"You couldn't be happier about it than we are. I swear that man's been like a kid himself the last couple
of days, just waiting for today to get here. He couldn't be more proud of the three of you."
"I guess we both missed out on a lot when I was growing up."
"It's good you're making up for it now."
Stella glanced at Jolene as they walked over to a bench. "You never say anything about her. You never criticize."
"Sugar pie, I bit my tongue to ribbons more times than I can count in the last twenty-seven years."
"Why?"
"Well, honey, when you're the second wife, and the stepmama on top of that, it's the smartest thing you can do. Besides, you grew up to be a strong, smart, generous woman raising the two most handsome, brightest, most charming boys on God's green earth. What's the point of criticizing?"
She does you, Stella thought. "Have I ever told you I think you're the best thing that ever happened to
my father?"
"Maybe once or twice." Jolene pinked prettily. "But I never mind hearing it repeated."
"Let me add, you're one of the best things that ever happened to me. And the kids."
"Oh, now." This time Jolene's eyes filled. "Now you've got me going." She dug in her purse, dug out a lace hankie. "That's the sweetest thing. The sweetest thing." She sniffled, tried to dab at her eyes and
hug Stella at the same time. "I just love you to pieces. I always did."
"I always felt it." Tearing up herself, Stella pushed through her own purse for a more mundane tissue. "God, look at the mess we've made of each other."
"It was worth it. Sometimes a good little cry's as good as some sex. Do I have mascara all down my face?"
"No. Just a little ..." Stella used the corner of her tissue to wipe away a smear under Jolene's eye.
"There. You're fine."
"I feel like a million tax-free dollars. Now, tell me how you're getting on before I start leaking again."
"Work-wise it couldn't be better. It really couldn't. We're about to hit the spring rush dead-on, and I'm
so revved for it. The boys are happy, making friends at school. Actually, between you and me, I think Gavin's got a crush on this little curly-headed blond in his class. Her name's Melissa, and the tips of his ears get red when he mentions her."
"That's so sweet. Nothing like your first crush, is there? I remember mine. I was crazy for this boy. He had a face full of freckles and a cowlick. I just about died with joy the day he gave me a little hop-toad
in a shoe box."
"A toad."
"Well, honey, I was eight and a country girl, so it was a thoughtful gift all in all. He ended up marrying
a friend of mine. I was in the wedding and had to wear the most godawful pink dress with a hoop skirt wide enough I could've hidden a horse under it and rode to the church. It was covered with ruffles, so
I looked like a human wedding cake."
She waved a hand while Stella rolled with laughter. "I don't know why I'm going on about that, except
it's the sort of traumatic experience you never forget, even after more than thirty years. Now they live
on the other side of the city. We get together every now and then for dinner. He's still got the freckles, but the cowlick went, along with most of his hair."
"I guess you know a lot of the people and the history of the area, since you've lived here all your life."
"I guess I do. Can't go to the Wal-Mart, day or night, without seeing half a dozen people I know."
"What do you know about the Harper ghost?"
"Hmm." Jolene took out a compact and her lipstick and freshened her face. "Just that she's always roamed around there, or at least as far back as anybody can remember. Why?"
"This is going to sound insane, especially coming from me, but... I've seen her."
"Oh my goodness." She snapped the compact closed. "Tell me everything."
"There isn't a lot to tell."
But she told her what there was, and what she'd begun to do about it.
"This is so exciting! You're like a detective. Maybe your father and I could help. You know how he loves playing on that computer of his. Stella!" She clamped a hand on Stella's arm. "I bet she was murdered, just hacked to death with an ax or something and buried in a shallow grave. Or dumped in the river—pieces of her. I've always thought so."
"Let me just say—ick—and her ghost, at least is whole. Added to that, our biggest lead is the ancestor who died in childbirth," Stella reminded her.
"Oh, that's right." Jolene sulked a moment, obviously disappointed. "Well, if it turns out it's her, that'd
be sad, but not nearly as thrilling as murder. You tell your daddy all about this, and we'll see what we
can do. We've both got plenty of time on our hands. It'll be fun."
"It's a departure for me," Stella replied. "I seem to be doing a lot of departing from the norm recently."
"Any of that departing have to do with a man? A tall, broad-shouldered sort of man with a wicked grin?"
Stella's eyes narrowed. "And why would you ask?"
"My third cousin, Lucille? You met her once. She happened to be having dinner in the city a couple
nights ago and told me she saw you in the same restaurant with a very good-looking young man. She didn't come by your table because she was with her latest beau. And he's not altogether divorced from
his second wife. Fact is, he hasn't been altogether divorced for a year and a half now, but that's Lucille for you."
Jolene waved it away. "So, who's the good-looking young man?"
"Logan Kitridge."
"Oh." It came out in three long syllables. "That is a good-looking young man. I thought you didn't like him."
"I didn't not like him, I just found him annoying and difficult to work-with. We're getting along a little better at work, and somehow we seem to be dating. I've been trying to figure out if I want to see him again."
"What's to work out? You do or you don't."
"I do, but... I shouldn't ask you to gossip."
Jolene wiggled closer on the bench. "Honey, if you can't ask me, who can you ask?"
Stella snickered, then glanced toward the reptile house to be sure her boys weren't heading out.
"I wondered, before I get too involved, if he sees a lot of women."
"You want to know if he cats around."
"I guess that's the word for it."
"I'd say a man like that gets lucky when he has a mind to, but you don't hear people saying, "That
Logan Kitridge is one randy son of a gun.' Like they do about my sister's boy, Curtis. Most of what
you hear about Logan is people—women mostly—wondering how that wife of his let him get loose,
or why some other smart woman hasn't scooped him up. You thinking about scooping?"
"No. No, definitely not."
"Maybe he's thinking about scooping you up."
"I'd say we're both just testing the ground." She caught sight of her men. "Here come the Reptile
Hunters. Don't say anything about any of this in front of the boys, okay?"
"Lips are sealed."
* * *
In the Garden opened at eight, prepared for its advertised spring opening as for a war. Stella had
mustered the troops, supervised with Roz the laying out of supplies. They had backups, seasoned
recruits, and the field of combat was—if she said so herself—superbly organized and displayed.
By ten they were swamped, with customers swarming the showrooms, the outside areas, the public greenhouses. Cash registers rang like church bells.
She marched from area to area, diving in where she felt she was most needed at any given time. She answered questions from staff and from customers, restacked wagons and carts when the staff was too overwhelmed to get to them, and personally helped countless people load purchases in their cars, trucks, or SUVs.
She used the two-way on her belt like a general.
"Miss? Do you work here?"
Stella paused and turned to the woman wearing baggy jeans and a ragged sweatshirt. "Yes, ma'am, I do. I'm Stella. How can I help you?"
"I can't find the columbine, or the foxglove or... I can't find half of what's on my list. Everything's changed around."