“Do you think it’s okay for you to drive? If not, I could run you over there.” He yawned again.
“I think it’s okay. Go and lie down. I’ll talk to you later. Are you working graveyard shift again tonight?”
“Yep. But I should have a few days off when Grama and Grampa get here. I just wish Cousin Melvin and Aunt Mayfield weren’t coming, too.”
“They’d never get out without someone else taking them, since neither of them drive.
“And the world would be a better place.”
She laughed as she grabbed her pocketbook. “I can’t disagree with that, but they
3
Mandevilla
PEGGY DROVE HER TRUCK to her garden shop, which was in the heart of Center City Charlotte. The fortresslike facade of the Hearst building stuck out against the gray sky. In a few years the Bank of America Corporate Center planned to open a new Ritz-Carlton hotel almost right across from her shop. It probably wouldn’t mean much for her business, but it would help the city grow.
The Potting Shed was located in Brevard Court, an enclosed addition to Latta Arcade. The two-story arcade was built in the early 1900s for merchants to grade and buy cotton. A skylight roof allowed buyers to see the quality of the cotton they were purchasing.
But the days when cotton was king were long gone. Now the two-story building was remodeled into small shops. But its history gave it charm, and the old-fashioned mailboxes and stairwells lent the building a quaint ambiance.
It was a taste of what Charlotte had been like a hundred years before. In fact, it was almost the
Peggy was pleased that Latta Arcade had escaped that fate. Brevard Court was made up of tiny shops circling a brick courtyard with a wrought-iron gate at one end. At the end of the courtyard that faced College Street was the Potting Shed, an urban gardener’s paradise. Next to the shop was Anthony’s Caribbean Cafe, and across from it was the Kozy Kettle Tea and Coffee Emporium.
Peggy loved her store, with its heart-of-pine floors that creaked when she walked on them and wide windows that fronted the courtyard. A new painting, done by a local art student, pictured summer’s promise of red roses and purple clematis twining across the windows.
A new purple awning poked out from the doors to the Potting Shed that faced the courtyard. That and the wrought-iron table and chair set outside her windows were part of her new two-year lease agreement. Signing that agreement was much easier this time, even though the rent
Every shop in the courtyard was going to have an awning. It was a gift from the landlord. Cookie’s Travel Agency had a festive red one. The French restaurant had a bright green one. A sunflower-yellow awning was going up over the door to Emil and Sofia Balducci’s Kozy Kettle. As usual, Emil was outside supervising the project.
“Peggy!” He hailed her when she tried to slip by to get her mail without being noticed. “What do you think? The yellow glares, right?”
Emil’s stubborn Sicilian accent delighted the uptown ladies who visited his shop for breads, cakes, and coffee on their lunch hour. His thick, black mustache curled at the ends, and his swarthy features had settled into the downside of middle age. He was a terrible flirt, as long as his wife, Sofia, wasn’t around. When she was, he was careful.
“I think it looks wonderful,” Peggy enthused. “The courtyard looks like a bazaar.”
“Bizarre!” He ruminated over the word. “Exactly! I am going in to call him and tell him that we don’t want bizarre! We want prosperous. We want happy. Not bizarre!”
“Not . . .” She started to explain, then realized it didn’t matter. He just wanted her to agree with him. It was part of Emil’s nature to want everyone to agree with him when he complained. She pitied the rental agent he was going to call. It was difficult to get a word in during a conversation with Emil.
Peggy ducked back into the Potting Shed before he noticed she was leaving. She’d lied to Paul this morning when she told him she was all right. Her head hurt, and she felt like a truck had rolled over her. But she knew it was the aftermath of everything that happened at Darmus’s home. There was nothing really wrong with her, and it simply wasn’t her way to lie down and cry. The sun was still shining in through the wavy glass windows, chasing shadows and making prisms from the glass frog wind chimes that were hanging from the ceiling. Besides, there was too much to do. New plants had arrived last night and were ready to tag. The bright pink Alice du Pont mandevillas were looking a little dry.
She set up the computer and the cash register for the beginning of another day. If the sun was shining a little less brightly because Darmus was gone forever, she refused to notice it. When John died, she thought her soul was gone with him. But when she finally came back to life, she promised she would never let it go again until it was actually her time. She had the rest of her life to mourn her old friend. Right now she had to attend to her store.
