Billy & The Beast (Ever After, New York #3) - Eli Easton Page 0,8
runways of weeds. “They have them on fancy English estates. Like Downton Abbey.”
I managed not to roll my eyes. “Yes, well, they also have herb gardens in the United States. In fact, I’m sure most home gardeners have something of the kind.”
He gave me an incredulous look, those big brown eyes dancing. “Yeah, the Dobsons have a little patch of basil and sage. And Mrs. Delphi grows some herbs behind her house. But not like this. Not with boxwood edging and a central fountain and the diamond-shaped beds and the size. This thing is, like, twice the size of my bedroom!”
I pursed my lips. I had no interest in the size of his bedroom.
The plots in here were either brown and dead, or overgrown like the rest of the garden. He squatted down by a nest of green leaves and picked one, sniffed it.
“Mint.” He smiled. “Did you know you can make tea with mint? You cut a bunch of it and put it in a mesh bag and then dunk it in a gallon jar of cold water. Stick it in the sun for a few hours and you get tea. Wanna try that with this mint? Bet it would be strong.”
“No,” I said crisply. “It sounds disgusting. Like drinking toothpaste.”
“It’s not. It’s really nice.” He brought the leaf to his nose again, inhaling with a fond expression, like he was remembering something.
“Can we move on? Or would you like to smell every plant in the potagerie?”
He gave me an amused look. “Nope, I can do that later.”
“I can see you’ll be amazingly productive,” I said dryly. “How do you know the first thing about plants? I didn’t at your age.”
He shrugged. “I started mowing lawns when I was twelve, because I was too young to get a regular job legally. I’ve done yards all over town. When I don’t know a plant, I check the net.” He waggled his long, tan fingers. “I’m a master of Google fu, and there are apps that will identify pics of a plant. Kind of like facial recognition? Bet I can identify every herb in here. At least five different kinds of thyme alone, I’d say.”
“Yeah, don’t do that.” I rubbed my forehead. “I have no use for that knowledge. I just want the paths cleared.”
“The paths in here?” He looked around eagerly.
“No, no. The potagerie is not a priority. However, it would be nice if I could make my way down the driveway and to the front door without needing a machete.”
“Clear the driveway. Got it.” He stood confidently and looked around. “Ooh, that fountain over there looks a-maz-ing!” He pointed in the direction of the western terrace. “What’s over there? Can we go over there?”
“We’re going to the tool shed,” I said firmly. “This way.”
I armed Billy with a cart, electric trimmer, and clippers, showed him where the mower was, and assured myself that he knew how to operate the electric trimmer well enough not to sever one of his own limbs instead of that of a tree. Then I sent him to hack away at the overgrowth like an Amazonian explorer. The driveway was long, so that alone would take him days.
Not that he’d be here days. One day was more than enough. I’d tell him tonight.
I returned to the house, where Jack gave me a dirty look for making him stay indoors. Too bad, Jack. One overeager puppy at a time was enough to deal with.
I managed to get absorbed in my research for several hours. I only had my personal investments to manage these days, but I liked keeping up with the markets. Then lunchtime came, and as I headed down to the kitchen to make myself and Jack something to eat, I thought about Billy. It was an unusually hot day for May. A glimpse out the windows showed the shimmering brightness of the sun hovering over the asphalt of the driveway like a mirage. The kitchen was stifling, despite the massive antique ceiling fan.
Surely Billy would have brought his own bottled water and lunch. Surely. He couldn’t be that clueless, even at his age, right?
Damn it.
I cursed myself for a fool even as I found an old thermos and filled it with water. That was sufficient. I definitely didn’t need to feed the kid. But all the same, an extra, wrapped ham sandwich ended up on the counter as I made my own.
This was unbelievable. Apparently I really had suffered brain damage in the accident.