Time of the Season ~ Section I

By Sofie

Beginning, Next Section

Chapter One

Posted on Saturday, 16 June 2007

Elizabeth stood on the deck and looked out, beyond the nursery, across the flats, to the sloping hills, all treed and dotted with houses. Rising in the distance were the mountains. The focus of her vision was on the two peaks that cradled a saddle of ice and snow. The Comox glacier. She laughed at herself for acting like a tourist, gazing at the glacier, but oh, how she'd missed the view. It was clear and bright, and being home was heaven, but at 7:00 a.m. in mid-April it was still chilly out. She pulled her sweater tightly around herself as she shivered, and took five more minutes to stand and stare before going in for breakfast.

“Liddie you're wearing my top! Mom make her take it off.”

“It goes with my earrings and you weren't going to wear it today anyhow.” Liddie tossed her hair back to show off the dangly pink creations as she opened the fridge and grabbed a yoghurt.

“Very pretty,” said Mrs Bennet appreciatively, glancing up from her magazine. “Do you believe it? Britney and what's-his-name have split up.”

Katie stared up at the ceiling and groaned.

Mary, who was sitting quietly at the table eating muesli, looked over to Elizabeth and said, “Aren't you glad to be home?”

Elizabeth laughed. “I think I'll move in with Jane. I'd forgotten what mornings were like here.”

“Mornings, afternoons, evenings - it's all the same. The only way dad survives is by hiding in his office with an unending supply of coffee.”

It sounded like a good idea to Elizabeth too. She grabbed a banana and headed out the door, followed by Liddie's screams that Katie had to drive her to school, no matter whose top she was wearing, and their mom's recounting of some Hollywood scandal

“Hey there, Dad.” Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him on the forehead on her way to his coffee maker. She busied herself with pouring the coffee and adding cream and sugar, then turned back to her father.

He was looking up at her with an uncharacteristically troubled expression. “Did you hear about this Sudden Oak Death scare while you were at Kwantlen?”

“A bit. One of the instructors seems very involved in some program that's being implemented, but I don't know much about it. To tell you the truth, I was more concerned with graduating.”

“There's a recall of all camellias sold in BC since last fall - look.” He indicated his computer screen. “I don't understand how they expect to manage that.”

Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee and then set it down on his desk. Leaning over his shoulder, she began to read. “Infected camellias shipped from Belgravia Nursery in Oregon. We don't buy from them, do we?”

“No, but I did get some plants in from Hamilton's the other day and they buy a lot of stock from both Oregon and California where the disease seems to have originated.”

“So, we could potentially have diseased plants?”

“Potentially,” he affirmed. “The Federal Horticulture Agency is going to be throwing their power around slapping quarantines on nurseries left and right, and destroying entire blocks of plants without any thought to how small growers will survive.”

Picking up her coffee, Elizabeth walked over to the window and surveyed their nursery. The ten acres under production were laid out before her. The parking lot for the retail garden shop was just beyond the hedge that divided the house and garden from the family business. Behind the half acre of retail area were the potting shed, propagation house, greenhouses and shade houses. Further back was block upon block of container beds, and further still the field stock: an assortment of trees and then unending rows of hedging cedars.

What she had remembered as an orderly, well-maintained enterprise now looked disorganised and, in some areas, weed choked. Even from her distant vantage point she could see that the deer fence had come down in more than one place. Was it simply that over the past few years while she'd been on the mainland getting her horticulture degree at Kwantlen College, that she had carried a rose-coloured image of the nursery with her, or had things slipped that badly in her absence?

As she stared out the window the phone rang and her dad took the call. Elizabeth didn't let it distract her. She was planning out her morning in her head, swiftly coming to the conclusion that a thorough walk through of the entire nursery was in order, rather than the quick drive around she had earlier intended. Gone was the picture of herself spending most of her time on the propagation of less commonly cultivated species. It was a good thing that her field of study had put a great deal of emphasis on business practices as well. She just hoped she wouldn't find herself stuck doing a lot of the grunt work.

“That was the FHA.”

The ominous tone to her father's voice cut through her ruminations. “What's up?”

“There's a team coming on an inspection tomorrow. I don't think I can face them - might say something I'd regret. Could you, Bethie?”

He always called her Bethie when he knew he was asking more of her than he should. Dealing with the FHA was the last thing Elizabeth wanted, but she smiled into her father's face, noting how the lines of worry accentuated his age, and said, “Yes.”

“Jane!” Elizabeth cried into her cell phone. “You have to come and save me.”

“But I love my florist job - I'm not going back to the nursery.”

“All I'm asking for is a week of your time - two at the max - until I can hire someone dependable. I'll settle for today, if that's all you can give me. I've got the damn FHA coming tomorrow and the place looks like a disaster area. Mary's doing her best but Chamberlayne is worse than useless. And dad's out in the field digging a rush order of thuyas for Forster's.”

“What about Katie and Liddie?”

“Have you ever known them to leave the retail area for anything that doesn't involve helping hot young landscapers? Anyway mom says she can't manage without them.”

Elizabeth could hear Jane waffling, even over the bad cell connection. “It's turning into a beautiful day - think of the tanning opportunity.”

“But it's my day off, and you know there's nothing worse than a farmer's tan.”

“Tank top weather - I guarantee it.”

“Oh, all right - I'll see you in an hour. But I can't help you all week - I've got a job - remember?”

“Lunch is on me,” said Elizabeth before ringing off.

After she'd found out that a team of inspectors would be running the nursery through their fine tooth combs for the next few days, Elizabeth realised that the full scale analysis she had planned needed to be shelved. All that could be managed in a little over a day that was at her disposal was a bit of immediate cosmetic surgery. She'd sent Chamberlayne out with the brush-cutter to chop back the blackberry canes along the nursery's perimeter, but soon replaced him with Mary, who attacked the wildly growing plants with a sadistic grin.

“You take the rake instead, Chambe. I want all this stuff on the garbage heap as quickly as possible.”

“The prickles go right through these gloves.” He pulled one off and showed a red spot on his thumb. “Ouch! And I'm sure my arms will be torn to shreds in no time.”

“I'll look for some leather gauntlets to protect your lily-whites.” Elizabeth could barely restrain herself from rolling her eyes. “Until then get over it and get something done - I'm desperate.”

After talking to Jane, Elizabeth ran into the garden shop and grabbed a pair of fancy gardener's gloves from a display rack. She ignored her mother's cries of complaint and went back out to her truck. She drove to where Chamberlayne and Mary were working and tossed him the new gloves without stopping, all the time wracking her brain for someone to call to help her deal with the mess.

“Charlotte!” Who better to call in times of trouble than one's best friend? She dialled the number hurriedly and then groaned when she got an answering machine. “Char! I'm offering you a chance of a lifetime, gourmet lunch included. Suntanning with Jane and me - some weeds may be involved. Get your butt over here as soon as you receive this message.”

`Hope like heck that works,' she thought to herself as she parked beside a container block. She pulled on her gloves and hopped out. As she passed by the back of the truck she grabbed herself a hoe and then set to work moving pots aside so that she could hack away at the biggest of the weeds that were taking over the gravel. Afterwards the plants would need to be weeded too and put back into rows.

When Jane arrived she was halfway down the bed. She waved and indicated the back of the truck. Jane nodded, grabbed a hoe and started on the neighbouring bed. After working steadily for another hour she went back to the truck and wrestled a wheelbarrow off it. She stretched her aching back and looked up the roadway. A beat-up car was trundling towards her. The horn blasted twice as it pulled up behind her truck. She laughed as Charlotte jumped out with a pizza box.

“I knew you would lose track of the time so I thought I'd better bring lunch or we'd end up eating KD at about five o'clock.”

“You're the best, Char!”

“Don't you know it!”

Jane came over, smiling and pulling off her gloves. “Should I go and get Mary and Chamberlayne?”

“What?” asked Elizabeth. “Share our pizza with them? All I had for breakfast was a banana. Those two are on their own.”

“Doesn't seem fair for poor Mary,” said Charlotte as she placed the pizza box on the hood of her car and opened it. “But I got the Italian special and it's loaded with capicollo and salami so Chambe wouldn't eat it anyway.” She leaned back into the open window of her car and emerged with napkins which she passed around. “Eat.”

Elizabeth ate three pieces of pizza almost without stopping, except to take deep swigs from a water bottle. All three girls sat on the open tailgate of her truck - laughter interspersed their conversation in loud bursts.

“Just like old times,” said Jane, leaning back upon a bag of fertiliser as she wiped her hands and face with her napkin.

“The best part of the job always was lunch,” said Charlotte.

“Speaking of work,” said Elizabeth, “you haven't even done any yet,”

“I was hoping you wouldn't notice.”

Elizabeth looked at her watch. “Time to get back to it.”

Charlotte sighed. “Me and my big mouth. So, what exactly are we doing?”

“Giving this place a facelift before the FHA gets here tomorrow. Nothing but the biggest weeds. Get the rows nice and straight and all the pots standing.”

Charlotte looked around. “You do realise that we haven't got a hope in heck of getting more than a fraction done before tomorrow?”

Elizabeth nodded grimly, threw her napkin into the empty pizza box, and started down an aisle, filling her wheelbarrow as she went.

Charlotte looked at Jane. “Party's over.”

That night Elizabeth lay in her bed, her body aching as it hadn't in years. They had worked unstintingly until dusk fell and it was too dark to distinguish the weeds from the plants. Charlotte had refused the offer of supper but promised return at eight in the morning. Elizabeth had hugged her - it hardly measured up to the gratitude she felt but it had been all she was capable of at the time. She and Jane went up to the house and ate spaghetti and meat sauce, reheated in the microwave. Then Jane had showered and dragged herself to her old bedroom to sleep while Elizabeth had soaked in a hot tub with a cup full of Epsom's salts. Even so, all her muscles now unaccustomed to physical labour were screaming at her. Finally fatigue overcame pain and she drifted off to sleep.

In her dreams Elizabeth couldn't escape work. Weeds loomed up to be pulled aside, but more weeds took their place. Inspectors came and ordered huge blocks of plants destroyed as her mother served coffee in hand thrown pottery mugs and Liddie and Katie cavorted about in their bikinis. At one point her father walked up to the white clothed officials and issued a diatribe on the government in general and the FHA's practices in particular. When Mary came along with the brush cutter, cutting a swathe through everything in her path and advancing on the inspectors, Elizabeth awoke with a start.

Her head was throbbing. She peered out from her tangled covers to see watery light seeping through her blinds. The clock on her dresser read 6:25. Damn! She had to get up though she barely felt rested. She hobbled to her bathroom and after one look at her haggard, dark-circled face, she ignored the mirror completely.

By 7:30 she was out in her truck, driving the roads through the nursery, checking to see what area needed the most attention. She hoped the inspectors wouldn't arrive too early - she'd not even had time to go back to the website to read up on Sudden Oak Death. If they were coming from Victoria she had at least three, if not four hours to work with. That was small consolation, but it was all that she had.

At 8:00 Jane joined her in the field, looking fresh and well-rested, and very pretty in a faded pair of jeans and powder blue t-shirt.

“Look what I found in my old dresser! Mom doesn't throw anything away, does she? I think I wore these clothes in grade ten.”

Elizabeth had just pulled on the same stained jeans she'd worked in the day before, and an old plaid shirt of her dad's that was torn at the elbow. Not that how she looked mattered anyway. What was the point of ruining nice clothes? She'd change at ten, when the dirty work was done, then have a coffee while she researched the disease on the computer. That would be well before the inspectors arrived.

Charlotte arrived with a box of timbits and a coffee for each of them.

“You can never have too much coffee and doughnuts,” she grinned.

“You're just buttering me up so I'll give you some slack,” said Elizabeth, leaning against Charlotte's car with her face held towards the morning sun.

“Works every time,” said Charlotte, popping a timbit into her mouth and dusting the powdered sugar off onto her sweats.

Elizabeth drained her coffee and reluctantly went back to work. She let her mind wander as her body took over the mechanics of the job. The sun became hot as it rose in the sky and when she finally stopped to rest again sweat was trickling down her forehead. She wished she'd had the foresight to wear a tank top under her shirt, but all she could do was roll up the sleeves. She checked her watch and realised it was 10:00 already.

“I'm going in to do research on the computer,” she yelled over to the others.

“Yeah, leave us to do all your dirty work!” shouted Charlotte.

Jane just smiled and continued ripping out weeds. Elizabeth marvelled at how her sister still looked neat and clean. She knew that her own hair had weeds tangled in it and the dampness under her arms told her that her deodorant wasn't working.

She hopped into the truck and headed back up to the office. As she passed one of the shade houses she noticed a deer trapped inside, bounding against the mesh, too confused to go back through the gap it had come in by. She parked and ran to free it, hoping that not too many plants had been damaged in its struggles. She shooed it through the gap and then herded it across the road to where the deer fencing had been flattened to the ground.

The deer bounded safely into the bush and she inspected the fencing. A couple of posts had rotted and would need to be replaced. She'd have to get Chambe to do it right away. She hoped he could manage the post holer.

Back up in the shade house there was a trampled block of plants to straighten up. They were mostly ferns, only just unfurling their fronds. A few broken fiddleheads, but no damage of any consequence. She was almost finished setting all the pots upright and back into rows when she heard voices. Two white clothed figures were walking up the road.

“I told them we'd be here this morning, so you'd think someone would be in the office to meet us.”

“They probably didn't expect us this early.”

“It's ten-thirty. I wanted to be here by ten! It's a small wonder this place is such a shambles if they aren't even up and around by now.”

“They might be out working in the back field. Look - here it says there's ten acres altogether. See - Glacierveiw nursery.” He held out a clipboard.

The first man snorted. “What an original name.”

“There's someone working over there,” the other man said, pointing to Elizabeth. “We can ask her.”

Elizabeth wiped her hands on her jeans and walked to the shade house door. “Can I help you?”

“We're the FHA inspectors,” said the taller of the two men. “Where can we find Mr Bennet?”

Elizabeth held out her hand. “I'm Elizabeth Bennet, the nursery manager. You can deal with me.”

He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on the baggy plaid shirt and stained jeans before his hand came out and gingerly shook hers. “I'm Mr Fitzwilliam - director of this project.” He let her hand go quickly and reached into the satchel he was carrying.

As Elizabeth shook hand with the other man, who introduced himself as Charles in a friendly voice, she noticed Mr Fitzwilliam squeeze hand sanitizer on his hands and rub them together.

“Where are most of your host plants located?” asked Mr Fitzwilliam.

“Host plants?” Elizabeth was inwardly cursing herself for not having checked out the website yet.

“The plants that can carry and be affected by SODs,” said Charles helpfully.

Mr Fitzwilliam just eyed her with scorn.

“We have camellias in greenhouse number two,” said Elizabeth. “Come with me to the office and I'll print you out a map of the nursery.”

“We're not only interested in camellias,” said Mr Fitwilliam. “Aren't you even aware that there are over thirty plants that are on the host plant list?”

“I'm sorry, I haven't had time . . .” Elizabeth faltered as Mr Fitzwilliam turned away. “Would you like a ride over to the office to get a map?”

