Chapter 24: Planted

Maeve was waiting for us in the back yard of the shop at ten o'clock.

She wore her green apron and held a trowel.

"You're late," she said. "It's four minutes past."

"We were getting dressed," I said.

"I could tell from your faces."

Briggs went red to the ears, and I started to laugh.

The yard was a square of old brick behind the cooler, with a wall on three sides.

A bench stood against one wall that no one ever sat on.

In the middle of it stood a wooden half-barrel, filled with fresh dark soil.

Beside it, in a nursery pot, was a young camellia bush with glossy leaves and three white buds.

"I ordered it Saturday," Maeve said. "Before any of it happened. I thought, well, whatever she decides, she'll need something to plant."

"Aunt Maeve."

"Don't get sentimental. It's a shrub." She held out the trowel. "You've got something in your pocket."

I looked at Briggs.

He took the ring out of his jacket and held it flat on his palm.

It was the same small gold band I had worn for seven years.

There was a tiny scratch near the edge, from the day I'd caught my hand in a car door.

"You said you'd know what to do with it in the morning," Briggs said.

"I do."

I took it from him.

For a moment I held it.

I thought of the street and the hundred white flowers.