“I’m walking through it right now,” I replied. “With Wykofski’s help and a new blade on the mower, we should be set. Eula told us to steer clear of the greenhouse, and it’s hidden behind an old wall anyway, so it’ll be a lot easier than it sounds. And besides, if it’s for her retirement . . . I can’t say no.”
Mom sighed. “This is becoming more work than you thought it would be.”
“I don’t mind.”
“What does your head at the Botanical Garden think of all this?”
I hadn’t told Jeff, though I suspected he would advise me to keep my head down and finish my work here. Of course I was going to—but then back in New York, I had a decision to make, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to make it yet. “He thinks it’s doable,” I lied, kicking a mushroom over.
“Then I’d trust him.”
Evening had settled on the gardens. Fingers of pinkish orange crawled across the skies. They were showing off so much I had to snap a photo.
I sent it to Mom, and she gasped at it. “Oh, that’sgorgeous! Eddie, Eddie, look at this. Isn’t it pretty?”
A muffled agreement came through the phone.
“It’s like real magic,” she said with a wistful sigh.
There it was again—magic.That made me think of the door in the hedge. “Can I ask you a question?”
“What is it, sprout?”
“What would you do if you found a secret garden that kept mov—”
“Oh mygod!” Mom cried with a shrill laugh. “Stop farting, Eddie, or I swear I’ll Glade you!”
She excused herself from the cards table and went out onto the porch. Wind battered the receiver, but at least I didn’t have to fight to be heard over my stepdad farting anymore. “I’m sorry, you were saying something about a garden?”
“Never mind,” I said, feeling embarrassed to have evenbrought it up. “I’m just a little stressed, I think. From all of this. I knew it would be hard work opening all the gardens back up since Eula had closed most of them over the years, but . . .”
I heard her light a cigarette and take a long drag. “That’s how I can tell it’s worth it.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.” She exhaled smoke. “Do you remember when we were living on Lake Michigan? You were, I don’t know, maybe seven? And you could walk to school?”
“Even in the snow,” I confirmed. “Vaguely, why?”
“I had come home from a twelve-hour shift and there was this mostly dead houseplant on the counter. You were adamant about saving it, though the roots were rotten and there was some sort of mite infestation in the leaves.”
“The snake plant—I remember her.”
“You fussed over her forweeks. You refused to give up.”
“To be fair,” I pointed out, “snake plants are almost impossible to kill.”
“It didn’t matter. You still tended to her like she was some sort of prized succulent. You checked her soil levels. You monitored her watering. You even bought expensiveplant food—I don’t know if any of that made a difference in the end. But the fact is you still committed time and care.” She took another drag of her cigarette. “I’m sure this anniversary-retirement party will go off without a hitch wherever Evie—”
“Eula.”
“—decides to throw it. And I’m sure anyone could make the Willow Grove look acceptable. But you’ll make it look magical, because that’s just who you are. It could be easy, butyou’ll commit your entire self to it anyway. You haven’t done that in a long time, committed yourself to something with your entire heart. Not since …”
Not since Harriett diedwas the sentence she didn’t say.
“It’s just hard,” I admitted. “I feel like I’m wasting time.”
“I know, and you know how I feel about hard things.”