He turned back to her. “We'll draw our own maps as we go. I have three other inspectors on this team. We shall be here at least four days, depending on what we find. The plants we take samples from will be marked with orange flagging tape. Under no circumstances remove it until we tell you it's all right.”

“If there's anything I can do to help . . .”

“I would suggest you acquaint yourself with at least the basics of this disease, if you want to be taken seriously in the nursery business.” He nodded to his companion and started to walk away.

“See you later.” Charles smiled at her before following his supervisor.

Elizabeth stared after them, seething.

Charles' voice carried to her as he caught up with Mr Fitzwilliam. “That was a bit harsh, Darcy.”

“I can't tolerate these small businesses that operate in complete ignorance of proper nursery practices and no knowledge of horticulture. That brainless girl is the manager here? It's no wonder this disease is threatening to run rampant.”

“My God,” said Elizabeth under her breath. “What an arrogant jerk!” She hopped into her truck and drove back to the office at a speed she would have complained about had it been anyone else. She pulled into a parking spot outside the office and braked so sharply that she sent up a spatter of gravel and a big cloud of dust billowing over to where the other three inspectors sat waiting. She grinned as she heard the two women coughing.

Inside, she logged onto the computer and got on the internet. Soon she was reading furiously and taking notes. He wasn't going to call her ignorant again, not if she could help it.

Chapter Two

Posted on Tuesday, 3 July 2007

Three hours later Elizabeth pushed back from her computer. She was in that dense fog that comes from information overload. Beside her on the desk were a sandwich and a glass of juice. She had no idea where they had come from, but she devoured them ravenously. Then she looked down at her notes. Sudden Oak Death - common name for Phytophthora ramorum - a fungus - spread by wind driven rain, water, plant material, or human activity . . . It was serious stuff.

Elizabeth printed out the most up to date host plant list she could find, grabbed a highlighter, and marked off all the plants on the list that were in stock at the nursery. Some she had to put question marks beside. She was rifling through the desk drawers when her father came into the office.

“How'd it go with the FHA?”

She made a face. “Don't ask.”

He sat on the corner of the desk and waited.

“This place is a shambles, I'm an ignorant backwater bozo, and if the disease doesn't run rampant in six weeks it'll be no thanks to us.”

“The nursery may be a bit overgrown, but our plants aren't diseased.”

“I know Dad - the guy was on a big power trip, and he took one look at me and . . . well, look at me!”

Elizabeth stood up and twirled around.

“You look just fine, Beth. You can't dress like a model and do an honest day's work.”

“Tell that to Liddie and Kate.”

Mr Bennet grinned. “Have you ever known either of those girls to work?”

“True.” Elizabeth sat back down and began going through the drawers again. “Anyway, Dad, the inspection team's going to be here most of the week, getting in our way. It'll be a major pain in the butt.”

“I'll be digging thuyas all week.”

“Good thinking - they're not host plants so you won't be bothered. Check this out.” She handed him the host list. “When you came in I was looking for a copy of the inventory so I could cross-check the list, and mark areas on the nursery map where the host plants can be found.”

“Inventory?” Mr Bennet scratched his head. “I can't remember the last time we did one. Should be in the old filing cabinet, but it'll be way out of date.”

“Dad! You can't run a business like that! That Fitzsnobbiam guy is a big jerk, but he was right when he said this place is a shambles.”

Mr Bennet put on his reading glasses and perused the list. “Print out a copy of our map, Beth. I may not have a written inventory, but I've got everything in my head. I'll mark the areas where any of these plants are. You sit and relax for a bit. They are making a big deal of this now but it'll pass, and we'll be able to mosey along quietly like we always have.”

Elizabeth sighed and turned to the computer. She loved her dad dearly but his `don't worry be happy - why do today what can be left for tomorrow?' attitude was dragging the nursery down and holding the business back. It didn't help, either, that they were understaffed, or that the staff they did have knew very little about plants. Take Chambe, for example. Her dad was too kind to fire him, but he was more of a liability than anything else. And Mary - who desperately wanted to go off to a cabin in the woods and write the great Canadian novel - when her mind was on task no one could top her energy and drive, but too often she drifted off into daydreams. If their mom had her way the retail garden shop would be filled with kitschy knick knacks and silk flowers, and all Liddie and Katie did during the small amount of time they actually turned up at work was to flirt with the landscapers from Forsters.

For as long as Elizabeth could remember, the busy season had seen an unending stream of unskilled labourers pass in and out of the gates of Glacierview. When she was a teenager her father gave summer jobs to any of her friends who asked. But the low wages and nature of the work didn't breed commitment on the part of employees. Besides family, the only people who had stayed on the job were Chambe and Charlotte. Elizabeth often asked her dad why he kept Chambe around, considering the quality and volume of his work, and he always responded that as far as he knew no one else would hire the guy, and he couldn't live with the idea of Chambe having no other option but welfare.

Now Jane had deserted them for flowers and Charlotte had a nice clean job in her father's real estate office, so two of the people they had been able to count on the most were only available when pressed, in an emergency. Her father had been carrying the brunt of the work for a long time, and it was beginning to show. Elizabeth was glad that she could take over management, something he had little inclination for, but she wanted to be able to relieve him of the heavy physical labour as well.

“Dad, I'm putting an ad in the paper for experienced workers,” she said.

“You do what you think best, Beth. It's your ball game now.”

“I'm going to offer a considerably higher salary.”

“I'd advise you to check the books and our financial statement before you get too generous.”

“I'll make up for it by hiring less casual staff.”

“As you can see, we're already going down that road, and we're struggling as it is.”

“Yeah, but . . .” She didn't want to tell him that poor management had led to their financial straits.

Mr Bennet looked up, took his glasses off, and reached out to pat her hand, smiling. “I know, Bethie, I know. I trust you to make the right decisions.” He picked up the map he'd been working on and handed it to her. “It might not be completely accurate, but it'll do for now.”

She grinned and thanked him. “I'll make up a bunch of copies for the feds.”

Elizabeth drove out into the nursery to look for the inspection team. They weren't hard to find, dressed as they were in their white disposable coveralls. The two women were with the hotshot supervisor in one of the greenhouses. The third man she spied behind a hedge having a cigarette break. Finally she saw the one she was looking for - Charles. He was in a block of rhodos, not too far from where Jane was weeding. She parked her truck and walked up the aisle, sheaf of papers in hand.

“So, how's it going?”

Charles straightened and grinned at her. “Sunshine and fresh air - beats being closeted in a stuffy office.”

“Are you finding anything?”

“Well . . . you know how it is.”

“I'm glad you think so, but actually I do have a much better idea now than I did a few hours ago. You can't really tell anything definite without a lab test.”

“That's right. We take samples of leaves that are showing symptoms - but there could be any number of other causes for those symptoms that are no threat at all.”

“So I really shouldn't worry if you spend four days taking samples here.”

“We just like to be thorough, but we do get a lot of flack about the amount of time we take - you know, government workers wasting taxpayers' money and all that.”

It was exactly what Elizabeth has been thinking so she couldn't do much more than smile sheepishly. “I've brought you some maps of the nursery. My dad marked the spots where you should be able to find most of our host plants.”

“That's great! Thanks.” Charles reached for the papers, then looked at his latex gloves and removed them before taking the papers.

“Don't tell me the maps need to be sprayed with disinfectant!”

It was Charles' turn to look sheepish. “No, it's fine. I was touching the plants so I have to be careful of potential contamination. Sometimes it's all a bit confusing.”

“I guess it's best to be on the safe side.”

“Well after the avian flu fiasco, we can't be too careful.”

Elizabeth remembered hearing about how the government workers had been a big part of spreading the disease from one chicken farm to another because of poor decontamination procedures. “I'm grateful. And you all look so very stylish in your white suits.”

Charles laughed. “Tell that to Carrie and Lou. You should hear them moan about it.”

Elizabeth was about to walk away and let Charles get back to work when he motioned to her.

“Can you take them their copies of the map? I don't think I'll get back to where they are for a while.”

The whole reason Elizabeth has searched out Charles was to avoid talking to his supervisor, but she could hardly refuse his request. She went back to her truck, maps in hand, and felt tension rising through her body. She sat in the drivers' seat and took a few deep breaths. She couldn't let the very thought of dealing with him get to her. Why spoil an otherwise beautiful day? It was well on into the afternoon and the sun was shining. Birds were twittering in the hedges, and in the distance the glacier gleamed bright white against a vivid blue sky. She had so many sources of happiness - her family and friends, her love of plants, the beautiful part of the world she lived in - why let one snarky individual ruin her upbeat lookout on life?

She studied her refection in the rear-view mirror. Her hair was sticking out messily from her ponytail and there was a smudge of dirt on one cheekbone. She was about to wipe it away when she reconsidered and laughed. Who cared what he thought of her? The way she looked right now had nothing to do with who she really was, but if he chose to think differently, then it was his loss.

She found Mr Fitzwilliam in greenhouse number two, inspecting the pieris. The two women were still working close to him.

“I've brought you maps of the nursery with the location of the host plants,” she announced to no one in particular.

“Oh good!” said one of the women. “Does it say what these plants are? I can't find a label.”

“Yeah,” said the other. “You really should put more signage up around here. I've got bag labels to write and I don't know which greenhouse I'm in or if these camellias are japonica or sasanqua.”

`Or if they are even camellias,' thought Elizabeth.

“They sure are pretty, though,” said the first woman.

“Those are Pieris japonica Mountain Fire,” cut in Mr Fitzwilliam as he approached, his hand reaching out for a map. “I already told you what to write on the label, Carrie.”

“I thought we were looking for camellias,” answered Carrie.

Mr Fitzwilliam groaned.

“I thought it was only camellias at first, too,” said Elizabeth with a slight yokel twang, “but I went on that World Wide Web thingy and there's enough of them fancy sounding plants on that there list to make your mind boggle.”

“Oh - you mean botanical names? All you small-time growers would do well to use them rather than the common names - it gets much too confusing.”

“I know,” said Elizabeth. “And here I've been calling camellias `camellias' all these years.”

“Well they are called camellias,” said the other woman, her expression slightly confused. “Aren't they?”

“She's just having Carrie on, Lou,” said Mr Fitzwilliam as he studied his map. He looked up and gave Elizabeth a level stare. “You can drop the act. I met your dad earlier and he told me you have a degree in horticulture from Kwantlen.”

Irrelevantly, she noticed that his eyes were grey, light with a dark circle around the iris. Almost stunning against his tan. “I'm sorry about the lack of labelling - things got a bit out of hand here in the last couple of years. I'll do what I can to get things labelled properly as quickly as possible.”

“You don't have to bother,” he replied shortly. “I know my plants.”

“Yes, but your two assistants here don't appear to. And what about the other guys?”

“They are field people,” Lou answered for Mr Fitzwilliam. “Carrie and I usually only work in the office, so we know names well but when it comes to connecting them with the actual plants, we're at a loss.”

“Oh, God I wish I was back at my desk,” said Carrie. “My back hurts, this hand sanitizer stinks, and I think I just broke a nail!”

“Trim it with your clippers,” said Elizabeth as she walked away.

Carrie's voice floated after Elizabeth.

“Who does she think she is?”

At the end of the day Elizabeth, Jane, and Charlotte sat on the deck eating burgers and catching the last rays of the sun as it sank behind the glacier. The air was tinged with the mingled scents of barbecue and the osmanthus which was glowing in a large planter near the table.

“Today is It for me,” said Charlotte. “Dad's stressing about not having me in the office answering his precious phones.”

“You've been a Godsend.” Elizabeth glanced over at Jane. “What about you? Flowers calling?”

“I'm going to try and see if I can get off after lunch for the next few days and come help.” She blushed lightly and bit into her burger without looking at either of them.

“How many days? As long as the inspectors are here?” teased Charlotte.

“What's this all about?” asked Elizabeth.

“Jane was hanging out with that stud from the FHA all day!”

“Fitzsnobbiam?”

“No - not the hot head honcho. Charles Bingley with the piercing blue eyes and goofy smile.”

Jane jumped to his defence. “His smile's not goofy!”

“See!” giggled Charlotte. “She's got a crush on him already.”

Elizabeth was still pondering what she'd said before. “You think Fitzsnobbiam is hot?”

“Duh! Did you see him? 6'2”, dark hair, pale blue eyes.”

“They're grey,” said Elizabeth before she could stop herself.

“So you did notice!”

“Just because a guy has attractive eyes it doesn't make him nice. He's an arrogant ba . . .” Elizabeth stopped herself in time with a reminder that she had sworn not to let annoyance spoil her attitude.

“He is serious,” admitted Jane. “Charles says that Darcy always gets like that when he's on the job, and this SOD thing is potentially very dangerous so he's even more extreme.”

“Darcy?”

“Jane's on a first name basis with him already. What did he do to get you so upset?”

“I'm not upset,” said Elizabeth. “But I don't appreciate being blamed for this whole epidemic. Or being called ignorant”

“Sounds like you two got off on the wrong foot,” said Charlotte. “If I were you I'd try to get on his good side. He's pretty high up in the FHA.”

“And he's hot!” giggled Jane. “Even if he was rude.”

“I'm going to do my job, and he can do his,” said Elizabeth. “If he doesn't like the way I run my business, it's his problem. Now tell me all about Jane and Charles - that's much more interesting.”

“I don't know what you're paying her, but I don't think she earned half of it today,” said Charlotte, “the way they were always just standing around and making googly-eyes at each other.”

“We were not! He was explaining about the disease and the sample taking and I was helping him find the variety names of the plants. That's all there was to it.”

“But you want to work here the next few days to spend more time with him.”

Jane nodded and hung her head, cheeks flaring.

Elizabeth leaned close and gave her a hug. “Go for it. He seems like a really nice guy, and trust me, some of the other guys you've fallen for weren't worth it. Anyway, if it gets you here working for me, I'm all for it.”

Liddie sauntered out onto the deck, still wearing the revealing tank top and shortie shorts she'd chosen to work in. “Did you see me in Forsters' new truck?”

“How could we miss you?” asked Charlotte. “You were hanging out the window waving at everybody.”

“Dennis says he'll let me drive it next time! Red trucks are so sexy!”

“You're not driving it,” said Elizabeth. “You don't even have a licence.”

“Dad lets me drive the tractors,” pouted Liddie.

“That's different.”

“You're no fun at all,” said Liddie. “Hey - did you guys see those people in the dumb white suits? What was that all about? I was like, `Hey! Nice outfits!' And this one cute guy smiled at me but the girls - whoa - they gave me the evil eye. And the tall one he was all, like, whatever. Then when they left I saw them in the parking lot getting changed and the short fat one was all sweaty and gross. Kate says she saw him smoking in the bushes all the time. And Sandy said he thought there was some plant disease and maybe they shouldn't buy any of our plants yet but I told him that was a load of bull and that if there was a problem with the plants I'd be the first one to know about it. Is there a problem with the plants?”

“There's no problem with our plants,” said Elizabeth. “They're just doing routine tests - it's happening at all the nurseries.”

“Thank the Lord!” cried Liddie, giggling. “I was sure I'd lied to them and all their plants were going to die. That would have been hilarious.”

