In the Garden Trilogy Read Online Free PDF Page B

her out of it.”
    “Well, shit . It’ll be dead in a week.”
    “Dendrobiums are fairly easy care,” Stella pointed out.
    “Not for Marilee. She doesn’t have a black thumb. Her whole arm’s black to the elbow. That woman should be barred by law from having anything living within ten feet of her.”
    “I’m sorry, Roz. But I did make her promise to bring it back if it starts to look sickly.”
    “Not your fault.” Roz waved it away, then moved through a wide opening. Here were the houseplants, from the exotic to the classic, and pots from thimble size to those with a girth as wide as a manhole cover. There were more accessories, too, like stepping-stones, trellises, arbor kits, garden fountains, and benches.
    “I expect my staff to know a little bit about everything,” Roz said as they walked through. “And if they don’t know the answer, they need to know how to find it. We’re not big, not compared to some of the wholesale nurseries or the landscaping outfits. We’re not priced like the garden centers at the discount stores. So we concentrate on offering the unusual plants along with the basic, and customer service. We make house calls.”
    “Do you have someone specific on staff who’ll go do an on-site consult?”
    “Either Harper or I might go if you’re talking about a customer who’s having trouble with something bought here. Or if they just want some casual, personal advice.”
    She slid her hands into her pockets, rocked back and forth on the heels of her muddy boots. “Other than that, I’ve got a landscape designer. Had to pay him a fortune to steal him away from a competitor. Had to give him damn near free rein, too. But he’s the best. I want to expand that end of the business.”
    “What’s your mission statement?”
    Roz turned, her eyebrows lifted high. There was a quick twinkle of amusement in those shrewd eyes. “Now, there you are—that’s just why I need someone like you. Someone who can say ‘mission statement’ with a straight face. Let me think.”
    With her hands on her hips now, she looked around the stocked area, then opened wide glass doors into the adjoining greenhouse. “I guess it’s two-pronged—this is where we stock most of our annuals and hanging baskets starting in March, by the way. First prong would be to serve the home gardener. From the fledgling who’s just dipping a toe in to the more experienced who knows what he or she wants and is willing to try something new or unusual. To give that customer base good stock, good service, good advice. Second would be to serve the customer who’s got the money but not the time or the inclination to dig in the dirt. The one who wants to beautify but either doesn’t know where to start or doesn’t want the job. We’ll go in, and for a fee we’ll work up a design, get the plants, hire the laborers. We’ll guarantee satisfaction.”
    “All right.” Stella studied the long, rolling tables, the sprinkler heads of the irrigation system, the drains in the sloping concrete floor.
    “When the season starts we have tables of annuals and perennials along the side of this building. They’ll show from the front as people drive by, or in. We’ve got a shaded area for ones that need shade,” she continued as she walked through, boots slapping on concrete. “Over here we keep our herbs, and through there’s a storeroom for extra pots and plastic flats, tags. Now, out back here’s greenhouses for stock plants, seedlings, preparation areas. Those two will open to the public, more annuals sold by the flat.”
    She crunched along gravel, over more asphalt. Shrubs and ornamental trees. She gestured toward an area on the side where the stock wintering over was screened. “Behind that, closed to the public, are the propagation and grafting areas. We do mostly container planting, but I’ve culled out an acre or so for field stock. Water’s no problem with the pond back there.”
    They continued to walk, with Stella