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“What’s that?” she asked.
He bent down and pointed to the taped section. “You take a very sharp knife and cut a bit of a plant you want to propagate and then make another cut in a healthy root stock. Then you bind them and hope the cuts heal together. We use this method to propagate certain plants because we have more control over what we end up with than growing from seed,” he said.
“What kind of plant is this?”
“A camellia,” he said, straightening again. “I’ve been working on stocking certain varieties, although not too many. Nuccio’s Nurseries over on Chaney Trail specializes in them and has thirteen acres to grow on. There’s no way we could compete.”
“Then why grow them?” she asked.
“They were my grandmother’s favorite flower,” he said. “She was born in January, when they’re in bloom. Do you have a garden?”
She laughed. “I live in a studio at the back of an older couple’s bungalow. The garden is Mrs. Hernandez’s pride and joy, which is good, because I don’t know the first thing about plants. I’d probably kill anything I tried to grow.”
Matt offered her a smile. “I don’t know. You might surprise yourself. I’ll give you that call if I think anything is off with Miss Pearce.”
She thanked him, smiling all the way back to her car.
On Friday, Theresa was packing up her handbag to leave work when her desk phone rang.
She wedged the receiver between her ear and her shoulder, telling the switchboard operator to put the call through. As soon as she heard it connect, she said, “Theresa Johnson.”
Miss Pearce’s familiar soft English accent filled the line. “Miss Johnson, I hope I am not calling at an inconvenient time.”
“Miss Pearce!”
“You sound surprised to hear from me,” said Miss Pearce, giving her a little laugh that nonetheless sounded strained.
“I am. It’s just that I expected to see you tomorrow morning.”
“That is why I am telephoning you. I am afraid I must break our engagement.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Theresa asked.
“I am fine,” snapped Miss Pearce.
Theresa could hear the older woman take a deep breath before adding, in a more measured tone, “I regret that I am not available for our appointment as I thought I would be.”
“Oh,” said Theresa. She was surprised to find that she really was disappointed by the idea of not being able to see Miss Pearce for their usual Saturday morning. “I understand.”
“I shall see you the following week,” said Miss Pearce.
When the line disconnected, Theresa lowered the receiver, staring at it for a moment. Something about Miss Pearce had sounded off, almost as though the older woman was trying too hard to hide something.
A switchboard operator’s voice came through tinnily. “Would you like to make another call?”
“Oh!” Theresa brought the phone to her ear and said a quick “No, thank you” before hanging up.
The truth was, she would like to make another call, but Matt hadn’t given her his number.
chapter twenty-six THERESA
Can I ask you something?”
Theresa and Mary were sitting at the lunch counter at the Fair Oaks Pharmacy and Soda Fountain, just as Mary had proposed. They’d ordered their food—turkey on rye for Theresa and the promised tuna melt for Mary—and settled in to wait over a Coca-Cola each.
“It would be a boring lunch if you didn’t,” said Mary.
“It’s about a source,” Theresa said. “I’m worried about her health.”
