Time of the Season

Chapter One

Elizabeth stood on the deck and looked out, beyond the nursery, across the flats, to the sloping hills, all treed and dotted with houses. Rising in the distance were the mountains. The focus of her vision was on the two peaks that cradled a saddle of ice and snow. The Comox Glacier. She laughed at herself for acting like a tourist, gazing at the glacier, but oh, how she’d missed the view. It was clear and bright, and being home was heaven, but at 7:00 a.m. in mid-April it was still chilly out. She pulled her sweater tightly around herself as she shivered, and took five more minutes to stand and stare before going in for breakfast.

“Liddie you’re wearing my top! Mom make her take it off.”

“It goes with my earrings and you weren’t going to wear it today anyhow.” Liddie tossed her hair back to show off the dangly pink creations as she opened the fridge and grabbed a yoghurt.

“Very pretty,” said Mrs Bennet appreciatively, glancing up from her magazine. “Do you believe it? Britney and what’s-his-name have split up.”

Katie stared up at the ceiling and groaned.

Mary, who was sitting quietly at the table eating muesli, looked over to Elizabeth and said, “Aren’t you glad to be home?”

Elizabeth laughed. “I think I’ll move in with Jane. I’d forgotten what mornings were like here.”

“Mornings, afternoons, evenings – it’s all the same. The only way dad survives is by hiding in his office with an unending supply of coffee.”

It sounded like a good idea to Elizabeth too. She grabbed a banana and headed out the door, followed by Liddie’s screams that Katie had to drive her to school, no matter whose top she was wearing, and their mom’s recounting of some Hollywood scandal.

~

“Hey there, Dad.” Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him on the forehead on her way to his coffee maker. She busied herself with pouring the coffee and adding cream and sugar, then turned back to her father.

He was looking up at her with an uncharacteristically troubled expression. “Did you hear about this Sudden Oak Death scare while you were at Kwantlen?”

 “A bit. One of the instructors seems very involved in some program that’s being implemented, but I don’t know much about it. To tell you the truth, I was more concerned with graduating.”

“There’s a recall of all camellias sold in BC since last fall – look.” He indicated his computer screen. “I don’t understand how they expect to manage that.”

Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee and then set it down on his desk. Leaning over his shoulder, she began to read. “Infected camellias shipped from Belgravia Nursery in Oregon. We don’t buy from them, do we?”

“No, but I did get some plants in from Hamilton’s the other day and they buy a lot of stock from both Oregon and California where the disease seems to have originated.”

“So, we could potentially have diseased plants?”

“Potentially,” he affirmed. “The Federal Horticulture Agency is going to be throwing their power around slapping quarantines on nurseries left and right, and destroying entire blocks of plants without any thought to how small growers will survive.”

Picking up her coffee, Elizabeth walked over to the window and surveyed their nursery.  The ten acres under production were laid out before her. The parking lot for the retail garden shop was just beyond the hedge that divided the house and garden from the family business. Behind the half acre of retail area were the potting shed, propagation house, greenhouses and shade houses. Further back was block upon block of container beds, and further still the field stock: an assortment of trees and then unending rows of hedging cedars.

What she had remembered as an orderly, well-maintained enterprise now looked disorganised and, in some areas, weed choked. Even from her distant vantage point she could see that the deer fence had come down in more than one place. Was it simply that over the past few years while she’d been on the mainland getting her horticulture degree at Kwantlen College, that she had carried a rose-coloured image of the nursery with her, or had things slipped that badly in her absence?

As she stared out the window the phone rang and her dad took the call. Elizabeth didn’t let it distract her. She was planning out her morning in her head, swiftly coming to the conclusion that a thorough walk through of the entire nursery was in order, rather than the quick drive around she had earlier intended. Gone was the picture of herself spending most of her time on the propagation of less commonly cultivated species. It was a good thing that her field of study had put a great deal of emphasis on business practices as well. She just hoped she wouldn’t find herself stuck doing a lot of the grunt work.

“That was the FHA.”

The ominous tone to her father’s voice cut through her ruminations. “What’s up?”

“There’s a team coming on an inspection tomorrow. I don’t think I can face them – might say something I’d regret. Could you, Bethie?”

He always called her Bethie when he knew he was asking more of her than he should. Dealing with the FHA was the last thing Elizabeth wanted, but she smiled into her father’s face, noting how the lines of worry accentuated his age, and said, “Yes.”

~

“Jane!” Elizabeth cried into her cell phone. “You have to come and save me.”

“But I love my florist job – I’m not going back to the nursery.”

“All I’m asking for is a week of your time – two at the max – until I can hire someone dependable. I’ll settle for today, if that’s all you can give me. God! I’ve got the damn FHA coming tomorrow and the place looks like a disaster area. Mary’s doing her best but Chamberlayne is worse than useless. And dad’s out in the field digging a rush order of thuyas for Forster’s.”

“What about Katie and Liddie?”

