“New members who help with setup of our Spring Plant Sale can count double the volunteer hours toward your yearly goal. Work begins at six o’clock Saturday morning—see you there!”
New Members’ Corner, from Austin Rocks! the e-newsletter of the Austin Rock Garden Society
Teddy and another young man hopped out of one cab and Christopher came out of the other. It was all Pru could do to keep from throwing her arms round him.
Everyone gathered at the back of the lorries. Pru edged her way to stand next to Kit, who cut his eyes at her, offering a tiny wink as the back gates rolled up to reveal a forest of plants.
First to be off-loaded, stiff shrubs with gray-green leaves—they were already in bloom with clusters of tiny yellow flowers. The prickly leaves put up a good fight, scratching cheeks and hands and arms as the black nursery pots were pulled out and heaved onto the roadway.
“Agarita,” Rosette breathed, her voice filled with wonder. “Wherever did you find it?”
Pru smiled. “Chiv has his ways.”
“Girls—botanical name?”
“Mahonia trifoliolata,” KayAnn and Nell responded in unison.
“And that?” Rosette pointed to a lanky shrub in the back of one lorry. “ID?”
The two young women squinted into the lorry and looked at each other. “Mitten leaves,” one of them murmured. “Sassafras!” they called out.
Rosette nodded her teacher’s approval as KayAnn and Nell high-fived each other.
The bulk of the delivery contained shrubs or shrubby trees. Once it was all out, Chiv directed them to move the pots to a wide trench dug toward the rear.
“Do they all go at the back?” Kit asked. “Don’t the flowers grow under the trees?”
“Kit’s thinking of English bluebells,” Pru said to the Austin women. “You should see a beech wood here in spring—bluebells carpeting the floor of the forest. It’s truly lovely.” She thought of one particularly fine day just the month before when she and Christopher had walked through the New Forest amid a sea of pale blue. “Bluebonnets grow out in the open, Kit—along roads, in meadows and fields. They need the sun, not shade. So we’re using these shrubs as sort of a Texas version of a hedgerow—a backdrop for our landscape.”
“I’d like to see those bluebonnets someday,” he replied, keeping his eyes on her for a second longer than Kit might.
“Would you?” Pru asked. They’d talked of travel, but she had never wanted to make it seem mandatory that Christopher visit her home state.
The second lorry held more shrubs and many flats of green grass, about eight inches high. The green would set off the wildflowers to perfection.
Even Forde had been roped into physical work unloading the delivery, and now sat on the bumper of one of the lorries, sweating in his ARGS blue. “Where are they—the bluebonnets?”
“We’re waiting for more than bluebonnets,” Rosette said. “Tickseed, paintbrush, blanketflower. KayAnn? Nell?”
“Coreopsis tinctoria, Castilleja indivisa, Gaillardia pulchella,” they rattled off.
“Ephemerals next delivery,” Chiv said, “they’re coming from a different site.”
“I thought there weren’t any bluebonnets,” Ivory said.
Chiv didn’t reply. As contractor, it was his job to grow or source the plants for the garden—whatever the designer wanted. And so it would be love-in-a-mist. Wouldn’t it? Roddy had left the grounds, but he’d stayed long enough to have a word with Chiv. Pru hadn’t heard what they said, but she had seen the exchange end with Roddy sticking his finger in Chiv’s face and Chiv—a good foot shorter than Roddy—advance on the designer, who backed off and stalked away.
When they’d sorted the plants, placing the shrubs and tucking away the grasses for after the next delivery, the women wandered off to lunch. Forde vanished, probably, Pru thought, to escape any more physical labor. At long last, Sweetie and Skippy arrived, both wearing secret smiles. “Welcome to Oz” sat ready, and the Aussies had dispersed until last-minute fluffing of their garden—Skippy must have a lot of free time on his hands. Sweetie apologized for her lateness.
Pru was happy for their happiness, but in a frustrated sort of way. She dreaded seeing Christopher immediately reverse his journey and be away another night. When would he talk with French? When would he talk with her?
Chiv, at the back of the site, taking stock of the shrubs, called her over with a jerk of his chin. When she came up, he stuck his hands in his pockets and exhaled.
“So,” she said.
“The leaflets for the garden,” Chiv said. “The ones that get handed out during the show.”
