Prune, Plant, or Plunder?

by Jessica Gardener Lee

  “Willis Ennis,” introduced the man, “superintendent of the building, and a budding actor,” he said, as he unlocked the door to what lead to a series of open cubicles. He explained that this floor of the building contained the building management and hospitality offices, and that he had been managing the building for two years between auditions. He said that Mrs. Crescent would be with them shortly. He also asked about Patrick, saying that he didn’t know that another landscaper would be coming.

  “Fellow landscaper and friend,” Patrick replied, “Isabella and I met at state college at the design school. I drove her up. My outfit does a lot of work up here, but we don’t have her kind of creativity. You know the way the women have with sprucing things up really pretty.

  Isabella appreciated that Pat did not divulge that she had just taken one course there, and that her degree was an Associate’s Degree from Community College in Landscape Design.

  The superintendent said to Isabella, “I am supposed to check your driver’s license, to make sure that you are indeed Isabella Albero, born in April of 1978, and then I am to offer you this check as a first payment on the landscape design. Second payment for the same amount will be when you submit the plans to the structural engineer, and final payment of same said value when you revise the plans with engineering feedback.”

  “I’ve never been asked for my license before, but here it is,” Isabella said. Ennis looked at the rough-edged woman in the photo and back to the polished lady in front of him, and said, “The camera does not do you justice!” He went over to make a Xerox copy of the license for his boss, circling the birth date, April 17, on the print out.

  At this point, Isabella was handed a check for what was more than her average annual salary.

  Taking a peek at the check, Patrick was amused. “This is one fun urban adventure,” Patrick said, his eyes twinkling. His little church mouse was proving to be a spitfire. He realized, too late, that he was starting to fall deep for the sort of person that he had most explicitly swore himself off of - a marriage-minded female. It was too soon after his disastrous first marriage.

  But she was so adorable in her sandals and sun dress; she looked so ripe for the picking.

  Chapter 25 - Always Well–Suited

  “I never dress casually, remember that.”

  Cyrus

  At the beach, Jade had seen Cyrus in swim trunks, and she noticed that he was rock-solid muscle. She had taken a few glances his way, when she had the opportunity, which was rare. At LBI, he had been either catering to the whims of his boss, Max, or chatting it up with the twenty-something caterer, Ruth.

  As Cyrus walked into the restaurant, several heads turned. He was dressed head to toe in black, and had the sleek look of a male model. His hair was slicked back, and he had a pale complexion and wolfish gray eyes.

  As they sat at the table and perused the menu, Jade felt a need to get an idea of what her chances were with this stud du jour.

  “You and Ruth looked a little cozy at LBI, what’s the scoop?” Jade asked, expecting to get invited to their wedding in the Hamptons.

  “Oh, Ruth, she’s a nice girl, but too young for me. I am learning how to cook and she went to the Cordon Blue.” Cyrus said, elusively. “Anyway, I have a few questions about Isabella, if you don’t mind getting started right away.”

  “Oh, Isabella…Is that what this is about? Do you have a thing for her?” Jade asked, not one to skirt a confrontation.

  “No. Most emphatically, no. She isn’t my type.”

  “Well, she is really beautiful, I mean, once you get past the mud boots and grimy garden gloves. And, she’s…” Jade defended.

  “Totally not suitable for me, in any way,” Cyrus explained.

  “Well, I have a need to defend my girlfriend; if this is about the virgin thing…you men are all dogs.” Jade said defensively.

  “It is not her experience, or lack thereof, that is the issue for me. Although, I have to say, in this day and age, that is sort of refreshing, although hard to believe. But, anyway, it is her Catholicism that is the issue,” explained Cyrus. “I practice Judaism, and will only date others who do, as well.”

  Jade thought about that, and said, quite unexpectedly, “Oh, what about someone who is half-Jewish?”

  At that point, the waiter came to take their orders. Jade ordered a crab cake sandwich, and Cyrus ordered salmon with a side of broccoli.

  “Anyway,” Cyrus interjected, “The boss is quite smitten with your Isabella. It is a real pickle that she is the main suspect in some recent eco-harassment. All the clues keep pointing to her in terms of who is doing this environmentally whacko sending of stuff,” Cyrus explained.

  As Cyrus described the escalating bizarre cascade of banana peels, pruning implements, and other oddities, Jade decided to lay her cards on the table.

  “Isabella is too demure, too prudish, and just plain too good to do anything so stalker-like. She might want to do it, she might dream about doing it, but would never go through with it. She’s really timid. I think you might want to see who else works for Albero Enterprises. You know, I was familiar with the landscaping side, but I had no idea that there were other businesses,” Jade commented.

  She had been around the Albero family since she was ten and her parents split, and her mom moved back to Ardmore. Her dad, Arthur Baum, was now busy in Jersey with his second family and his second home, Temple Beth Hillel. She knew first-hand of the Albero landscaping dynasty, built from sweat, but had never heard of any sort of other business interests.

