Free A Deadly Bouquet by Janis Harrison

glimpse of him in the garden. Muttering under my breath, I left the bedroom and hurried down the back staircase.
    He saw me as soon as I’d opened the terrace doors and stepped out onto the paving stones. His chin rose defiantly, but he kept sawing at an old apple tree we’d said needed removing. The chain saw’s engine dipped and rose in pitch as the blade bit into the decaying wood.
    From the terrace the main focal point of the garden was a concrete water lily pool. The water was long gone, but a crusty scum fringed the cement walls like a lace collar. I walked closer, but stayed well away from where Eddie worked. Four brick paths led to separate areas of the garden. The house was at my back—to the north. The east path ended in what had once been a formal setting with statuary, stone benches, and an abundance of perennial plantings. The west edge of the property was covered with dense-foliaged trees. Nothing much grew under them except ferns, astilbe, lily of the valley, and a few stubborn bleeding heart plants.
    The section of the garden that set my creative juices flowing was where Eddie was working at clearing away the apple trees. Oliver had taken me beyond the rotting orchard to show me how the land gently sloped to a creek. We hadn’t walked very far because of his heart problem, but through his eyes, I’d seen the possibilities. Before I’d talked to Oliver, the garden had looked like a mass of rampant-growing vegetation that could only be tamed by an experienced hand. Hearing the way Eddie gunned the chain saw, I wondered how knowledgeable his hands would be without Oliver to guide him.
    The area below the terrace needed more brawn than brains to give it order. Rambling roses had grown unchecked for years. The thorny branches had caught weeds in a stranglehold, binding them together seamlessly like a woven cloth. Mingled among the dried thatch was a new growth of plants trying to make headway. It was in this area that I’d depended on Oliver for guidance.
    I looked back at Eddie. He was bent over his task, ignoring me. As I watched, the final cut was made, and the tree crashed to the ground, reduced to a heap of brittle branches. Eddie hit the choke, and the chain saw spluttered and died.
    Before I could say “Good morning,” he spoke. “If you don’t want me here just say so, but I can’t stay at home. Everyone is bringing food to the house.” He grimaced. “As if a casserole is going to make Dad’s passing any easier.”
    â€œPeople want to show their support. Taking food to a bereaved family is a gesture of love and respect.”
    He kicked the pile of wood. “I know it, but I don’t have to like it. I need to work.”
    â€œFine, but at some point you’re going to have to deal with Oliver’s death and the people affected by it.”
    Eddie’s handsome jaw squared, and his blue eyes narrowed. “I don’t need any lectures. I’ve already had my quota from my wife. Molly says I should be honored that Dad was so well liked.” He grabbed a pitchfork and stacked the broken limbs. “This wood is too rotten to burn in your fireplace. The branches will have to be hauled off. Just another mindless job for me. I told Dad we should hire more people, expand our business. But he wanted to keep it in the family—a mom-and-pop operation. Mom is gone, and now Dad. Surprise. Surprise. Guess who’s left?”
    Eddie’s attitude wasn’t a good sign. Hurt or even anger would have been healthier. I didn’t want Eddie to be bitter at Oliver’s memory or his shortcomings. “Your father did what was right for him. Now you can do what you want.”
    â€œOh, sure, like I have the capital to make major changes. Dad didn’t have a business sense. When Mom was alive, she kept the books. She bid the jobs because Dad charged what he thought the customer could afford, not what the work was