“Have you ever known them to leave the retail area for anything that doesn’t involve helping hot young landscapers? Anyway mom says she can’t manage without them.”

Elizabeth could hear Jane waffling, even over the bad cell connection. “It’s turning into a beautiful day – think of the tanning opportunity.”

“But it’s my day off, and you know there’s nothing worse than a farmer’s tan.”

“Tank top weather – I guarantee it.”

“Oh, all right – I’ll see you in an hour. But I can’t help you all week – I’ve got a job – remember?”

“Lunch is on me,” said Elizabeth before ringing off.

After she’d found out that a team of inspectors would be running the nursery through their fine tooth combs for the next few days, Elizabeth realised that the full scale analysis she had planned needed to be shelved. All that could be managed in a little over a day that was at her disposal was a bit of immediate cosmetic surgery. She’d sent Chamberlayne out with the brush-cutter to chop back the blackberry canes along the nursery’s perimeter, but soon replaced him with Mary, who attacked the wildly growing plants with a sadistic grin.

“You take the rake instead, Chambe. I want all this stuff on the garbage heap as quickly as possible.”

“The prickles go right through these gloves.” He pulled one off and showed a red spot on his thumb. “Ouch! And I’m sure my arms will be torn to shreds in no time.”

“I’ll look for some leather gauntlets to protect your lily-whites.”   Elizabeth could barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “Until then get over it and get something done – I’m desperate.”

After talking to Jane, Elizabeth ran into the garden shop and grabbed a pair of fancy gardener’s gloves from a display rack. She ignored her mother’s cries of complaint and went back out to her truck.  She drove to where Chamberlayne and Mary were working and tossed him the new gloves without stopping, all the time wracking her brain for someone to call to help her deal with the mess.

“Charlotte!” Who better to call in times of trouble than one’s best friend? She dialled the number hurriedly and then groaned when she got an answering machine. “Char! I’m offering you a chance of a lifetime, gourmet lunch included. Suntanning with Jane and me – some weeds may be involved. Get your butt over here as soon as you receive this message.”

‘Hope like hell that works,’ she thought to herself as she parked beside a container block. She pulled on her gloves and hopped out. As she passed by the back of the truck she grabbed herself a hoe and then set to work moving pots aside so that she could hack away at the biggest of the weeds that were taking over the gravel. Afterwards the plants would need to be weeded too and put back into rows.

When Jane arrived she was halfway down the bed. She waved and indicated the back of the truck. Jane nodded, grabbed a hoe and started on the neighbouring bed. After working steadily for another hour she went back to the truck and wrestled a wheelbarrow off it. She stretched her aching back and looked up the roadway. A beat-up car was trundling towards her. The horn blasted twice as it pulled up behind her truck. She laughed as Charlotte jumped out with a pizza box.

“I knew you would lose track of the time so I thought I’d better bring lunch or we’d end up eating KD at about five o’clock.”

“You’re the best, Char!”

“Don’t you know it!”

Jane came over, smiling and pulling off her gloves. “Should I go and get Mary and Chamberlayne?”

“What?” asked Elizabeth. “Share our pizza with them? All I had for breakfast was a banana. Those two are on their own.”

“Doesn’t seem fair for poor Mary,” said Charlotte as she placed the pizza box on the hood of her car and opened it. “But I got the Italian special and it’s loaded with capicollo and salami so Chambe wouldn’t eat it anyway.” She leaned back into the open window of her car and emerged with napkins which she passed around. “Eat.”

Elizabeth ate three pieces of pizza almost without stopping, except to take deep swigs from a water bottle. All three girls sat on the open tailgate of her truck – laughter interspersed their conversation in loud bursts.

“Just like old times,” said Jane, leaning back upon a bag of fertiliser as she wiped her hands and face with her napkin.

“The best part of the job always was lunch,” said Charlotte.

“Speaking of work,” said Elizabeth, “you haven’t even done any yet,”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

Elizabeth looked at her watch. “Time to get back to it.”

Charlotte sighed. “Me and my big mouth. So, what exactly are we doing?”

“Giving this place a facelift before the FHA gets here tomorrow. Nothing but the biggest weeds. Get the rows nice and straight and all the pots standing.”

Charlotte looked around. “You do realise that we haven’t got a hope in hell of getting more than a fraction done before tomorrow?”

Elizabeth nodded grimly, threw her napkin into the empty pizza box, and started down an aisle, filling her wheelbarrow as she went.

Charlotte looked at Jane. “Party’s over.”

~

That night Elizabeth lay in her bed, her body aching as it hadn’t in years. They had worked unstintingly until dusk fell and it was too dark to distinguish the weeds from the plants. Charlotte had refused the offer of supper but promised return at eight in the morning. Elizabeth had hugged her – it hardly measured up to the gratitude she felt but it had been all she was capable of at the time. She and Jane went up to the house and ate spaghetti and meat sauce, reheated in the microwave. Then Jane had showered and dragged herself to her old bedroom to sleep while Elizabeth had soaked in a hot tub with a cup full of Epsom’s salts.  Even so, all her muscles now unaccustomed to physical labour were screaming at her. Finally fatigue overcame pain and she drifted off to sleep.

