repeated.
Sammy nodded. I felt slightly gratified to see that his slipshod work habits were causing him problems. He’d piled up the dirt too high and too close to
the edge of his hole and a small landslide had undone his last ten or fifteen minutes’ work.
“That’s nice,” I said. “But this isn’t where Michael and I want the garden. We want it it over there,” I said, pointing to the yard beyond the barn.
They both looked over at where I was pointing, then back at me.
“Nice spot,” Sammy said.
“We can dig that up, too,” Horace said.
Too, not instead. They weren’t getting the point.
“Thanks,” I said. “But we just planned to get one of the Shiffleys in with a Rototiller. Next year. We’re too busy to garden this year.”
“This isn’t for your garden,” Sammy said. I wanted to ask who else had decided to garden in our yard, but I stopped myself. I’d learned that much from Chief Burke’s interrogations.
“It’s for Rose Noire,” Horace said eventually. “Your dad thought this would be the perfect place for her herb garden.”
I should have known Rose Noire would be involved. Dad was quite capable of deciding, unilaterally, that we’d be happy to donate space for a family member’s pet agricultural project, but Sammy and Horace wouldn’t have both volunteered to help for anyone else. The only thing the two had in common was their shared infatuation with Rose Noire.
“Does she know you and Dad are planning her herb garden here?” I asked.
They looked sheepish. Evidently not.
“What if she doesn’t think this spot has the right vibes or feng shui or whatever gardens are supposed
to have?” I said. “You could be completely wasting your time! Besides, I think that’s where the Shiffleys were planning on piling the construction materials,” I added, pointing to where Sammy was digging.
Sammy’s face fell, and Horace smirked slightly.
“I know that’s where they’ll have to put the scaffolding,” I went on, pointing to Horace’s excavations, which were much nearer the house. Now Horace looked downcast, too. I had no idea where the Shiffleys planned to put the construction materials, or if they even needed scaffolding, but it sounded good.
“You couldn’t talk them into working someplace else?” Horace asked.
Sammy looked scornful, probably because he knew the Shiffleys well enough to understand how difficult it was to change their plans once they’d made them.
“Maybe,” I said. “Even if I did, no power on earth could prevent people from walking all over this patch of ground and trampling anything Rose Noire planted here. Even if the Shiffleys got the message, we’ll have subcontractors and truck drivers delivering materials and such.”
Actually, I hoped our renovation project wouldn’t be quite that invasive. I was depressing myself just talking about it.
“Why don’t you let me talk to Rose Noire and Dad?” I said. “I’ll explain about the construction, and how enthusiastic you both are about digging the garden when the time is right. I’ll let you know what we come up with.”
They both brightened at that. Why not? After all, this way they’d get credit with Rose Noire for the digging without doing any more actual backbreaking work. “We could have had it all dug by now,” they could say, “if Meg hadn’t stopped us.”
They both ambled off—not precisely side by side, which would have implied some degree of togtherness. Instead, they were on parallel courses to where they thought they could find Rose Noire.
I strolled out toward the main part of the lawn and stopped in surprise. Perhaps I should have guessed from the chaos in the kitchen that today’s lunch had mutated from a simple picnic for the competitors into something else.
“Good grief,” I muttered. “Who are all these people and what are they doing here?”
Chapter Sixteen
Once I’d recovered from the initial shock and taken a look around, I realized that
Sammy nodded. I felt slightly gratified to see that his slipshod work habits were causing him problems. He’d piled up the dirt too high and too close to
the edge of his hole and a small landslide had undone his last ten or fifteen minutes’ work.
“That’s nice,” I said. “But this isn’t where Michael and I want the garden. We want it it over there,” I said, pointing to the yard beyond the barn.
They both looked over at where I was pointing, then back at me.
“Nice spot,” Sammy said.
“We can dig that up, too,” Horace said.
Too, not instead. They weren’t getting the point.
“Thanks,” I said. “But we just planned to get one of the Shiffleys in with a Rototiller. Next year. We’re too busy to garden this year.”
“This isn’t for your garden,” Sammy said. I wanted to ask who else had decided to garden in our yard, but I stopped myself. I’d learned that much from Chief Burke’s interrogations.
“It’s for Rose Noire,” Horace said eventually. “Your dad thought this would be the perfect place for her herb garden.”
I should have known Rose Noire would be involved. Dad was quite capable of deciding, unilaterally, that we’d be happy to donate space for a family member’s pet agricultural project, but Sammy and Horace wouldn’t have both volunteered to help for anyone else. The only thing the two had in common was their shared infatuation with Rose Noire.
“Does she know you and Dad are planning her herb garden here?” I asked.
They looked sheepish. Evidently not.
“What if she doesn’t think this spot has the right vibes or feng shui or whatever gardens are supposed
to have?” I said. “You could be completely wasting your time! Besides, I think that’s where the Shiffleys were planning on piling the construction materials,” I added, pointing to where Sammy was digging.
Sammy’s face fell, and Horace smirked slightly.
“I know that’s where they’ll have to put the scaffolding,” I went on, pointing to Horace’s excavations, which were much nearer the house. Now Horace looked downcast, too. I had no idea where the Shiffleys planned to put the construction materials, or if they even needed scaffolding, but it sounded good.
“You couldn’t talk them into working someplace else?” Horace asked.
Sammy looked scornful, probably because he knew the Shiffleys well enough to understand how difficult it was to change their plans once they’d made them.
“Maybe,” I said. “Even if I did, no power on earth could prevent people from walking all over this patch of ground and trampling anything Rose Noire planted here. Even if the Shiffleys got the message, we’ll have subcontractors and truck drivers delivering materials and such.”
Actually, I hoped our renovation project wouldn’t be quite that invasive. I was depressing myself just talking about it.
“Why don’t you let me talk to Rose Noire and Dad?” I said. “I’ll explain about the construction, and how enthusiastic you both are about digging the garden when the time is right. I’ll let you know what we come up with.”
They both brightened at that. Why not? After all, this way they’d get credit with Rose Noire for the digging without doing any more actual backbreaking work. “We could have had it all dug by now,” they could say, “if Meg hadn’t stopped us.”
They both ambled off—not precisely side by side, which would have implied some degree of togtherness. Instead, they were on parallel courses to where they thought they could find Rose Noire.
I strolled out toward the main part of the lawn and stopped in surprise. Perhaps I should have guessed from the chaos in the kitchen that today’s lunch had mutated from a simple picnic for the competitors into something else.
“Good grief,” I muttered. “Who are all these people and what are they doing here?”
Chapter Sixteen
Once I’d recovered from the initial shock and taken a look around, I realized that
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