She hoped to find Violet alone, but when she poked her head in the Herb Haven, she spotted at least three bodies wandering around-that is, three human bodies, not counting the half-dozen cats.
She shied from the sound of strangers voices. Shed have shied from the cats, too, except that two of the long-haired Persians tangled around her legs before she could escape back outside. Trying to walk to the greenhouses was an exercise in getting tripped and sabotaged. Finally, she hunched down to pet them, snarling behind her, Dammit, Killer. Youre a dog. Isnt it a mandate that youre supposed to chase cats? What good are you?
She didnt have to look back to know the shepherd was as close behind her as bad breath. Killer was still snarling at every opportunity-including at her-but this last week, hed taken up following her everywhere. She couldnt go to the bathroom, couldnt go to dinner, couldnt close the door on her bedroom without him. Just like now, he sat patiently, tongue lolling, less than two feet away from the disgusting sight of her petting the two long-haired nuisance cats.
She didnt have to look back to know the shepherd was as close behind her as bad breath. Killer was still snarling at every opportunity-including at her-but this last week, hed taken up following her everywhere. She couldnt go to the bathroom, couldnt go to dinner, couldnt close the door on her bedroom without him. Just like now, he sat patiently, tongue lolling, less than two feet away from the disgusting sight of her petting the two long-haired nuisance cats.
The damn dog was just like having a second conscience. Couldnt escape him for love or money.
Finally the cats seemed sated. She stood up, slugged her hands in her jeans pockets, and wandered around the first greenhouse. Her parents had built this one. It wasnt as high-tech as Vis new greenhouse, but it still had touches of their mother in here-Margauxs sacred pruning shears, her tidy potting sink and counter, the old French apron she used to wear.
Camille swallowed hard. Margaux was a wildly flamboyant flower lover, like Violet. And like Daisy. Cam was the only misfit of the daughters, the only one whod wanted a high-stress city job, the one whod never loved romantic lace and doodads. But when she was in here, sometimes she imagined the faint hint of her mothers perfume, lavender and jasmine, the warm scents hiding in all the musky, humid greenery.
Of course, that was foolishness. The greenhouse smelled like dirt and fertilizer, nothing more fanciful than that. She didnt miss her mother. She was long a grown woman, for Gods sake. She was justticked off. Because shed postponed talking to Violet as long as she possibly could-not because she cared about what her sister was going to do with the lavender, but because shed promised Pete.
And darn it, she definitely didnt want to think about Pete.
So she poked and prodded, sniffed flowers, tested soil, read labels, snooped. By the time she heard Violets exuberant, Hey, you! shed explored one greenhouse stem to stern and was halfway through the new one.
Cam! Youre out and about. Still with the mutt, I see. Violet sidestepped Killer, who growled and snarled for a second, but Vi had stopped being impressed by the dogs shenanigans. She barely spared him a patient look before surging forward. Today she was wearing one of her floppy straw hats, a peasant blouse and a gypsy skirt printed with every color and some that probably didnt exist. You could have found me in the store if you needed me.
You had customers. And I wasnt in any hurry.
You mean, youre still avoiding talking to anyone. Have you been to town yet? Even once? Vi glanced at her face and said hastily, Never mind, never mind. Im so glad youre here. Did you see my peonies? My St. Johns Wort? How about this one? You know what this is?
She pointed to a silver-leaved plant, flowering now with deep, deep blue petals and bright yellow stamens. Camille figured shed better cater to her. No, what is it?
Nightshade. There are different kinds of wild nightshade. This silver-leafed one is poisonous, but its also a wonderful, healing herb. People shouldnt be afraid of it. I mean potatoes and tomatoes are cousins of nightshade, and we all love those. And over here, Cam. Do you know what this one is?
Camille had barely settled down to study the nightshade before Vi was dancing off, all excited now, fluttering from plant to plant like a butterfly. Are you looking? Violet demanded.
Yes. Sheesh. Truth to tell, most things in the greenhouses were gorgeous, but the plant Violet motioned to now was uglier than a weed. The leaves were coarse and stiff and fuzzy.
Its called a button bush. Reminds me of lavender.
Are you kidding? Lavenders beautiful. This looks something youd spray to kill.
Well, I know its not much to look at. But you cant pamper lavender and you cant pamper this either. Lavenders going to grow where its going to grow. Its like a Scot. You cant tell it anything. This button bushll grow, but only if you create kind of the same marshy, hostile environment where it grows naturally.