In her dreams Elizabeth couldn’t escape work. Weeds loomed up to be pulled aside, but more weeds took their place. Inspectors came and ordered huge blocks of plants destroyed as her mother served coffee in hand thrown pottery mugs and Liddie and Katie cavorted about in their bikinis. At one point her father walked up to the white clothed officials and issued a diatribe on the government in general and the FHA’s practices in particular. When Mary came along with the brush cutter, cutting a swathe through everything in her path and advancing on the inspectors, Elizabeth awoke with a start.

Her head was throbbing. She peered out from her tangled covers to see watery light seeping through her blinds. The clock on her dresser read 6:25. Damn! She had to get up though she barely felt rested. She hobbled to her bathroom and after one look at her haggard, dark-circled face, she ignored the mirror completely.

By 7:30 she was out in her truck, driving the roads through the nursery, checking to see what area needed the most attention. She hoped the inspectors wouldn’t arrive too early – she’d not even had time to go back to the website to read up on Sudden Oak Death. If they were coming from Victoria she had at least three, if not four hours to work with. That was small consolation, but it was all that she had.

At 8:00 Jane joined her in the field, looking fresh and well-rested, and very pretty in a faded pair of jeans and powder blue t-shirt.

“Look what I found in my old dresser! Mom doesn’t throw anything away, does she? I think I wore these clothes in grade ten.”

Elizabeth had just pulled on the same stained jeans she’d worked in the day before, and an old plaid shirt of her dad’s that was torn at the elbow. Not that how she looked mattered anyway. What was the point of ruining nice clothes? She’d change at ten, when the dirty work was done, then have a coffee while she researched the disease on the computer. That would be well before the inspectors arrived.

Charlotte arrived with a box of timbits and a coffee for each of them.

“You can never have too much coffee and doughnuts,” she grinned.

“You’re just buttering me up so I’ll give you some slack,” said Elizabeth, leaning against Charlotte’s car with her face held towards the morning sun.

 “Works every time,” said Charlotte, popping a timbit into her mouth and dusting the powdered sugar off onto her sweats.

Elizabeth drained her coffee and reluctantly went back to work. She let her mind wander as her body took over the mechanics of the job. The sun became hot as it rose in the sky and when she finally stopped to rest again sweat was trickling down her forehead. She wished she’d had the foresight to wear a tank top under her shirt, but all she could do was roll up the sleeves. She checked her watch and realised it was 10:00 already.

“I’m going in to do research on the computer,” she yelled over to the others.

“Yeah, leave us to do all your dirty work!” shouted Charlotte.

Jane just smiled and continued ripping out weeds. Elizabeth marvelled at how her sister still looked neat and clean. She knew that her own hair had weeds tangled in it and the dampness under her arms told her that her deodorant wasn’t working.

She hopped into the truck and headed back up to the office. As she passed one of the shade houses she noticed a deer trapped inside, bounding against the mesh, too confused to go back through the gap it had come in by. She parked and ran to free it, hoping that not too many plants had been damaged in its struggles. She shooed it through the gap and then herded it across the road to where the deer fencing had been flattened to the ground.

The deer bounded safely into the bush and she inspected the fencing. A couple of posts had rotted and would need to be replaced. She’d have to get Chambe to do it right away. She hoped he could manage the post holer.

Back up in the shade house there was a trampled block of plants to straighten up. They were mostly ferns, only just unfurling their fronds. A few broken fiddleheads, but no damage of any consequence. She was almost finished setting all the pots upright and back into rows when she heard voices. Two white clothed figures were walking up the road.

“I told them we’d be here this morning, so you’d think someone would be in the office to meet us.”

“They probably didn’t expect us this early.”

“It’s ten-thirty. I wanted to be here by ten! It’s a small wonder this place is such a shambles if they aren’t even up and around by now.”

“They might be out working in the back field. Look – here it says there’s ten acres altogether. See – Glacierview nursery.” He held out a clipboard.

The first man snorted. “What an original name.”

“There’s someone working over there,” the other man said, pointing to Elizabeth. “We can ask her.”

Elizabeth wiped her hands on her jeans and walked to the shade house door. “Can I help you?”

“We’re the FHA inspectors,” said the taller of the two men. “Where can we find Mr Bennet?”

Elizabeth held out her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Bennet, the nursery manager. You can deal with me.”

He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the baggy plaid shirt and stained jeans before his hand came out and gingerly shook hers. “I’m Mr Fitzwilliam – director of this project.” He let her hand go quickly and reached into the satchel he was carrying.

As Elizabeth shook hand with the other man, who introduced himself as Charles in a friendly voice, she noticed Mr Fitzwilliam squeeze hand sanitizer on his hands and rub them together.

