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I ever catch you doing it again—”
    Bridget looked at me, puzzled. “Liz doesn’t have Bermuda grass in her garden. Why would she put it in yours?”
    “I don’t know.” He pushed the wheelbarrow back to the main path. “But I’ll find out. And when I do, you’ll be out of the garden for good.”
    He marched away down the path, pushing the wheelbarrow in front of him.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Tamiko looked after Webster as he trundled his wheelbarrow down the path. “Boy, he’s got it in for you, doesn’t he, Liz? I wonder why.”
    “I don’t know.” The sick feeling I’d been fighting all morning was back. “I didn’t put any Bermuda grass in his garden. I have no idea why he thinks I did.”
    “Somebody’s been rumor-mongering,” Tamiko said.
    She was still staring after Webster. “This used to be such a nice group of people. Now everyone’s always fighting. I don’t understand what went wrong.”
    “Well, a good part of it is Lois.” Bridget picked up Moira. “She’s appointed herself garden cop, and the result is everyone’s nitpicking everything to death. Before, we didn’t mind a few weeds here and there. Now if everything’s not perfect, she threatens to take your garden away.”
    “Let her try that on me.” Tamiko straightened her dumpy form. She’s a bit taller than I am, but then, I’m pretty short. “I believe in live-and-let-live, but I’m not going to keep my mouth shut if she’s going around spreading rumors.”
    She marched back to her own plot. Bridget stared after her.
    “Now, what was that all about? And why that crack about Roundup? Nobody here can use it, right? It’s a pesticide, and we’re organic.”
    “Nobody is supposed to, but rumor has it that Webster sprayed his Bermuda grass with it.” I picked up the spade Bridget had discarded and began turning the cornstalks and beans into the ground. “I thought it was just a rumor, but his reaction makes me wonder.”
    “So that’s how he gets rid of Bermuda grass.” Bridget frowned. “And he has the gall to accuse me of wrongdoing.”
    “It’s just a rumor.” I regretted having repeated it. I know to my cost how often rumor and innuendo are wrong. “He’s innocent until proven guilty.”
    “I’m going home, anyway.” Bridget wore an unaccustomed expression of ire. “Nobody wants Moira here, and I’ve got a lot to do. If my garden isn’t tidy enough, let Webster have it. I know that’s what he wants.”
    “Could he have more than one? I didn’t think that was allowed.”
    “Some people do. In fact, I heard that Lois has about six scattered around.” Bridget dusted off Moira’s dirty hands and looked around for her garden basket.
    “Leave the shovel,” I suggested. “I’ll drop it off at your house later.”
    “Okay.” Bridget picked up her basket, balancing Moira on one arm. “In fact, come by around two—I should be home for a while. And stay and have tea. We’ll talk about Claudia’s party then.”
    She left, using the south gate beside Tamiko’s garden. I dug for a few more minutes, getting the cornstalks and beans well incorporated, and pulling up a bit more Bermuda grass. I pulled up the tomatoes, too, stacking the cages neatly at the back of Bridget’s garden, and cramming the withered vines into my bucket. Her garden plot looked much better when I finished. I picked up the bucket to carry over to the Dumpster, planning to fill it with wood chips on my way back and scatter them on her path. Then Lois wouldn’t have any more reason to complain about Bridget.
    Tamiko joined me as I went out the gate and turned right, walking on the perimeter path outside the garden fence. She glanced at my bucket of weeds and dead tomato vines. “You really made some progress today,” she remarked. She, too, carried debris bundled in a tarp with handles. “These work days are a good idea for getting us moving with the fall cleanup.”
    “I still haven’t gotten to my own plot, though.” We