learning-the-craft corner of the patio.
Six adults and two redheaded children—a boy and a girl—sat on the benches. Everyone but the boy was eagerly watching as I gathered items for a brand new fairy garden. No script. No plan.
“I need a theme,” I explained to my eager audience. “Yoo-hoo.” I crooked a finger at the boy who looked to be about seven. “Want to help me?”
He shook his head. “Fairy gardens are girlie.”
“Let’s make one that will appeal to you.” I walked to the shelves of figurines and opened my hand. “Do you like cars or bicycles or boats?”
“I like spaceships.”
I grinned. “Terrific. Let’s make a moonscape fairy garden.”
“There aren’t plants on the moon,” he said, still resistant.
“But there are rocks,” Fiona said, flying into view. Pausing midair, she stretched her arms and yawned. “Sorry, Courtney. I needed a nap. Did I miss anything?”
“We’re making a moonscape.” Being the teacher, I could repeat myself without upsetting those who couldn’t see or hear Fiona.
“On it. C’mon.” Fiona circled the boy’s head. “Let’s see what we can find.”
The boy glanced upward and leaped to his feet, his interest piqued. Without question, he could see her.
“We need to create rocks and rivers and caverns,” Fiona said.
“I want it to be blue,” the boy cried.
“Good choice,” I said. “Deep blue is perfect for outer space.”
Over the next few minutes, with my guidance, he selected a handful of different sized rocks, a bag of blue crystal for a river, and a boy fairy with blue wings and blue hair. A miniature fishbowl, my young helper said, would serve as his space helmet, but then he changed his mind.
“Do you have a cowboy hat?” he asked. “I want my fairy to be a cowboy astronaut so he can lasso those aliens with a rope when they show up.” He swung an imaginary lariat overhead. “Yee-haw.”
The crowd chuckled at his enthusiasm.
Me? I flinched as the memory of the murder scene scudded through my mind. Had the killer strangled Mick with rope as a metaphor for capturing him and hauling him to justice? Had Mick done something illegal? Had Emily deemed his affair with Petra Pauli against the law?
“Which plants should we add?” Fiona asked the boy.
He huffed. “Nothing grows on the moon.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Have you been there?”
He frowned.
Fiona tittered.
“Let’s use a few dark-colored succulents to be moon plants,” I suggested. “How does that sound?”
Grudgingly, he agreed.
Last but not least, he chose a miniature blue rocket. About a month ago, I’d added teensy cars, trucks, and space vehicles to our environment collection. Not all children, or adults for that matter, wanted their gardens to be fairy tale-like. Some wanted their displays to be rooted in reality. Whatever stirred their creative juices was fine with me.
An hour later, the boy and his grandmother left with a ten-inch-round moonscape fairy garden, free of charge. The other attendees each made a purchase and vowed to spread the word. Some said they’d had a supersonic blast. Others said fairy gardening was out of this world.
As I bid the last member of the class good-bye, I caught sight of Petra Pauli speaking to a customer near the entrance of the shop. Dressed in a tight-fitting jacket over a matching pencil skirt, she looked as though she’d just come from a power meeting, even though she had her collies in tow.
The dog with the brown muzzle began to strain at his leash. “Zeus, stop,” Petra begged.
Zeus could use a few training sessions with Gregory Darvell, I mused. I hoped the dog’s head wouldn’t butt against any of the displays and unsettle our wares. We allowed customers to bring in pets, but we expected them to be obedient.
Petra ended her conversation with the other customer and allowed the dog to drag her forward. The dog with the white muzzle tagged along. Halfway into the shop, Petra stopped by a display table and yanked on Zeus’s leash. This time he obeyed. One by one, she lifted the various tea sets. After checking the prices of each, she held a few of the individual teacups up to the light.
I joined her. “The finer the bone china, the better the light shines through.”
“They’re all so pretty.” She thrust her dogs’ leashes at me. “Here.”
I gladly took hold. With a gentle tug and a tap to his rump, I made Zeus sit. He looked at me as if expecting a treat. I made a mental note to stock some in the future.
“Which is your favorite?” Petra asked.
“The