“Where are most of your host plants located?” asked Mr Fitzwilliam.

“Host plants?” Elizabeth was inwardly cursing herself for not having checked out the website yet.

“The plants that can carry and be affected by SODs,” said Charles helpfully.

Mr Fitzwilliam just eyed her with scorn.

“We have camellias in greenhouse number two,” said Elizabeth. “Come with me to the office and I’ll print you out a map of the nursery.”

“We’re not only interested in camellias,” said Mr Fitwilliam. “Aren’t you even aware that there are over thirty plants that are on the host plant list?”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t had time . . .” Elizabeth faltered as Mr Fitzwilliam turned away. “Would you like a ride over to the office to get a map?”

He turned back to her. “We’ll draw our own maps as we go. I have three other inspectors on this team. We will be here at least four days, depending on what we find. The plants we take samples from will be marked with orange flagging tape. Under no circumstances remove it until we tell you it’s all right.”

“If there’s anything I can do to help . . .”

“I would suggest you acquaint yourself with at least the basics of this disease, if you want to be taken seriously in the nursery business.” He nodded to his companion and started to walk away.

“See you later.” Charles smiled at her before following his supervisor.

Elizabeth stared after them, seething.

Charles’ voice carried to her as he caught up with Mr Fitzwilliam. “That was a bit harsh, Darcy.”

“I can’t tolerate these small businesses that operate in complete ignorance of proper nursery practices and no knowledge of horticulture. That brainless girl is the manager here? It’s no wonder this disease is threatening to run rampant.”

“My God,” said Elizabeth under her breath. “What an arrogant jerk!” She hopped into her truck and drove back to the office at a speed she would have complained about had it been anyone else. She pulled into a parking spot outside the office and braked so sharply that she sent up a spatter of gravel and a big cloud of dust billowing over to where the other three inspectors sat waiting. She grinned as she heard the two women coughing.

Inside, she logged onto the computer and got on the internet. Soon she was reading furiously and taking notes. He wasn’t going to call her ignorant again, not if she could help it.

Chapter Two

Three hours later Elizabeth pushed back from her computer. She was in that dense fog that comes from information overload. Beside her on the desk were a sandwich and a glass of juice. She had no idea where they had come from, but she devoured them ravenously. Then she looked down at her notes. Sudden Oak Death – common name for Phytophthora ramorum – a fungus – spread by wind driven rain, water, plant material, or human activity . . . It was serious stuff.

Elizabeth printed out the most up to date host plant list she could find, grabbed a highlighter, and marked off all the plants on the list that were in stock at the nursery. Some she had to put question marks beside. She was rifling through the desk drawers when her father came into the office.

“How’d it go with the FHA?”

She made a face. “Don’t ask.”

He sat on the corner of the desk and waited.

“This place is a shambles, I’m an ignorant backwater bozo, and if the disease doesn’t run rampant in six weeks it’ll be no thanks to us.”

“The nursery may be a bit overgrown, but our plants aren’t diseased.”

“I know Dad – the guy was on a big power trip, and he took one look at me and . . . well, look at me!”

Elizabeth stood up and twirled around.

“You look just fine, Beth. You can’t dress like a model and do an honest day’s work.”

“Tell that to Liddie and Kate.”

Mr Bennet grinned. “Have you ever known either of those girls to work?”

“True.” Elizabeth sat back down and began going through the drawers again. “Anyway, Dad, the inspection team’s going to be here most of the week, getting in our way. It’ll be a major pain in the butt.”

“I’ll be digging thuyas all week.”

“Good thinking – they’re not host plants so you won’t be bothered. Check this out.” She handed him the host list. “When you came in I was looking for a copy of the inventory so I could cross-check the list, and mark areas on the nursery map where the host plants can be found.”

“Inventory?” Mr Bennet scratched his head. “I can’t remember the last time we did one. Should be in the old filing cabinet, but it’ll be way out of date.”

“Dad! You can’t run a business like that! That Fitzsnobbiam guy is a big jerk, but he was right when he said this place is a shambles.”

Mr Bennet put on his reading glasses and perused the list. “Print out a copy of our map, Beth. I may not have a written inventory, but I’ve got everything in my head. I’ll mark the areas where any of these plants are. You sit and relax for a bit. They are making a big deal of this now but it’ll pass, and we’ll be able to mosey along quietly like we always have.”

Elizabeth sighed and turned to the computer. She loved her dad dearly but his ‘don’t worry be happy – why do today what can be left for tomorrow?’ attitude was dragging the nursery down and holding the business back. It didn’t help, either, that they were understaffed, or that the staff they did have knew very little about plants. Take Chambe, for example. Her dad was too kind to fire him, but he was more of a liability than anything else. And Mary – who desperately wanted to go off to a cabin in the woods and write the great Canadian novel – when her mind was on task no one could top her energy and drive, but too often she drifted off into daydreams. If their mom had her way the retail garden shop would be filled with kitschy knick knacks and silk flowers, and all Liddie and Katie did during the small amount of time they actually turned up at work was to flirt with the landscapers from Forsters.