And youd do that why? Camille asked wryly.
Because its so pretty in dried bouquets. And thats a lot of why people want herbs. Some for medicine or healing. Some like flowers. Some want them for spices. But some just like to dry them, and these buttons really add something cute in a bouquet.
Okay. Camille interrupted before her sis could go on another endless tangent. I looked around. Everything youre doing is cool, Vi. Its interesting. But you actually think theres a chance of selling all this stuff? The greenhouses are jammed full.
Yeah, they are, arent they Vi connected nozzles. Started sprays. Pinched a brown leaf here and there. Kept on the move. I dont know. I mean, I havent really added up stuff in the ledgers for a while. There hasnt been time. But I had money from the divorce.
I knew the creep gave you a decent settlement, but I guess I thought youd want to sock it away, for savings. Security.
Maybe I should have saved some. But after the divorce, I just needed to make something instead of destroy something, you know? Build something instead of splitting it apart. And when I got into breeding these plants, learning how to propagate them, watching all the new babies emerge like a surpriseit was so wonderful.
It is wonderful, Vi. Camille hadnt had to be tactful-or tried to be tactful-in months now. If she could have ripped any hint of softness from her character, she would have. But somehow she sensed there was something going on with her sister that she didnt understand, so she tried to tread more carefully. But, all the new breeds of lavender you started out theredid you realize how much you were planting?
Well. Sort of.
Vi, youre going to have enough lavender to stock the East Coast. You cant possibly sell even a portion of it just in your Herb Haven. You must have researched other markets? For the oil? And florists? And-?
I will, I will, Cam. Her sister rushed closer to snuggle her in a fast, warm hug, then drew back with a beaming smile. Dont worry about the silly old lavender. Who cares? Ill figure out all that marketing stuff. I just want you to get rested and get well. And you are feeling better, arent you?
Im fine. I was always fine, Camille said impatiently.
Violet, when you never expected it, could suddenly turn heartless. So, since youre so fine, thats that. Were going out to dinner tonight. In White Hills.
Panic slicked up Camilles pulse, slippery as a snake and twice as icky. No, I-
Come on, Cam. Well have a girls night out. Dont you remember how many times you and me and Daisy would do that, go into town, shop or have dinner on any excuse-and how much fun we always had? Come on! We can go pig out on something decadent. Eat chocolate. Drink wine. And how about a movie?
NO. I mean it! No! She spun around and hustled for the greenhouse door, Killer hurtling right after her.
Violet sighed. Cam. I love you, sis. But you either do this with me, or Im going to have to get tough.
Dont you call mother!
Hey. Im not that low. But I am warning you-
Camille kept on going. Vi had threatened to tell on her before, but she hadnt. Violet wouldnt easily worry Mom or Dad any more than she would. Both of them would tattletale a problem with Daisy, but with Daisy still living in France for now, Camille felt safe from her interference, too. Besides, shed get off the farm. When she got around to it. Some time. Eventually.
A blustery storm came and went, making Cam pace like a caged mouse. The instant the rain stopped, she took off with clippers for the lavender field, with Killer hugging her shadow.
Determinedly, she began pruning and clipping, pruning and clipping. The sky occasionally dripped, and the gloomy light seemed infused with a gray-damp chill. But, it was easier to work in cool than heat, even though some of the injuries from the attack came back to haunt her. Her ribs ached sharply if she clipped too fast; her ankle tried to give out if she pushed too hard-and God knows, shed been pushing herself to the point of blisters.
Still, especially this afternoon, the work was exactly what she needed. Each lavender bush needed to be framed into a ball shape, but every single cut affected every single other cut. The work took just enough concentration that she didnt have spare time to think or brood.
When she suddenly heard the sound of a truck engine charging down the farm road behind her, she immediately stood up. It was a white pickup, the newer kind of truck style with a back seat and back doors, and yes, of course she recognized it. But where shed become used to seeing the two younger MacDougals, her heartbeat thumped like a fretful puppys tail at the sight of Pete.
Although he pulled up and braked, he took his time before climbing out. For a moment he just sat there, his arm resting in the open window, looking terrific in an open-throated shirt, his face freshly shaved, his hair brushed. Something in his eyes made her think of un-banked fires and unfinished kisses, and worried her heartbeat all over again.