Elizabeth sighed. The last thing she needed was Liddie spreading rumours about infected plants. Everyone would be bringing back plants they'd killed by over-watering or under-watering and expecting refunds. Regular customers might begin to look elsewhere. She couldn't stand to lose her landscapers. What she needed was some sort of proof that the nursery was not contaminated so she could reassure anyone who asked. The best thing she could do was get the place looking good and follow all the correct procedures that were outlined in the online sources she'd been researching.

The next thing to do would be to get involved in the camellia recall program. She'd have to talk to Fitzsnobbiam about it, but that was a necessary evil. She sat back, ignoring the rest of Liddie's jabbering, and concentrated on finishing her burger. She relished every bite as she watched the changing hues of the sky - delicate pinks and lavenders tinted the scattered clouds as the blue deepened and the first pricks of starlight appeared.

Chapter Three

Posted on Thursday, 19 July 2007

Rain greeted Elizabeth as she opened her eyes to the morning. She lay in bed and sighed. This was the one thing that she didn't like about outdoor work. Rain meant cumbersome rain gear, rain hoods that acted like horses' blinkers, and water dripping down one's nose and up one's sleeves. Then she thought about the government inspection team and smiled. They'd be much less used to working in the rain than she, especially those two office girls. Maybe they wouldn't even come. The break from dealing with them would be worth putting up with any amount of rain.

Unfortunately, the rain had done nothing to deter the inspectors. When Elizabeth left the office to get into her truck, the FHA van was already in the parking lot and the individual team members were in the process of pulling their disposable coveralls over what passed as rain-suits. As Elizabeth watched them she decided that this was almost better than not seeing them at all.

Carrie and Lou were wearing something floral and trendy, and very, very shiny but not at all serviceable, and complaining about having to cover up with the unstylish coveralls. Charles was struggling to zip up his coveralls over a PVC raincoat and Hurst was swearing as he tried to tuck in a voluminous yellow plastic rain cape. Only Fitzsnobbiam seemed to be having no problem. He'd apparently managed to get extra large disposable coveralls that were sized correctly to fit over his Helly Hansen rain suit - a rain suit that could have been a twin of Elizabeth's own, only it didn't have worn cuffs and mud spatters half-way up the legs.

Elizabeth drove off gleefully imagining all the trouble they would have trying to write their precious labels in situations where keeping anything dry was impossible. She decided to wait until they broke for lunch to approach Fitzsnobbiam about the camellia recall program. Her morning was spent writing tags in the comfort of the cab and then running out into the driving rain to stick them into the corners of the beds of each different plant variety. At eleven she was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone.

“Hello?”

It was her mom at the other end, begging her to get over to the retail area to help sort out a major problem she was having with one of her customers.

“I'll be right there, Mom.” She flipped her phone closed and turned her truck around. She didn't relish the interruption to her routine or having to deal with a customer that her mother had probably already thoroughly confused.

When she entered the garden shop her mother called out. “Beth, tell this man our policy on returns! I see no reason why we should give him his money back when he killed the plants!”

Elizabeth hurried forward as the man turned towards her.

“I killed them because of the disease! I didn't want it to spread to the rest of my garden, especially my prize hydrangeas,” he explained as he held up a handful of branches covered in glossy green leaves. Behind him on the counter was a jumbled pile of branches and roots.

“Get him to take his mess away!” said Mrs Bennet. “How can I sell people things with dirt all over the counter?”

“I'll take care of this, Mom,” said Elizabeth. “Why don't you move a few things over on the other side there and use that space instead?” `Not that there are any other customers in here right now, luckily.'

“Just give me a refund and I'll be out of your hair for good,” said the man. “I'm not coming back to a place that sells diseased plants.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms and regarded him. “What makes you think those plants are diseased?”

“They're camellias! Don't you people know anything? There's this disease that camellias have that kills oaks and all kinds of other plants. I don't understand how you can be in business and know nothing about it. And then you have the gall to sell the damn plants without any consideration for the environment. I guess it would suit you if all my plants died because then you'd be able to turn around and sell me a whole bunch more.”

“Sir,” said Elizabeth, “I am fully aware of the disease, Phytothera ramorum, and if you will give me a moment I'll try to explain it to you to set your mind at rest.”

“This lady knows nothing about it,” he said, pointing to her mother. “You should educate your employees.”

Elizabeth caught the seething glare her mother sent the man behind his back and thought it best to steer him away from her proximity before she exploded.

“We are in the process of getting the facts about the camellia recall program so that we can inform all of our employees as well as our customers.” She went on to explain the details of the disease to him, how only certain plants were at risk, and how the likelihood of the plants they had sold him being diseased was negligible, but that even so, proper procedure had to be followed to be on the safe side. “There is a hotline number you have to call if you've bought camellias within the past six months. Then you get scheduled for an inspector to come to your home to take leaf samples and destroy and remove the plants. Afterwards the inspector gives you a coupon that can be used at certain garden centres to replace your plants.”

“So I shouldn't have brought the plants in here?”

“No, because even though the possibility is minute, they are potentially contaminated and the last thing we need is to have contaminated plants on our premises.”

“So, am I supposed to take them home again and have potentially contaminated plants spreading dangerous spores all over my garden until some inspector comes along to remove them?”

Elizabeth was just about to tell him that was exactly what he should do, when they were suddenly interrupted.

“I think I can help you.”

It was Fitzsnobbiam. Elizabeth had no idea where he had come from or how long he had been standing there, listening to her conversation with the customer. She sucked in her breath and said stiffly, “This is Mr Fitzwilliam, an inspector with the FHA who is handling all the inspections regarding this issue.”

He nodded to her and addressed the man. “Bringing the plants back to the nursery was the wrong thing to do, but now that they are here the best thing is for me to take them from you and dispose of them properly. Just give me a moment to get some equipment from my van.”

“Seems it's my lucky day.” The man beamed as he watched Mr Fitzwilliam go out the door. “Do these inspectors just drop in all the time like this?”

“They are doing some routine sampling,” said Elizabeth, not wanting the man's level of concern to escalate again.

“He can give me some of those coupons you told me about, right?”

“I imagine so. If not we'll be happy to give you a credit for replacement plants.”

Elizabeth watched as Mr Fitzwilliam came back armed with heavy plastic bags, a spray bottle, wipes, and a sheaf of papers. The first thing he did was put on a fresh pair of rubber gloves and then rub his hands with sanitizer. He deftly took leaf samples from the pile of destroyed plants and slipped them into a Ziploc bag. After sanitising his hands once again, he collected all the roots and branches and put them into one of the heavy-duty plastic bags and cinched it closed with a fastener. He sanitised his hands a third time and put the bag into another. Then he took the wipes and swept any remaining dirt from the counter into the bag and tossed the wipes after it. He sprayed the counter with the disinfectant from the spray bottle, wiped it with fresh wipes, and threw them into the bag as well. He followed them with his gloves, sanitized his hands a fourth time, and finally cinched the outer bag closed.

“There,” he said to the man. “I'll have these samples sent to the lab and take the plants for disposal. I just need a bit of information from you.” He looked over at Elizabeth. “Don't go yet Miss Bennet. I'd like to speak to you once I've finished with this.”

Elizabeth gave a barely perceptible nod and stood in stony silence as Fitzwilliam dealt with the man. She didn't appreciate the way he'd taken the situation over from her and the way he was now giving her orders. It was her nursery, damn it, and she had everything under control before he'd come and shoved his nose in it. Now what was he going to do? Ream her out for something a customer had done - something she had no control over, and something that wouldn't have happened if the FHA had done a better job of getting the camellia recall information out to the public? And he expected her to just stand around, wasting her time while he put on the big benevolent environmentalist act with her customer.

“That was very accommodating of you,” she said when the man left and Fitzwilliam rejoined her.

“How could you let something like that happen?” he asked. “Do you know you were this close to getting shut down? I'm not supposed to do what I just did.”

“Then why did you do it? I was about to ask him to take it all back home with him.”

“Because it was the only thing that made sense to me at the time.” He stood staring at Elizabeth for a few moments and then continued. “You explained the recall program to him very well.”

“I guess I'm not completely ignorant, then,” she muttered under her breath. “I was going to ask you about Glacierview getting involved in the recall. I'd like pamphlets to hand out to customers and if it's not too late I'd like to be registered to accept the reimbursement coupons.”

“I can set that up.”

“Was there anything else you wanted from me? I need to get back to work - we're not all on the government payroll, you know.”

He half-smiled. “I just wanted to say that if anyone else tries to return camellias, make sure that if they do bring them into your nursery you take the same steps to contain them as you saw me perform right now, and disinfect the area. In the meantime I'll make sure that the local radio stations and newspapers get a new press release emphasising the importance of calling the hot line and not returning plants to the stores where they were purchased.”

“Do you have any idea how much longer you're going to be here, taking samples?”

“This rain has slowed us down - I'd say if the weather gets better again tomorrow it'll only be two more days. The plants you got in from Hamilton's will have to stay under quarantine until we get the test results, however.”

“But everything else is okay to sell as usual?”

“Unless you hear otherwise, but you need to keep sales records in case we get a positive result and need to do trace forwards.”

“Don't worry about our records. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.” Elizabeth walked away from him to where her mother was making a show of adjusting a display of watering cans and hose nozzles.

“He really took charge, didn't he?” her mother said, her voice rich with admiration.

Elizabeth glanced back at Fitzsnobbiam's retreating figure. “The pompous jerk!”

“I hear he's a rich pompous jerk,” said Mrs Bennet.

“That doesn't give him the right to act like he owns the place.”

“No dear, but it doesn't hurt to try to impress a man. I wish you'd pay more attention to your appearance. Look at you! Your hair all wet and straggling down, that disreputable looking rain gear! Helly Hansen makes a very pretty rain suit in powder blue you should order. If you put your mind to it you can look quite pretty.”

“Mom, what has that got to do with anything? Why should I be trying to impress that guy just because he's rich?”

“Do you want to slave away in this nursery all your life, losing your looks? I want a better future for all you girls than this drudge of a life I'm living. You have to find yourself a rich man!”

Elizabeth had heard it all before. Her mother enjoyed complaining about her lot in life almost as much as she enjoyed ordering faux neo-classical statuary for the garden centre, which was her pride and joy. But it never ceased to nettle Elizabeth that success, in her mother's opinion, was not achievable unless there was a man in the picture.

“What I really came over here to talk to you about, Mom, is the camellia recall program so you know what to tell a customer the next time to avoid problems like the one I just had to deal with.”

Mrs Bennet stuffed a spray of silk roses into the spout of a cute ceramic watering can. “Beth, you can't expect me to learn all that plant stuff! Tell Liddie and Kate about it, if you want, but I'll just call you on your cell if something comes up again.”

Elizabeth groaned, and headed for the door.

“Don't forget to put your hood up, dear,” her mother called after her. “And please do something about your hair.”

“Beth, you have to say yes. I don't want to go alone.”

Jane looked at her imploringly. For some reason, when she really wanted something her eyes always became a richer blue and very appealing.

“You won't be alone when you get there if you are meeting Charles and all the rest of them.”

“I can't walk into the Black Fin by myself, besides you'll have fun if you come.”

“With Fitzsnobbiam there?”

“I wish you wouldn't call Darcy that. He's Charles' best friend, and he's really not so bad.”

“He's a priggish cold fish and he's annoying.”

“Anyway it's not as if it would only be you and me and Charles and Darcy. Carrie and Lou and Hurst will be there too, so you can talk to them if you don't want to talk to Darcy.”

“Oh joy!”

“Give them a chance. They're all nice once you get to know them.”

Elizabeth threw herself on the couch and laughed. “Jane, when have you ever thought someone wasn't nice?”

“Well, there was that guy in grade eight . . . um . . .” She giggled. “Please, Bethieeee. Do it for me.”

“Fine,” said Elizabeth, giving up under that lucid blue gaze. “But you are going to owe me.”

“Me? Owe you? After all I've done working for you the past week?”

“I think we're even - if I never made you work for me you wouldn't have met Charles.”

“Oh Beth! Isn't he great?” Jane twirled around the room with her arms outstretched and ended in a dizzy heap on an armchair.

“Well, let's see. He's good looking, friendly, funny, and kind. He does have one major flaw, though.”

“What flaw?” asked Jane, jumping to his defence.

“Bad taste in friends.”

“Stop it! C'mon - let's get ready. We're supposed to meet them there at 7:00.”

Elizabeth took a long look down the road towards the Comox Harbour before turning up the walkway and following Jane into the pub. She hoped they would have a table with a view so at least she could have the water and the boats to pay attention to, rather than just the boat that dangled from the pub's ceiling and the ubiquitous Brian Scotts hanging on the walls. She didn't plan on counting on the company to entertain her.

As luck would have it, Charles had got a table in the bright, airy end of the room where window stretched the length of one wall. He waved them over. For an hour, at least, Elizabeth would be able to enjoy the view, after that she could watch the stars flick on in the darkening sky.

“This is a nice place,” said Charles to Jane. “Thanks for recommending it.”

Jane smiled and sat in the chair he'd pulled out for her. Elizabeth was left with no choice but to sit beside Hurst, which in her estimation was the best of all evils.

“I'm relieved,” said Carrie. “In a small town like this the pubs are usually dark and seedy, or quaint in a tacky, Olde English style. This place is actually clean and . . . nautical.”

“There's a boat suspended from the ceiling!” said Lou. “What will they think of next?”

“And art on the walls!” Carrie nudged Mr Fitzwilliam who was sitting beside her. “I never expected anything so avant-garde in a town like this. I'll bet you didn't either, Darcy.”

“The Comox Valley is known for its artists,” he said somewhat dismissively.

Elizabeth almost choked. “Avant-garde? They're bright and bold, but hardly ground-breaking.”

“You appreciate art?” asked Darcy.

“I know what I like,” said Elizabeth. “These are nice enough, but his style is so distinct that really once you've seen one, you've seen them all.”

“Are we going to talk about art all night?” asked Hurst. “Or are we going to watch the hockey game?” He swivelled in his seat for a better angle on the TV screen.

“Why don't we order some appies?” asked Charles, beaming around the table at everyone. “I could go for a large plate of nachos.”

“Hot wings,” grunted Hurst.

“I can't eat any of that spicy stuff,” said Carrie. “Want to share an order of calamari, Darcy?”

“I think I'll help Charles with his nachos.” He looked over at his friend. “Extra guacamole, okay?”

When the waitress came to the table, Elizabeth asked for sweet potato fries and sangria, then gazed out the window at distant white sails, glad that Hurst had no interest in conversation. She could hear Jane and Charles talking softly together and she smiled. At least Jane was having a good time, and that was what counted the most. It was easy enough to put up with listening to Carrie and Lou dissect the other patrons of the pub, and Fitzsnobbiam's occasional cryptic comment.

“Take a look at who just walked in,” Carrie hissed. “He thinks he's all that in his black leather.”

“His hair is right out of the fifties,” Lou giggled.

“It's the Fonze!” Carrie snorted. “Oh my God - he's put on a pound or two since the show was cancelled.”

Elizabeth glanced over to see whom they were talking about and then abruptly looked away. Sadly, she wasn't quick enough.

“Elizabeth Bennet!” His voice boomed across the room and he made a beeline for their table.

“A friend of yours?” said Carrie, her shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. “Sorry, but I guess I should have known.”

