Anxiety didn’t erase curiosity, so she pulled the ribbon, ripped the paper. And had to smile when she opened the box to a book-shaped charm on a chain with its flowing script quote.

“‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’”

Holding it up so it dangled in the light, she looked at him. “I’m five-seven. That’s not so little.”

“Comparatively. And God knows the ‘fierce’ works.”

“Well, I love it, so you don’t get to keep it for yourself.” She slipped the chain over her head. “Now I might start milking every bump and scrape I get on the job to see what I can get out of it.”

He didn’t smile. “This was personal.”

“Okay. Why don’t we sit outside and drink this fancy wine, and you can tell me why you left here angry and upset, and came back in a damn good mood.”

“We’ll do that, get it done. Then I’m going to fire up that grill while you do something with these flowers.”

He sat out with her, dived right in because he wanted this part of their evening opened and closed. “You know I talked to Britt this morning, then I went to talk to Emily—and I’m going to round back to that. Then I drove into Asheville to see Graham.”

“I figured you would.”

“He looks like he did ten rounds with the champ, which he did. Pair of black eyes, broken nose. They wired his jaw. Can’t say I saw his balls, but I’m told they’re busted up pretty good. Don’t look distressed. Don’t.”

“I’ve never hit anybody, hurt anybody like that. It’s different in training. Even that time with Trent, it wasn’t like this.”

Zane reached over, tugged down the shoulder of her T-shirt to expose the bruising. “Do you think he’d have stopped there?”

“No. I know I did what I had to do.”

“Lee let me sit in while he interviewed him in the hospital. They tracked down his motel room, found his car. There’s evidence, plenty of it, on what he planned to do. And eventually, like I knew he would, he couldn’t stand me being in there. Couldn’t stand me just sitting there, looking at him, and all that hate, that rage, took over.”

He told her, not softening any of it, just cutting through to the meat.

“He confessed.” Shocked, appalled, Darby gripped her hands together under the table. “To killing his wife, to coming here to try to kill you.”

“I want to say he changed since I saw him last, but it’s not really true.” He picked up the ball, studied it, turned it in his hand. “I think prison and life after it stripped away the veneer. He isn’t able to polish himself up, to hide behind that layer now. What he is, it’s just there.”

It helped to sit here with her, smelling flowers, feeling the air while he emptied himself of the day.

He set the ball down again.

“Lee got the preliminary report on Eliza about an hour ago. Graham had the cause of death right. Subdural hematoma, resulting from the blow to the head. She had fresh bruises, old bruises. I expect they’ll plead it down to man one before it’s finished.”

“But—”

Zane waved a finger. “Due to the circumstances, the pattern, the evidence, he’ll get twenty years for it. Add in the aggravated assault and battery on you, breaking probation, and so on, his past history with violence, he won’t get out again. He’ll die in prison.”

Pausing, he looked out at what was his, what she’d made of his, the blooming where he’d never have thought to put it, the young trees, the pots spilling with color.

“I never confronted him after that night. I was the one in the hospital then, in cuffs then. After, I testified in court, but I didn’t confront him face-to-face. I did that today, for myself. For Britt and Emily. For my grandparents. For you.

“And I realized, when I walked away, that it’s over—and it hadn’t been, because I had it buried inside me all this time. Now I don’t. I ripped it out, like … a poisonous plant, root and all. It’s gone.”

“It took courage to do what you did.”

“He couldn’t touch me.”

“Not physically. Emotional wounds run deeper, we both know it. It took courage, and smarts. Serious smarts there, Walker. You knew just what to do to push him. I bet you were a hell of a prosecutor.”

“I wasn’t bad.” He flashed a grin. “Not bad at all. Now let’s round back, end this on a high note. Emily’s going to be fine. It’s rough on her, and my grandparents, but we’ll get through it. Britt, too, because they’re all—we’re all—going to be focused on something good and positive. Britt’s pregnant.”

“She’s— That’s great!” With a quick chair dance, Darby lifted her glass, tapped it to his. “The best of the best kind of news. When’s she due?”

“I don’t know. It’s really new. She wasn’t going to announce it yet, then figured she would. She’s good at knowing how to balance things out.”

“I’ll say. You should’ve taken her flowers.”

“You’re right. I’ll do it tomorrow. You can deal with yours, get your shower, ice your shoulder. I’ll deal with dinner. And we’ll get seriously buzzed on champagne.”

“I can get behind that plan.” She reached over for his hand. “The day may have started on a really shitty note, but we’re going to end it happy, well-fed, and a little bit drunk.”

* * *

While her bruises healed, Darby talked to the Asheville police, the prosecutor, dealt with reporters from the Lakeview Weekly to reporters from Asheville, from Raleigh, and from the Associated Press.

The original case against Dr. and Mrs. Graham Bigelow had generated considerable media at the time. The current one dredged all of that up while layering on the new.

She knew Zane dealt with reporters, too, just as she knew both of them breathed a sigh of relief when the news cycle switched to some other scandal.

As June wound down toward July, she finished up work at Zane’s, squeezed in the stonework between guests at Emily’s last bungalow, started the Marsh job on the lake.

With the help of her crew, and the surprise that Zane knew his way around a nail gun, she had her equipment shed under roof, and a sweet little garden shed completed and stocked, and the skeleton of her greenhouse erected.

Maybe she’d neglected the interior of the house for now, but she built her business, client by client.

She worked with two of those clients on a pretty Saturday afternoon while their little boy took a nap in the shade.

“When you deadhead?” She demonstrated to both Charlene and Joe. “You not only tidy up the plant or bush, you encourage new blooms. And your herbs there? You want to pinch off the flowers.”

“Oh, but they’re pretty,” Charlene objected.

“But the plant’s energy’s going to the flower instead of the vegetation, and once they flower, your leaves can get bitter. You also want to pinch back the plant to encourage it to fill out. Look here at the branch point, now count up a couple leaves, pinch off the stem. You’re going to use that in something you cook, and your basil’s going to be stimulated at the same time. It’s going to grow back even better.”