are. Look! This’un’s called Thai basil. Smell,” she said, breaking off a young leaf and holding it to my nose.
I sniffed. “Nice. Spicy. They’re beautiful,” I said, pulling her against me, my arm round her shoulders. I had told basils to grow when I was a child. Mud was a plant person like me, like Esther. I knew it. I felt it in my bones, though I had no real proof yet. I checked Mud carefully every night before she went to bed, and so far no leaves.
Mud started chattering about chickens and chicken runs in the greenhouse. Nattering about herbal vinegars and the teas she wanted to grow and sell to the townies. Happy. We walked together and talked, and then I said I had to get back inside. She hugged me once hard and raced back to Cherry and her agility training.
Back on the porch, I scooped some soil from the bucket I kept there for quick rooting and added it to the vampire tree, re-covering the roots. I also snipped off the browned end of the lavender rose’s stem and tapped the cut end into a bottle of Rootone before I set the stem into a small pot of Soulwood soil. My fingers lingered a moment on the soft petals of Occam’s gift, and my heart lightened, remembering the way he had brought it up from behind his leg.
About half the time, roses could be rooted from single stems, though it was better to cut one fresh off the bush after the flower had withered, and the rose hip was beginning to form, and place it into willow water. I had no willow water on hand, but I figured I might have better-than-even odds, since I used Soulwood soil. I had checked and Sterling Silver was out of patent, so I could legally root it. Legally grow it. I watered the soil, gave it a boost with my own power, and placed it where I thought it might be happy.
I hoped it rooted. I wanted a plant out of Occam’s first rose to me.
Back inside, I didn’t see or sense or hear Esther. I hoped Mud hadn’t killed her and buried her out back.
Or worse, fed her to the land. Or chopped her up and put her in the stew.
The cats were hiding under my bed. The bedroom floor around them was spotless. They rushed out and jumped on the bedspread, all three of them staring daggers at me. I sighed again and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do.”
Jezzie sniffed at me and claimed my pillow. Torquil turned her dark head away and started to clean her nether regions, in clear disapproval. Cello mrowed, rolled over, and showed me her belly, asking for a rub. Even knowing that the belly rub request might be a ploy to give her an excuse to scratch me, I sat on the bed and rubbed her for the comfort it brought. I wasn’t a cat lover. I was a dog person. But the cats had claimed Soulwood, and that meant they had claimed me. And they had been the best of company for months, ever since the werecats had tamed them. They missed Occam in my bed. So did I. I missed his scent on my pillow, missed his cat warmth against my back in the night. But for now, the cats were my distraction and my excuse to keep from confronting Esther.
Back in the kitchen, I turned on the new electric kettle for tea and started a pot of coffee. I also put a bottle of Sister Erasmus’ wine in the refrigerator. I seldom yearned for anything stronger than wine. Right now I understood the desire for a good stiff drink.
I had dithered long enough. I climbed the stairs to the upper bedrooms.
The entire upstairs had been remodeled. The four newly painted bedrooms now all opened onto the landing, and there was a full bath with divided areas: a double sink area, a dedicated shower and tub area, and a water closet, all according to the church standards, but ultramodern and sleek. Everything was white. And here again everything was lined up perfectly and everything gleamed. “Oh, Esther,” I whispered.
My sister had been keeping a room here, for when she sat with Mud, on those rare evenings and weekends when I had a case that kept me away from home. I paid her a few dollars an hour, and while she was here, she had use of