Elizabeth choked back an angry retort and grimly turned towards the newcomer. “Mr Collins - how's the fertiliser business?” Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Fitzsnobbiam smirking.

“Bill, Elizabeth, call me Bill.” As Elizabeth only looked at him, rather than take him up on his offer, he continued. “I was going to come by the nursery and tell you about our new line of environmentally friendly products. Green up with Green! That's our slogan.”

“Why don't you do that, then? I'd rather not talk business on my free time.”

“Of course! No - I didn't come over here to sell you anything - just to get reacquainted. Haven't seen you since last summer. We've got so much to catch up on.”

“We do?”

He pulled a chair over from an empty table behind him, and tried to wedge it in between Elizabeth and Hurst. “I hear you have your degree now and are taking over from your dad - which is something I, for one, am really looking forward to.”

“I don't think there's room at the table,” said Elizabeth, glancing over at Hurst who was straining to see around Bill Collins. “And you are blocking the TV screen.”

“Well, why don't we move the chairs around and add another table?”

“There's room for a chair here,” said Charles, shifting even closer to Jane.

“No, really, it's not necessary,” said Elizabeth.

“Your friend must join us,” said Carrie. “I insist! Darcy won't mind if I crowd him a bit.” She jammed her chair up right against his and smiled up at him.

Elizabeth groaned as everybody made room and Bill Collins pulled his chair in right beside her. He talked loudly all the while, as if he were a long lost friend. She hadn't thought the company could get any worse, but she would almost have preferred changing places with Carrie rather than having to put up with Bill's conversation. At least Fitzsnobbiam would have ignored her as much as she ignored him.

“Beth, Jane!” A familiar voice greeted Elizabeth. She looked up to see Charlotte weaving her way between the tables just as the waitress also arrived with a laden tray.

“Char!” Elizabeth got up and pulled her over to her chair. “Sit down. Have you met Bill?”

“No - hi Bill!” Charlotte turned a smile on him and then glanced back at Elizabeth. “But what about you? Isn't this your seat?”

“Do me a favour and take it. I'm going to move this other table over to that end and then everyone can spread out again.”

As she turned to get the table, Mr Fitzwilliam was there before her, smoothly sliding it across the carpet to where his chair was pulled back. All that was left for her to do was bring a chair of her own and sink quietly into it.

“Your fries and drink, I think,” he said, passing them over to her.

She thanked him, took a long sip of the sangria, and gazed out the window. The sailboats had all returned to their berths. The sky was lightly blushed with rose; the blue had faded to a dusky grey. A great blue heron took off from the shore like a shadow, moving across her view of the estuary.

Elizabeth picked up a fry and nibbled at it.

Two chairs away, Carrie was no longer laughing. Instead she stared at Elizabeth with a calculating look upon her face, before turning to Darcy and sliding her plate over to him.

“Calamari?”

Chapter Four

Posted on Sunday, 18 November 2007

Elizabeth had become used to seeing the five white suits wandering all over the nursery. She'd come to accept that no day would be complete without meeting up with Fitzsnobbiam at some point. Happily, these meetings were brief: a nod in greeting, a brusque sentence about the team's progress, an oblique reference to new developments in the program.

Charles brought all the brochures for the camellia recall to her office along with the papers she needed to sign to be registered to honour the plant replacement coupons, so she was saved having to deal with Fitzsnobbiam on a more in-depth level.

“The recall is running much more smoothly than expected,” Charles said. “I hear inspectors will be sent up island next week so you should be getting people in wanting replacements soon.”

“Can't wait to see their smiling faces.”

“Won't your mom be the lucky one?”

“Knowing her she'll call me in to the garden centre to deal with them all. Anyway, I'd better get these flyers to her. The least she can do is make sure all the customers get one.” Elizabeth got up from her desk, picking up the stack of flyers as she did so.

“Hey,” said Charles as they left the office together. “We'll be finished taking all our samples here today, so we're going to the Atlas for dinner to sort of celebrate. I asked Jane to come and I hope you can come too.”

Elizabeth was caught off guard by the look of eager entreaty on his face and agreed to join them. `Damn,' she thought as she walked the short distance to the garden centre. After convincing her mother to give the pamphlets out to the customers even if she wasn't about to read one herself, she drove over to the production area to see how Chambe was getting on with the potting. The four-inch rhodos were all going into gallon containers. She got there to find that he'd mixed up about five different varieties and spent the rest of the day sorting out his mistakes and staying on to complete the job with him so there would be no more screw ups.

It was so effective at taking her mind off the coming dinner get together that at the end of the day, when she rounded a corner behind a greenhouse and almost bumped into Fitzsnobbiam, his sudden smile and “See you later on” really took her by surprise.

“Yeah,” she mumbled.

“I hear it's a good restaurant.”

“A bit pricey - gourmet styling doesn't come cheap.”

He grinned. “Small, carefully arranged portions, the sauce drizzled in designs to make Picasso envious, topped with a fresh sprig of some rare herb imported from the Amazon?”

“Sorry, I forgot. You probably eat at places like that every night in Victoria.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “Right. Later.” Then he turned towards the parking lot.

Elizabeth hit her forehead with her palm. `Dinner is going to be torture - why did I say I'd go?'

Still, even though she didn't want to go she took pains dressing, trying on three different outfits before Jane arrived to pick her up.

“Does this top make me look . . .?” she asked as she tried to guide a silver hook through her earlobe. “Damn! I don't know when the last time I wore earrings was - the stupid hole has grown over.”

“I'll get it,” said Jane, steadying Elizabeth and sliding the earring through expertly. She held her hand out for its mate. “And to answer your question, that top makes you look foxy.”

“Foxy is not the look I was going for,” said Elizabeth, starting to undo the buttons. “Besides I was asking if it made me look fat.”

Jane grabbed Elizabeth's hands. “I was only teasing. The top looks fine. What are you so worked up about? I thought you didn't want to come.”

Elizabeth sat on the bed and redid the buttons. “I don't, but I . . . well . . . I didn't want any attitude from Carrie. She's always on about what a hick I am and how this town has no style.”

“So, we'll show her,” said Jane. “You sure that's all it is? Don't want to impress anyone?”

“Who would I be trying to impress?” Elizabeth scorned. “I don't even know why I let Carrie get to me, stupid cow! Let's go and get this over with.”

“Cheer up. You're going to have fun - trust me.” Jane smiled sweetly and headed out of the room. “Come on. The reservation is for 7:30 and it's twenty past already.”

Green vines climbed the walls of the patio where they'd been seated by their waitress.

“What's that, Darcy?” asked Carrie. “Grape vines? Passion fruit?”

“Kiwi,” said Elizabeth and Darcy at the same time.

“You don't miss a chance to show off, do you?” Carrie sneered towards Elizabeth.

“I guess that means I was showing off too,” said Darcy.

“No. I was asking you.” Carrie smiled at him sweetly. “Though kiwi doesn't sound quite so romantic as passion fruit.”

Elizabeth picked up her menu and tried to ignore them both.

“Sorry,” whispered Lou. “Carrie was P-Oed that you were coming to dinner too - she's doesn't like you on her turf.”

“Her turf? This is my town.”

“I was referring to the man she's after.”

Elizabeth glanced up at Carrie and Darcy. “She's welcome to him.”

Lou just smirked.

“Isn't this nice?” said Jane who appeared to be completely oblivious to what had just happened. “I'm so glad it's a warm evening - the patio is the best place to sit.”

“Are you sure you'll be warm enough all dinner?” asked Charles. “We can ask to move inside if you'd prefer.”

“I love it out here,” said Jane.

“What we need,” said Hurst, “is a waitress.” He waved his hand in the girl's direction. When she approached the table he called out. “Two bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon!”

“I want Merlot,” said Carrie.

Darcy glanced around the table. “Is everyone fine with that? Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot?”

“Are you happy with that?” Charles asked Jane.

“Oh yes!”

“A bottle of each then,” said Darcy.

“And I'll have a sangria,” said Elizabeth. “And a glass of water, please.”

As the waitress left with the order, Hurst began complaining that he'd ordered two bottles of a particular wine for a reason and as he wasn't going to drink any merlot they should have just ordered three bottles of wine. Darcy was reminding him that they all had to work again the next day even though they'd finished with Glacierview. Carrie was tapping on the table with her red fingernails and Lou was quietly giggling. Charles and Jane were busily discussing the menu, shutting everything else out. Elisabeth sighed. It was going to be a long night.

As it turned out, after such an unpropitious start, the evening was a lot better than Elizabeth had anticipated. The meal was delicious rather than pretentious. She ate her medallions of pork undisturbed as conversation swirled about her. The air remained balmy as the sky darkened and she sat back and sipped her sangria under the canopy of leaves as stars began to blink on. The only thing that bothered her was Fitzsnobbiam staring at her every now and then. Besides that, she was left in peace. She let her mind drift, thinking of the next day and the interviews she had scheduled with prospective employees.

“Dessert?”

“Pardon me?” She looked up to see Darcy regarding her with a question in his eyes.

“I was asking if you'd like dessert?”

The waitress was standing by the table anticipating her response.

“Well, I . . . what's everybody . . .?”

“We're all having dessert,” said Jane, laughing. “There's crčme brulee with lavender - it sounds delicious.”

“And chocolate pecan pie,” said Lou.

“I'm having the bread pudding,” said Charles.

“I'm having pistachio sorbet,” said Carrie, “but you might want the death by chocolate cake.”

“I'll have the crčme brulee,” said Elizabeth quickly.

“Good choice,” said Darcy. As the waitress walked away he continued, “What took you so far away?”

“I've got interviews tomorrow for a production manager.”

“Good, you need more help there.”

`So now he's criticising how I run production?' thought Elizabeth. “Well you don't have to put up with us any longer, lucky you.”

“It was never a question of us putting up with you, but you putting up with us,” he responded. “But it's not completely over yet, remember. The samples have to be tested and your results have to all be negative for the nursery to get an all clear. You'll be hearing from us in a couple of weeks.”

“I know. Don't worry; I'll keep those plants you're so concerned about in quarantine until then.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to talk business tonight. I was going to call you tomorrow.”

“Well, now you've got one less annoying thing to do tomorrow, don't you?” Elizabeth answered with a grin that took the edge off her words.

He smiled and changed the subject, asking her if she'd enjoyed her meal and talking about his impressions of the restaurant until dessert arrived.

The crčme brulee was superb and Elizabeth savoured every spoonful. She noticed that he had ordered the same thing, and was glad when Carrie drew his attention away, asking to taste his dessert and offering him a spoonful of hers.

Snippets of their conversation came her way. Even though she had no interest in anything either of them had to say, she couldn't tune them out.

“Your sister must be dying for you to finish this sampling up and come home.”

“It's not as if she doesn't have a life, Carrie, but I probably miss her just as much as she misses me.”

“It's so nice that you're close.”

“Yes.”

“And that she likes your friends - especially one certain friend. And that he likes her”

“She's pretty young to set too much in store by that,” he said, “but yeah, it's great that they get along so well.”

“And I simply love her too. We should all go out together sometime - just the four of us. It would be so much fun.”

“Maybe - but she'll be busy with exams when we get back and I'll be doing overtime at the office.”

“I could do overtime too.”

“That probably won't be necessary. Excuse me - there's the waitress.” He waved the girl over. “Could you bring me the bill please?”

When Elizabeth and Jane argued that they should pay for their meals, he shrugged their protests aside. “This is a work dinner - it's going on the expense account.”

“We don't work for the FHA,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“No,” Darcy admitted, “but you and Jane are our guests, and we have inconvenienced you at the nursery all week.”

Elizabeth realised that he was not going to back down, so she grudgingly accepted it. “So - this is where our tax dollars go?”

“Sometimes,” he said, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “But we rarely live up to our terrible reputation.”

On the way home Jane talked happily about Charles.

“You know he doesn't work out of Victoria like the rest of the team, he's stationed in Parksville.”

“Yes - you told me before.”

“When they finish sampling the other Courtenay nurseries they'll be going to Campbell River. There's really nothing further north than that. The rest of them will return to Victoria but Charles will still do other FHA work in the area. He says he'll probably be up every week or so with one thing or another. He's planning on coming to see me whenever he has a chance. And I can drive down to Parksville - it's only an hour away. Oh Beth! I'm so glad you made me come and help you, or I might never have met him. He's so . . . I've never met anyone like him! So kind. So interesting. So much fun!”

“He's great. I'm so happy for you both.”

“Well we aren't really an item.”

“You could've fooled me. You two don't talk to anyone else. You don't get any work done when you're both in the same block of plants, and you're always in the same block of plants. I'd say there's something going on between you.”

“Well I really like him.”

“Duh!”

“But I'm not sure how he feels about me. We're just friends.”

Elizabeth almost choked on a giggle. “You're hilarious. The guy is clearly over the moon about you.”

Jane smiled. “D'you think?”

“I know,” said Elizabeth. “And so does anyone who's seen you two together.”

The applicant for the production position was a friendly looking woman of about forty, May Gardiner.

“You've got some good references,” said Elizabeth, glancing over May's resume. “Most of these nurseries you've worked at are much bigger than ours - we're just a small, family run operation. With all your experience and training you could do better than this.”

“Actually,” said May, “a family operation is exactly what I'm looking for. I'll tell it to you straight. My husband and I have wanted to live on the island for quite some time. Our dream has always been to own our own nursery. We've researched and searched quite extensively from Victoria all the way up to Campbell River, and we've found a nursery in the Victoria area that we're negotiating to buy. If we get it, we'll take over at the end of the year. So you see, I'd only be able to work with you for one season, and I'd be stealing all your top ideas.” She laughed. “But I'm a hard worker and very energetic and I'd be committed to working with you to the best of my abilities.”

“I knew there had to be a catch,” said Elizabeth with a wry grin. “But to have someone with your level of experience even for just a season would really help me out. We've suffered by having too much casual labour for too long and not enough workers with any level of expertise.” She was thinking that whoever worked with May would get some valuable training and maybe be able to take over once she'd gone. “I'll take you on a tour of our nursery and then you can tell me if you still want to work here.”

“You've got it backwards,” said May.

“There's no question that I'd like you on my staff,” said Elizabeth, as she led the way to her truck.

They spent half an hour driving and walking over the ten acres. Elizabeth discovered that May not only knew her stuff, she was cheerful and had a good sense of humour.

“Does your husband have a job in Courtenay?” asked Elizabeth as they walked between rows of field stock on the way to find her father and make the introductions.

“Nothing has come up yet,” said May. “This is the first decent nursery job that's been posted. Most places only want unskilled workers at minimum wage.”

“Would he consider working here too? I couldn't pay him more than what you'd be making, but if he'd like to work digging field stock and helping the landscapers it would reduce my father's load considerably. I worry about dad doing such strenuous work at his age.”

“Sam'll be coming to pick me up as soon as I call him. You could ask him then and see what he thinks.”

That evening Elizabeth sat at her desk going over her plans. Sam had taken the job, and that freed her dad for a more supervisory role outdoors as well as dealing with all the wholesale customers, and doing whatever buying was necessary. Mary would be the head shipper, putting together orders with Sam helping her with the field stock and heavy loading. May would handle all areas of production with the two part time college students Elizabeth had also hired. Chambe could do the weeding and watering and general maintenance. That left her free to work in propagation, along with all her managerial duties. Now this Phytothera scare was almost over things were sure to settle down. Because they imported only a small percentage of their stock, and had no dealings with the American nurseries where the problems had originated, Elizabeth didn't expect any positive results from the testing.

