the Cascades.
“The trees have the right idea,” Fay said. “They don’t get old.”
He didn’t respond. He let her words float in the air.
She’s so accustomed to walking here by herself. She may have forgotten that I’m here.
“They live a lifetime every year. Dying every winter. But there’s always another spring. Another chance to be young. Hundreds of chances.”
She turned and looked at him.
He wasn’t ready to agree or disagree. Not yet.
He smiled at her: a neutral, passive smile.
Now she was sorry she had shared her thoughts with him. Her dark brown eyes reminded him of the deers’ eyes: alert, always anticipating flight.
She turned away.
They walked back in silence.
The next day, Lucas went to talk to Henry Smythe. When he entered the main building, a stocky black man was behind the counter speaking on the telephone, adding up a nearby customer’s bill, using sign language to tell a young man in coveralls how to line up flowerpots in a display, and smiling a greeting to Lucas.
The first three tasks completed, the man looked at Lucas and asked, “Can I help you?”
“From what I’ve heard, you must be Leo Sage.”
The man nodded and smiled slyly. “Now, how in the world did you know that?”
Lucas returned the same kind of smile. “Fay Geneen said you were in charge of everything at the nursery.”
Leo laughed. “What can I do for you?”
“My name is Lucas Murdoch. I’m here to see Henry Smythe about a job.”
“Yeah. Henry told me you’d be in. He’s not here right now, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. But hiring and firing is my responsibility.”
“It figures.”
“Why don’t we go to the office and talk.” He called to the young man who was eyeing the display of flowerpots with pride, “Tom! Take over the counter. I’ll be back in a little while.”
Lucas followed Leo down a corridor to an airy, high-ceilinged room. Sunlight poured through three huge windows that looked out on several greenhouses, racks of well-watered flowering plants in clusters of purple, yellow, white and pink, and rows of saplings thrusting out of burlap-wrapped globes of earth.
Leo sat down behind a large, oak work table and motioned for Lucas to sit across from him.
“Coffee?” he asked.
“No, thanks.”
Leo looked out the window for a moment. Lucas studied his face. It was a strong face, broad-boned and confident. His hair was sprinkled with gray. But his eyes didn’t tell you anything.
“I’m not sure you’ll really be interested in this job.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t pay much. It’s part-time, afternoons and half a day on Saturday. And it’s really just grunt work.”
“Sounds like the ideal job for me.”
Leo watched him for a moment.
He’s looking for signals. He’s used to looking for signals. And he’s used to hiding his own.
“I’m retired. I’ve got a pension. This isn’t a second career. Just a way to make a few extra dollars.”
“Henry told me about you. He says that you’re living at Fay’s place.”
“She’s the one who told me about the job.”
“You plan to stay in Pennington for a while?”
“Maybe for good.”
“Really?”
He’s not comfortable with me.
“Why not? I grew up in a small town. And you’re living here, aren’t you? Fay said you’re from Chicago. If you can be happy here, why can’t I?”
“How do you know I’m happy?”
He’s probing.
“I don’t. But I think I can be.”
Leo looked out the window again, then back at Lucas.
“You’d be doing the kind of things Tom does—that kid you saw setting up the flowerpots: stocking shelves, watering plants, loading customers’ cars, cleaning up, and whatever else I can think of. I’ll give you five dollars an hour. You work every weekday afternoon from one o’clock to five. Every other Saturday morning, from eight to noon. And it won’t start for another week—a week from next Monday.”
“Sounds fine. By the way, I don’t know anything about flowers.”
“Don’t worry, you won’t be giving anyone gardening tips. You can leave that to me. And we’ll try to educate you as we go along.”
Leo stood up and extended his hand.
A friendly gesture, but he still isn’t comfortable with me. Good.
Lucas shook his hand.
“I’ll see you in a week,” Leo said. “The first day you come in, you can fill out your tax forms and any other paperwork.”
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”
“See you then.”
3
Memory Lane
That evening Joey knocked on Lucas’s door and asked him for a favor.
“What do you need?”
“I made this date for tomorrow night. With a girl I met at a place I hang out in. In Fulton.”
Joey was leaning against the door frame. He seemed uneasy.
“You can come in if you like.”
“That’s okay. Anyway, this girl said she would meet me on Saturday night—if I got a date for her friend. I guess she thinks she’s safer on a double.”
He added, with obvious pride, “I got a reputation.”
Lucas smiled.
“My friend Stan said he would go. He works with me. But he told me today he couldn’t make it. And I’ve got to show up with a date for her friend or I’m up shit’s creek.”
“You want me to go with you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m a little old for that sort of thing.”
“It’s not a big deal. All you’ve got to do is talk to the other girl. Dance with her a few times, if you feel like it. You and I won’t be leaving together: I’m sure of that.”
“I guess you deserve your reputation, huh?”
Joey basked in the thought: “I guess I do.”
“How old are these girls?”
“Well, they’re not teenagers. Shit, no. Early thirties. How about it?”
Lucas said, “Yes,” but he wasn’t sure why.
I suppose I can learn more about Joey. But there isn’t really much to know about him. Do I just want a night out?
“Thanks,” Joey said. “I appreciate it.”
He turned away, then back. “You better take your own car, right?”
“Right.”
On Saturday night, following Joey’s shiny