For as long as Elizabeth could remember, the busy season had seen an unending stream of unskilled labourers pass in and out of the gates of Glacierview. When she was a teenager her father gave summer jobs to any of her friends who asked. But the low wages and nature of the work didn’t breed commitment on the part of employees. Besides family, the only people who had stayed on the job were Chambe and Charlotte. Elizabeth often asked her dad why he kept Chambe around, considering the quality and volume of his work, and he always responded that as far as he knew no one else would hire the guy, and he couldn’t live with the idea of Chambe having no other option but welfare.

Now Jane had deserted them for flowers and Charlotte had a nice clean job in her father’s real estate office, so two of the people they had been able to count on the most were only available when pressed, in an emergency. Her father had been carrying the brunt of the work for a long time, and it was beginning to show. Elizabeth was glad that she could take over management, something he had little inclination for, but she wanted to be able to relieve him of the heavy physical labour as well.

“Dad, I’m putting an ad in the paper for experienced workers,” she said.

“You do what you think best, Beth. It’s your ball game now.”

“I’m going to offer a considerably higher salary.”

“I’d advise you to check the books and our financial statement before you get too generous.”

“I’ll make up for it by hiring less casual staff.”

“As you can see, we’re already going down that road, and we’re struggling as it is.”

“Yeah, but . . .” She didn’t want to tell him that poor management had led to their financial straits.

Mr Bennet looked up, took his glasses off, and reached out to pat her hand, smiling. “I know, Bethie, I know. I trust you to make the right decisions.” He picked up the map he’d been working on and handed it to her. “It might not be completely accurate, but it’ll do for now.”

She grinned and thanked him. “I’ll make up a bunch of copies for the feds.”

~

Elizabeth drove out into the nursery to look for the inspection team. They weren’t hard to find, dressed as they were in their white disposable coveralls. The two women were with the hotshot supervisor in one of the greenhouses. The third man she spied behind a hedge having a cigarette break. Finally she saw the one she was looking for – Charles. He was in a block of rhodos, not too far from where Jane was weeding. She parked her truck and walked up the aisle, sheaf of papers in hand.

“So, how’s it going?”

Charles straightened and grinned at her. “Sunshine and fresh air – beats being closeted in a stuffy office.”

“Are you finding anything?”

“Well . . . you know how it is.”

“I’m glad you think so, but actually I do have a much better idea now than I did a few hours ago. You can’t really tell anything definite without a lab test.”

“That’s right. We take samples of leaves that are showing symptoms – but there could be any number of other causes for those symptoms that are no threat at all.”

“So I really shouldn’t worry if you spend four days taking samples here.”

“We just like to be thorough, but we do get a lot of flack about the amount of time we take – you know, government workers wasting taxpayers’ money and all that.”

It was exactly what Elizabeth has been thinking so she couldn’t do much more than smile sheepishly. “I’ve brought you some maps of the nursery. My dad marked the spots where you should be able to find most of our host plants.”

“That’s great! Thanks.” Charles reached for the papers, then looked at his latex gloves and removed them before taking the papers.

“Don’t tell me the maps need to be sprayed with disinfectant!”

It was Charles’ turn to look sheepish. “No, it’s fine. I was touching the plants so I have to be careful of potential contamination. Sometimes it’s all a bit confusing.”

“I guess it’s best to be on the safe side.”

“Well after the avian flu fiasco, we can’t be too careful.”

Elizabeth remembered hearing about how the government workers had been a big part of spreading the disease from one chicken farm to another because of poor decontamination procedures. “I’m grateful. And you all look so very stylish in your white suits.”

Charles laughed. “Tell that to Carrie and Lou. You should hear them moan about it.”

Elizabeth was about to walk away and let Charles get back to work when he motioned to her.

“Can you take them their copies of the map? I don’t think I’ll get back to where they are for a while.”

The whole reason Elizabeth has searched out Charles was to avoid talking to his supervisor, but she could hardly refuse his request. She went back to her truck, maps in hand, and felt tension rising through her body. She sat in the drivers’ seat and took a few deep breaths. She couldn’t let the very thought of dealing with him get to her. Why spoil an otherwise beautiful day? It was well on into the afternoon and the sun was shining. Birds were twittering in the hedges, and in the distance the glacier gleamed bright white against a vivid blue sky. She had so many sources of happiness – her family and friends, her love of plants, the beautiful part of the world she lived in – why let one snarky individual ruin her upbeat lookout on life?

She studied her refection in the rear-view mirror. Her hair was sticking out messily from her ponytail and there was a smudge of dirt on one cheekbone. She was about to wipe it away when she reconsidered and laughed. Who cared what he thought of her? The way she looked right now had nothing to do with who she really was, but if he chose to think differently, then it was his loss.