The best thing was that there were no more white suits wandering all over her nursery getting in everyone's way. Sure, they were still in town, but she didn't have to see them, and in a week or so they'd be heading up to Campbell River. Gone and not missed. She smiled and clicked open the propagation file she'd recently started. Soon her head was full of plant names and projecting production numbers. Fitzsnobbiam and his gang were completely forgotten.

“Hey there Elizabeth - I'm here just like you asked me!”

Elizabeth looked up from her cuttings to see Bill Collins beaming down at her. `How did he find me? I'll kill whoever told him where I was,' she thought. “I asked you?”

“Yeah, that night we were out together at the Blackfin, Remember?”

“I've already placed my yearly order - you know that Mr Collins. So you see, you've wasted a trip.”

“We are good enough friends that you can call me Bill, Elizabeth.”

“Anyway, time is money so hadn't you better get after customers who need your services?”

Instead of taking his leave, as Elizabeth had wanted him to do, Bill Collins sat on a stool and pulled some brochures from a bulging briefcase. “We always appreciate your timely orders, Elizabeth - Glacierview is one of our most valued customers. And customer service is what Dubarry Fertiliser is all about. Did I tell you about our new environmental line?”

“Yeah, green up with Green. I heard.”

“Isn't that an awesome slogan?” Collins slid a brightly coloured brochure along the cutting bench to Elizabeth. “See - it's one hundred percent environmentally friendly. We've had a great response to it. And it just kicks those little plants to life.”

Elizabeth gave the paper a cursory glance. “What I've ordered has all the same properties and is just as enviro-conscious, without all the hype. I could probably use another sack of rooting hormone, but that's about it. I was going to order it online and save you an unnecessary trip.”

“No trip is unnecessary. Especially to see you. I have to tell you how impressed I am with what you've done to this place. Hardly recognised it. But I knew how it would be from the first time I met you. You've got the talent and the drive. With you in charge I see Glacierview growing to be one of the biggest and most highly respected nurseries on the island.”

“That's not my goal. I like the idea of small, family run places that put quality and service first, and grow specialty plants.”

“Exactly! If it's rare and unique you're bound to have it. Anyone who asks, I always recommend Glacierview. Just last week someone was looking for one of those ones that has those purple leaves and I said you could supply them with whatever they wanted. See - I've got your interests at heart. But then, we have always been more than business connections, haven't we? I like you Elizabeth. I like you a lot.”

“Thank you, but I really do need to get these cuttings into vermiculite before they dry out.”

Collins drew his stool closer. “I've been meaning to ask you out,” he said. “That night at the Blackfin I really felt the chemistry between us and it's just as strong today.”

`Chemistry?' thought Elizabeth. `I palmed him off on Charlotte as quickly as I could.'

“There's a new little bistro on Comox Avenue I want to take you to. Very intimate atmosphere - set us up for the evening, if you know what I mean.”

“Let's just stick to a business relationship, okay? I'm not interested in going out with you.”

“Don't be shy, Elizabeth,” Collins leaned closer. “We'd be so good together.”

“Never, Mr Collins. I think you should leave now.” Elizabeth edged away.

“Bill,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“What will it take to get through to you?” Elizabeth yelled as she stood up. “One step closer, and I'll kick you where it hurts.”

Just then her cell phone rang. As Elizabeth fumbled around in her pockets for it, Collins put his papers back in his briefcase and snapped it shut. His face had gone from a suggestive leer to an angry red. “You don't know what you're missing,” he hissed as he turned to go.

Elizabeth finally pulled her phone out and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Hi, Elizabeth? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, your timing was perfect,” she said, trying to make out the voice coming through on her cell.

“Oh, good. You sounded a little flustered or something. Must be the connection.”

`Damn.' The voice suddenly registered. `Out of the frying pan and into the fire.' “What can I do for you, Mr Fitzwilliam?”

“I just wanted to let you know that with the volume of samples the lab is having to process, we won't be getting your results for at least a month or more.”

“So those quarantined plants will be hanging around in Limbo for even longer?”

“Limbo doesn't exist anymore, hadn't you heard?”

“Yes, I've heard.” `Screw the arrogant jerk.' “This is no time to be facetious. I'm losing money because of your quarantine. My customers aren't going to wait - they'll find another supplier.”

“Sorry.” There was a slight pause on the other end of the connection. “Look - there's nothing I can do to change things. All the nurseries caught up in this are in the same boat as you, or worse. Just be patient, please. I'll keep you posted.”

“I know how busy you are,” said Elizabeth. The last thing she wanted was to field calls from Fitzsnobbiam. “I'll go online and save you the trouble.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, and rang off.

Elizabeth felt like hurling her phone across the propagation house. Instead she returned to her cuttings, dipping them into hormone powder and shoving them into flats of the vermiculite mix she was using. She broke quite a few of the innocent little twigs before she calmed down again.

Chapter Five

Posted on Tuesday, 4 December 2007

Elizabeth did have to field a couple of phone calls from Fitzsnobbiam during the next couple of weeks. He really didn't have much to say, except to tell her that the backlog in the lab was astronomical, what with the camellia recall samples and the FHA samplings of nurseries and their environs all going to the same Ottawa lab.

“Don't we have a lab we can use here in BC?” she asked.

“Not the federal government. The provincial department of Forests and Agriculture has a lab in the lower mainland, but it hasn't been cleared for our use in this project.”

“Seems to me it would only make sense to use it.”

“We are hampered by so much red tape. I really can't go into the issues with you, but we have to answer to the Americans and their protocol is different from ours yet again.”

“What can they have to say in any of this? They caused the problem.”

Elizabeth heard a sigh from the other end of the phone.

“Look, I've probably said too much about this to you as it is. Just rest assured I'll let you know your results as soon as they're available.”

Elizabeth shut her phone with an angry click and stared across the office at her father.

“Too much government double speak?'

“It's so ridiculous that we have to hold those rhodos and pieris when it's obvious there's nothing wrong with them. Forsters have already finished that job they wanted those special varieties for. They found them in a small nursery in Victoria that hadn't been inspected yet. We're stuck with the lot of them now.”

“Something will turn up. Anyway Bob Forster said he'd use as many as he could on other jobs once they were out of quarantine. And you can take cuttings from them so we can propagate them ourselves.”

“You can bet I will. The less we rely out outdoor suppliers the better, with this kind of scare going on. Who knows what'll happen next? Pyracantha has been added to the list now.”

“I hate those spiny little beggars anyway,” said her dad with a grin.

“Maybe, but they're one of our bread and butter sellers.”

“So, how's the camellia recall going?”

“You know the FHA are treating the whole thing like it's top secret. I asked Fitzsnobbiam if it's almost completed and all he could say was it's going according to plan. Luckily Charles isn't quite so close mouthed. He says that the level of response surprised everybody but that, all things considered, the program has gone much more smoothly than anyone anticipated. He even told us some hilarious stories about what some of the samplers have had to face when going to people's houses. More than one inspector dug up and destroyed plants at the wrong address, and in one instance they weren't even camellias.”

“He's seeing a lot of our Jane, isn't he? Your mother is starting to count her chickens.”

“Oh God! I wish she wouldn't. It was so embarrassing the other day when Jane brought him home for dinner and mom was grilling Charles about his favourite food and continually talking about next time he comes and summer barbecues and if he prefers turkey or duck at Thanksgiving. She could scare the poor guy away - that is if he weren't so besotted with Jane. I think he missed half of what mom said, just gazing into Jane's eyes.”

“That was the point I left the room,” said her father. “There's only so much of that lovey-dovey stuff I can handle. He's a nice boy with a good head on his shoulders, but he's a bit too moonstruck for my liking.”

“Speaking of moonstruck - Dad, you've got to talk to Liddie and Kate about the way they run around after all the young landscapers from Forsters.”

“Yes,” he said meditatively. “They should be setting their sights higher shouldn't they? And how about you my dear? No more bites since you tossed Bill Collins back into the pond?” He smirked.

“Don't even remind me! But you know that's not what I meant about Liddie and Kate, Dad. People are going to think that they're cheap.”

“I'll get your mother to put higher price tags on them.”

“Dad! It's not a joke.”

“Teenagers will be teenagers, Bethie - and your sisters are two of the silliest teenagers around. Forsters' boys know better than to get involved with them. They're little more than children.”

“They look nothing like children in their skimpy tank tops and push up bras. And those young guys aren't much older. They're full of raging testosterone, too.”

“I'll speak to Bob - make sure he tells his guys the girls are off limits.”

“Thanks. But it's their behaviour I'd like to see change too.”

“That's your mother's department.”

“Arrghh - she practically encourages them!”

“Then what makes you think they'd ever listen to a thing I say? Your mother doesn't.”

Elizabeth could see she was going to get nowhere with her appeal so she gave up and discussed the SOD issues again.

A few weeks later they'd honoured the last of the replacement coupons at the nursery and Charles had come by to pick up all the receipts and thank them for their cooperation with the program.

“Did you know a total of 1500 camellias were processed?” he said. “Though we can't be sure all the ones from Belgravia were turned in, and of course a percentage of those that did get turned in were Canadian grown.”

“So, how many diseased ones were found?” asked Elizabeth.

“Results aren't all back yet, and if they were, you know that's privileged information.”

“Come on - we're friends. I'm just curious. I'm not going to plaster it all over the net with names and addresses.”

“Even I will never know the locations when the results do get out,” Charles responded with a laugh. “Is your sister around?”

“Which sister?” asked Liddie with a giggle as she sauntered by, a small pot of ground cover in each hand.”

“You know Jane works at Roses Plus,” said Elizabeth. “Why would she be here at the nursery?”

“She said something about getting off early and meeting me here - that's why I left Glacierview last on my schedule.”

Just then Jane appeared at the doorway and she walked up to them, smiling shyly. Charles put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek.

“His sweetie.”

“Hi yourself,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Elizabeth knew she wasn't going to get any more information out of Charles on this visit so she said goodbye to him, gave Jane a wink, and went out to see May about a problem with the potting machine.

It was almost summer by the time Elizabeth finally got the call from Darcy Fitzwilliam that all the tests from Glacierview had come back negative, She was free to take the plants from Hamiltons out of quarantine. She thanked him sarcastically and rang off as quickly as she could, though he had seemed inclined to keep talking, asking questions about how things were going. She couldn't imagine why he was interested, unless he wanted to find some kind of flaw in the way she was running her operation. She assured him that she was keeping up to date on all the suggested disease prevention precautions and sighed in relief as she hung up.

That was the last time she'd be hearing from him.

Summer brought the usual slow down in sales, but they were busier than ever re-potting, spacing plants, and keeping everything weeded and watered. July and August were hotter and dryer than typical Island weather - everyone was attributing it to global warming. If it wasn't one thing it was another making the life of a nursery owner difficult.

Liddie and Kate spent more time tubing on the Puntledge with their friends than at the nursery. Elizabeth was glad because the sight of those two in their bikini tops was testing the landscapers to the limits, not to mention the college students she'd hired for the summer.

“Don't even think about it,” she'd warned them when she'd noticed the direction of their gazes.

A few more plants were added to the host list at the SOD hotline website, but other than that the situation with the disease had calmed right down. If it wasn't for those plants from Hamiltons that Elizabeth was still trying to unload, she might have thought she'd dreamed the whole thing. And then there was Charles, of course. He and Jane usually went out most Friday nights, and on Saturdays Jane was in the habit of taking a road trip to Parksville.

“Would you like me to bring you something back from Coombs?” Jane asked over the phone. “I'm on my way to meet Charlie there for lunch.”

“You can't get enough of the goats on the roof of the Old Country Market, can you?”

“You know me too well. I've always been a sucker for them, ever since dad used to take us there for ice cream when we were kids.”

“Have fun!”

“So don't tell me what you want - I'll surprise you.”

“I just know it's going to be one of those silly toys.”

“We'll see,” laughed Jane. “What are you up to today?”

“I'll call Charlotte and ask if she wants to do something tonight. I haven't seen her for a while.”

But when Elizabeth phoned Charlotte, all she got was her voice mail. She left a message and went back to work. At six, when she left the nursery and walked up to the house to shower and change, Char still hadn't returned her call. `I'll just have to go out on my own,' she thought.

After her shower Elizabeth was tempted to simply sit on the desk and bask in the warmth of the evening, enjoying the view, but she'd been too much of a hermit lately and she knew she'd better get out and do something. A nice meal and then a walk along the river by the dam sounded like a plan.

“I'm heading to the Union Street Grill and then going for a walk after, want to come?” she asked Mary.

“Sure.”

They found parking on the road just down the street from the restaurant and were walking up the sidewalk when Mary nudged Elizabeth. “Isn't that Charlotte? Look, she's going into the Golden Carriage with a guy.”

Elizabeth turned her head. She couldn't see Charlotte, but there was no mistaking the man who had just walked through the door into the shadowy interior of the Chinese restaurant. “Is that the guy you mean?”

“Yeah - I think I've seen him somewhere before.”

“Are you sure it was Charlotte?”

“I think so - she was wearing that green dress she likes so much.”

Charlotte in her green dress with Bill Collins? That was the dress she always wore when she wanted to impress someone she had a thing for. But, Bill Collins? No! The very idea was revolting. “It couldn't have been her.”

“Do you want to go across the road and check? We could eat there - I wouldn't mind Chinese food.”

“No. I don't want to stalk her if she's on a date - if it is her.”

“So, don't believe me,” groaned Mary.

“It's not that I don't believe you think you saw her - it's just that it doesn't make any sense. What would she be doing with Bill Collins?”

“That's who the guy is?” asked Mary. “The Bill Collins? The fertiliser guy who hit on you that time? Gross!”

“You said it,” said Elizabeth. “Now let's go get something to eat.”

The meal was good, but Elizabeth found she'd lost her appetite. She took most of it home in a doggy bag. Mary talked away on their walk about the novel she was writing in her spare time, expounding on the plot at length. Elizabeth nodded at appropriate intervals, but she was only half listening. All she could think of was the possibility that it really was Charlotte whom Mary had seen. What could possibly have induced her to go out to dinner with Collins, of all people?

The next morning Elizabeth woke to the sound of her cell ringing. She wondered who would be calling her so early on a Sunday morning, when she noticed the time. It was 9:00 am. She'd had a rough night, sleep-wise, and hadn't fallen properly to sleep until nearly four in the morning. She was still feeling a bit groggy when she flipped open her phone and answered.

“Beth!”

“Hi Jane. What did you get me in Coombs?”

“Get you? Oh! I totally forgot.”

“That's okay. You were with Charles - you had other things on your mind.”

“Yes, I did. Beth, can you do me a favour and come over right now? I really need to talk to you.”

“What's up?” asked Elizabeth, her head quickly clearing. But Jane refused to say any more.

Elizabeth showered and dressed and was out the door in ten minutes, grabbing a cheese bagel as she ran through the kitchen. A five minute drive brought her to Jane's Comox apartment. She found Jane still in her pyjamas, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes sooted with dark circles.

