Garden of Death by Chrystle Fiedler

close are you? We need bread!
    As we headed toward the door, I texted her back:
    On my way.
    Simon opened the door and we went outside to look at the flyer that had been posted in the middle of the big window opposite the counter. It read:
    Petition!
    To: The Greenport Village Board
    From: Shop owners and citizens of Greenport
    SHUT DOWN THE GARDEN OF DEATH!
    Recent events at the new medicinal garden on Front Street, namely the death of Dr. Charles White, have convinced us, your local merchants, that the Village Board of Greenport made a grave mistake in awarding the Fox parcel of land to Nature’s Way, and the owner, Willow McQuade, ND.
    It is patently obvious that the publicity from this event will hurt business now and in the future and threaten the livelihoods of every Greenport merchant.
    Furthermore, we also believe that the selection method that granted Ms. McQuade the Fox lot was seriously flawed and that she was awarded the lot was because of the previous “good works” of her aunt, Ms. Claire Hagen, and not on her own merit.
    We think that there is but one choice: take back the medicinal garden from Ms. McQuade and declare the land the Dr. White Memorial Park.We want to make this a neutral green space in the heart of Greenport that everyone can enjoy, instead of leaving it in the hands of a shop owner who is clearly irresponsible. If you stand with us in this fight, please sign below and leave your address and contact information. We will present this petition at the next board meeting.
    I stood there, too shocked to speak or even move.
    Simon put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Willow.”
    â€œThis can’t be happening,” I said, as anxiety squeezed my chest. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “I knew that most of the applicants were bitter, but this is really low. And Kylie and Ramona . . . I didn’t think they were so completely against me.”
    Simon snatched the sign off of the window, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into a nearby trash can. “We’re not going to let them do this to you. I’m calling my lawyer.”
    This time I didn’t stop him.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Simon worked fast. As we walked back to Nature’s Way, he got on the phone with his über-lawyer, the one who had defended him last fall when he was accused of the TV producer’s murder. I only heard Simon’s end of the conversation, but he told him to get on the case, no matter what the cost.
    Moments later, Simon clicked off his phone. “He’ll take care of it. He says its harassment, pure and simple. He’ll squash the motion and that petition by issuinga cease-and-desist notice today. He says it’s a piece of cake compared to my problem last year.” He put his arm around me. “So don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”
    But I was worried. I thought I had a full plate before, between the opening of the garden and running Nature’s Way on Maritime Festival weekend. But now, solving Dr. White’s murder, and this action by the shop owners that threatened to destroy everything we had built, seemed like too much to handle.
    Simon walked me back to Nature’s Way. It was almost eleven, and the tours started at noon, so I really hoped that Jackson and Nate had been able to get most of the work done.
    After I brought Merrily the bread, eggs, and other goods from the farmer’s market, we went to look for Jackson and found him in a section at the front of the garden that had plants with healing properties for the skin. The misty morning had evolved into what was going to be a humid and hot day, and Jackson had worked up a sweat. I watched as he gently extracted a plant from its plastic pot and set it into the ground. Meanwhile, Qigong was “helping” by digging small holes in the section.
    When we walked up, Qigong scampered over to greet us, nose covered in dirt, while Jackson