She didn’t look like your typical wood nymph. The ones I’d met before Patti were vixens with an air of mystery in their wide eyes. But Patti looked—well, she looked quirky. And shewasquirky.
She wore her typical garb: a floor-length sky-blue dress with yellow circular pockets sewn everywhere, like thousands of suns blotting out the sky above. She’d sewn them on herself and kept a whole array of beasties and bugs within.
Like clockwork, a tiny spider popped up from one, scuttled across her face, and rested on her bony shoulder. Hesper looked aghast. The eight eyes stared at us and blinked in unison.
Patti must have noticed Hesper’s discomfort. “Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce Harold! Please excuse my rudeness.This”—she motioned to the spider, who looked extremely adorable—“is Harold. My best friend. Which sounds quite embarrassing to say aloud. But you know what I mean. Or actually, maybe you don’t. Um, well, yes, so he is both of those things, actually. He’s almost twenty years old, and I found him when he was four, so you know. I’m, um, like his mother and friend.” She shut her mouth, turning her thin lips into an even thinner line.
“That’s a good story! I didn’t know spiders lived that long!” Rosie said, then immediately grimaced. Patti met Rosie’s eyes, gratefulness gleaming there. Maybe they liked existing in emotional purgatory, maybe it was their foreplay… years and years of awkward foreplay.
Blood trickled onto the soft moss from Hesper’s bashed nose, but the spider seemed to be her biggest discomfort.
“Patti,” I said, ripping Rosie and the nymph out of whatever was going on between them. “We came here to ask you something. Rosie?” I turned toward her, but her eyes had glazed over. She shook her head quickly, gathering her thoughts.
Rosie clapped her giant orc hands together and said, “You know Clara is leaving for Dwindle.”
Patti nodded along, looking a bit confused.
“She’s also our Town Gardener.” Patti kept nodding, trying to put the pieces together. Harold, somehow, looked like heunderstood the situation far before Patti did. “Which is a crucial position for Moss. Without the Town Gardener, our food supplies would be limited, and we’d have no flower boxes.” That last part wasn’t quite true. People would have Patti’s flowers, which, admittedly, were a little too eccentric for most of Moss, but they would get over it in time.
“Okay?” Patti tilted her head to the side, eyebrows scrunching together in focus. Before Rosie could explain any more, Harold tapped a tiny leg on Patti’s face, beckoning her to listen to him. She cupped her hand over her ear while the spider… whispered to her? Or maybe he tapped a message with his legs? Her eyes went wide with understanding, and her pale face paled even more.
Oh dear. That’s not a good sign.
I suddenly realized how badly I wanted her to fill the position. There was little hope for her to agree, but I couldn’t imagine someone doing the job better. She would do better than me, certainly. She had real magic. A mixture of bitterness, jealousy, and resignation filled up my heart, but my need for Moss to be taken care of outweighed my feelings of inferiority. Besides, at this point, it was either Helda Ninnus or Patti.
“You want me to be the Town Gardener?” She looked almost afraid.
“Only until I come back!” A rock settled into my stomach. “If I complete the quest, that is,” I added, each word feeling like a knife. Sadness crept into Patti’s eyes. If anyone understood the pain of leaving behind one’s home and gardens, it was her.
“I see,” she said softly.
We all were silent for a moment, the heaviness of the ask settling into the room. Even the vines seemed to dip in energy.
“I’ll do it,” she said with finality, pushing her twig glasses up the bridge of her button nose.
Relief flooded my system, but I tamped it down—there were still the logistics to be parsed out.
“But your shoppe—”
She held up her small hand and said, “Don’t worry about the shoppe. I have a shopkeeper who can handle transactions while I take up the Town Gardener position.” I noticed she didn’t adduntil you return.
“You have a tree?” she asked.
“Yes, in the back garden. An oak tree,” I said.
“Good, that’s where I’ll sleep then. I’ll tend the cottage and ensure it stays prim and proper, but I’m loath to sleep in a human bed.” She stroked Harold absentmindedly.
“Of course,” I said.
“Yes, well, I have some work to do here then. You leave in two weeks?”
I nodded my reply.
“I’ll be ready by then.” She straightened, any former awkwardness shedding away. In its place was Patti Larkthorn, the formidable businesswoman who would have your head if you didn’t bring her tulips in time.
“Thank you,” I said softly. She reached up and patted me on the shoulder, her eyes full of understanding. I put my hand atop hers, giving it a grateful squeeze.
“And Clara…” She leaned in close, her voice barely audible.Hesper took this as a sign and distracted Rosie by pointing out some green mushrooms that matched Rosie’s specific shade of sage. “If you’re not back within a month, do not worry about the town.”
