At Risk of Being a Fool by Jeanette Cottrell

high stacks of pots. Brynna stood with her back to the bench. The older woman barred her way, shaking a finger at her. She was either brave or exceedingly stupid.
    “Jason’s a jerk,” growled Brynna. “That fuckin’ son of yours grabbed my ass. Lucky for him I didn’t kick him in the balls.”
    The woman gasped. “My Jason would never demean himself by touching such a—such a—”
    “Like hell. Get real, you bitch. He grabs everything with boobs.”
    “My Jason has been raised on the strictest principles—”
    “Hello-o-o,” sang Jeanie with apparent delight, as she trotted to the rescue. Although, come to think of it, which one of them actually needed rescuing? “You must be Laramie Cooper. So nice to meet you in person.”
    The other woman favored her with a cold look. “My name is Mrs. Cooper. I have no idea who—”
    “Mrs. Cooper, my name is Jeanie McCoy.” She seized Mrs. Cooper’s limp hand and pumped it up and down. “I’m Brynna’s, er, program leader for the day. I’ve come to see how she’s doing. Repotting geraniums, I believe, is that right, Brynna?”
    “Yeah,” said Brynna. She plunged her hands into a huge bin of soil. Her intent, Jeanie decided, was not to plant geraniums.
    One thing about Brynna, she certainly added liveliness to each and every day. Jeanie swung into place between them by the simple expedient of hanging onto Mrs. Cooper’s hand and pivoting her out of Brynna’s reach. Regrettably, this put Brynna back in Mrs. Cooper’s line of sight.
    “You’re supposed to use gloves,” snapped Mrs. Cooper. “Not that you should be potting geraniums. Only the good Lord knows what you’d plant! I saw you with that bag this morning, girl, don’t you think I didn’t. When I—”
    “I gather Brynna hasn’t worked with you before,” Jeanie broke in.
    Mrs. Cooper swelled like a balloon. “I am not accustomed to being interrupted.”
    “I can see that,” Jeanie said. “Don’t worry, it gets easier with practice. I’ve taught for thirty years.” Brynna snickered. She scooped dirt into a pot with unconvincing innocence, her battle plan suspended. “So, this is your first day with Brynna?”
    “Yes, I was out for a week, and that ham-handed Alyssa—however, that’s neither here nor there. This, this girl has been supposedly working with my son, Jason, mixing fertilizers.” Her nostrils flared. “Until this morning. I went to get her, and discovered her plastered on my—”
    “Jason’s a slime ball,” said Brynna. “Get your fuckin’ story right. He did the grabbing, not me. Think I’m going mess with a geek with bad breath and a sloppy mouth? Keep him, for God’s sake, I don’t want him.” She closed her hands over a large ceramic pot.
    “That will be enough out of you, young woman,” shrieked Mrs. Cooper. “Decent conduct is a closed book to you, but let me tell you—”
    “You’re not actually the greenhouse supervisor, though, are you?” asked Jeanie. A note in her voice pulled up Mrs. Cooper in the midst of her rampage. “You’d be Brynna’s co-worker.”
    “I hold a position of considerable responsibility.”
    “In geraniums.” said Jeanie. She edged Mrs. Cooper away from Brynna’s large ceramic pot.
    “And just what do you mean by that? Martha Washingtons are among this nation’s most treasured horticultural—”
    “Exactly. Brynna? Why don’t you come with me? It appears that Mrs. Cooper doesn’t need your help with the Martha Washingtons. Let’s go talk to Mr. Harris.”
    Brynna released the pot and stripped off her gardening apron. She headed down the other aisle. “Yeah.” She threw a final jab over her shoulder. “Maybe he can find me work in begonias.” The door shut smartly after her.
    “Begonias?” said Mrs. Cooper, outraged. “That little snippet could never, not even possibly, why even I rarely—”
    “I’m sure you’re right, Mrs. Cooper. The most important thing to do is separate her from your son. I’m