by Cindy Davis
She leaned a little deeper in the wonderful chair and crossed her arms, her mind racing with fervor.
“Look who’s here.”
Even though Helen whispered, the trepidation in her voice snaked into Claire’s thoughts. Panic bubbled up inside her seeing Sean standing on the top step to the patio. His blond hair, flecked by the overhead lattice, was tousled as though he’d just gotten out of bed. He ran a casual hand through it, and the locks remained in place for a second before tumbling back onto his forehead.
Helen was looking at him with unveiled anger. Amanda gave a quick, unemotional glance, then turned away. Felicia’s fingers were tight around the padded wicker arms. Claire mentally checked her own fingers—loose, at rest. Nobody would guess what she’d been thinking. None of that mattered, Sean only had eyes for Payton.
She threw him a benign smile. “Help yourself to some tea and cookies on your way out.”
Claire managed not to grin.
Sean opened his mouth and shut it several times, looking like a goldfish who’d fallen out of the bowl. He shut his mouth for the last time, turned on his heel and left.
“He’s such an ass,” Amanda said softly.
“You mean he has such an ass,” Felicia said. “Wonder what he wanted.”
“I don’t.” Amanda laughed and stood up. “I’ve got to get going. Edward’s got things to do down in the boatyard so I need to man the store.” Out front, between the lattice criss-crosses, traffic flowed in a steady line and people were already filling the sidewalks. “Looks like it’s going to be a busy weekend.”
“I’ve got to be going too,” Felicia said and hurried after Amanda.
“Rumor has it Felicia and Sean had an affair,” Helen whispered.
“What?” Payton and Claire exclaimed at the same time.
“It’s just a rumor. And the source gives me reason to question the whole thing. I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t see her reaction for myself. She was struck just about speechless when Sean got here.”
“What’s the source of the rumor?” Claire asked.
“Sylvie said she saw them together in Chaumont a couple of weeks ago.”
“Sylvie’s not reliable?” Payton asked.
Helen gave an elaborate shrug. “She likes to embellish, if you know what I mean. I didn’t believe it till just now, though.”
Claire rose. “I’ve got to get to work.” She shot a long parting glance at the monkshood and followed Payton and Helen into the shop where several tourists were browsing.
Claire crumpled her cup and tossed it into the trash as Payton helped Helen decide which plants would be best suited to life in her new breakfast-nook-cum-sunroom. “On the driveway side—that’s where you’ll have the most sunshine—I think a tall cussonia spicata—”
“A what?”
“A cabbage tree. From South Africa. The natives eat the roots during times of famine.”
“What a relief to know everyone else in town could perish and we’d still have our—what did you call it?”
“Cussonia spicata.”
“I love the sound of the name.” Helen repeated it twice. She removed her glasses then resettled them on her nose.
“I’m sorry, but the image of cabbages hanging on the ends of the branches leaves a little to be desired,” Claire said. “I’ve got to get to the library.”
“I forgot to ask about your ankle.”
“It’s much better, thanks.”
“Are you coming with Mamie tomorrow night? She’s taking a tour of the house so she’ll be familiar with it because Monday Mr. Arenheim’s coming. I just had a thought, why not stay for dinner?”
“I’d love to. What can I bring?”
“Nothing. Just yourselves.”
“We’ll bring dessert.”
Claire climbed into her little car and headed to work, little monkshood plants dancing in her head. It was here. It was accessible. Now, she just had to summon the courage to buy it.
EIGHT
Claire couldn’t sleep. A tiny voice she could only attribute to the monkshood plant kept calling her name in a high-pitched squeak. Even when she pulled the pillows over her head and pushed her hands on both ears, the sound still penetrated. The digital clock had just clicked over to 4:22 a.m. when Claire flew to a sitting position and yelled, “Just be patient a little longer, I’m coming.” Right after, she laughed out loud. If any neighbors heard, they might think she had a visitor.
