Read Between the Tines Read Online Free PDF Page B

minivan to a stop in front of the neighbor's house.
    As she climbed out, I rushed to her. "Boy am I glad you're here."
    She came around the back of the van. "Where's Karen? Is she all right?"
    I explained Karen's odd state of mind.
    Lisa's eyes clouded over as if painful memories of Ben's death were rushing back. "Sounds like she's in shock. I called Pastor Stephens. He's on the way. So is Karen's mom. She's coming from Portland ."
    "Maybe they can help her where I couldn't. I'll get the Bobcat key and move it to the end of the drive then go pick up my trailer. Can you stay with her?"
    Lisa nodded. "Mom has the girls so I'm here as long as I'm needed."
    With a worried heart, I retrieved the key and returned to the patio. I found Lisa, arm wrapped around Karen's shoulders, trying to ease her toward the door. Karen had set her feet like a stubborn child. This stance should be no match for supermom Lisa. Under any other circumstance, she would force Karen to move. Instead, Lisa spoke softly and kept encouraging Karen.
    Quietly, I climbed onto the seat of the Bobcat and inserted the key.
    "Good, get that thing gone." Karen pointed at the fence. "And all of these tools. Take them away, too."
    With Karen watching my every move, I jumped down and loaded the tools into the front bucket. Fortunately, Karen didn't mention removing the plants delivered on Friday. Lisa and I had only transplanted a few of them this morning. I hoped Karen would let me finish the beds so her backyard wasn't left in a mess. That's the least I could do at a time like this.
    I gave Lisa a farewell glance and rumbled down the drive. At my truck, I transferred the tools into the back and drove to The Garden Gate. After entering my code into the automated lock at the back door, I paused and drew in a deep breath to ease out the raw emotions flowing though me.
    I'd planned to spend the afternoon at the Buzzys' house settling in more of the plants so my manager Hazel wasn't expecting me. Still, I had to let her know Daisy wasn't coming in for her afternoon shift and ask Hazel to call a possible replacement. Then I would move the Bobcat and spend time with Karen or Daisy, whoever needed me most.
    I slipped into the dark hallway and let my eyes adjust. Once a service garage, I'd left the back section—office, break room and restroom—alone and concentrated on the public areas. I'd converted the three huge bays into a green house, a retail store and a classroom for teaching weekend gardening classes.
    I passed through the classroom bay furnished with wrought iron tables and a coffee bar where I stopped to pump a rich black cup of my favored Columbian blend. Host of Success Serendipity Style, Tim Needlemeyer's voice drifted from up front. When Hazel was alone in the shop, she tuned the radio to KALM so she could listen to my show and often kept it on for the remainder of the day.
    As I carefully sipped on the cup, I heard Hazel say, "Don't mess with me today, Mister. After Zeke's complaining all weekend, I'm not in the mood for a whiny male."
    I grinned and rounded the corner. Hazel shook her finger at the large daytime cage holding Mr. T, our inherited Amazon parrot.
    "Don't give me no jibba-jabba," Mr. T, short for Thunderbird, squawked. He often proved his nickname apropos as he spouted Mr. T'isms along with other favored sayings from TV. He flapped his wings and hopped to the top perch in his cage.
    "Fine," Hazel said. "Turn your back on me. Maybe you'll hush up while you're at it, and I can get some work done around here." Her tone was irritated but still tinged with her love for the whacky old bird. She'd taken over most of his care since he'd moved in about a year ago. Or should I say moved back? He'd belonged to the owner of the garage, but when he'd died and Mr. T sank into a depression, I agreed to keep Mr. T to stem his loneliness.
    "That's it. Take a nap, and let me get back to work." Hazel gave one last look at the bird then returned to her task of