“He can plant a more resistant variety.”
“Not for Silver Queen.”
“True, but Mexican restaurants like cooking with those galled ears, think it’s a delicacy. And they’ll pay good money for it.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shot up.
“I told Buddy and he called around. Just talked to him this morning, actually. He says he can make more selling to them than he can just selling straight old Silver Queen. It’s too late for this crop—it’s been on the stalk too long—but he’s kind of excited.”
“Harry, you never cease to surprise me. Maybe you saved those one hundred acres from development.”
“Hey, if I can help out a friend, I will. I don’t know if this will help Buddy and his hundred acres, but Tazio and I are going to work to save Random Row. Before Hester was killed, she asked Tazio to head that project. It’s the last thing we can do for Hester, and it’s the best thing we can do for our special history.” She glanced at the calendar on the wall. “Three days until Halloween. Any tickets left?”
“Sold every one.” Finishing his drink, he thanked her, then said, “Well, I’ve got to push off. If you come on out with me, I’ll give you the Centerpoint sample now. Have it in the truck. And I’ll drop some more by later.”
“Great.”
Harry happily followed Neil, Tucker in her wake. The dog didn’t much like the odor of fertilizer, and said so to the cats.
“Powdery stuff,” Mrs. Murphy chimed in. “Goes right up your nose.”
“Always smells a little like dead stuff, which I usually like,” said the dog, “but you can detect other things, man-made odors.”
“Like car exhaust?” Pewter wrinkled her nose and the others laughed.
Ivy Nursery, just west of Charlottesville and the Boar’s Head complex, contained long greenhouses as well as trees and other plants in rows outside the buildings.
Harry pulled into the almost full parking lot right before 6 P.M., quitting time for Susan. She walked inside the main building and there to the side was Susan, creating a wonderful boxwood topiary.
“Harry!”
“Said I’d see you on your first day of work. That looks interesting.”
“My inspiration is the gardens of Harvey Ladew in Harford County, Maryland. So I’m making this little fox.” She put down her shears, pulled off her protective but flexible gloves.
“Let me be your first customer. I’ll buy your fox.”
“Harry, you don’t have to do that.”
“I’d love to. He’s cute as a button.” She touched his boxwood nose.
“My boss saw right away that if I could make foxes and hounds, we’d do a big business. It’s taking me some time.”
“What do you do, outline it first?”
“That’s the thing, you can’t really make a good three-dimensional outline. I have all these photographs.” She swept her hand in front of six fox photographs leaning against the back of the long table at which she worked. A deep metal sink stood in the corner with glazed pots, terra-cotta pots, and square redwood containers on lined shelves. Ribbons—every color imaginable, including the fashionable gauze ones—lined another shelf, the spools affixed to the edge, a bit of ribbon hanging down from each. The trimming and cutting tools hung above the worktable on a magnetic strip. Filling the workroom were the fragrances of potted plants, small trees, and cut flowers.
“You just eyeballed it?” Harry was incredulous.
“Did.”
“You always got A’s in art class. Not me.”
Susan wiped her hands with a small terry-cloth towel. “You got them in physics.”
“I like that he’s running,” said Harry of the topiary fox.
“I thought it would be easier to do than a sitting fox. But I’ll get the hang of it. Hounds, too.”
“Susan, you could do dachshunds, Labs, cats. People could give you pictures of their pets.”
“Great idea. I’ll see if my boss will go for it.”
“Who is the boss?”
“Karen Corriss, you remember her? She was three grades ahead of us.”
“You mean Karen Dillard?”
“Yeah. She married Rudy Corriss.” She lowered her voice. “Apparently he’s not doing too well. Real estate.”
“I can believe that, but, well”—Harry shrugged—“Ivy Nursery has to be an interesting place to work.”
“For one day, it is.” Susan laughed. “Okay, let me take pictures of this on my cellphone so I can show Karen my work and my first sale. You’re a peach, you know that?”
As Susan took pictures from every angle on her cellphone, Harry beamed. “You never called me a peach before.”
“Oh, come on. I have so.”
“Sometimes you’ve called me a good egg. I like peach better.”
The two old friends laughed. Susan wrapped a beautiful gauze bow around the fox’s neck. “Charlie in gold,” she said, calling the fox by his English name. The French use “Reynard.”
Harry held up the creation. “Let me get this through the cash register and I’ll meet you outside.”
They met by Harry’s truck, animals in it.
Opening the door, Harry placed the topiary fox on the passenger-seat floor. “Touch that and I pull your whiskers out.”
“Why would I touch it? It’s not food.” Pewter tossed her head.
“Tucker?” Harry stared right into her wonderful corgi’s brown eyes.
“Not me,” the intrepid dog replied.
“Don’t even ask, I don’t chew greenery,” Mrs. Murphy said.
“No, you just wrecked last year’s Christmas tree,” Pewter reminded her.
“I had help.” The tiger cat’s pupils enlarged as she growled at Pewter.
“Enough.” Harry shut the door, the window open a crack. “These last two months all those cats have done is fight. And Pewter chases Tucker, too.”
“Not for long, I assume,” Susan laughed.
“She does need Weight Watchers, doesn’t she?”
They stood there in the faltering light, coolness coming on. Shoppers left the nursery, purchases in hand.
Wesley Speer emerged, two huge amaryllises in his arms. Harry, on seeing him, ran up. “Let me help. These are beautiful.”
“Thanks, Harry. Hey, Susan. We could have a vestry board meeting right here.”
“No quorum,” Susan said as she walked with them to Wesley’s Lexus SUV.
He opened the back.
“You bought my chest of drawers!” Susan exclaimed.
“Huh?” He stepped back from the inside of the Lexus, a beautiful vehicle and an expensive one.
“My chest of drawers!” repeated Susan. “Baby blue. You went down to Farmville, Number 9, didn’t you?”
“I wanted to get something for Rebecca,” Wesley said, mentioning his wife. “We often go down there.”
“Well, I wanted that one.”
“Susan, I bet if you call down there, they’ll have another one or can get it for you. This just shows what good taste we both have. Rebecca dragged me down there, oh, weeks ago and she fell in love with this. I sneaked back today and bought it.”
“She’ll love you for this.” Harry smiled.
He smiled back. “Every now and then it does a husband good to surprise his wife. I thought I’d carry it up to her dressing room, put it by the window, and place the two amaryllises on it.”
“Lovely.” Susan nodded. “Well, home to Owen. He needs to go outside. I’ll see you …?”
“Halloween Hayride, if not before,” Wesley answered.
The two women friends returned to Susan’s station wagon, parked not far from the old Ford.
Susan kissed Harry on the cheek. “Thank you for making my day.”