena had been a little taken aback, but then she’d quickly seized on the idea and gotten inspired.

      She hadn’t thought to go so far beyond the original design, but she loved the idea of a historical time line, and yes, it should only make a small difference to which roses she’d ordered. She could tell Roxanna exactly what changes would be required, and she’d only need to make one follow-up call to each of the two specialist rose nurseries.

      Meanwhile, she could work on creating bilingual plaques in Italian and English describing the history of each antique variety. The information could be tied in to historical developments in cosmetics and medicine, making that part of the garden a showpiece for visiting business associates of the Di Bartoli Corporation. Rosa gallica officinalis, for example, was used for medicinal purposes for centuries, as well as for perfume-making.

      If Rowena did some more research on the subject…

      After just a few minutes, she had sounded so much more energetic and confident than she’d been in London, only two days ago. She really loved her work, loved those dusty libraries and archives, those steamy greenhouses and rows of young plants. If she could find a good therapist who could help her get the rest of her life under control, she’d soon find a man who deserved her way more than Francesco Di Bartoli did.

      Rox held her breath, waiting for her sister’s reaction to what she’d said about her own recent phone conversation with the man.

      “Oh, you did? An absolute, one hundred percent no?” Rowie said.

      “Um, yes. Pretty much one hundred percent, I’d say.”

      Okay, she really had to breathe now. Before this next bit. The bit that might have Francesco arguing to his older brother that the American garden expert should be sacked on the spot and replaced with someone who had a more appropriate idea of her humble place in the Di Bartoli universe.