better get to work. I groaned. Meg was in a rare mood this morning, seeming as sleep-deprived as I, and we’d been butting heads since breakfast.
Back at the greenhouse, David was ringing up a sale and making polite conversation with a balding man and his very pregnant wife. Their two young children were running from one end of the middle aisle to the other, being all loud and giggly and hyperactive. Normally I wouldn’t have minded—I was the neighborhood babysitter, known for my patience and willingness to actually play with kids instead of parking them in front of the TV. But the shrieking was hurting my ears and giving me a headache. I stared at them, hoping they’d get the hint and take it down a few notches, but they wouldn’t stop. Then I stared at their parents, mentally begging them to please do something about those kids , but they were totally oblivious.
David met my eyes while he was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Clueless about soil erosion, and nodded in the direction of the work table. I took that to mean that I was supposed to stop standing there with my arms crossed over my chest and actually do something. So I took the tray of seedlings, slid them to the other end of the table as far away from everyone as possible, and just sat there.
I yawned and stretched, in no rush to get going. Usually I could psych myself up for work, envisioning my savings account ballooning and the cute little red Volkswagen Golf I hoped to buy one of these years. Of course, thinking about Volkswagens got me to thinking about Adrian’s blue Beetle, which got me to thinking about Adrian himself. I really hoped he would stop by later like he said he would. Maybe I’d ask him what was wrong with his dad. Or maybe not.
When David finally wrapped things up with the customers, he came over to where I was and made some remark about how the seedlings wouldn’t repot themselves.
I groaned. “Can’t I work the register today, or maybe weed? I’d much rather weed.”
“Sorry, but Meg knows how grumpy you get when you’re tired. She’d rather you didn’t have much interaction with the customers today. Besides, I got up early this morning and did the weeding myself.”
“Well aren’t you the overachiever?” I said snippily, stifling another yawn.
Transplanting was one of my least favorite jobs. I didn’t have the green thumb that Meg did, and I usually managed to kill a few of the young plants in the process. That was just good money down the drain, as far as I was concerned, but Meg was bound and determined to teach me the true art of gardening, even if it killed her profits. I just wanted a nap.
“Careful of the roots,” David said from behind, as I coaxed the delicate plants from their pots. I could practically feel him breathing down my neck, and his hovering set me even more on edge. I ignored his comment.
“So, we never got to finish what we were talking about last night,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You never told me what you and Meg were whispering about all secret-like. You know, right before dinner?”
“Oh,” he said. “I said it was nothing, so stop asking.”
I put the trowel down and swiveled on the stool to look at David, but he’d already turned away from me. He was going to make this as difficult as possible.
“I’m not a moron, David. I can tell when something’s going on, so you might as well come clean.”
David stayed silent, refusing to say a word. He kept his back to me, conveniently filling his bucket full of potting soil. But I could see the tension in his shoulders. It was obvious there was something going on that he didn’t want to talk about. However, I wasn’t about to give up.
“I would really appreciate someone cluing me in,” I said. “I’m not a baby, in case you haven’t noticed. I don’t need to be coddled, or for you and Meg to tiptoe around me. Seriously, whatever it is, you can tell me.”
I waited for what seemed like an eternity, but David still