She found Mr Fitzwilliam in greenhouse number two, inspecting the pieris. The two women were still working close to him.

“I’ve brought you maps of the nursery with the location of the host plants,” she announced to no one in particular.

“Oh good!” said one of the women. “Does it say what these plants are? I can’t find a label.”

“Yeah,” said the other. “You really should put more signage up around here. I’ve got bag labels to write and I don’t know which greenhouse I’m in or if these camellias are japonica or sasanqua.”

‘Or if they are even camellias,’ thought Elizabeth.

“They sure are pretty, though,” said the first woman.

“Those are Pieris japonica Mountain Fire,” cut in Mr Fitzwilliam as he approached, his hand reaching out for a map. “I already told you what to write on the label, Carrie.”

“I thought we were looking for camellias,” answered Carrie.

Mr Fitzwilliam groaned.

“I thought it was only camellias at first, too,” said Elizabeth with a slight yokel twang, “but I went on that World Wide Web thingy and there’s enough of them fancy sounding plants on that there list to make your mind boggle.”

“Oh – you mean botanical names? All you small-time growers would do well to use them rather than the common names – it gets much too confusing.”

“I know,” said Elizabeth. “And here I’ve been calling camellias ‘camellias’ all these years.”

“Well they are called camellias,” said the other woman, her expression slightly confused. “Aren’t they?”

“She’s just having Carrie on, Lou,” said Mr Fitzwilliam as he studied his map. He looked up and gave Elizabeth a level stare. “You can drop the act. I met your dad earlier and he told me you have a degree in horticulture from Kwantlen.”

Irrelevantly, she noticed that his eyes were grey, light with a dark circle around the iris. Almost stunning against his tan. “I’m sorry about the lack of labelling – things got a bit out of hand here in the last couple of years. I’ll do what I can to get things labelled properly as quickly as possible.”

“You don’t have to bother,” he replied shortly. “I know my plants.”

“Yes, but your two assistants here don’t appear to. And what about the other guys?”

“They are field people,” Lou answered for Mr Fitzwilliam. “Carrie and I usually only work in the office, so we know names well but when it comes to connecting them with the actual plants, we’re at a loss.”

“Oh, God I wish I was back at my desk,” said Carrie. “My back hurts, this hand sanitizer stinks, and I think I just broke a nail!”

“Trim it with your clippers,” said Elizabeth as she walked away.

Carrie’s voice floated after Elizabeth.

“Who does she think she is?”

~

At the end of the day Elizabeth, Jane, and Charlotte sat on the deck eating burgers and catching the last rays of the sun as it sank behind the glacier. The air was tinged with the mingled scents of barbecue and the osmanthus which was glowing in a large planter near the table.

“Today is It for me,” said Charlotte. “Dad’s stressing about not having me in the office answering his precious phones.”

“You’ve been a Godsend.” Elizabeth glanced over at Jane. “What about you? Flowers calling?”

“I’m going to try and see if I can get off after lunch for the next few days and come help.” She blushed lightly and bit into her burger without looking at either of them.

“How many days? As long as the inspectors are here?” teased Charlotte.

“What’s this all about?” asked Elizabeth.

“Jane was hanging out with that stud from the FHA all day!”

“Fitzsnobbiam?”

“No – not the hot head honcho. Charles Bingley with the piercing blue eyes and goofy smile.”

Jane jumped to his defence. “His smile’s not goofy!”

“See!” giggled Charlotte. “She’s got a crush on him already.”

Elizabeth was still pondering what she’d said before. “You think Fitzsnobbiam is hot?”

“Duh! Did you see him? 6’2”, dark hair, pale blue eyes.”

“They’re grey,” said Elizabeth before she could stop herself.

“So you did notice!”

“Just because a guy has attractive eyes it doesn’t make him nice. He’s an arrogant ba . . .” Elizabeth stopped herself in time with a reminder that she had sworn not to let annoyance spoil her attitude.

“He is serious,” admitted Jane. “Charles says that Darcy always gets like that when he’s on the job, and this SOD thing is potentially very dangerous so he’s even more extreme.”

“Darcy?”

“Jane’s on a first name basis with him already. What did he do to get you so upset?”

“I’m not upset,” said Elizabeth. “But I don’t appreciate being blamed for this whole epidemic. Or being called ignorant”

“Sounds like you two got off on the wrong foot,” said Charlotte. “If I were you I’d try to get on his good side. He’s pretty high up in the FHA.”

“And he’s hot!” giggled Jane. “Even if he was rude.”

“I’m going to do my job, and he can do his,” said Elizabeth. “If he doesn’t like the way I run my business, it’s his problem. Now tell me all about Jane and Charles – that’s much more interesting.”

“I don’t know what you’re paying her, but I don’t think she earned half of it today,” said Charlotte, “the way they were always just standing around and making googly-eyes at each other.”

