He looked around. "A lot of stuff. Probably. I keep the staging records on computer."
"Even better. Maybe you could just make me a copy. Floppy disk would be perfect."
"Yeah, okay. Okay, wait." He shifted his stool toward the computer.
"You don't have to do it this minute, when you're in the middle of something else."
"If I don't, I'll probably forget."
With a skill she admired, he tapped keys with somewhat grungy fingers, found what he was after. He dug out a floppy, slid it into the data slot. "Look, I'd rather you didn't take anything out when I'm not here."
"No problem."
"How's, um, Hayley working out?"
"An answer to a prayer."
"Yeah?" He reached for a can of Coke, took a quick drink. "She's not doing anything heavy or working around toxics. Right?"
"Absolutely not. I've got her doing bulb planters right now."
"Here you go." He handed her the floppy.
"Thanks, Harper. This makes my life easier. I've never done a Christmas cactus graft." She clipped the floppy to her board. "Can I watch?"
"Sure. Want to do one? I'll talk you through."
"I'd really like to."
"I'll finish this one up. See, I cut a two-, maybe two-and-a-half-inch shoot, straight through the joint. I've cut the top couple inches from the stem of the stock plant. And on the way to slicing my finger - "
"Sorry."
"Wouldn't be the first time. I made this fine, vertical cut into the vascular bundle."
"I got that far."
"From here, we pare slivers of skin from both sides of the base of the scion, tapering the end, and exposing the central core." Those long, artistic fingers worked cleverly and patiently. "See?"
"Mmm. You've got good hands for this."
"Came by them naturally. Mom showed me how to graft. We did an ornamental cherry when I was about Luke's age. Now we're going to insert the scion into the slit on the stock stem. We want the exposed tissues of both in contact, and match the cut surfaces as close as you can. I like to use a long cactus spine...." He took one from a tray and pushed it straight into the grafted area.
"Neat and organic."
"Uh-huh. I don't like binding with raffia on these. Weakened clothespins are better. Right across the joint, see, so it's held firm but not too tight. The rooting medium's two parts cactus soil mix to one part fine grit. I've already got the mix. We get our new baby in the pot, cover the mix with a little fine gravel."
"So it stays moist but not wet."
"You got it. Then you want to label it and put it in an airy position, out of full sun. The two plants should unite in a couple of days. Want to give it a shot?"
"Yeah." She took the stool when he vacated it, and began, following his directions carefully. "Ah, David was telling me about the house legend this morning."
"That's good." His gaze stayed focused on her hands, and the plant. "Keep the slice really thin. Legend?"
"You know, woo-woo, ghost."
"Oh, yeah, the sad-eyed blonde. Used to sing to me when I was a kid."
"Come on, Harper."
He shrugged, took another sip of Coke. "You want?" He tipped the can from side to side. "I've got more in the cooler under'here."
"No, but thanks. You're saying a ghost used to come in your room and sing to you."
"Up until I was about twelve, thirteen. Same with my brothers. You hit puberty, she stops coming around. You need to taper the scion now."
She paused in her work only long enough to slide a glance up at his face. "Harper, don't you consider yourself a scientist?"
He smiled at her with those somewhat dreamy brown eyes. "Not so much. Some of what I do is science, and some of what I do requires knowing some science. But down at it, I'm a gardener."
He two-pointed the Coke can into his waste bin, then bent down to get another out of his cooler. "But if you're asking if I find ghosts at odds with science, not so much either. Science is an exploration, it's experimentation, it's discovery."
"I can't argue with your definition." She went back to the work. "But - "
He popped the top. "Gonna Scully me?"
She had to laugh. "It's one thing for a young boy to believe in ghosts, and Santa Claus, and - "
"You're trying to say there's no Santa Claus?" He looked horrified. "That's just sick."
"But," she continued, ignoring him, "it's entirely another when it's a grown man."
"Who are you calling a grown man? I think I'm going to have