"This is amazing!" Vicki said, delighted.
"Nice, huh?" Reheema beamed. She looked relaxed and healthy in a white cotton T-shirt and khaki shorts that showed long, muscular legs. Bits of soil caked her knees and covered the beat-up toes of her white Nikes, and only an occasional stiffness in her movements suggested that her healing process wasn't yet complete.
"Very nice! It's great!"
"We're proud of it." Reheema tugged a curled brown leaf from a mass of tiger lilies, which formed an exotic backdrop to a grouping of lovely golden flowers, each one shaped like a sunny star.
"What are those yellow cuties?" Vicki asked, pointing.
"Coreopsis."
"Listen to you! Coreopsis! You feelin' the coreopsis?"
"I know, right? I'm a black girl with a green thumb."
Vicki laughed. "But no gardening gloves."
"Please. I'm not crazy."
Vicki laughed again. They were standing in the new community garden on Cater Street, which was located in the vacant lot that used to be the crack store. The neighbors had cleared the lot, built raised beds out of railroad ties, and created a garden on the right side of the lot, which got full sun almost all day. The left side was cleared, too, though beds had yet to be constructed. Vicki was thrilled to finally see the garden in bloom; she'd stopped by on her way to Devon, since it was time for an obligatory Sunday dinner with her parents.
"Now which plot is yours?" she asked.
"We don't do it that way. The way we do, the people like me who want to grow flowers, we sign up and plant the flowers together. We planted 'em in May, and now we all pick the ones we want."
"Sounds good."
"I made the rules, of course."
"Of course. You're the Block Captain."
"I'm the Block Diva," Reheema corrected, and they both laughed. "People who want to do vegetables, they sign up for vegetables. The vegetables are behind the flowers, over there."
Vicki shielded her eyes from the sun and looked against the brick wall, in the back bed. Tomato plants stood in neat green lines, tied to stakes by brown string, and an older woman in a sleeveless housedress and orange flip-flops picked ripe beefsteak tomatoes. A row of red and green pepper plants lined up in front, and on a patch of tilled soil lay thick furry vines with large, light green leaves and striped clubs of zucchini, one as big as a Louisville Slugger.
"That zucchini's a lethal weapon," Vicki said.
"Mrs. Walter's pride and joy. She grows so much damn zucchini, she's making bread every day, then relish. You ever eat zucchini relish?" Reheema wrinkled her nose. "S'nasty."
"Now you got suburban problems. You thought it was easy, being rich?"
"Ha! Be careful what you wish, right?"
Vicki laughed, and Reheema did, too, at the ridiculous notion. The neighborhood had begun a comeback, in only two seasons. The town watch patrolled regularly, rarely wanting for volunteers. Neighbors repainted the trim on their houses, replaced asphalt shingles that had fallen off, and put new Astroturf on the porch floors. Trash was stored in cans, not strewn on the street anymore, and the sidewalks had been swept. Best of all, people were outside without fear. This afternoon, mothers hung out on front stoops, talking while little girls jumped rope and boys practiced break-dancing on a flattened refrigerator box. The sight taught Vicki that, however hard-won, justice wasn't an end in itself. Instead, it was a beginning, enabling people to be safe, happy, and free. The rest was up to them.
Reheema cocked her head. "So how's work?"
"Way too busy. With Steptoe cooperating and Bale pleading, I got a boatload of new cases."
"But you love it," Reheema said, and Vicki nodded happily.
"And Dan says hi. And how about you? Did you get that coaching gig you wanted?"
"Yeah, a traveling team, a nice group of girls." Reheema smiled broadly. "Now I'm at city services by day and a track coach on the weekends."
"Take it easy, with the running so soon."
"I'm fine." Reheema waved her off.
Rring! Rring! Vicki's cell phone rang in her shorts pocket and she pulled it out and checked the display. MOM CELL, it read. "Excuse me, I should get this." She opened the phone and said, "Hey, Mom. Are we still on for dinner?"
"Yes, of course."
"What's up?"
"There's been a slight change of plans. We're here."
"What? Where?"
"Your father and I. We're parked in front of your father's old house."
"You and Dad? Here?" Vicki's eyes flared in horror, and Reheema stifled a laugh.
"Yes, dear. You left a message that you were stopping by a community garden in Devil's Corner before you came home, so we thought we'd take a ride down and meet you here. Where are you, exactly?"
In shock. "Wait there. I'll come to you."
FIFTY-TWO
"Mom, Dad, it's great to see you," Vicki said, as she walked over to her parents.
"Isn't this fun, dear?" Her mother came toward her smiling, chic in white Capri pants and a turquoise knit shell, with tan Tod loafers.
"Really fun." Vicki hugged her scented mother, whose sleek hair and skin felt refrigerated from the car's air-conditioning. Her father was standing on the sidewalk and frowning up at his old house, his hands resting on his hips. He wore a white Lacoste shirt and khaki pants, and hovered protectively near the front bumper of their silver Mercedes. The sedan gleamed like a flying saucer, and the Allegrettis looked as out of place as aliens, or at least, lawyers.
"I wanted to see the community garden," her mother said, looking around. Two little girls on their bicycles, their stiff braids flying, stared as they rode past.
"It's around the block, on Cater. I was just there with Reheema."
"Oh, your friend? I'd like to meet her. Is it far?"
"Not really."
"Wonderful, I'll take a little walk. It's good exercise."
NO! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE WITH THIS MAN! "Mom, why don't you wait? We can walk over together."
"But your father wants to look at his old house."
"He'll want to meet Reheema, too."
"Then he will, later. He wants to look at his house now. This trip was his idea. Go talk to him, go through the house with him, then walk over to the community garden." Her mother gave her a discreet shove toward her father, but Vicki had faced loaded Glocks with more enthusiasm.
"Mom-"
"Go!" Her mother turned on her expensive heel and walked away.
"It's on the left, down the middle of the block," Vicki called after her, and her mother waved, though she didn't turn back.
"Where's your mother going?" her father asked, coming over, as lost as Vicki, as if they were two baby birds.
SHE LEFT US ALONE! "To see the community garden."
"Where is it? I thought it was on Lincoln."
"No, it's on Cater. Right around the block." Vicki had grown so used to filling the air with words, she did it reflexively. "I'm sure we can catch up with her. She can't go fast on foot."
"She's a great gardener." Her father kept frowning, but maybe the sun was in his eyes. "She's been talking about that garden all week. This drive was her idea."
Really. "Mom said you wanted to go inside your old house."
"No."
No? "We could." Vicki gestured at the front door, which had been repaired. "A new family moved in, I heard from Reheema. We could just knock and ask, I'm sure they'd let us. Everybody knows Reheema."
"No, it was my father's house, not mine. I don't have any happy memories here. Let's go find your mother."
Ouch. "Okay."
Her father walked back to the Mercedes. "You'll never get a space on Cater, Dad." He turned. "I can't leave it here." "Yes, you can. It's safe." "It's an S class." Vicki smiled. "It'll be fine." "You'll indemnify me?" "Up to thirty-seven bucks." Her father pulled out his car keys and chirped the car locked, twice. Vicki turned and they fell into step, walking around the corner, where her father stopped, examining a brick wall. "Funny. I used to play stickball here, against this wall, with a broom and a pimple ball."