  Cyrus described how Albero had diversified into limestone quarries during the booming times of the late 1990’s, and had even recently gone into organic garden sprays and other products in the gardening trade. While all of the holdings were related directly or indirectly to gardening, they had come very close to the construction industry because of an overlap, and were involved in the manufacturing of pavers.

  “So, you can look at the other people who work for these enterprises, then. That gives you something to do. Maybe there’s some garden guru who hates the depletion of the peat moss bogs so much he is whittling tiny “Max’” in his spare time. There are lots of possible suspects! So, can we move this conversation to topics other than Isabella, or is there anything else you want to know?” an exasperated Jade said.

  “Well, the investigation side of me is curious about this chastity thing. How can you be so sure she is a virgin? Isn’t that sort of unheard of these days?” asked a curious Cyrus.

  “You never knew her mother. If you did, you would understand.”

  The dinner was served, and Jade was annoyed at herself for having ordered something that wasn’t kosher. How was she to know? And, of course, she had to suggest a seafood restaurant.

  Daintily eating of the crab cake sandwich, she said, “It is not everyday you meet someone as wholesome as Isabella, that’s for sure, but she is quite a tomboy. She’s been able to hide behind the hydrangeas, and live the life that her mother planned for her. Let’s see, where to start…Isabella’s mother, Sharon Rose, was one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. She had long chestnut hair, Isabella’s aristocratic nose, and almond eyes. She was always smiling, and was terribly in love with Mr. Albero. It was a total tragedy when she died of breast cancer when we were twelve.”

  Jade, Isabella’s oldest and best friend had attended the same middle school as Isabella. She remembered bringing over dinners that her mom, Sloan, had made for the Albero family during the illness of Isabella’s mother. When Sharon Rose died, the whole eighth grade class attended.

  “Mrs. A’s dying wish to her daughter was that she save herself for marriage and true love.” Jade said, wistfully.

  Cyrus asked, “I guess her mom was of the old school and very religious?”

  Jade answered, “Not really, she was artsy, always designing and sewing outfits. She made beautiful costumes for us; lovely Halloween outfits, and beautiful dresses. She was romantic and loved flowers, and was alway
s reading poetry or sketching. But, on the topic of why the request, I do have an idea.” Jade commented.

  “One day, Mrs. Albero pulled me aside. I’ve never told anyone about this, not even Isabella. Mrs. A., Sharon Rose, she said that it was not going to be an easy road for her daughter. She said that Isabella would need loyal friends who respected her being different. And, Mrs. A. knew that because I was different than my peers, that I would understand what she meant.”

  “Jade, you are an interesting and special person, but, in what way did Mrs. Albero mean that you are different?” asked a curious Cyrus.

  “Well, my mom is African American, and my dad is Jewish. That’s different. In Ardmore, where I was from, I was one of the only girls of mixed race. Now, being biracial isn’t all that unusual; we’ve even got a president who is like me but in the reverse. But in my neighborhood, it was very unusual.

  Jade explained that Ardmore was populated by descendents of the workers of the old time Main Line mansions, and that it was a very stable, thriving black community.

  “Anyway, Mrs. Albero wanted me to be supportive of Isabella being “different” – and, at the time, I thought she meant that Isabella had a sick mother. But, after her mother died, Isabella told me about the deathbed promise,” explained Jade.

  “Oh, and she also said something about learning about life the hard way. That she, Sharon Rose, had learned about things the hard way and she wanted things to be easier for her daughter. That is ironic though, because it has been way tough on her to be different.”

  “So, Jade, enough about your BFF.” Cyrus cooed, in a friendly way, “Tell me about you, I want to know everything,” Jade said.

  The rest of the evening was spent getting to know each other in a cozy setting. Cyrus kept a significant part of his research on Isabella to himself. What he knew about women, gleaned from being the youngest in a family of three sisters, and being the subject of a lot of female attention, kept him from full disclosure. Best friends always share everything, there was no holding back. He was counting on Jade tipping Isabella off to the fact that she was a suspect in his investigation of the bizarre deliveries and notes. However, he wanted to keep some other, more shocking, information to himself until he was able to sort it out more fully. For now, he would just enjoy Jade’s company, and delight in the fact that they have more in common than he had earlier supposed.

  Chapter 26 - Gaining Ground

  “No landscaping task is too big or too small for Lanzetti.”

  Company motto

  It was Thursday, and Patrick and Isabella had returned to the Ames building to take a better look at the rooftop, as it was a little drizzly on their first visit. They brought a digital camera to take photographs, needed to take some additional measurements of the roof, and to ask a few questions.

  Ennis was happy to let them into the rooftop, and he took a route that included the main stairwell and not the service entrance.

  “Do you always treat your hired help so graciously?” Patrick enquired.

  “Hardly.” Ennis murmured. “If you weren’t here, I’d be taking the service entrance myself.”

  Isabella and Patrick looked at each other with confusion.

  Ennis said, “I mean, I am just doing what my boss told me to do.”

  “Mrs. Crescent?” Isabella asked.

