When she beckoned me over, I brushed dirt from my pants, stamped my feet, and joined her on the patio.
She indicated a tray resting on a wicker table. “Care for some coffee?”
The heat was nearing the uncomfortable level, but I never passed up coffee. “Sure.” I accepted a mug, took a sip, and shuddered with joy. This stuff was moan-worthy. “Really good. Thanks.”
“Would the other two like a cup?”
“No, ma’am, they’re fine.”
She nodded. “How are things?”
Was she worried by our lack of supervision? I hurried to reassure her. “Everything’s under control. We should be done with our morning tasks soon. Scott will be back in the next hour or so.”
“I meant... how are things with you?”
Wow, I hadn’t anticipated that question from her. Mrs. Milton shopped occasionally at our store, on the furnishings side. The Miltons had visited our home for Chamber of Commerce events. She existed in the gray area between friend and acquaintance. Instead of my usual hollow platitudes, I gave in to the desire for a real answer. “I’m better today than yesterday.”
“Take all the time you need to adjust, Sara. It’s not a race.” Her tone echoed with remembered grief.
We lapsed into silence.
I surveyed the yard, wondering how she viewed it. The Beings had relaxed their pace since Mrs. Milton appeared, although it was clear that their contribution to the project would be exceptional. I studied my part and frowned. Something about it felt over-planned.
Slowly, I walked around the bed, looking at it from all angles. An idea glimmered.
“Mrs. Milton, did you work out the design for this bed with Scott?”
“We discussed it. Why?”
“It’s all graceful curves and ovals, which mimics the walled beds over by the woods. And it’ll be pretty. However, I think one circular element might add...interest.”
“Will you show me?”
“I’ll try.” I paced along the bed a couple of times before finding the right spot. Kneeling, I rearranged several plants until a small circle appeared like a fat dot above a chubby I.
“Keep it,” she said. “That’s great, like a hidden surprise if you look hard enough.”
I stayed on my knees for the next suggestion. “As long as we’re discussing possibilities, I’d like to point out something about all of the pink and purple in this bed.”
“And white.” Her lips thinned.
“It’s a nice theme. Really.” Maybe I should’ve left this alone.
“Go on.”
“A bit of yellow would...”
“Add interest?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I rose. Mrs. Milton looked intrigued, not mad.
“Sunflowers?”
“Too much.”
“Marigolds?” She took off in the direction of the parking lot. “I have some with big blooms in this bed over here.”
The blooms were a bit larger than the ones in my imagination, but Mrs. Milton seemed happy with them. We separated out a few to transplant.
