Page 108 of The Wedding Favor

Ellie nodded. Just do it. You’ll feel better.

Mae turned and held her hair up. I began coating her back. “Oh, who’s it for?”

No, it’s not a good time, I mouthed over Mae’s shoulder.

Ellie rolled her eyes and lay back in her chair.

“Abe. It’s just a thank you for going to the wedding. That’s all.”

That was exactly what I’d been telling myself when I began researching houseplants. It wasn’t because I wanted to learn about what Abe was passionate about. Or that I found it sweet when I caught him singing to them. He had big feelings about those plants.

I had the idea to get him one for our movie friend outing thing. As a thank you for the wedding and the movie. Something special. But some of these plants were more expensive than all four years of my college education. There was an orchid that was over two hundred thousand dollars, and very old bonsai trees could go for over a million.

“For Abe?” Mae asked in disbelief.

“He likes houseplants.” I flipped onto my stomach. “He sings to them.”

“He sings to them? Abe?”

“Honestly, I want to find someone who loves me like he loves his plants.”

With a snort, she lay back in her lounge chair. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me who the plant is for.”

I lifted my head. “It’s really for Abe. He’s a plant daddy. He’s got a whole room dedicated to them.”

“A plant daddy?”

“That’s kind of hot,” Ellie said. “It’s unexpected, sure. But clearly he is a guy who likes to take care of things. I do like a man who pays attention. Very attractive.”

She was not wrong.

Mae shrugged. “I don’t see it.”

She wouldn’t. Mae was many things, but ruthlessly practical was number one. She had her moments of whimsy, but they were rare and thus special. They came more often with Chris in her life but her default setting was always sensible and realistic. It had made her someone I could lean on as a kid. She always knew what to do, no matter the situation.

“Kind of an intimate gift, if you think about it,” Ellie said.

“No, it’s not,” I said quickly.

Ellie lowered her sunglasses and shot me a knowing look. “Okay, if you say so.”

I was ready for this conversation to be over. Time to change the subject to something less controversial. “Do you want to hear about my time in the slammer?”

FORTY-THREE

“I wore black for months after Thomas died.

He hated when I wore black; I hated that he died.”

—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,

Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes

The day before the movie with Abe, I drove into Houston to meet a guy about a plant. Literally. In a Walmart parking lot in a sketchier part of town, he handed me the goods without saying more than three words to me and those words were, “Where’s the cash?”

The Philodendron Spiritus Sancti was not what I would call aesthetically pleasing. From the base of the stalk, six smaller, curvy stalks sprouted in all directions. Long, thin, dark green leaves with a waxy finish drooped from each stalk, just one at the top, although a couple were still waiting to unfurl.

I clipped it in the front seat with the belt. “I have no idea why the plant people go nuts over you. We need to name you. Any ideas?”