“You look like you had a worse night than me. What's the matter - you sick or something?”

“It's over.” Jane choked back a sob.

Elizabeth felt a chill go through her. It couldn't be what it sounded like. “I'm making coffee,” she said. “I think both of us could really use some.”

“Oh Beth!” said Jane, and she threw herself into her sister's arms, hampering her progress to the small kitchen nook.

Elizabeth shifted Jane so that she had one arm tightly around her shoulder, and almost dragged her into the kitchen. She filled the coffee maker, put in a new filter and a scoop of coffee, and then switched it on. “Come on - sit,” she said, pulling her to the kitchen table. “Tell me what happened.”

“Charles has been transferred to Victoria,” Jane whimpered.

“Okay - he'll be farther away, so you won't see as much of him - but it's only a three hour drive - it's not as if he was going to Prince George or something.”

“Charles says - he says it's too far. He says that long distance relationships never work. That we'd be better off saying goodbye and . . . and . . . and being free to see other people.”

“He said what?' Elizabeth couldn't believe what she was hearing.

“He wants to see other people. He's not in love with me - I told you. But you said . . . and I believed you.” Jane crumpled onto the table and started crying in earnest.

Elizabeth crouched down beside Jane and held her closely. “Slow down, Jane. Slow down. You can't tell me that Charles actually said he's not in love with you.”

“He didn't have to. It's sort of obvious when a guy tells me that he doesn't want to see me anymore that he's not in love.”

“He said he didn't want to see you anymore?” Elizabeth was incredulous. “I thought he was a nice guy but he's just as big of a jerk as the rest of them”

Jane held up her tear-stained face and looked imploringly at Elizabeth. “He didn't say it like that. He was very sweet and kind and he looked very sad, but - it meant the same thing. He is a nice guy, Beth. He let me down gently. But he let me down and I don't know what I'm going to do.” She grabbed a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and wiped her eyes. “I love him so much. What am I going to do, Beth? I feel like I've died inside.”

Elizabeth grabbed a mug and poured the coffee, strong and black. “What you are going to do is drink this. Then you are getting dressed. Then I'm taking you out somewhere to eat. I'll lay odds you didn't eat anything since that lunch in Coombs.”

“I can't go out! Look at me!”

“Yeah - you look terrible. But staying inside in your pyjamas with yesterday's mascara running down your cheeks isn't going to make you feel any better. Drink!”

Jane valiantly gulped at her coffee then reluctantly headed for the shower when she realised obeying her sister would be the easiest course of action. It was a wan face that peered through the bedroom door after all Elizabeth's orders had been followed, but at least she was dressed and her hair tidied.

“We'll pick up a sandwich and eat it at the beach,” said Elizabeth. “My treat.”

They spent the better part of the day walking along the sand, sitting on logs, and throwing rocks into the waves. And as they talked, Elizabeth came to realise that Jane's feelings went even deeper than she'd even expected. She gave up cursing Charles outwardly, because Jane always rose to his defence, but inwardly she wished he were around so that she could wring his pitiful neck. She found it hard to believe that a guy who'd been as googly-eyed over a girl as Charles had been could let a little thing like an extra hundred and fifty kilometres get in the way of continuing a relationship. There had to be more to it than that.

And then the thing that had been evading her all day came in a blinding flash. Fitzsnobbiam was the head of the program. He was the one who said who worked where. If Charles had been transferred, it was his doing. And if he'd transferred Charles, he'd done it for a reason. But why would he purposefully separate Charles and Jane? What on earth could he have against Jane? Unless - it wasn't so much who Jane was, but who she wasn't. That conversation at the restaurant between Fitzsnobbiam and Carrie came back to her. What was it Carrie had said? How great it was that his sister liked his friend and vice versa? And according to Jane, Charles was Fitzsnobbiam's best friend.

Nothing else made sense - that had to be it. He didn't want his sister hurt, so he transferred Charles to Victoria where he could keep an eye on him, and convinced him to stop seeing Jane.

Elizabeth swore she'd never forgive the contemptible snob for the pain he'd put Jane through.

Chapter Six

Posted on Saturday, 8 December 2007

In September Elizabeth heard rumours through industry grapevines that something was up with the SOD issue again. She spent her evenings cruising the various internet sites devoted to Phytothera ramorum and discovered that government action was heating up. The Americans were putting pressure on the Canadian government to take regulatory action - they wanted all plants going through the border into the States to come from certified SOD free nurseries. If not, trade between nurseries in the two countries would be shut down.

“But it originated with them, not us!” Elizabeth yelled at her computer. “Why should our businesses take the fall?”

Even in her anger, though, she could see that something needed to be done. The list of host plants had been growing. And she knew there were one or two mainland nurseries still under quarantine because of problems with positive test results. Not all growers were taking the initiative she was to institute programs to help curb the possible spread of disease.

In October Phytothera ramorum was put under government regulation and a voluntary program for the certification of BC nurseries came into effect. The message was very straightforward. Any nursery that wanted to keep exporting plant material to the United States would find certification in their best interests. And none of those exporters would buy plants from an uncertified facility. It went so far down the line that even small growers who had no host plants would still need inspections if they wished to keep their major customers.

For Elizabeth it was more than not wanting to lose contracts with the larger nurseries Glacierview supplied. The threat of the spread of the disease was reason enough to join the certification process. Prevention was the only sensible course of action.

Samplers were to be sent out again, but this time it was not the FHA who would be doing the sampling. The Nursery Trades Association, which had assisted the FHA with the camellia recall program, was taking charge of the certification program, training their own inspectors and using the lower mainland provincial lab for testing the samples.

Glacierview was one of the first nurseries to sign up for the program.

“It's the only thing that makes sense, Dad,” said Elizabeth.

“I don't see how they're going to manage to get all the wholesale nurseries in BC inspected before the deciduous trees drop their leaves.”

“It's the NTA's logistics problem, not mine. I hear the FHA is assisting them by having regional workers sampling all the interior nurseries. The NTA's only responsible for the lower mainland and the island.”

“So the government goes to all this fuss and bother to find out that the situation is uncontrollable anyway.”

Elizabeth sighed. “We can't give up without trying. We don't want BC to end up in the same situation as California and Oregon. They have serious problems both in the wild and in their larger nurseries. What would happen if the arbutus here on the island became infected? Or the garry oaks? Or what about the Douglas firs? Think of how it could affect our forests and the forest industry as a whole. Not to mention all the decorative, landscape material like we specialise in. Some customers are shying away from buying anything that's on the host plant list. Think of what that could do for business. Being able to say that Glacierview is certified disease free will help keep our customers' confidence.”

“You're right, of course, my dear. You've got a good head on your shoulders. That's why I put you in charge.”

“You put me in charge because you didn't want the aggravation of running this place anymore,” said Elizabeth with a grin.

“That too,” her father responded. “So, any idea when we can expect more white coats?”

“It's not the loony bin, dad. White coveralls.”

Mr Bennet shrugged his shoulders, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well it's all pretty crazy to me.”

“I got a call from the project co-ordinator that we'll be sampled some time next week. An inspector should contact me soon and set up an appointment.”

Elizabeth was sitting in the office looking out the window through a sheet of almost solid rain. She had no wish to go outdoors, even as far as the propagation house to check on the progress of her cuttings. Sometimes autumn weather really sucked. Her phone rang and she reached over to pick it up.

“Hello, is this Elizabeth Bennet?”

“Speaking.”

“George Wickham here from the NTA. I'll be coming by to sample your nursery today for the certification program, if that's okay with you.”

“Well you picked a good day for it!”

“Nothing like our west coast liquid sunshine!” he said with a smile in his voice.

“Is there anything you need from me?”

“A site map would be great for starters. I'm on the highway now. I should be there in about half an hour.”

“Great. Stop in at the office and I'll give you a map and find someone to show you around.”

“Excellent,” he said, and rang off.

As Elizabeth put the phone down she reflected that he sounded a lot easier to work with than Fitzsnobbiam. A nice voice and a friendly manner. She was looking forward to her day a bit more than she had been earlier. She was debating calling Mary in to drive George and his team around when the phone rang again.

“Elizabeth - I was hoping to catch you.”

“Yes?” she said, her voice wary. “How can I help you Mr Fitzwilliam?”

“I wanted to let you know that your nursery didn't get put onto our FHA survey so you'll be sampled by the NTA.”

“FHA survey?” Elizabeth couldn't figure out why Fitzsnobbiam felt the need to phone her about a thing like that when she'd never expected the FHA to be doing her sampling.

“Yes. The federal government is doing some spot checks, but we're mainly concentrating on nurseries we felt were more likely to have issues. I tried to get Glacierview on the list but I got overruled.”

“So in your opinion my nursery does have SOD issues?”

“That's not what I'm saying. It's simply that any nurseries we sample will come under the FHA budget and since we're passing the results of our testing over to the NTA, you would have been saved the cost of the inspection.”

“Thanks for the thought,” Elizabeth said, still wondering why he was telling her all this. “Actually, I've got George Wickham coming from the NTA today. He should be here any minute.”

“George Wickham! They're sending him?”

“Why? What's wrong with that?”

“I was just . . . no - nothing. Have a good day, Elizabeth. I hope things go well for you.”

Elizabeth shook her head as she hung up the phone. What in the heck was that all about? And why had he gone all weird when she'd mentioned George's name? She didn't have much time to contemplate Fitzsnobbiam's strange behaviour because a moment later the door opened and a figure dripping rain walked into her office.

He pushed back his rain hood and smiled. “Hi.”

The smile alone made Elizabeth change her mind about calling Mary to take George Wickham around the nursery. She held out her hand. “I'm Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Excuse me for coming in here like a drowned rat and dripping water all over your office.”

“Think nothing of it,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I'm always tracking water and mud into here. It goes with the territory. Would you like a coffee before heading out into the monsoon again?”

“Love one.”

“Take off your jacket, then, and stay a while.” She indicated a coat hook and then went to the back of the office to pour two cups of coffee. “Cream and sugar?”

“Just sugar. I like it hot and sweet.”

Elizabeth returned and passed him a steaming mug. “What about your team? Would they like to come in for coffee too? I can put on another pot.”

“Team?”

“Yeah. When the FHA were here in the spring, they had five people.”

“You're not dealing with the feds now. All you've got is me.”

“Just you? But it took them five days to get all their samples last time.”

“Exactly how big is your place?”

“Ten acres. Just a sec - I'll give you that map you wanted.” Elizabeth brought up the map on her computer and clicked the print icon.

“It took five people five days to do ten acres!” George snorted. “Don't you just love to see your tax dollars at work? I'll be out of here in three hours - four max. And that's just because the bad weather'll slow me down.”

“I don't believe it! We had Mr Fitzwilliam and his crew getting in our way for days and you can take all the samples you need in a few hours?”

“Fitzwilliam? He was here?”

“Yeah.”

George must have caught something in Elizabeth's tone because the next thing that he said was, “What did you think of him?”

Elizabeth eyed him speculatively. First Fitzsnobbiam and now George. What's up with the guys? “Well . . . he was rather . . . highhanded.”

George let out a bark of laughter. “You are a master of diplomacy. Admit it - the man is a pain in the ass.”

“Okay, he was totally obnoxious.” Elizabeth gulped down the last of her coffee and looked at the time. “You'd better get your jacket on again and I'll take you out and show you around.”

“I've got to sport my stylish white suit too.” He passed his empty cup back to her. “I'm really supposed to spray my boots as well, but in this rain it seems sort of futile.”

“No need. I've got a foot bath set up at the gate. No one can go in or out of the nursery without sanitising first.”

“That's awesome. Do you know this is the first place I've been that understands the problem enough to set something like that up?”

“It was in the recommendations. I thought everyone was doing it.”

“Nah. You wouldn't believe some of the things I've seen.”

“Well I'm all for prevention. The landscapers have to spray their tires before driving onto the grounds too. Here we go.”

They'd reached the gate. Elizabeth opened it and gestured for George to go through and into the little hut where the foot bath was. Elizabeth went in after him and then they walked down the roadway. She had put the map on a clipboard and put both inside a plastic bag.

“This is where we are,” she said, pointing to the markings on the map. “Here's the potting shed and the propagation house. Then the greenhouses start. They're all numbered. Beyond them are our container blocks and the field stock is in the back. We've got host plants growing in almost every area.”

“Thanks.” George grinned at her through the drips that were trickling off the peak of his hood. “I'll take it from here. I'm sure you've got important work to do in your nice, dry office.”

“Actually, I have to go to the propagation house. If you need me for anything, that's where I'll be.”

“Sure thing. I'll look in on you before I leave.”

Elizabeth watched him as he headed towards the greenhouses, then turned and walked the short distance to the propagation house. Once inside she took off her wet jacket and hung it on a peg. She shivered at the damp and cold, reaching for a plaid shirt from a hook by the door. Why had she changed the subject back in the office? Sure, George needed to get his sampling done, but she'd gone and let him know how she felt about Fitzsnobbiam without getting any information out of him. Obviously he didn't like the man either and she was dying to find out why.

She looked over the flats of cuttings and checked the heating cables. The cuttings were rooting well and new little leaf buds were opening. She went over to check an older batch - soon they would need to be transferred to four-inch pots. And the flats at the very end were ready right now. She pulled on her gloves and was soon filling flats of pots with soil mix, carefully separating the young cuttings, and pressing them down into the soft earth. The repetitious actions settled into a rhythm that overtook thought.

Three hours later the door opened and brought her out of the zone. George put his cooler bag on the bench and pulled his hood back.

“All done - forty lovely samples.”

“Thanks. How did everything look?”

“In this rain I couldn't see anything,” he joked. “Elizabeth, your plants all look great. You've got a ship-shape operation here.”

“You had no trouble finding everything you wanted?”

“I got turned around once or twice, but your helpful employees got me back on track.”

“Oh - did you run into Mary and May?”

“No - I think they said they were Lynnie and Kath. Nice girls”

“Liddie and Kate - my little sisters. I hope they didn't bother you - they can be a bit . . . friendly.”

“Not at all. They were quite sweet. Like their older sister.”

Elizabeth blushed. “Hardly,” she said.

“I've never felt more welcome at a nursery. Some places it's like the Spanish inquisition - as if I'm somehow to blame for this whole SOD mess.”

“Well I'm thrilled that you were able to come in such terrible weather and do the job so quickly. I really appreciate it. Do you have any idea when I'll get the test results?”

“They tell me it generally takes about three weeks, but I'll get them to put a rush on yours.” He fumbled with his cooler bag as he picked it back up and slung it over his shoulder. “I've put ribbons on all the blocks I took samples from. Try not to move things around too much - but if you have to, please make sure the ribbons are left on till you get the results.”

“I know the drill from last time.”

“Good. If you have any concerns call me at the NTA office and I'll get back to you right away.”

“Will do.”

“See you,” he said a he backed out the door.

Elizabeth waved. She was left thinking of his warm smile and honey coloured eyes. Damn, why did the good ones have to come and go so quickly while creeps like Fitzsnobbiam took forever to get the job done? It wasn't fair.

Elizabeth finished off the flat she was working on and watered all the four inchers she had potted up. She hung the shirt on its hook and pulled her jacket back on. As she took one last look around the propagation house she noticed a flash of red on the bench. A shiny pair of clippers lay there, half hidden in a pile of vermiculite. She grabbed them up with a quick smile and ran out the door.

