“He’s really suffering. I’m sure Gabe is, too.”
“Definitely. It’s all so out of the blue. By the way, I was thinking of putting some flowers out, like Claire did. Do you want any in your bedroom? Unless you already picked some for it.”
She looks befuddled. “I didn’t think we were supposed to pick them. But I hate the smell of flowers in a bedroom anyway.”
“Okay, sure, just asking.”
“Speaking of Marcus, did you see him down here by any chance? He left the room a while ago and hasn’t come back.”
Oh, great, don’t tell me he’s off canoodling with Hannah again.
“No, sorry. But if I run into him, I’ll let him know you were looking for him.”
My next stop is the kitchen. I find Bonnie working on her usual eight cylinders, though she looks frayed around the edges and her short blond hair is frizzed from the heat. Jake’s there, too, and politely asks if I’d like an omelet.
“No, Jake, breakfast here is always a continental buffet, okay?” Bonnie tells him over her shoulder. “There’s no omelet stand.” She returns her attention to me, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “How you doin’ today, hon?”
“Surviving, I guess.” I wander over to the dog beds and give the glum-looking Ginger and Bella each a pat. “How about you?”
“Still in a state of shock, but I’m trying to stay strong for Ash’s sake.”
I nod. “We really appreciate that, Bonnie. Do you have all the help you need?”
“I think I’m covered. I’ve got Jake on board for the rest of the week, and as far as the meals go, I’m going to follow the menus Claire and I planned out.”
“What about food for the luncheon tomorrow?”
“Ash told me to use my own judgment. I figured I’d serve sliced roasted turkey breast and some salads, including a pasta one Claire especially liked. And I rented extra tables and chairs from the place we always use for big parties.”
“That all sounds perfect. Can I do anything?”
“When you get the chance, can you eyeball the lawn and decide on the best spot for the tables?”
“Of course. You know what else I think I’ll do today? Deal with the vases Claire never got around to filling yesterday and then distribute them around.”
“That’s a nice idea,” she says.
“I know my arrangements will pale utterly to what Claire would have done,” I add, pouring it on a little thick, “but at least there’ll be flowers in the house.”
“Yes, good point. You know, don’t you, only to take them from the cutting gardens?”
“Yup. Just one last thing. Are these all the vases there are?”
Bonnie looks over and silently counts each one off with a nod of her head.
“I think that’s it,” she says.
With three vases in my arms, I make my way next to the potting shed near the eastern end of the house, not far from the garage and the carriage house. It’s a simple wood structure, used as a work space and storage area for gardening supplies, though it also seemed to be a kind of sanctuary for Claire, and one she was nice enough to welcome me to. As soon as I step inside, the familiar smell—a sweet, ripe mix from clay pots and bags of soil—comes at me like a punch, triggering another spasm of sadness.
I set down the vases on one of the unfinished wood counters lining the walls, and my eyes quickly fall on the gardening gloves lying nearby. They’re still puckered a little from the last time Claire wore them, as if anticipating her return. The sight of them is almost unbearable.
Since I’ve promised Bonnie I’m going to fill all the vases, I have no choice but to follow through, but my priority right now is to inspect the carriage house, and I only need a single vase for that purpose. After snatching a pair of cutting shears from a hook on the wall, I hurry outside to one of the nearby cutting gardens, quickly clip a mixed assortment of flowers, and return with them to the shed. With little attention to design, I stuff all the flowers into a vase. Henry could have probably done a better job, but I don’t have the time to fuss.
I’m halfway down the path to the carriage house when I notice Wendy emerge from the doorway.
“How you doing this morning?” I ask when we meet up. She looks as if she slept as poorly as I did.
“It’s a nightmare, isn’t it?” she says. “I’m just trying to go easy, not stress out too much.”
