“This is either the most educational gardening class I’ve ever attended, or the most agricultural seduction seminar,” I mutter to Ruby.
“Husband number three would have loved this,” Ruby whispers back. “He had a thing for innuendos and vegetables. Very specific vegetables.”
Savannah moves to demonstrate on a young avocado tree, her hands moving along the trunk with attention usually reserved for premium spa treatments or possibly activities that should require consent forms. “You see how I’m caressing the bark? Plants respond to touch just like... well, just like anything else that needs proper care and attention.”
“Oh my,” says Meredith, fanning herself with a leaf that looks like it might be wilting from the heat or possibly the conversation. “I had no idea gardening could be so stimulating.”
“Everything in nature is about fertility and growth,” Savannah explains, her silver-streaked hair catching the sunlight as she leans over her demonstration. “The key is understanding the delicate dance between giving and receiving.”
I’m starting to wonder if we’ve accidentally wandered into some kind of naughty botanical therapy session when Lani clears her throat with a deliberate loudness that lets me knowshe’s about to change the subject before things get more awkward.
“Speaking of delicate situations,” she says, and I can hear the careful calculation in her voice, “we heard about that terrible incident at the resort the other night. Must have been quite shocking for everyone who was there.”
Savannah’s hands are still on the avocado tree, and for just a second, her expression shifts from earth-mother serenity to something sharper. “Oh yes, poor Mr. Nakamura. Such a tragedy.”
“You were out on the beach pretty late that night, weren’t you?” Ruby asks with an innocent curiosity as if she definitely doesn’t have ulterior motives and is absolutely not conducting an amateur murder investigation.
“I’m afraid I was,” Savannah says, her voice taking on a carefully modulated tone of regret. “I simply couldn’t bear to leave such stimulating conversation. You know how it is when you meet new people—you want to really get to know them, understand what makes them tick.”
“And did you?” I ask. We’re already here, and I might as well commit to the interrogation. “Understand what made Nolan tick?”
Savannah straightens up, brushing soil off her hands with movements that somehow manage to look both graceful and deliberate. “Mr. Nakamura was a very... complicated man. He had some rather firm ideas about how land should be used. Very rigid thinking, if you know what I mean.”
Gladys leans forward eagerly, apparently thrilled to be part of what she probably thinks is just garden-variety gossip. “Rigid thinking can be such a problem in a relationship.”
“Exactly,” Savannah says with an intense nod. “Some people simply can’t adapt to new environments. They try to force their way into situations instead of learning to work with what’s already there.”
“Was he forcing his way into something specific?” Lani asks, and I notice how carefully she’s phrasing this, like she’s planting seeds of her own.
“Oh, he had all sorts of ideas about developing this area. He wanted to pave over the garden, build condominiums, turn everything natural and organic into something artificial and commercial.” Savannah’s voice carries just the right note of wounded disappointment. “I tried to show him the error of his ways, but some people are simply too set in their methods to change.”
“How awful,” says a woman who’s been aggressively pruning a hibiscus bush like it personally offended her. “What kind of person threatens a community garden?”
“The kind who’s already made too many enemies,” Savannah says, her tone shifting to something that sounds almost satisfied. “Take that yoga instructor, May Leilani. Sweet little thing on the surface, but underneath? She’s got some very deep, very dark roots.”
My internal radar starts pinging. This feels less like casual gossip and more like a character assassination with a carefully prepared script.
“Really?” Ruby says, playing her part perfectly with just the right amount of shocked interest. “She seemed so... zen.”
“Oh, she’s zen, all right. Zen and the art of running from your past.” Savannah moves to a new plant, her hands working the soil around its base with an intensity that makes me wonderif she’s practiced this conversation in front of a mirror. “Did you know she’s not even really May Leilani? I heard that’s a stolen identity from some poor soul who died in a car accident. An accident that our dear May may or may not have been personally involved in, if you catch my meaning.”
Everyone gasps.
The temperature in the garden seems to rise about ten degrees, and it has nothing to do with the afternoon sun beating down on us like it’s trying to make a point.
“You mean...” Gladys gasps, one hand flying to her chest in genuine shock.
“I mean, that girl has been living a lie for years, and Mr. Nakamura found out. He was threatening to expose her whole fabricated spiritual awakening story. Can you imagine? All those social media followers, all that money from her wellness retreats, all of it built on a foundation of... well, let’s just say very bad karma.”
Spam jumps down from his planter and starts stalking something in the underbrush. Even the cat can sense when a conversation has taken a predatory turn.
“But surely,” Meredith says, “she wouldn’t actually hurt someone over that?”
“Desperate people do desperate things,” Savannah says, her voice taking on the tone of sharing hard-won wisdom. “And May was very desperate. She’d built this whole new life, this whole new identity. The thought of losing it all? Of going back to being plain old... well, whoever she really is? That kind of fear can make someone very dangerous.”
“She did seem rather upset during the argument,” I say, testing the waters and watching Savannah’s reaction.
“Upset doesn’t begin to cover it. The girl was practically pulsating with negative energy. And the way she kept looking at me afterward...” Savannah shudders delicately, like she’s reliving a traumatic moment. “I think she blames me for some of Mr. Nakamura’s interest in her. As if I somehow turned him against her little fantasy retreat center idea.”