How long had it been since she’d had a man? A date? She wouldn’t let that thought remain in her head. She replaced it with thoughts of how she’d introduce the poison to Sean. Chocolate cake. Everyone loved her cake, especially Sean. Hadn’t he said so the other day? Yes, hopefully the chocolate would cover any flavor added by the monkshood—the book didn’t say how strong it would be.
By morning, she was bleary-eyed and dopey. She staggered upright and went to look out the window, the bright sun making her blink fiercely. After two cups of coffee and the last blueberry muffin from the freezer, Claire felt ready to face the world. This might just be the biggest day of her life. She needed to be prepared. And to screw up the courage to purchase the plant.
The ankle felt better. No twinge of pain going up the steps to Payton’s shop. She stopped in the doorway letting the heady aroma of the luculia gratissima work its magic on her senses, just as it did in her living room on the little table beside her favorite chair. Claire sucked in another scented breath and looked for Payton. The main store was empty, but voices came from the patio area: Payton, Amanda and Felicia. Claire remained inside, ears perked in their direction.
She wandered around noticing how Payton constantly changed plants and furniture arrangements, keeping things new and interesting. Claire’s fingertips examined the crinkled leaves of a tiny peperomia. Those same fingertips carried it to the front counter. It would look nice on the table between her bedroom windows. Another trip around the shop added another luculia gratissima for the dining room table.
Amanda’s muffled voice said she had to be running along. Claire’s fingers examined the raised design of the Mexican windowsill planter as the three women moved toward the doorway. The planter would look wonderful over the sink. Basil, oregano, sage—the aromas would fill the kitchen.
Payton was first to enter. Claire ducked out of sight. “I want a visit to Payton’s Place to be one of the best and most sensual experiences a woman’s ever had.”
“What about the men?” Felicia asked.
“Men aren’t sensual creatures by nature.”
“Tell me about it!”
Payton laughed. She had a great voice, not the least bit abrasive, even when laughing. “Men are very basic. They’ll come here in a hurry because they’ve forgotten a holiday or birthday and buy something just to avoid sleeping in the dog house.”
“And they’ll tell their wives where they got it,” Amanda suggested.
“Right. But if they don’t, these little ditties will.” Payton indicated the care sheets that went with each plant.
The women passed by. Claire slipped out to the patio, stopping at the bottom step. How nice it would be to have a patio just like this, with greenery and flowers and privacy everywhere. She had the money and the space. Why hadn’t she done anything like this? Because except for her living room chair, Claire’s creature comforts weren’t something she generally put at the forefront. For years her concentration had been on the library. During the days she catalogued and filed and tried to devise more efficient ways of running the place. Nights she was consumed with thoughts of what new books the meager budget could purchase, what new events or classes to offer.
The smell of damp soil brought back memories of childhood summers when she and her brother chased grasshoppers in the empty field across from the school.
Six hanging fuschias graced the lattice barrier, bright tri-color flowers sprinkling drops of water every time the breeze rippled through. Claire tiptoed across the gravel and halted at the wicker p
atio set where the monkshood sat regally on the glass-topped table.
Her finger muscles twitched. She closed her eyes and let the plant’s aura flow into her, become part of her. After all, they were about to embark on a relationship that would change two lives. Perhaps even end them both. That notion had been wiggling around in her head like a mass of earthworms ever since she’d made the decision. She might be caught and sent to prison. Did New York State have the death penalty? She didn’t know, didn’t want to know right now. Nothing could get in the way of the plan, whatever the final outcome.
No, that was stupid. There was no reason for anyone to be caught, no reason this couldn’t be the perfect crime. Her hands clenched open and then shut. Claire opened her eyes and walked toward the plant. She sank into the poofy flowered cushion and pulled the plant close. From her research, Claire knew it should eventually reach more than three feet in height and would need to be put outdoors; being only eight inches tall meant it was a baby. What did they call baby plants? Seedlings? Didn’t matter right now. Being a baby, would it still have the poisonous properties of its adult counterpart? None of the books or the Internet had divulged that information. Unfortunately there was only one way to find out.
