Bypassing the Vintages section where I shopped during my marriage, I checked out the Ontario reds and chose a Niagara merlot that cost twelve-ninety-five. A slight splurge, but well-deserved. Next, I bought a copy of the Lockport Sentinel.
Now, I had wine to drink and something to read while eating the canned beans. Or maybe I’d have the stew, or even the Chef Boyardee. With a can opener and a microwave, any option was possible.
The wind had picked up during the day so the short drive to Glory’s was even less pleasurable than the morning’s run. The skirt ballooned and flapped, but at least my road rash got a good airing.
Pan answered my ring, but instead of inviting me in, he stepped out and closed the door quietly. He looked at my outfit, started to say something, then shook his head slightly.
“We’ll go to the greenhouse this way. You don’t want to risk running into Miss Glory today. She’s in a very bad mood.”
“How can you tell? Any special problem or just the usual princess syndrome?”
We had left the ladder in place beside the Titan Arum the night before and Pan climbed to the top with the tape measure. I held the end of the tape to the dirt.
He called down a number to me and I wrote it down. The spadix had shot up several more inches overnight.
Pan said, “Glory’s still in a rage about Dougal. She must seriously want this pollination to work. It’s hard to understand why. This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Who’d want more of them?”
“It’s not pretty,” I agreed, “but apparently it’s rare, and pollination is difficult, so maybe the seeds are valuable. Or, since neither Glory nor Dougal need money, maybe they hope to publish in the Botanical Geographic.”
Pan snickered. “More like Botanical Playgirl. It looks like a big—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
We decided not to try and measure the circumference of the spathe, lest we cause the structural collapse Dougal was so concerned about. Neither of us wanted to be responsible for that.
I took pictures, with Pan again censoring them. I stole a glance at the pot plants while he arrowed through the shots. Glory’s marijuana was thriving, seeming to match the Titan Arum in growth ratio. Maybe they were companion plants like onions and marigolds.
Before I left, I glanced into the spathe, feeling as wicked as a maiden peeking up a piper’s kilt. “Hey,” I called to Pan. “Look at this. I think there are flowers forming down there.”
He took a polite glance. “Yeah, great, we’re moving right along. Here’s your camera.”
I aimed the camera into the spathe and took a few more shots, hoping Dougal would be able to figure out if anything was happening that might speed up the pollination process. The sooner I was done with this pot palace, the better.
When I arrived at Dougal’s, he jerked the camera from my fingers and demanded to know the height of the spadix. He thumbed through the pictures and, in my opinion, got unreasonably excited about the last shots I had taken of the spathe’s interior.
“This proves it,” he said, heading off down the hall toward his solarium. He put his hands on either side of the concrete planter and stuck his head into the spathe.
“Yes, Glory’s Titan will blossom before mine, possibly only a few hours, certainly not more than a day. Perfect.”
“Perfect,” I repeated, with my back to his marijuana plants.
Reminded I was there, Dougal rounded on me. “You didn’t touch Glory’s Titan, did you?”
“Of course not. We didn’t even measure the spathe.”
“Now listen, Bliss. Tomorrow, don’t measure the spadix either. I don’t need any more measurements, I just need confirmation there are no signs of collapse, so take lots of close-ups.”
“I got it, but …”
He looked directly at me for the first time. “What the hell kind of outfit are you wearing? You look like you should be ploughing the fields hitched to a horse. You’re really letting yourself go, Bliss. I hope you don’t tell anyone we’re related.”
“Everyone knows we’re related, moron. And I’m the one they feel sorry for.”
I led the way to his kitchen and began telling him about my day, including the face-off with Andrea. All he heard was I borrowed a skirt from his closet.
“That was you in my bathroom? I should have known. There were wet bath towels and sweat pants on the floor. And what gives you the right to waltz into my closet and help yourself?”
“Who did you think was in your bathroom, you idiot? I needed something to wear and figured Melanie might have left something I could borrow.”
“What makes you think it’s Melanie’s skirt? You’re jumping to conclusions, Bliss, and I’d thank you to stop making accusations about my therapist.”
“Have it your way. If it isn’t Melanie’s skirt, you must be a secret cross-dresser. I found a bra in there, too, right beside your pile of Speedo bathing trunks.”
By this time, I had removed a foil-covered casserole dish from his fridge as well as a large chunk of chocolate cake. I got a plastic grocery bag from under the sink and piled the food inside, adding half a flaxseed loaf from the bread box.
“I forgot to mention, Bliss,” Dougal said, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t going to talk further about Melanie or bras. “You’ll need to go to Glory’s twice tomorrow and from now on until we pollinate. I’ll need pictures and first-hand reports.”
“Come on, Dougal, when am I supposed to find time to do that? I’ll go right after work, like today. Isn’t that good enough?”
“We’re getting close now. You’ll have to stand by and be ready to pick up the pollen at Glory’s as soon as her Titan blossoms. There’s only a small window where the pollen is viable, so you’ll have to drop whatever you’re doing as soon as I call you. Meanwhile, get me pictures before and after work.”
“Swell. Pollinating two freaks of nature is taking up more time than I expected. I better get that money.”
“Stay on track and it will happen, darling Bliss. Insulting such beautiful specimens is beneath you. Now, are you ready to leave? Can you fit any more food in there or should I get you another bag?”
He tried to propel me out of the kitchen, but I stood firm and said, “Listen, I need to tell you something else that happened last night after I dropped you off.” I related the incident with Rae and the tall goon who had pushed me roughly to the ground.
“So, can I stay here tonight? Just until things get back to normal at the trailer park?” Prostitution and whatever Quigley was up to, maybe running a meth lab, were normal at Hemp Hollow, but the guy with the snake’s head belt buckle, and Rae’s attacker, were not.
“No, you can’t. Sorry. I’m having company any minute, none of your business who. And you need to get out of that trailer, Bliss. It’s dangerous. Too bad you don’t have any friends you can stay with.”
“Wait,” I struggled to free my arm. “My laundry. I put it in the washer this morning.”
“And I put it in the dryer for you myself. That’s the kind of cousin I am. You can pick it up tomorrow, but I’m afraid those sheets have had it. They’re full of holes and your underwear is a disgrace. You better get some new ones, Bliss, or the next time you bend over you’re going to moon somebody.”
He looked at me accusingly. “Mrs. Boudreau had to put my laundry through twice, it smelled so skunky. And she helped me haul the couch out to the garage. She says there’s nothing that will take the odour out, so now I have to buy a new one. Do you know how much that will cost?”
In the hall, I nearly