Free Lethal Dose of Love by Cindy Davis Page A

flowers.
    “Does your sister have children or pets?” Payton asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Then she wouldn’t want this, it’s poisonous,” was all Payton could say before Sylvie’s fingers released it. The plant thunked to the walkway, leaves, soil and beautiful purple flowers shooting in all directions.
    Sylvie pushed past Claire, holding her hands out as though she’d been sprayed with acid. “How dare you―” She ran to the hose and began washing herself.
    Payton followed, trying to explain, but Sylvie cast a venomous glare at both Payton and Claire and sped dripping from the store. They watched open-mouthed as Sylvie raced down the hill to her real estate office.
    “I didn’t mean to shock her like that.” Payton swept up the plant and deposited it in the trash.
    Sylvie had sure been acting weird lately.
    The front door opened and in walked the largest bunch of roses Claire had ever seen. The roses lowered onto the counter. Behind them stood Aden Green. Payton was smiling from one side of her face to the other.
    Not ready to date? Humbug. Claire would bet her next paycheck that Payton and Aden would be an item before the month was out.
    Claire paid for her plants, said bye to Aden and left. If any onlooker had concerns about her injured ankle, they would have been quickly erased. Her pace was as light as a five year old. She not only had her plant, but many other people had purchased it too. Could life get any better than this?
    Claire was actually giggling out loud as she made the trip from car to house with the box of plants. She set the monkshood in the middle of the kitchen table atop the handmade doily in place of the basket of wax fruit. She folded her arms and closed her eyes and drank in the aroma of the silky blue-purple flowers.
    After putting the other plants in their respective places, she took a paper cup from the package in the cabinet over the stove and filled it with water. Was the water supposed to be hot or cold? Or room temperature? Claire knelt on the immaculate floor and retrieved the book from under the sink. Settling back on her heels, she turned to the page describing the aconitum napellus. It didn’t specify water temperature. Claire put the book back in its hiding place, and stood up, ignoring the twinge in her ankle. Maybe too-hot water destroyed the poisonous properties. And maybe too-cold water would do the same thing. To be on the safe side, she’d use it just out of the tap.
    Claire filled the cup to a half-inch of the top. Then, with shears from the utensil drawer, snipped off two leaves like the book instructed. But, this was a baby plant, the leaves smaller than the ones in the picture. The directions hadn’t specified mature leaves. Were two of this size enough? Why couldn’t this be like the cookbooks and be specific? A tablespoon of this, a half cup of that; amounts that left a person knowing where she stood.
    Claire lopped off two more leaves, taking them from different spots on the stalk so the stubs would be less noticeable. The snipped areas bubbled with white sap that stood out like acne on a teenager. She dropped the leaves into the cup of water. She placed the cup on the windowsill to “brew” beside the Mexican planter. As an afterthought, Claire put the book on poisonous plants into her satchel. Perhaps she’d have time to look at it again, to learn something more about the plant.
    Claire washed the scissors with the hottest water, using an old toothbrush to scrub the joints, dried the shears with a sheet of paper towel and put them away. She crossed her arms and eyed the paper cup, sitting like a toddler that was soon to erupt into the vilest of tantrums.
    She decided to walk the quarter mile to the library. It was a beautiful day, the air was fresh and clean and she felt great. Claire buttoned her jacket and inhaled deeply. Someone had just mown their lawn.
    Claire heaved her satchel on the counter and made a beeline for the phone. Edward answered on the second