Out on the sidewalk, Felicia and Amanda stopped a half dozen feet from where Claire sat. The wind pushed Amanda’s words into the patio. “I feel like sinking Sean’s boat…with him in it.”
“I know what you mean,” Felicia replied.
“Trouble is, I’d be the first suspect.”
“I doubt that.”
“I can’t believe I let him talk me into paying fifteen thousand for that painting.”
Claire recalled the yacht club meeting at the marina two days ago. As they’d been ushered into the marina store, Amanda introduced them to a painting of Commodore Melancthon Brooks Woolsey hanging behind the cash register. She’d bought it for Edward’s birthday; he was a history buff. “When Edward finds out what I paid, he’ll kill me.”
“No he won’t because when Brighton finds out what I paid for Sunset he’ll kill me, and Edward will be busy comforting my husband.” Felicia gave a harsh chuckle. “We should make a bet as to who gets it first.”
“Don’t joke like that.”
Felicia sighed. “I wasn’t joking.” She switched the red plastic shopping bag from one hand to the other. “What if Sean finds out you haven’t told Edward what you paid?”
“I don’t even want to think about that. God, I hate that man.”
Claire sighed and let her eyes rove to the monkshood plant. Who would believe such a beauty could be so lethal? Behind the innocent façade beat the heart of a monster. Two-faced, that’s what it was. Just like people. You never knew what was behind their smiling faces. There was a song about smiling faces. Who sang it? Some group from back in the 80’s. Claire couldn’t think who it was. She slapped her thigh. She should be able to recall such things.
What if, instead of buying the plant, she plucked off the necessary number of leaves? Surely no one would notice missing leaves. Even the sap was poisonous. If she got any on her skin…
She picked up the pot and went inside.
“Claire!” Payton said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I’ve been sitting on your comfy patio furniture. Almost took myself a nap.”
“Ready for the yacht race?”
“My stopwatch is all polished. I hope the weather holds.”
“I’ve been watching the forecast very closely. They said it might rain tomorrow morning for a while.”
“It wouldn’t dare. Are you sailing with Helen and Carter?”
“Just for a couple of practice races. The extra weight will slow them down, so I don’t want to be a hindrance. Carter said it didn’t matter, but still…”
“Are you buying Aden’s boat?”
“I am thinking of buying Zephyr. If I can find a partner, that is. Are these yours?” She gestured at the plants on the counter.
“Yes. And this, too.” Claire set down the monkshood.
“Did you read the tag? Aconitum napella is quite poisonous.”
Claire perched a frown between her eyes and backed a step away from the counter, feigning fear. “Really?”
Payton laughed. “If you don’t have children, cats or dogs, it won’t be any trouble.”
“I don’t like pets. They make too much mess.”
“I like dogs. One of these days I’ll get one.” She pointed at the monkshood. “I’ve sold quite a number of these little fellows. As a matter of fact, Felicia and Amanda each just bought one.”
“Really?” Was the delight in her voice noticeable? She quickly hid the elation behind a giggle. “Sorry, I’m having a hard time picturing Felicia with a plant. I can’t imagine her putting her hands in dirt.”
Payton giggled. “She’s got a gardener. What are you bringing to the potluck before the race?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“I’m making a tossed salad. I can’t mess that up too badly.”
This was the second time Payton lamented her cooking skills. Claire began feeling a little dread about tomorrow’s dinner invitation.
“Felicia’s bringing ham salad sandwiches,” Payton said. “Amanda’s decided not to make her famous macaroons, she’s doing chocolate cake instead. She’s using the recipe from The Galley’s cookbook.”
This was a terrible turn of events. When Sean died from chocolate cake poisoning Amanda would be the first suspect.
