Fruit of the Poisoned Tree Read Online Free Page A

that.”
    She burst out laughing at his excuse. “I’m over fifty. People expect me to do things like that. It’s only the middle-aged people who are supposed to be the sane pillars of society. I guess we’ll have to agree not to lecture each other.” She looked up at the back of the shop. It was early. Brevard Court wasn’t open yet to allow them in the front door. The big wrought-iron gate was still locked. But she couldn’t wait. “It’s good to be home anyway. Let’s go inside.”
    He was ready for her barrage of questions about the shop and handed her a few printed pages of what transpired while she was gone. “I knew you’d want to see these. I thought this would be the best way.”
    She took the pages after she opened the back door. The air outside was cool and damp, with the pungent aroma of garbage waiting to be picked up from the restaurant next door. In an hour or two, the smells from cooking would overpower it. Now she hurried inside and was immediately embraced by the smells of new plants and potting soil they kept in large quantities in the back storeroom.
    She glanced at the sales figures on the sheets Sam gave her, but they didn’t really matter. Her heart was already home as she walked across the squeaky heart-of-pine floors and opened the door into the main body of the shop.
    Peggy loved this time before the customers started coming in, before anything was moved or spilled. It was a quiet balm for her soul. Plants she’d started from seeds or cuttings stretched out new tendrils in the gauzy white sunlight coming in from the wide front windows. The oak rocking chair sat squarely on the multicolored rag rug, the display ready with plants and everything a gardener needed for spring. She sat down in the rocker and sighed.
    “Orange spice tea?” Sam asked, smiling at her contentment.
    “That would be perfect.” She rocked the chair a little. “Now. Tell me how things went while I was gone. Don’t leave anything out.”
     
    EMIL BALDUCCI WAS CLEANING off some bird droppings from his shop window at the Kozy Kettle Tea and Coffee Emporium just across the courtyard from the Potting Shed when Peggy came back from lunch. “Hey, Peggy! Good to see you! That boy you left in charge while you were gone doesn’t have a brain in his head!”
    She joined him in the cobblestone courtyard. Emil always had some complaint about how things were done when she went away. She took a deep breath and smiled at him. “Good morning. How are you? How is Sofia?”
    “She’s fine. I’m fine. You have to fire that boy. Find someone more reliable. I have a nephew, Christo, Sofia’s brother’s son. He would do a good job for you. And his father is a widower. He’s still got his hair and teeth. He’s got plenty of money, too. You could sell this place and marry him.”
    Not daring to laugh, she asked, “Are you talking about me living with Christo or his father?”
    Emil took a moment to curl the ends of his heavy gray mustache that he oiled every day. “You make jokes, but it’s a hard life for a woman alone. Ask Sofia. She had an aunt who tried to live alone. Three years she was without a man. The first salesman who stopped at her door married her. She was desperate. Now she’s happy.”
    Before she was married off to Sofia’s brother or his son, Peggy got to the point. “What did Sam do this time?”
    “He got dirt on the stones in the courtyard when he was working with the big flower pots. He came back after a while, when he felt like it, and cleaned up, but three customers noticed the mess. Then he sent people to that new bakery up the street. It’s not bad enough I have to compete with Dilworth Coffee House, now I have to worry about my pastry being better than theirs.”
    “I’m sure he had a good reason, Emil. I’ve known Sam for years and so have you. He’s a hard worker, and I trust him. I’ll have a talk with him and let you know what happened.”
    “Oh! You’ll have a talk with him.”