“That was some hot guy taking samples today,” said Liddie as she sauntered into the office and pulled her timesheet from the shelf. “I'm glad I came to work, even if it was raining.”

“How could you tell he was hot, with all that gear he was wearing?” asked Elizabeth, though she'd noticed George's good looks too.

Liddie tossed her head. “I can spot the hot ones a mile away. I think he liked me too. When's he coming back?”

“Forget about it. He took all his samples so he doesn't need to come back.” Elizabeth wasn't going to tell her sister about the clippers, which she was hoping he'd stop in for at the end of the day. If not she'd have to give the NTA office a call, but she preferred to think he'd come by on his own. She didn't think she'd imagined that spark, like electricity, between them.

“That stinks. Anyway, I'm outta here.” Liddie tossed the filled out timesheet down and headed through the back where stairs led up to the house.

Elizabeth sighed and got up from her desk. When would Liddie put things back where they belonged? She was putting the sheet of paper into the correct basket when the door opened behind her.

“Hi again.”

She turned, and there was George, no longer in his rain gear, his athletic build looking better than she had expected in faded jeans and a leather jacket.

“Looking for your clippers?”

“Don't tell me you found them! Thanks. I thought I was going to have to search all over your nursery.”

“They must have fallen out of your bag when you came into the propagation house. I found them on the bench in a pile of dirt.”

“What a relief. You don't know how stupid I felt when I got to Rivervalley and realized I'd lost them. Luckily I was able to borrow a pair and get my samples taken.”

Elizabeth went back to her desk and retrieved the clippers. She walked over and held them out to him. “Take care of them - you might not get so lucky next time.”

“Speaking of getting lucky,” he said, a hopeful smile shining in his eyes, “I was wondering . . .”

“Yes?”

“I know this might seem a little presumptuous of me - I mean you barely know me, but . . . you do eat don't you?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Of course I eat - it's sort of obvious, isn't it?”

He looked at her appreciatively. “What I meant was, here I am in town by myself and I hate eating alone. I usually pick up take out and go back to my hotel room with it - eat in front of the TV all by myself.”

“Is this where the violin starts playing?”

“It's a sad, sad story I know. But here's what I was thinking - since we've established that we both eat - and it's no fun eating alone - why don't you join me for dinner? You know the best restaurants and I'd really enjoy your company.”

“Well . . .” Elizabeth hesitated.

“Please say yes. You'll be saving me from clogging my arteries with another meal from Burger King.”

“If you put it that way,” she conceded. “How hungry are you?”

“Starving.”

“Do you like Chinese?”

“Does it rain on the west coast?”

“Okay, I'll meet you in an hour at the Dynasty - it's an all you can eat buffet. Do you know Cliffe Avenue in Courtenay?”

“I haven't got a clue. What if I pick you up in, let's say, forty-five minutes and you can give me directions.”

“Fine.” Elizabeth smiled in agreement. “I'll be up at the house.”

“I'll see you then.”

As Elizabeth climbed the stairs to the house, she wondered at herself for agreeing to go out with George. After all, what did she know about him besides the fact that he was incredibly good looking and overflowing with a sort of boyish charm? He did work for the NTA, though. It wasn't as if she'd picked him up on the street. They checked everyone's credentials when they hired them. The NTA would hardly send someone untrustworthy around to all the nurseries. Besides, she was a pretty good judge of character, and he had the kind of open personality that was easy to trust. She had to face it - she liked him, and she didn't expect to find her confidence in her decision challenged that evening.

Chapter Seven

Posted on Friday, 28 December 2007

“You're going out with him?” cried Liddie. “You lied to me! Just because I said he liked me.”

Elizabeth was fluffing her hair out in front of her mirror. “I didn't know George would come back. Anyway we're just going out to eat. It's not a date or anything.”

“So why are you putting such an effort into looking good?'

“I had a shower and now I'm wearing clean clothes and drying my hair. Was I supposed to go out in my work clothes?”

“I see mascara and lip gloss.”

“So?”

“You never wear makeup.”

“You can hardly call mascara and lip gloss makeup,” said Elizabeth, ignoring the fact that what Liddie said was true.

“Next thing you'll put on fancy earrings.”

Elizabeth slid her dresser drawer closed and got up. “Nope - I'm ready.” The earrings she had chosen would have looked great, but she'd had enough of Liddie's comments. She wasn't trying to impress anyone - sometimes it just felt good to dress up a little.

Kate came running into the room. “That hot guy that was at the nursery today is here to pick you up for your date, Beth! How did you get him to ask you out? Liddie and I were trying everything we could think of.”

“It's not a date,” said Elizabeth, grabbing her jacket and purse. “Anyway you're both too young for him, and I've told you a million times not to try picking up men at the nursery.”

Liddie wasn't listening. She'd already gone to the living room to try her luck with George. Kate just rolled her eyes at her older sister and followed her out of the bedroom.
Liddie was standing close to George, who was just inside the front door. She was talking animatedly and twirling the fingers of one hand in her hair. He appeared quite attentive, but he looked up as soon as Elizabeth came into the room and caught her eye. Liddie turned to see what had distracted him and broke off in mid sentence, changing to, “Looks like Beth's finally ready.”

“Sorry if I kept you waiting,” said Elizabeth.

“Barely a moment. Your sister Liddie has been doing a great job of entertaining me.” He held out his hand. “Shall we go? You'll be glad to hear it's stopped raining.”

“Good,” said Elizabeth, zipping up her jacket.

Once they were in the car, George turned to her and said, “You look great - but I knew you would.” His honey coloured eyes warmed as he spoke.

Feeling a little awkward, Elizabeth turned her head away. “It's probably best to turn left at the top of the drive. Back Road will take you to Ryan, then you drive down to the Fifth Street bridge. I'll show you where to turn.”

“Sounds good.”

Elizabeth was able to relax on the drive to the Dynasty as the conversation returned to a discussion on the SOD issue. George entertained her with his experiences in the camellia recall program. He had a knack for telling a story and making it amusing.

“So there I was in that stupid white suit, the hottest day in May, digging up camellias on the patio of this place and the people have invited all their neighbours over to watch. I swear there were twenty of them leaning over the side of the deck and asking me when the mother ship was landing. I gave them their reimbursement package and thanked them in the best Martian I could come up with.”

“You didn't.”

“I swear. Not one intelligible word passed my lips the entire time I was there.”

“I bet you're glad it's over.”

“I met some crazies, but most of the people were great. But you know, I really wonder if we accomplished anything. To hear the FHA talk, it was a big success, but do you know how many diseased plants we actually recovered?”

“None of my contacts have ever divulged that top secret information.”

“What difference does it make if anyone knows? I think they take the secrecy too far - it makes people like Darcy Fitzwilliam feel important.”

Elizabeth interrupted George for a moment, indicating that he needed to turn left for the restaurant. As he drove into the parking lot and stopped the car, she urged him to go on.

“Eleven. They recalled fifteen hundred plants and came up with eleven positives.”

“But . . . that's a good thing. It shows the problem wasn't as bad as they thought. That most of the diseased plants were caught before being sold and spread out into gardens all over the place.”

“Seems like a big waste of money for eleven plants.”

They walked up to the restaurant and George opened the door for her. When they were seated, Elizabeth looked at him and said, “Do you really think the program was pointless? Think what could have happened if those eleven plants hadn't been found.”

“You're right,” he conceded. “It smells great in here. Let's go fill up our plates.”

When they came back with their food, Elizabeth still wasn't prepared to leave the matter alone. She cut off George's small talk and asked him straight out what she most wanted to hear. “What is it with you and Mr Fitzwilliam?”

“Darcy Fitzwilliam? I don't want to bore you with my problems. It's all in the past now anyway - I've risen above it.”

“Now I'm even more intrigued. Tell me.”

“I used to work for the FHA. I was at the Victoria office. Darcy was my boss. To make a long story short, he screwed me over. Got me fired to cover up his own mistakes.”

“He did what? I knew he was a jerk but I never thought he was so corrupt that he would do something that uinethical.”

“After I got my degree, I was hired by the Victoria office. My first boss was great. She respected my abilities and appreciated the effort I put into the job. She helped me rise through the system until I got a permanent position. The problem was, the new position put me in Darcy's department. He resented me from day one. He'd wanted them to hire a friend of his.”

“Not Charles Bingley?”

“Yeah - that's him. A nice guy but he does whatever Darcy tells him to do, kinda like a pet spaniel.”

“You got that right,” Elizabeth muttered.

“Hey - let's talk about something else. I was out of work for a year or two because of Darcy, but the good people at the NTA gave me a break and hired me - first for the camellia program and now for this - and it looks like it's going to be a full time gig. Who knows - he might have done me a favour in the long run. After all, here I am having dinner with you.”

Elizabeth reached across the table and patted his hand. “You've got a great attitude. I don't know if I could be so forgiving.”

“Yes you would. Enough talk about me - I want to hear your story. How did you become the amazingly competent manager of a nursery at such a young age?”

“It helps having a father who was sick and tired of running the business.”

“Don't be modest - there's much more to it than that.” He leaned forward and gave her his full attention as she told him about growing up at the nursery, falling in love with plants, and leaving home to study horticulture.

They sat over their food for a long time, talking about a variety of subjects. Afterwards they went for a walk in the cool of the evening. The river trail was easily accessible from the parking lot. They strolled along, all the way to the small airpark the trail circled around, and leaned against the railings of the adjacent marina where a few boats were moored. The water rippled black in the night, highlighted here and there by the moon.

“Look,” said Elizabeth, pointing to a rounded shape breaking the surface. “A seal.”

“How cool is that? Thanks for bringing me here,” said George. “I don't know when I've had such a good evening.”

“I think I'm getting a bit cold,” said Elizabeth at last, after watching the seal's antics for some time. “Do you mind if we get back to the car? I've got another early morning tomorrow.”

“So do I.” George pulled her arm through his. “Do you want my jacket?”

“Thanks - that's sweet of you, but I'm not that cold. When we start walking I'll warm right up.”

“Or I could do this,” he said, putting his arm around her.

Elizabeth was sure that his next step would have been to lean in and kiss her, but she wasn't ready for anything like that yet. She let his arm remain around her shoulders, but began walking faster and he had to do the same to keep pace with her. She kept up a light stream of conversation until they got to the car and he seemed content with it. When they finally pulled into her drive, all he did was kiss her lightly on the cheek.

“Let's do this again. Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She knew she ought to have demurred, put him off for a day or two, but he was only in town for a short time, and being with him close like that in the dark car made her feel all fluttery inside.

He walked her to the door, holding her hand all the way, then gave it a squeeze as he turned to go. “Pick you up at six tomorrow.”

“Six” she echoed, and slipped into the house. She closed the door behind herself and then leaned back against it. She couldn't help but feel that it would have been nice if he had kissed her.

Elizabeth went out to dinner with George the next three nights. Since coming back home from college she hadn't had a boyfriend or even gone out very much with her friends. She'd thrown herself too deeply into her work and was on the verge of becoming a recluse. The change of pace was fun. Plus the company.

They talked less and less about work related topics, but if they did speak of the certification program, the conversation usually came around to Darcy Fitzwilliam. George had nothing good to say about him, and everything he told her seemed to back up the impression Mr Fitzwilliam had already made upon her.

“Have I told you my nickname for him?” she asked one evening when they were sitting by the fireside at Serious Coffee, drinking lattes.

“I hope it's repeatable. The one I call him can't be used in mixed company.”

“It's pretty lame really. I call him Fitzsnobbiam because of his incredibly superior attitude.”

George laughed. “I think I'll use that one from now on.” He took a sip of his coffee. “You know what surprised me about you at first?”

“What?”

“That you could see through him. He has all the woman in Victoria trying to get into his - trying to get a date with him.”

“That girl Carrie, from his office, was always trying to impress him. I don't get it. He's got no charm and no conversation. He may be good looking, but his attitude and expression are such turn offs - what do they see in him?”

George made a gesture with his hand, rubbing his thumb against his fingers. “Money. He's loaded.”

“The FHA pays that well?”

“His father was a millionaire - made his money off real estate way back when. Darcy and his sister inherited quite a fortune when the old guy croaked.”

“His sister. She's a student, isn't she? Do you know her?”

“I've met her a few times.”

“What's she like?”

“I wish I could say something nice about her, but she's just like her brother.”

Elizabeth thought of her sister Jane; how Charles had dumped her and was probably going out with the little rich b**ch now. A troubled look spread across her face.

“Did I say anything to upset you?”

“No - it's just . . . I can't understand how someone as nice as Charles Bingley could be friends with them.”

“Darcy acts different with people he thinks are worth knowing. Hell, he even sets himself up as a philanthropist in Victoria's high society. Charles' family has money. That kind of friendship is valuable to him. I'll bet Charles has never seen his dark side.”

“But Charles is nothing like that - he's so down to earth and unpretentious.”

“Charles is a great guy, but he's a bit gullible.” He eyed Elizabeth. “What's this all about? Do you have a thing for him?'

She laughed. “No, not me.” Then she sobered up again quickly. “But when he was here, working on Fitzsobbiam's team, he met my sister Jane and they were going out together for a few months. I'll swear he was in love with her . . . and she - well she hasn't been the same happy person since he broke up with her.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“And you know what I think? I think Fitzsnobbiam orchestrated the whole break up because he wanted Charles to go out with his sister. He transferred Charles from Parksville back to Victoria and somehow he convinced him to break it off.”

“I wouldn't put it past him,” said George. “That's just the underhanded type of thing he's good at.”

“I'm so worried about Jane. She's trying to put up a good front, but all I see is the sadness in her eyes.”

George reached out, took Elizabeth's coffee mug from her hand and put it on the table, and cupped both her hands in his. His warm, honey glazed gaze held hers - his eyes brimming with empathy. “She's lucky to have a sister like you who cares so much for her. With you to comfort her she'll soon get over him.”

Elizabeth was feeling lost in the spell of his eyes. His head was bending closer but his eyes never gave up their contact with hers. She knew he was going to kiss her, and this time she didn't want to stop him.

“Elizabeth! Long time no see!” boomed a voice from across the room.

Jumping back in her chair, Elizabeth watched as Bill Collins and Charlotte made their way across the floor towards them. Bill was beaming, but Charlotte looked a little shamefaced.

With an apologetic shrug to her companion, Elizabeth made the introductions. Bill pulled over a chair for Charlotte and then found one for himself and set it close to George.

“Have you known Elizabeth long?” he asked.

“It's hard to remember a time when I didn't know her,” George said smoothly.

That seemed to almost satisfy Bill. “You do appear to know her quite well.”

“We're getting to be good friends.”

“I noticed that.” Bill winked suggestively. “Charlotte and I are getting to be good friends too, and I have Elizabeth to thank for that. She introduced us.”

As the men talked, Charlotte said to Elizabeth in a low voice, “Damn, girl! You've been holding out on me'.”

“I could say the same.”

Charlotte blushed. “Beth and I need to go to the little girl's room,” she said, addressing the Bill and George. “We'll be back in a mo.”

As the girls headed downstairs to the washrooms, Bill said to George. “They're going to talk about us.”