The door opened and Sylvie stepped inside, turning in two circles before stopping in front of the counter. “Nice shop,” she announced. She looked past Claire to Payton. “It’s my sister’s birthday. I thought a plant might be a perfect gift.”
“Does she have plants now?”
“Her husband calls their house a botanical garden.”
“Good, that gives us a place to start. Come with me.”
Not knowing exactly why, Claire followed them to the patio. Payton picked up a beautiful bird of paradise. “What about this?”
“Is it easy to grow?”
Payton wiggled her hand in the air to indicate a medium range. “If she’s a plant person, it will be easy for her.”
“What’s this?” Sylvie pointed to an overhead shelf where bright flowers wiggled in the breeze. There was another monkshood, bigger than the one Claire was buying, with larger, more fully developed flowers.
“Does your sister have children or pets?” Payton asked.
“Yes.”
“Then she wouldn’t want this, it’s poisonous,” was all Payton could say before Sylvie’s fingers released it. The plant thunked to the walkway, leaves, soil and beautiful purple flowers shooting in all directions.
Sylvie pushed past Claire, holding her hands out as though she’d been sprayed with acid. “How dare you—” She ran to the hose and began washing herself.
Payton followed, trying to explain, but Sylvie cast a venomous glare at both Payton and Claire and sped dripping from the store. Both women watched open-mouthed as Sylvie raced down the hill to her real estate office.
“I didn’t mean to shock her like that.” Payton swept up the plant and deposited it in the trash.
The front door opened and in walked the largest bunch of roses Claire had ever seen. The roses lowered onto the counter. Behind them stood Aden Green. Payton was smiling from one side of her face to the other.
Not ready to date? Humbug. Payton was as ready as she could be. Claire would bet her next paycheck that Payton and Aden would be an item before the month was out.
Claire paid for her plants, said bye to Aden and left. If any onlooker had concerns about her injured ankle, they would have been quickly erased. Her pace was as light as a five year old’s. She not only had her plant, but many other people had purchased them too. Could life get any better than this?
Claire was actually giggling out loud as she made the trip from car to house with the box of plants. She set the monkshood in the middle of the kit
chen table atop the handmade doily in place of the basket of wax fruit. She folded her arms and closed her eyes and drank in the aroma of the silky blue-purple flowers.
After putting the other plants in their respective places, she took a paper cup from the package in the cabinet over the stove and filled it with water. Was the water supposed to be hot or cold? Or room temperature? Claire knelt on the immaculate floor and retrieved the book from under the sink. Settling back on her heels, she turned to the page describing the aconitum napellus. It didn’t specify water temperature. Claire put the book back in its hiding place, and stood up, ignoring the twinge in her ankle. Maybe too-hot water destroyed the poisonous properties. And maybe too-cold water would do the same thing. To be on the safe side, she’d use water just out of the tap.
Claire filled the cup to a half-inch of the top. Then, with shears from the utensil drawer, snipped off two leaves like the book instructed. But, this was a baby plant, the leaves smaller than the ones in the picture. The directions hadn’t specified mature leaves. Were two of this size enough? Why couldn’t this be like the cookbooks and be specific? A tablespoon of this, a half cup of that; amounts that left a person knowing where she stood.
Claire lopped off two more leaves, taking them from different spots on the stalk so the stubs would be less noticeable. The snipped areas stood out like acne on a teenager. She dropped the leaves onto a paper towel, folded the edges of the towel together and shook the leaves into the cup of water. She placed the cup on the windowsill to “brew” beside the new Mexican planter. As an afterthought, Claire put the book on poisonous plants into her satchel. Perhaps she’d have time to look at it again, to learn something more about the plant.
She stashed the paper towel in the trash, careful not to touch any of the sticky white sap. Claire washed the scissors with the hottest water, using an old toothbrush to scrub the joints, dried the shears with another sheet of paper towel and put them away. She crossed her arms and eyed the paper cup, sitting like a toddler that was soon to erupt into the vilest of tantrums.