on the move. “I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t really added up stuff in the ledgers for a while. There hasn’t been time. But I had money from the divorce.”
“I knew the creep gave you a decent settlement, but I guess I thought you’d want to sock it away, for savings. Security.”
“Maybe I should have saved some. But after the divorce, I just needed to make something instead of destroy something, you know? Build something instead of splitting it apart. And when I got into breeding these plants, learning how to propagate them, watching all the new babies emerge like a surprise…it was so
“It is wonderful, Vi.” Camille hadn’t had to be tactful-or tried to be tactful-in months now. If she could have ripped any hint of softness from her character, she would have. But somehow she sensed there was something going on with her sister that she didn’t understand, so she tried to tread more carefully. “But, all the new breeds of lavender you started out there…did you realize how much you were planting?”
“Well. Sort of.”
“Vi, you’re going to have enough lavender to stock the East Coast. You can’t possibly sell even a portion of it just in your Herb Haven. You must have researched other markets? For the oil? And florists? And-?”
“I will, I will, Cam.” Her sister rushed closer to snuggle her in a fast, warm hug, then drew back with a beaming smile. “Don’t worry about the silly old lavender. Who cares? I’ll figure out all that marketing stuff. I just want you to get rested and get well. And you are feeling better, aren’t you?”
“I’m fine. I was always fine,” Camille said impatiently.
Violet, when you never expected it, could suddenly turn heartless. “So, since you’re so fine, that’s that. We’re going out to dinner tonight. In White Hills.”
Panic slicked up Camille’s pulse, slippery as a snake and twice as icky. “No, I-”
“Come on, Cam. We’ll have a girls’ night out. Don’t you remember how many times you and me and Daisy would do that, go into town, shop or have dinner on any excuse-and how much fun we always had? Come on! We can go pig out on something decadent. Eat chocolate. Drink wine. And how about a movie?”
“NO. I mean it! No!” She spun around and hustled for the greenhouse door, Killer hurtling right after her.
Violet sighed. “Cam. I love you, sis. But you either do this with me, or I’m going to have to get tough.”
“Don’t you call mother!”
“Hey. I’m not that low. But I am warning you-”
Camille kept on going. Vi had threatened to tell on her before, but she hadn’t. Violet wouldn’t easily worry Mom or Dad any more than she would. Both of them would tattletale a problem with Daisy, but with Daisy still living in France for now, Camille felt safe from her interference, too. Besides, she’d get off the farm. When she got around to it. Some time. Eventually.
A blustery storm came and went, making Cam pace like a caged mouse. The instant the rain stopped, she took off with clippers for the lavender field, with Killer hugging her shadow.
Determinedly, she began pruning and clipping, pruning and clipping. The sky occasionally dripped, and the gloomy light seemed infused with a gray-damp chill. But, it was easier to work in cool than heat, even though some of the injuries from the attack came back to haunt her. Her ribs ached sharply if she clipped too fast; her ankle tried to give out if she pushed too hard-and God knows, she’d been pushing herself to the point of blisters.
Still, especially this afternoon, the work was exactly what she needed. Each lavender bush needed to be framed into a ball shape, but every single cut affected every single other cut. The work took just enough concentration that she didn’t have spare time to think or brood.
When she suddenly heard the sound of a truck engine charging down the farm road behind her, she immediately stood up. It was a white pickup, the newer kind of truck style with a back seat and back doors, and yes, of course she recognized it. But where she’d become used to seeing the two younger MacDougals, her heartbeat thumped like a fretful puppy’s tail at the sight of Pete.
Although he pulled up and braked, he took his time before climbing out. For a moment he just sat there, his arm resting in the open window, looking terrific in an open-throated shirt, his face freshly shaved, his hair brushed. Something in his eyes made her think of un-banked fires and unfinished kisses, and worried her heartbeat all over again.
Still, it was his boys who exploded out of the truck. Par for the course, they looked like refugees from a rascal camp, hair all over the place, tripping as they galloped toward her in pants that sagged below their shoes.
They both yelled, “Hey, Camille!” as if they were delighted to see her, when the damn boys knew perfectly well she’d been churlish and rude to both of them. She frowned as they sprinted toward her, noting that Killer opened his eyes but didn’t waste any energy barking or snarling for either of them.
“You gotta come with us!” Sean reached her first, panting since he’d run the lavender rows at a breakneck pace.
“Yeah, we’re going to dinner and a movie. But we only get to go if you come.”
“Whoa,” Camille said firmly, thinking that she was going to strangle her sister and not look back. She’d
“It’s a school night,” Simon explained. “Which means that we usually never get to do anything. Much less go to a movie. Much less go out to dinner and not have to do dishes. And Gramps is going to play euchre with his friends, so he doesn’t need us at home.”
“Well, that’s nice. But you don’t need me to come with you.”
“Dad says we do. Dad says, if we can get you to go, then fine. Otherwise we have to go back home and do dishes and homework. Come
“Yeah, come on. The future of our world rests with you. You want us to have to go home and wash
She wasn’t just going to kill her sister. She was going to feed her sister to red ants. On a hot day. After Violet had been slathered with honey.
Camille pushed at her hair. “Look, guys. I feel your pain. I think dishes are a fate worse than death, too. But I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need me. I’ve been working outside. My hands are dirty. I’ve been in these jeans all day. I-”
“Like, so?” Sean said in confusion.
To a woman she wouldn’t have to explain. “So I can’t go out in public like this.”
“That’s dumb,” Simon informed her. “We like how you look. You look like one of us.
She wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose. She realized the boys meant a compliment. The boys often meant a compliment when they were insulting her, so there was no point in being offended. “Look, Sean. Simon. I know you’re trying to do something nice-”
“We are not! Nobody’s trying to do anything nice! We’re just trying to get out of chores and housework! Cripes, Camille. It’s a free movie, what’s the big deal?”
Sean sighed, then offered the ultimate sacrifice. “We won’t have any farting or burping contests. In fact, we’ll do our best not to act normal at all.” Then he noticed the dog. “Hey, Darby’s looking really good.”
“He’s been answering to the name Killer for several days now.”
“Whatever. Look, you could think of the movie like our chance to thank you for saving Darby’s life. Isn’t that a good reason? And you like McDonald’s, don’t you? You don’t do that tofu thing like your sister?”
“Oh, man.” She could feel her resolve slip a notch. She hadn’t considered the one gigantic benefit to leaving home-the chance to escape yet another healthful, herb-laden, vegetable-chocked, leafy dinner. She imagined a French fry. Heaped with salt and ketchup. Then sighed. “Damn. But no. And I really mean no. See, my sister cooks. So I can’t just take off when she’s already gone to the trouble of making dinner-”
“Oh, she said it was okay. In fact, she called Dad. That was how we knew you could go. She told Dad she was gonna have a makeup party. Or a makeover party. Whatever. Like that. Something for women. And we knew you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with that crud, would you, Camille?”
Again, Camille wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose. She didn’t give a damn about her appearance. That was the truth. The total truth. But it was starting to grate-just a wee bit-that the boys seemed so sure she didn’t care if she were the ugliest female troll to ever walk under a bridge.
She opened her mouth to answer them, yet somehow at that instant met Pete’s eyes. From the distance across