  Ennis laughed. “Her? Oh, she’s the housekeeper. She does make a lot of decisions for the boss, though. They trust her lots because she’s worked here for decades.” Ennis thought to himself, Amy was here back when the boss liked women, or so he’d been told. Now, that is something he would like to have seen. Alistair was a proud, happy member of the alternative lifestyle contingency, not that there is anything wrong with that, Ennis mused.

  “And who does she work for?” Patrick prompted, thinking that this was rather mysterious.

  “Well, the apartment is called the Ames Building, right?” said Ennis. “Do folks from Pennsylvania always ask so many questions?”

  Once they were lead to the rooftop, Ennis sat on a chair to rehearse his lines for his next audition, while they were left to do their design preparations.

  “Isabella, I need to stretch my legs, would you mind walking the steps with me a minute…You know me, I’m used to the big outdoors. It gets stuffy here in the city, even on a rooftop with this great skyline.”

  “Really, Pat, you’re like a caged animal sometimes,” answered Isabella, going along with what was probably a not-so-subtle way to speak privately about the mysterious goings on at the Ames.

  “Have you been given any other contact information for Ms. Crescent or the Ames family?” Pat asked when they were safely in the stairwell.

  “Well, just an e-mail address and…wait, yes, there’s a fax number here.”

  Pat ran a reverse directory search on his iPhone, and the listing was for the basement floor of the Ames building.

  The number was ascribed to by one, Laura C. Ames. Yes, indeed, this Laura was the sort of person who owned not just the penthouse and the roof of a building of this magnitude, but the entire building.

  Maneuvering from the steps to the rooftop down through the service entrance, then down to the basement, Pat was enjoying himself immensely. This adventure sure beat snow removal, the least favorite of his tasks, he mused.

  His grandfather, Lance, had built Lanzetti Landscaping, operating out of their one-acre family home in Devon, over 45 years ago. Upon his graduation from State College, he had assumed all aspects of design for the family business. However, there were times when he had to take whatever odd job was unaccounted for, which was one of the drawbacks of working for family. However, this physical labor had made him sleek and strong, and his muscles bulging.

  Pat used a tender caress to pull a stray hair back from Isabella’s forehead, and said, “Isabella, do you want to meet the wizard behind the screen here?”

  A few minutes later, Isabella was walking into the staff only area of the Ames building, owned by Mrs. Ames, widow of the Ames family fortune.

  “Lord, Ennis aren’t you supposed to be up on the roof?” asked an agitated Mrs. Crescent. After looking up and seeing Pete and Isabella, she fainted clear onto the floor.

  With the maid dressed in the black and white get-up held firmly in his arms, Pat pushed open the door labeled “kitchenette.”

  Not finding anyone about, Isabella found a sink and put some water on a towel to apply to Mrs. Crescent’s forehead.

  “You seem to have had quite an effect on this woman,” drawled Isabella, as she tried to make sense out of the situation.

  “No, Isabella, it was after seeing you that she fainted. But that is neither heads nor tails. She could be having some sort of seizure. Or, this could be another understudy practicing her lines. Come to think of it, that was a stunning faint.”

  The maid, who looked to be around 55, started to stir. She blinked a few times and said, “Rosie, is that you?”

  Mrs. Crescent, upon reviving, apologized for fainting. She said that she hadn’t had anything for breakfast that day. Then, she asked to see Isabella.

  As Isabella walked closer, Mrs. Crescent exclaimed, “Aren’t you the spitting image of your mama, and…” she looked closer for further inspection, “and just as pretty. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I would think it was Rose. I remember when she modeled for that jeans ad with the flower petals, you know, the one in ‘Haute’….”

  “Thank you, but you must be mistaken. My mother wasn’t into haute couture; she was all about horticulture, as in gardening. Her name was Sharon Rose Albero; she lived in Wynnewood, Pennsylvania, where she helped my father tend the grounds and she darned his socks. You must be thinking of someone else entirely.” Isabella said.

  “Why my dear, your mother was like a sister to me. We lived downstairs, here at the Ames building. She was a model, you know. And I, well, I was a singer. But, that is neither here nor there. I have to tell you, I am so happy to know that she had a happy family.” Mrs. Crescent was
clearly touched at meeting the daughter of one of her dearest friends.

  “I am sorry, but you are totally mistaken. I am from a family of gardeners, and, my mom sewed Halloween costumes and things. She was a homemaker. Well, like, you know how the Von Trappe family sang? Well, we gardened. That was our thing. I don’t even think my mom was ever in New York, she always said it was too crowded and polluted.” Isabella was getting more and more agitated.

  “Isabella,” interjected Patrick, “Let’s go back up to the roof and complete our photo taking and measuring for the, uh, design. We are sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs. Crescent. I hope you are feeling better and that you have a good rest of the day.”

  Patrick drove the truck the whole way back to the Main Line with very little in the way of conversation. He knew when to keep his mouth shut and to allow other people to work through their own thoughts in an amiable silence.