“We were not! He was explaining about the disease and the sample taking and I was helping him find the variety names of the plants. That’s all there was to it.”

“But you want to work here the next few days to spend more time with him.”

Jane nodded and hung her head, cheeks flaring.

Elizabeth leaned close and gave her a hug. “Go for it. He seems like a really nice guy, and trust me, some of the other guys you’ve fallen for weren’t worth it. Anyway, if it gets you here working for me, I’m all for it.”

Liddie sauntered out onto the deck, still wearing the revealing tank top and shortie shorts she’d chosen to work in. “Did you see me in Forsters’ new truck?”

“How could we miss you?” asked Charlotte. “You were hanging out the window waving at everybody.”

“Dennis says he’ll let me drive it next time! Red trucks are so sexy!”

“You’re not driving it,” said Elizabeth. “You don’t even have a licence.”

“Dad lets me drive the tractors,” pouted Liddie.

“That’s different.”

“You’re no fun at all,” said Liddie. “Hey – did you guys see those people in the dumb white suits? What was that all about? I was like, ‘Hey! Nice outfits!’ And this one cute guy smiled at me but the girls – whoa – they gave me the evil eye. And the tall one he was all, like, whatever. Then when they left I saw them in the parking lot getting changed and the short fat one was all sweaty and gross. Kate says she saw him smoking in the bushes all the time. And Sandy said he thought there was some plant disease and maybe they shouldn’t buy any of our plants yet but I told him that was a load of bull and that if there was a problem with the plants I’d be the first one to know about it. Is there a problem with the plants?”

“There’s no problem with our plants,” said Elizabeth. “They’re just doing routine tests – it’s happening at all the nurseries.”

“Thank the Lord!” cried Liddie, giggling. “I was sure I’d lied to them and all their plants were going to die. That would have been hilarious.”

Elizabeth sighed. The last thing she needed was Liddie spreading rumours about infected plants. Everyone would be bringing back plants they’d killed by over-watering or under-watering and expecting refunds. Regular customers might begin to look elsewhere. She couldn’t stand to lose her landscapers. What she needed was some sort of proof that the nursery was not contaminated so she could reassure anyone who asked. The best thing she could do was get the place looking good and follow all the correct procedures that were outlined in the online sources she’d been researching.

The next thing to do would be to get involved in the camellia recall program. She’d have to talk to Fitzsnobbiam about it, but that was a necessary evil. She sat back, ignoring the rest of Liddie’s jabbering, and concentrated on finishing her burger. She relished every bite as she watched the changing hues of the sky – delicate pinks and lavenders tinted the scattered clouds as the blue deepened and the first pricks of starlight appeared. 

Chapter Three

Rain greeted Elizabeth as she opened her eyes to the morning. She lay in bed and sighed. This was the one thing that she didn’t like about outdoor work. Rain meant cumbersome rain gear, rain hoods that acted like horses’ blinkers, and water dripping down one’s nose and up one’s sleeves. Then she thought about the government inspection team and smiled. They’d be much less used to working in the rain than she, especially those two office girls. Maybe they wouldn’t even come. The break from dealing with them would be worth putting up with any amount of rain.

 Unfortunately, the rain had done nothing to deter the inspectors. When Elizabeth left the office to get into her truck, the FHA van was already in the parking lot and the individual team members were in the process of pulling their disposable coveralls over what passed as rain-suits. As Elizabeth watched them she decided that this was almost better than not seeing them at all.

Carrie and Lou were wearing something floral and trendy, and very, very shiny but not at all serviceable, and complaining about having to cover up with the unstylish coveralls. Charles was struggling to zip up his coveralls over a PVC raincoat and Hurst was swearing as he tried to tuck in a voluminous yellow plastic rain cape. Only Fitzsnobbiam seemed to be having no problem. He’d apparently managed to get extra large disposable coveralls that were sized correctly to fit over his Helly Hansen rain suit – a rain suit that could have been a twin of Elizabeth’s own, only it didn’t have worn cuffs and mud spatters half-way up the legs.

Elizabeth drove off gleefully imagining all the trouble they would have trying to write their precious labels in situations where keeping anything dry was impossible. She decided to wait until they broke for lunch to approach Fitzsnobbiam about the camellia recall program. Her morning was spent writing tags in the comfort of the cab and then running out into the driving rain to stick them into the corners of the beds of each different plant variety. At eleven she was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone.

“Hello?”

It was her mom at the other end, begging her to get over to the retail area to help sort out a major problem she was having with one of her customers.

“I’ll be right there, Mom.” She flipped her phone closed and turned her truck around. She didn’t relish the interruption to her routine or having to deal with a customer that her mother had probably already thoroughly confused.

When she entered the garden shop her mother called out. “Beth, tell this man our policy on returns! I see no reason why we should give him his money back when he killed the plants!”

Elizabeth hurried forward as the man turned towards her.

