“Are they good for bees?” she asked, still looking down at the flowers as she cradled them.
Not really,Ithought.Ishrugged, still feeling self-conscious. “Noteverything has to be about the bees.”
Something flickered across her face– surprise, maybe, or something more … hopeful?ButbeforeIcould analyse it further,Willowchose that moment to shake herself vigorously, spraying us both with remnants of stream water from her impromptu wade earlier.
“Jesus,Willow,”Ilaughed, stepping back, making sure no mud had gotten onChloe’swhiteT-shirt.Sheseemed both unscathed and unbothered. “Ishould get her inside and washed off.She’shad a big morning.”
Chloe nodded and held the flowers back out to me. “Willyou take these inside for me?” she asked, andItook them back sheepishly. “I’lltake them home,” she clarified, “Ijust don’t want to crush them or drop them.I’dnever find them out here.”
“Sure,”Isaid. “Seeyou in a bit.”ThenIset off back toward the house with a wave.
I could feel her watching asIheaded in,Willowtrotting beside me.Idid stop to hose her off, then wrapped her in the little doggie robeJenhad bought for her a couple of years ago.Itwas a bit silly, a farm dog in a robe, butIhad to admit it was convenient.
Inside,Iwent straight to the kitchen to put the tulips in water.Therewas a cute little milk jugJenhad thrifted a few years ago, andIdecided to sacrifice it toChloe, tying a bit of twine around its middle before arranging the tulips just so within it.ThenIheaded for my laptop in the studio and opened the spreadsheet whereIdid my garden planning.
Apparently,Ihad some tulip bulbs to pre-order.
* * *
By the endof the week, the heat had become completely unbearable.EverytimeImoved even an inch outside, a new sweat patch appeared on my back, soaking myT-shirt.Itried my best to keep to my to-do list, but even the bees seemed to be hiding from the heat.I’dlockedWillowinside where it was cooler, much to her chagrin.
Chloe had basically taken up residence in the mead cellar, a tiny, temperature-controlled room at the back of the warehouse, sat on the floor with her laptop on her crossed legs.Ijoined her, not for the first time in the day, slumping against the door as it shut behind me.
“I can’t do this,”Isaid. “Ikeep trying, but it’s just too hot.”
“Tell me about it,”Chloesaid. “Thefluorescent lights in here are killing me, but even the warehouse is too warm.Ican’t focus.”
“Maybe we should just admit defeat.”Ilifted the hem of myT-shirt to wipe my brow.Ididn’t miss howChloe’sgaze flickered to my stomach where the cool air hit it before looking back at her laptop.
She clearly didn’t need much convincing, though, because a moment later, she slammed it shut.
“Okay, hear me out,” she said. “I’llskive off the rest of the day if you do.”
“Deal,”Isaid, sighing with relief thatIwouldn’t have to labour outside anymore.Notuntil tomorrow, anyway. “Youknow, the only thingImiss about theStatesmost days is the air conditioning.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped open, her eyes going wide.Myown mouth pulled back in a guilty wince.
“I know,”Isaid. “It’sbad to say.Butwith everything with my dad?—”
“No, shut up,”Chloesaid, andIsnapped my mouth shut, frowning.
“Sorry,”Isaid as she straightened her legs and stood.
“No, no, you said ‘air conditioning’,” she said, reaching a hand down for me to grab.Itook it, letting myself be pulled upright.
“I did … why?”
“Because,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “Fatimahas air con.”
* * *
It seemedwe weren’t the only people seeking refuge atFatima’snow that her school had let out for the summer.WhenChloetexted her to let her know we were coming, she told usAmyandPhilwere already there, having broughtPhil’sgrandmotherEthelover so she didn’t get too warm.Bythe time we arrived,JackandMorganwere there, too, each having left work early.
“It’s lovely to meet you,”Ethelsaid as she shook my hand.Shewas small and quite frail, enough so that her standing to greet me seemed like a bad idea, soIwas surprised when she gripped my hand with the strength of a champion weightlifter.
“You, too,”Isaid, smiling, then stepped back asPhilhelped her settle back into the armchair she’d been occupying.Chloebent down to kiss her on the cheek, and wasIseeing things, or didEthellook up at me as she whispered something inChloe’sear?Whateverit was seemed to have scandalisedChloe, who gaveEthela gentle swat on the arm.
Everyone was sat around the lounge, chairs pulled in from the dining room to fit everyone.JackandMorgansat on these,Chloewiggled in betweenPhilandAmyon the sofa, andFatimasat at the other end.Thechair next to her was open for me, andIsank in gratefully.Knowinglyor not, every one of us oriented ourselves toward the air conditioning unit on the wall beside the patio door.