Pru nodded. “Description of the garden, information on designer and contractor, plant list, drawing of the plan.” And she saw it—the leaflet appeared fully formed in her mind’s eye, touting Roddy MacWeeks, avant-garde garden designer and his amazing “Blue on Blue” garden. Where would Twyla and the bluebonnets be in all that? Pru’s face flushed with anger. “Oh no, he can’t.”
“If he has his way, it’ll be the Roddy MacWeeks garden starring Roddy-bloody-MacWeeks. I want to hold off the final printing. I was able to take the job to a place here in London that Iris’s brother owns. I’ve tried to talk with him about it, ask for a delay—but I’m not exactly his favorite person. He says MacWeeks is in charge, that’s who he takes orders from. I thought someone else might be able to have a chat with him.” Chiv watched her and waited.
A chat without cursing was what he meant, of course. And with someone unrelated to his quasi brother-in-law.
“But, Chiv, will delaying the printing of the leaflet do any real good? It’ll still be full of Roddy and the wrong flowers.” Chiv’s expression didn’t change, but she caught that impish gleam in his gaze, and it gave her a thrill to think that he might have a last card to play. “All right, yes, I’d be happy to talk with him. Do you want me to go now—this afternoon?”
“That’d be great. Thanks, Pru. Tell him you need to proofread the thing or something. Tell him anything that will work. Just hold him off a day or two, that’s all we need.” That’s all they had.
“Where is his shop?” she asked, but Chiv had moved on and called for the attention of Kit, Teddy, and Teddy’s friend.
“You three—why don’t you all wait until later for your journey back to Hereford?” he asked them. “Avoid some of that M4 traffic getting out of London. Take the afternoon, have a rest.”
She did her best to keep from looking like a puppy dog about to be deserted. A rest, Pru thought. Kit with free time? She locked her eyes on Christopher in desperation; he frowned and checked his watch. He’d go back to the flat—he’d be free, and she would be tracking down Iris’s brother and stalling for time by arguing about the spelling of “trifoliolata” and the placement of a comma. And then it would be the end of her workday, but Christopher would be gone again. And she really, really wanted to see him. Responsibility sucks.
“Here you go,” Chiv said, handing Pru a business card. “That’s him, Iris’s brother—he’s out near you.”
Pru looked down at the card, which read: PRINT-4-U, AL BRIGHT, 315 CHISWICK HIGH ROAD, NEAREST UNDERGROUND: TURNHAM GREEN.
“Oh, he is, isn’t he—he’s quite near me,” she said, laughing and clutching the card to her chest as if she’d won a prize. “That’s great, Chiv, really fantastic. Listen, you wouldn’t mind, would you, if I took a bit more time—I might stop by my flat since the printing place is so close.” She spoke up as loud as she could without those around wondering why she was shouting.
Christopher closed up one of the lorries, but halfway looked over his shoulder—she knew he had heard her. As the two young men prepared to drive the lorries out to Ealing, where it was much easier to find parking, Teddy asked Kit, “Lift?”
“No thanks, I’ll hop on the Tube. No trouble. See you all tomorrow,” he called to the crew.
Pru forced herself to stay put a few minutes longer, instead of sprinting after him down Main Avenue.
“This is a fine wall,” Sweetie said as she studied the serpentine creation, running her hand along the top stones. Chiv didn’t protest. “Too bad it isn’t permanent—we could’ve hidden a little trinket in it. Sort of like a time capsule. What would you put in there, Pru?”
“Mmm.” Pru, still distracted by Christopher’s retreating form, came up with nothing.
“I’d put in a photo of my boyfriend and me,” KayAnn said.
“A picture of my boys’ football teams,” Ivory decided. “Both varsity and junior—they won their divisions last season.”
“I’d give up my Starbucks card,” Nell said. “Because the person finding it all those years later might be in need of a skinny mocha frappuccino.”
“Extra whip,” Sweetie added.
“A herbarium specimen of a bluebonnet,” Rosette said, looking at her shoes, making Pru think that Rosette rarely joined in fanciful conversations.
“Pressed, dried out, and properly labeled.” Pru’s head shot up and she scanned the group, sure she would see Twyla, then realized KayAnn had said that last bit.
Rosette smiled. “You both did excellent herbarium work.” The two young women beamed.
“Well,” Pru said in an offhanded manner, “I’d best be off. Chiv’s sending me on an errand. I’ll be back before the end of the day, but if I don’t see you then, tomorrow.” The Austin women rarely made it to the end of the workday.
“Have a good time,” Ivory called after her.