It seemed like such a mother/daughter thing to be doing. So sweet. So wholesome. So—well, so Great American Family.
She’d better take notes. It wouldn’t do to forget what she was really there for.
“I’ll just run and get my notebook and tape recorder out of the car.”
“Don’t be silly, dear, they don’t chew loud enough to record,” Kate said sweetly before she sailed out the back door.
Chew? “What did she mean chew?” Hannah asked Danny.
“You’re the intrepid researcher, professor. Shouldn’t you find out for yourself?”
Hannah opened her mouth to take the bait then thought better of it. Ignoring him, she left the kitchen and headed out to the station wagon for her things. When she came back through the kitchen with her notebook and recorder, Danny was, thankfully, gone.
Out in the backyard Hannah could hear Kate humming in the greenhouse as she made her way down the little brick walk lined with shrub roses that were just starting to bud. The song of birds and the scent of lilacs filled the air. This, thought Hannah with satisfaction, was just as it was supposed to be. Perfectly normal. Even better, it was perfectly perfect.
The greenhouse had a peaked roof and one of those doors that were cut in half like in the pictures you see of old country cottages. The upper half was open. Kate, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, was inside talking sweetly to her plants, holding one up in a hand that was covered by a cotton gardening glove sprinkled with tiny pink roses. In her other hand, she held a jar of—Hannah squinted and leaned in over the bottom half of the door for a better look. It couldn’t be—
But it was. Kate, looking like something on a Mother’s Day greeting card, was holding a glass jar of dead flies.
“There you are, dear,” she trilled when she saw Hannah. “Come in and meet my babies.”
Hannah sincerely hoped she wasn’t talking about the flies. She pushed open the half door and went inside.
Long wooden tables on either side of the room were filled with the strangest-looking plants Hannah had ever seen. She reached out to touch the fringed leaf of one and Kate said, “Oh, no, dear. Mustn’t touch. It makes them think you’re giving them something to eat and they could never digest anything as big as your finger.”
Hannah quickly pulled her finger back. “Excuse me?”
“Why, that’s a Dionaea, dear. My favorite one, in fact. I call her Dee Dee Dionaea. She’s highly carnivorous, you know.”
Hannah gulped. “Carnivorous?”
“Why, yes. All my little babies are meat eaters. You probably know Dionaea as Venus flytrap. Those colorful ones over there are Byblis and those,” she pointed with pride at a squat plant that looked like a specimen from outer space, “those are Australian Pitcher Plants. They drown their prey before digesting them.”
Hannah looked from the weird flora to the jar of dead bugs in Kate Walker’s dainty, rosebud-covered hand. For a second she thought she was going to lose her popovers. “And you feed them—”
“Flies, my dear. The neighbors have one of those bug zappers so I just go over there every few days and sweep them up from the patio.” Kate looked around as if to make sure no one was listening, then she leaned closer to Hannah and lowered her voice. “They have a dog over there—one of those silly standard poodles—so there’s always a lot of flies available. If you know what I mean.”
Hannah knew exactly what she meant. Suddenly the greenhouse seemed awfully warm, the scent of damp rich earth nearly overpowering.
“Of course, they also eat live insects,” Kate was saying. “In fact, they prefer them. Perhaps you’d like to take one up to your room while you’re here, dear? Just to make sure you’re not bothered by flies.”
The idea of trying to sleep with Dee Dee on the bedside table slowly munching moths or whatever other creatures flew by night was enough to bring on nightmares.
“Um—no, I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” Hannah started backing toward the door. “Um, I think perhaps I’ll take a walk around town and sort of get my bearings.”
Kate looked concerned. “Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m—uh—fine.” Hannah pressed a hand to her stomach. “Just ate too much at lunch, I expect.”
“Oh, then perhaps a walk—”
Hannah didn’t wait to hear the rest.
Outside again the air was cooler. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and her popovers settled back down.
Terrific, she thought as she crossed the back porch and went into the house. Just terrific. Meat-eating plants. Not exactly normal. Okay, so maybe it was her fault for expecting nothing more exotic than an orchid or two. Obviously, there should have been a follow-up question on the entry forms. Do you garden—followed by just what the heck grows in your garden? Or even better yet, does your plant’s lunch have wings?
“Pollard isn’t going to like this,” she muttered to herself as she went through the kitchen. Maybe she could just cross the greenhouse off the list of possible sites for photo shoots. In fact, it might be better to keep the subject of gardening out of the picture entirely. “Calm down,” she told herself as she went through the lovely dining room and the inviting living room. So there was one little thing that didn’t quite fit the perfect picture. She’d just have to find a way around it, she thought as she opened the front door. Danny Walker was standing on the other side of it.
“Feeding time over already?” he asked.
Okay, thought Hannah with a groan, make that two little things that didn’t fit.
“Would you please remove yourself from the doorway so I can pass?”
“What’s the matter, professor? Did your data promise you a rose garden?”
“Very clever, Mr. Walker. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going for a walk.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, you won’t,” she said curtly and started to step around him.
He put out his arm and braced it on the doorframe next to her, blocking her way. “But, professor, aren’t you afraid you’ll get lost again?”
This close to him, getting lost wasn’t what she was afraid of at all. More like afraid her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. She thrust her chin up defiantly. “I think I can manage.”
He lifted a hand and reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, then he leaned in close, so close she could feel the heat coming off his skin. So close she could smell him. Sawdust and sunshine. Her pulse shot up at least another half dozen beats when he whispered, “But I know secret places in this town that no one else knows about.”
She didn’t doubt it for a moment. Already he’d found a highly erogenous zone in her ear that she hadn’t even known existed. Enough, she told herself. You’re a scientist, not a pushover for a cocky slice of beefcake. She stepped back from him and folded
