Flowers
PG-13. 02/12/2006.

People always comment on her garden. Mrs. Flowers is always working in it, any day when the weather's warm enough for her arthritis--weeding, pruning, shaping. Once some young people from the Fell's Church Gazette came and took pictures. They had a lovely conversation, and she served them homemade rose-hip tea and pecan chews; however, the horticultural talents of an elderly widow are not breaking news, so only a very small portion of their interview made it to print.

Q: Your garden is a marvel. What's your secret?
A: Oh, nothing special, dearie. I'm just not afraid to get my hands dirty.
Q: Come on, you're holding out on us! There must be something else you can share with our readers!
A: Well, this may just be an old fool's superstition, but talking to them seems to help.

Mrs. Flowers has made the papers before--for awards at the county fair, mostly, or her work with the Historical Society. She saves all her clippings in a leather-bound binder that once belonged to Mr. Flowers. She has only made the front page once, and keeps the photo and attached article in the very front of the book.

"LOCAL LEGEND LEADS TO ARREST"

says the headline. The article reads in part:

Mrs. Genevieve Flowers notes that her former ward Stefan Salvatore was very reclusive. "He came and went at odd hours. He never ate the pies I baked him," she told police. "I thought I was just foolish. I've never felt quite right around folks like him, not since the War." The aging widow admits she rented Salvatore a room without a background check, adding, "He seemed like such a nice boy. Very good manners. Paid his rent well in advance. I didn't want to believe it was him, but things started adding up."

Since his arrest, Salvatore has come down with a mysterious, undisclosed illness. He has been transferred to a correctional medical facility, to await trial. He is charged with the murders of drifter George Robertson, history teacher William Tanner, and 17-year-old Elena Gilbert, as well as the physical assault of classmate Victoria Bennett. Miss Gilbert's body remains missing.

Today is a bright sunny day, and Mrs. Flowers has been hard at work: turning the compost heap, weeding around the daffodils, planting new bulbs. Now it is time to prune the roses. She is going to take a bouquet to poor Judith Gilbert, whose fiance abandoned her--the scoundrel. Less than two years since she lost her niece. And with that little one to care for, too!

These roses are her favorites, not white, not yellow, but a delicate pale gold. She caresses its leaves and murmurs soothing words as she trims its blossoms. "What a very pretty girl you are, my dear," she says. "A very pretty girl."



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