Digging Up The Dirt

Dickce gave her a sweet smile. “I’ve been talking to Arliss McGonigal, and you’ll never guess what she told me.” She paused to make sure she had her sister’s complete attention.

“If you don’t get on with it,” An’gel said, “I’m going back to work on this bed.” She brandished the trowel. “I have four more azaleas to plant here.”

“Hadley Partridge is back in town.” Dickce watched her sister’s face with avid interest.

“That’s not much of a surprise,” An’gel replied, her tone cool and her expression unchanged. “Hamish died three weeks ago, and he had no other family besides his baby brother. Hadley’s probably here to oversee the sale of Ashton Hall.”

Dickce had felt sure that news of an old beau’s return would rattle her sister at least a tiny bit, but An’gel remained as infuriatingly unflappable as ever.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Dickce had another round of ammunition to use. “Word is, Hadley has come home to Athena for good. He’s going to restore Ashton Hall and the gardens. In fact, he’s planning to be at the garden club board meeting this very afternoon.”

Whatever reply An’gel might have made to that news went unsaid, though Dickce did have the satisfaction of seeing a brief smile from her sister.

A reddish-brown streak on four legs zipped through the space between the sisters. Hot on the cat Endora’s trail came Peanut the Labradoodle. Endora came to a sudden halt about six feet away from where An’gel knelt, turned, and hissed at the dog. Peanut skidded to a stop an inch out of reach of Endora’s swinging paw. Cat and dog stared at each other a moment, then Endora was off again with Peanut right behind.

“They’ve already been around the house at least four times.” An’gel shook her head. “Where they find the energy, I have no idea.”

“They’re children, comparatively speaking.” Dickce laughed. “Not old women like us.” On a beautiful day like this, however, Dickce felt younger than her eighty years. An’gel, four years older, made as few concessions to the passage of time as possible, Dickce knew. That included ignoring overt references to her age.

An’gel turned back to the azalea she was about to transplant. “Hadley will be welcome at the garden club. Forty years ago he was one of our most active members.”

“And the only man.” Dickce chuckled. “I bet he’ll be surprised to see his old harem gather around him.”

An’gel snorted. “What a silly word. Harem. You have a salacious mind sometimes, Sister.”

Nettled slightly by An’gel’s tone, Dickce snapped back. “Forty years ago you had one, too, Sister. I seem to recall you were pretty interested in Hadley yourself back then, despite the age difference.”

An’gel’s shoulders stiffened for a moment. She turned to glare up at Dickce. “Your imagination always did run wild. I seem to recall that you were the one who used to hang on Hadley’s every word.” She sniffed and turned back to her azalea. “Besides, you’re older than he is, too.”

“Only by five years,” Dickce retorted. Then she couldn’t help herself. She started laughing. She and An’gel sounded like teenagers squabbling over a boy.

An’gel continued to glare for a moment, then she, too, began to laugh.

When the merriment ceased, Dickce said, “Hadley was always too darn gorgeous for his own good.”

“And everyone else’s,” An’gel said in a wry tone. “He’s about seventy-five now, and he’s probably lost all his looks. He liked the high life too much even then. Bound to be well past his glory days.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out this afternoon.” Dickce turned to head into the house but had to pause to let Endora and Peanut whiz by again. “Surely they’ll get tired of that before long. See you at lunch, Sister.” She walked away, and An’gel finished moving the azalea to its new home.

Dickce hit the brakes, and the Lexus skidded into a spot between a newish-looking BMW and a ragged-looking, elderly Jaguar. Dickce put the car in park and shut off the engine with a sly smile at her sister.

“Your driving is getting worse.” An’gel unbuckled her seat belt, her hand a bit shaky.

“You said you didn’t want to be late,” Dickce retorted. She pointed to the digital clock on the dash. “We’re actually ten minutes early.”

“The way you drove, we could have been extremely late,” An’gel said as she stepped out of the car. “As in dead.”

Dickce ignored that little sally. “I don’t recognize the BMW. Do you suppose that’s Hadley’s car?”

“Either that, or Reba’s bought Martin a new car.” An’gel shook her head. “The way she spends money on her son, they must be printing it in the attic.”

“Maybe Martin has a job we don’t know about.” Dickce grinned as she followed An’gel up the brick walk to the two-story colonial-style house that belonged to Barbie Gross, current president of the Athena Garden Club.

“If he has, it will be the first one in twenty years.” An’gel stepped onto the small porch and rang the bell. “He seems allergic to work.”