“I killed them because of the disease! I didn’t want it to spread to the rest of my garden, especially my prize hydrangeas,” he explained as he held up a handful of branches covered in glossy green leaves. Behind him on the counter was a jumbled pile of branches and roots.

“Get him to take his mess away!” said Mrs Bennet. “How can I sell people things with dirt all over the counter?”

“I’ll take care of this, Mom,” said Elizabeth. “Why don’t you move a few things over on the other side there and use that space instead?” ‘Not that there are any other customers in here right now, luckily.’

“Just give me a refund and I’ll be out of your hair for good,” said the man. “I’m not coming back to a place that sells diseased plants.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms and regarded him. “What makes you think those plants are diseased?”

“They’re camellias! Don’t you people know anything? There’s this disease that camellias have that kills oaks and all kinds of other plants. I don’t understand how you can be in business and know nothing about it. And then you have the gall to sell the damn plants without any consideration for the environment. I guess it would suit you if all my plants died because then you’d be able to turn around and sell me a whole bunch more.”

“Sir,” said Elizabeth, “I am fully aware of the disease, <i>Phytothera ramorum</i>, and if you will give me a moment I’ll try to explain it to you to set your mind at rest.”

“This lady knows nothing about it,” he said, pointing to her mother. “You should educate your employees.”

Elizabeth caught the seething glare her mother sent the man behind his back and thought it best to steer him away from her proximity before she exploded.

“We are in the process of getting the facts about the camellia recall program so that we can inform all of our employees as well as our customers.” She went on to explain the details of the disease to him, how only certain plants were at risk, and how the likelihood of the plants they had sold him being diseased was negligible, but that even so, proper procedure had to be followed to be on the safe side. “There is a hotline number you have to call if you’ve bought camellias within the past six months. Then you get scheduled for an inspector to come to your home to take leaf samples and destroy and remove the plants. Afterwards the inspector gives you a coupon that can be used at certain garden centres to replace your plants.”

“So I shouldn’t have brought the plants in here?”

“No, because even though the possibility is minute, they are potentially contaminated and the last thing we need is to have contaminated plants on our premises.”

“So, am I supposed to take them home again and have <i>potentially contaminated</i> plants spreading dangerous spores all over my garden until some inspector comes along to remove them?”

Elizabeth was just about to tell him that was exactly what he should do, when they were suddenly interrupted.

“I think I can help you.”

It was Fitzsnobbiam. Elizabeth had no idea where he had come from or how long he had been standing there, listening to her conversation with the customer. She sucked in her breath and said stiffly, “This is Mr Fitzwilliam, an inspector with the FHA who is handling all the inspections regarding this issue.”

He nodded to her and addressed the man. “Bringing the plants back to the nursery was the wrong thing to do, but now that they are here the best thing is for me to take them from you and dispose of them properly. Just give me a moment to get some equipment from my van.”

“Seems it’s my lucky day.” The man beamed as he watched Mr Fitzwilliam go out the door. “Do these inspectors just drop in all the time like this?”

“They are doing some routine sampling,” said Elizabeth, not wanting the man’s level of concern to escalate again.

“He can give me some of those coupons you told me about, right?”

“I imagine so. If not we’ll be happy to give you a credit for replacement plants.”

Elizabeth watched as Mr Fitzwilliam came back armed with heavy plastic bags, a spray bottle, wipes, and a sheaf of papers. The first thing he did was put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves and then rub his hands with sanitizer. He deftly took leaf samples from the pile of destroyed plants and slipped them into a Ziploc bag. After sanitising his hands once again, he collected all the roots and branches and put them into one of the heavy-duty plastic bags and cinched it closed with a fastener. He sanitised his hands a third time and put the bag into another. Then he took the wipes and swept any remaining dirt from the counter into the bag and tossed the wipes after it. He sprayed the counter with the disinfectant from the spray bottle, wiped it with fresh wipes, and threw them into the bag as well. He followed them with his gloves, sanitized his hands a fourth time, and finally cinched the outer bag closed.

“There,” he said to the man. “I’ll have these samples sent to the lab and take the plants for disposal. I just need a bit of information from you.” He looked over at Elizabeth. “Don’t go yet Miss Bennet. I’d like to speak to you once I’ve finished with this.”

Elizabeth gave a barely perceptible nod and stood in stony silence as Fitzwilliam dealt with the man. She didn’t appreciate the way he’d taken the situation over from her and the way he was now giving her orders. It was her nursery, damn it, and she had everything under control before he’d come and shoved his nose in it. Now what was he going to do? Ream her out for something a customer had done – something she had no control over, and something that wouldn’t have happened if the FHA had done a better job of getting the camellia recall information out to the public? And he expected her to just stand around, wasting her time while he put on the big benevolent environmentalist act with her customer.

“That was very accommodating of you,” she said when the man left and Fitzwilliam rejoined her.

“How could you let something like that happen?” he asked. “Do you know