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Laura nodded absently and slowed her steps to prolong the view of the garden. Climbing roses rambled over the picket fence, up trellises, and over arbors while mountainous shrub roses hugged the sides of the house and its porch, leaving room in the lawn’s center for beds of hybrid roses.
“I was told old Mr. Fedderson planted these as a tribute to his wife,” Laura recalled idly.
“I assume her name is Rose,”
Laura flashed him a grin. “Obvious, isn’t it,” she said as they neared the corner. “The last I heard she was still alive.” She grew thoughtful. “Do you know it’s been years since I’ve been by the house—probably not since I started high school.”
“Your tastes likely changed to something more sophisticated.”
“Ouch. That was a dig.” She fired him a look of pretended offense.
“Not really.” Sebastian smiled. “Most teenagers like to act smug and worldly—and much too mature to savor something so simple as the joy of flowers.”
Suitably mollified by his explanation, she agreed, “You’re probably right.” She stepped off the curb and started across the street, her attention still focused on the riotous abundance of blooms. Not until she was nearly to the other side did Laura notice the slight white-haired woman in a faded housedress sitting in a lawn chair near one of the rose beds. Laura leaned sideways and whispered to Sebastian. “Look. There’s Mrs. Fedderson. We’ll go say hello.” Without waiting for his reply, she quickened her steps and cut across the lawn toward the elderly woman. “Good morning, Mrs. Fedderson. It’s Laura Calder.”
The woman lifted a frail hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s high
glare. “Laura,” she said in recognition. “My, haven’t you grown up to be a pretty girl,” she declared, then peered past Laura, eyes squinting at the sight of Sebastian. “Is that young Trey with you?”
“No, Trey’s at the ranch. This is a friend from England. His name is Sebastian Dunshill.” This time Laura didn’t bother with his title.
“From England, you say?” The woman repeated with a slightly worried look. “My hearing’s not too good.”
“From England, yes,” Sebastian confirmed, slightly raising the volume of his voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fedderson. Laura was insistent that I see your rose garden. You do have a most spectacular display.”
After listening intently, the woman nodded. “The roses. Yes, Laura always did like them. My Emmett planted all of this for me.”
“So she told me,” Sebastian replied.
Laura caught a movement in her side vision and turned, smiling at the sight of a young toddler, still in her pajamas, her dark, uncombed hair hanging in straggles about her smudged face. Clutched in her stubby fingers were a bunch of rose petals as she made a beeline straight for Mrs. Fedderson.
Bending down, Laura touched the woman’s arm and pointed to the little girl. “I think you have a dirty-faced angel coming to pay you a visit.”
“What?” The woman frowned, then saw the child.
The little girl toddled right up to the chair and held out the crushed petals. “Coo-kie,” she said, giving Laura the impression she wanted to trade the flower for a cookie. To her shock, the old woman scowled at the girl, demanding, “Where’s that brother of yours?”
“Coo-kie,” the girl repeated and dropped the petals in the woman’s lap.
“He sent you, didn’t he?” Rose Fedderson accused and flung a shooing hand at the girl. “Go on. Scat! He’s not going to steal from me this time.” She struggled to push herself out of the lawn chair.
“What are you talking about, Mrs. Fedderson?” Laura said in protest and reached out to offer a helping hand.
“That brother of hers is a thief, that’s what I’m talking about.” There was no mistaking the conviction or the anger in the old woman’s voice. She made a painful turn toward the porch. “It took me a while to figure out why things were coming up missing.” Head down and back hunched with age, she started for the house at a hobbling gait. “The little brat sends that baby over here. Then he slips in the house and takes my things.” When she saw the little girl toddling after her, she flapped her hands. “Shoo! Shoo!”
Sebastian came up alongside her and pointed. “You wouldn’t be referring to that young man, would you?”
Laura turned in time to see a dark-haired boy making a mad dash across the backyard of the neighboring house. He had something tucked under his arm, but her glimpse of the object was too brief for Laura to identify it.
“Come back here, you little pup!” Rose shouted. “Come back here, I say!”
“I’ll catch him for you.” Sebastian broke into a long, loping run, giving chase after the boy.
Laura scooped the little girl into her arms and caught a strong whiff of a stinky diaper. “Where do they live? Do you know, Mrs. Fedderson?”
“Down the street, two or three houses. The one with all the trash in the yard,” she said with contempt.
“Coo-kie,” the little girl demanded and pushed out her lower lip.