When the door was closed firmly behind them, Charlotte sat on the small counter beside the sink and said, “I can explain.”

“You'd better. Way back in April I get you to sit beside him, to save me the aggravation of talking to him, but I never imagined it would lead to you going out with him. What are you thinking? I told you how he came on to me in the propagation house. He's such a slime ball and he's so full of himself, and boring.”

“Elizabeth . . .”

“Wait. One time in the summer Mary saw you going into the Golden Carriage with him. I'd invited you to go out with me that day and you never returned my call. Since then you've never mentioned him so I thought Mary'd made a mistake, but I realise now that you've been avoiding me.”

“I knew you wouldn't like it.”

“Wouldn't like it? It's beyond comprehension. He's such a . . . dipwad!”

“He's okay when you get to know him - you just have to give him a chance. Anyway, I'm not like you, Beth. I don't have guys falling all over themselves to get to know me.”

“Me? I haven't had a boyfriend in a couple of years.”

“What about George?”

“He's not my . . . we've just met.”

“From the looks of things you're getting off to a pretty quick start. If I'm not mistaken Bill and I interrupted a very intimate moment.”

“I was feeling upset about Jane, and George was comforting me. I've known him for a week. He took samples at the nursery and he asked me out to dinner with him a few times because he doesn't like eating alone.”

“I'll bet he doesn't,” said Charlotte. “Don't you see, Beth? Guys are drawn to you. That other guy who came to the nursery in the spring couldn't keep his eyes off you.”

“Fitzsnobbiam? Give me a break. He liked me about as much as I liked him.”

“And Bill. He had the hugest crush on you. But he felt intimidated too, because he knew you were out of his league. That's why he came on so strong - to compensate. He's really not like that. Besides, he's got a good, stable job which he is dedicated to. He's not a big drinker, or into drugs, and he doesn't have anger management issues. Behind his swagger he's a decent man. A family man. He'll make a good husband.”

“Husband?' Elizabeth's voice reflected all the shock she felt.

“The clock's ticking, Beth. I'm not as young as you. I've always wanted to have kids - well he's my chance. I'll be happy with Bill, and I'll make him happy too. I understand him, and I know how to manage him, so please, not another word against him. I want us to stay friends, and if you want that too, you'll have to accept the fact that he's my fiancé.”

“Your fiancé?”

Charlotte waved her left hand in front of Elizabeth's face. A gold ring with a tiny diamond flashed on her third finger.

“You should have told me sooner.”

“You didn't give me a chance.”

“When did this happen?”

“He popped the question last week.”

“Congratulations.”

“That didn't sound very sincere.”

Elizabeth wanted to say that she couldn't be sincere because she thought Charlotte was making a big mistake. Charlotte was such a special person she shouldn't have to settle for the likes of Bill Collins - she could do so much better. But she didn't want to alienate Charlotte. “Give me some time and I'll try my best to feel good about this, Char. It's been a bit of a shock.”

“I guess we'd better go back out there or they'll think we've drowned ourselves.”

Elizabeth giggled and took Charlotte's arm as they walked back through the coffee shop to the spot by the fireplace where the guys were.

“Our ears are burning,” said Bill when they returned.

“And so they should be,” said Charlotte. “I just wanted some privacy to tell Beth about your proposal.”

Bill turned to Elizabeth. “What did you think? The karaoke. Down on one knee in front of the entire pub. The ring on the bottom of her champagne glass.”

“Very romantic,” said Elizabeth. “You're a lucky man.” `Damn lucky because you don't deserve a gem like Char.'

“Congratulations,” said George. “I hope you'll excuse us but I've got to get this young lady home before my car turns into a pumpkin.”

Bill laughed and shook both their hands with an excess of affability.

Elizabeth gave Charlotte an overdue hug and whispered in her ear, “If you're happy that's all that counts.”

When they got to the car George turned to Elizabeth and said, “Don't ever leave me alone with that guy again. I know more about fertiliser now than I ever wanted to.”

After sampling all the nurseries in and around Courtenay and Campbell River, George had to return to the mainland to take care of the stragglers - nurseries that had signed up for the program late. He told Elizabeth that he was going to make their last evening together a special one and that dinner was a secret destination. When they drove through town and past Wal Mart and the other big box stores Elizabeth had a pretty good idea of where they were going.

“If you're taking me to Royston, it's either At Bob's or the Kingfisher - and I don't think At Bob's rates special by anyone's standards.”

“At Bob's?”

“It's a little schnitzel house. For five bucks you get a huge chicken or pork schnitzel on a bed of fries that must be the cheapest no-name oven baked fries in the universe.”

“Now you tell me. And to think I've already gone and made reservations at the Kingfisher.”

“We'll just have to suffer through gourmet dining.”

The meal was delicious and afterwards they drove along Marine Drive in Royston and parked by a little jetty. They walked arm in arm along the shoreline looking across the bay to the lights of Comox. It was a cold October evening but they kept each other warm.

“I have a confession to make,” said George. “I left those clippers on that bench in the propagation house on purpose. And I'm glad I did.”

“I should be mad at you for tricking me,” said Elizabeth, “but either it's the dinner or the wine or the moonlight, or a combination of the three, because I can't bring myself to feel upset at all.”

“I'd prefer to think it was me,” said George, and he pulled her around into his arms and kissed her.

Elizabeth was taken by surprise by the kiss. Not that she wasn't expecting it. She'd just expected to react differently to it. He had left her feeling breathless with anticipation on more than one occasion, but she found the kiss a bit of a let down.

George continued to kiss her and slipped his hands inside her jacket and up her back. When he began to slide one hand around to her front she squirmed away.

“Not so fast.”

He reached for her again and put his lips to hers. “I'll take it slower. Promise. I told you I wanted to make tonight special,” he said between kisses, “and we'll go as fast or as slow as you want.” He trailed his lips down her cheek and nuzzled her neck.

“I don't know if that's a good idea.”

He brought his head up and searched her face. “What's wrong? I thought you wanted this as much as me.”

“You're leaving tomorrow - what's the point of starting something?”

“Baby! Is that what's bothering you? You know I'm coming back as soon as I can - I'm crazy about you.”

Elizabeth drew back from him and took his hand. “If that's how you feel then you won't mind waiting till you do come back.”

“Yes, but I wouldn't mind a little something to tide me over.” He brought her hand to his lips. “I'm only human and you are so damn gorgeous.”

“You said we could go as slow as I liked. Please don't ruin this beautiful evening.”

He pulled her tightly against him and kissed her hair. “Whatever you say, baby, but you're killing me.” His voice was warm and rough and incredibly sexy.

“We'd better go home now,” said Elizabeth.

“Afraid you'll change your mind?” he teased as they walked back to the car, his arm still tightly around her.

“No, I'm afraid you will,” Elizabeth said, too quietly for him to hear.

They had another short kissing session in the car when he dropped her off, then he walked her to the door. Under the porch light he gave her his most swoon-worthy gaze with those honey brown eyes of his. “I'll call and email you every day, but I'm still gonna miss you, baby.”

“I'll miss you too,” she whispered.

One last kiss and she was safely inside, wondering why there had been no fireworks. No magic. George was great looking, funny, and charming. He'd even respected her wish to slow things down in a situation where most guys would have kept trying. What more did she want?

He called her when he got back to his hotel and again when he arrived on the mainland the next day. They emailed each other regularly at first, but then it slowed down and his calls grew less frequent too. He wasn't sure when he'd make it back to Courtenay - work was keeping him swamped. She knew it ought to have bothered her, but she really didn't mind. `That was pretty nice while it lasted,' she finally admitted to herself, `But it wasn't love.'

Chapter Eight

Posted on Monday, 21 January 2008

Three weeks turned into four and still Elizabeth hadn't received the results from the testing. `Same old, same old,' she thought, hanging up the phone after a call to the NTA. The receptionist told her that due to the high volume of samples there was a backlog at the lab. When she told them that George had promised to put a rush on her samples, the girl laughed. “He's famous for saying that, but he's got no authority over lab procedure.”

Elizabeth knew that all the nurseries in the program were in the same position as Glacierview. According to what she'd heard through the growers' network no one had got any results yet - not even the nurseries that had been first on the list. There was growing concern about embargos on shipping to the States, and doing business with nurseries shipping to the States. Everyone in the industry was on tenterhooks, and it wasn't a comfortable position to be in.

The next step in the process, after sampling, was to establish best management practices. Elizabeth had been to the NTA website and studied all the information posted there, but none of it was thoroughly developed enough to really get a good grasp of what was expected. After a few evenings trying to make head or tail of it all, Elizabeth decided the best thing to do was go to the source. She called the NTA again, and this time she got George.

“Elizabeth! How've you been? I really, really want to come up and see you, but work has been so hectic. Sorry about your samples not being done yet - some goof up in the lab.”

“I called last week and they told me. That's not why I'm calling.”

“I miss you too, baby, but now that the sampling's all done they've got me working on the nursery manual. They rely on me because I'm the only one here with the expertise, but the hours I'm putting in are a killer.”

“I'm glad I caught you then, because it's the manual I'm calling about. The information on the website is sort of muddled.”

There was a slight pause. “Yeah - my supervisor did that - she's pretty much out to lunch.”

“So, how do I go about setting up the nursery and instituting all the best management practices?”

“Tell you what, babe. We're building this program from the ground up - there's not another program like it anywhere. Our procedure is going to be the worldwide standard. We'll explain everything about the BMPs at the workshops we're giving in January. It's an integral part of the program. Can't be certified without it.”

“January? But won't the nurseries receive certificates as soon as the test results are known? Some places could go out of business if uncertified exports are banned.”

“Calm down, honey! You sure do take all this stuff seriously. It's just governmental posturing. They won't close the border to our plants - they need us. The disease is so bad in Oregon and California. Right now they're just trying to make us the scapegoats, that's all. The reason everything's taking so long is we have to make sure we've got all the bases covered.”

“Sounds like you've just graduated from a course in double speak, George.”

“You'll get more from me than the FHA will ever give you. Listen, the results will be in before long. All the nurseries will get them as soon as they are paid up.”

“You guys have had my four hundred dollars for a month already.”

“Too bad everyone's not as committed to the program as you, baby. It's like getting blood from a stone with some of these growers. Hey - it's been great talking to you.” George's voice softened and took on that familiar intimate glow. “I'll be by as soon as I can, and we'll pick up where we left off, I promise.”

“We could go for coffee,” said Elizabeth smoothly, “but I think we both know there's nothing happening between us anymore.”

“Heartbreaker.”

Elizabeth could hear the flirty teasing in his voice. Could envision the warmth of his honey toned eyes, and the smile that seemed like it was only for her. But really, all the time she'd been no more than someone to take the boredom out of his island stay. And, if she wanted, it was clear she could still be that person. “Goodbye George,” she said.

After hanging up the phone Elizabeth realised she was no further ahead than she had been before she called. From the sound of it, George knew even less about the next steps in the program than she did. `I'll just have to wing it,' she thought.

She already had the foot bath, and was making the landscapers spray their tires and undercarriages with disinfectant. She supposed she'd have to get them to sign in and out next. And she'd start to keep records, tracking all sales of host plants. The thing she was most confused about was the best placement of host plants in the nursery. All the information was contradictory - keep them apart, keep them together; two-metre buffers or four-metre buffers. She began a list of questions to ask at the workshop - if it ever got off the ground.

December brought more changes. May and Sam had bought a nursery just outside Victoria, and it was time to say goodbye. Elizabeth and her family threw them a dinner party up at the house before they left. Mrs Bennet had been a basket case for days beforehand, worrying about all the meal details, but she'd surpassed herself. The food was as delicious as it was plentiful. Between the main courses and dessert, they sat in the living room where a cosy fire was burning merrily in the stove.

“I don't know how I'll manage without you next season,” said Elizabeth for the umpteenth time.

May laughed. “Brandon and Anne will handle the job well. They're both very bright and they've learned so much this year.”

“Oh, God! I am so full,” said Liddie, throwing herself on the couch between them, interrupting the flow of their conversation. “Is work all you can talk about?”

“Would you prefer foreign affairs?” asked May.

“I'd prefer affairs,” said Liddie. “Any hot gossip I should know about?”

“Sorry,” said Elizabeth. “We're a pretty boring bunch.”

“That's for sure. Jane spends all her time moping over that precious Charles. She should just go to Victoria and see him already! And you, Beth - you sure blew your chances with George. I hear he's engaged to the daughter of the NTA president now.”

“I'm happy for him. As far as I know she's a very nice girl. Pretty too.”

“Pretty? I saw a picture of her online. She's got strawberry blonde hair and her face is just covered in the grossest freckles you ever saw.” Liddie got up and looked at her sister with an expression of deep disgust. “I can't understand you. He dumped you for a real cow - the least you could do is be catty. I'm outta here.”

Elizabeth didn't bother to correct her sister. If she'd said George hadn't dumped her, Liddie would just have told her she was an idiot to let him get away. Anyway, as ditzy as she was, Liddie had given her an idea.

“You know, May, I can't help but be worried about Jane. It's been over three months since Charles left and she's not recovered her good spirits.”

“I've noticed.”

“I think she needs a change in her life. She needs to get away. Go somewhere she won't be reminded of him all the time.”

“A trip to Mexico, or something? I don't think a week on the beach would cure what she's got.”

“I was thinking more of a month or two, not in an exotic location, but doing something to occupy her mind. There's this ikebana course in Victoria she's always wanted to take. If there were somewhere she could stay with friends for company, I'd give her the course as a Christmas present.”

“I'd love to have her, only . . . isn't Victoria a bad idea? After all - it's where he lives.”

“I know it's not a huge city, or anything, but I doubt she'd be bumping into Charles every day. And besides, I have a feeling that if he sees her, he'll rethink this whole long distance relationships don't work and we should see other people mentality. In my opinion, it wasn't his idea to begin with.”

May widened her eyes expressively, but made no comment on the remark. “It's settled then,” she said. “As long as Jane likes the idea.”

Elizabeth was in her office. The ground was frozen and temperatures were still below zero. She'd checked all the heaters in the greenhouses and the propagation house. There was nothing else to be done out of doors in this weather. Instead of working, she'd registered Jane for the course in Japanese flower arranging and had got caught up in cruising a site with ikebana arrangements done by some of the modern masters in the art. Some were outrageously esoteric, others were breathtakingly beautiful.

The phone rang and she reached out and answered it, her thoughts still on the exotic images that played upon the screen. “Yes.”

“Elizabeth - you're probably wondering why you haven't received your results yet. I thought I'd let you know how things stand.”

Her attention jerked to the voice on the phone. Fitzsnobbiam? “Why are you calling me? Is something wrong?”

“No - it's nothing like that. Only, everything is taking much longer than expected and I knew you'd be anxious.”

`Anxious? Does he think I'm a freaking neurotic?' “When did the FHA start to give out information voluntarily?”

“We don't. I mean, I'm not going to tell you anything confidential - I just wanted to set your mind at ease. They're very behind at the lab.”

“The NTA has already told me as much. I don't understand what the hold up is, myself. Shouldn't this be a priority? I mean - businesses are at stake here. Is it a question of understaffing?”

“There are certain budget restraints, but no. It's more a question of the way the tests are going. There have been much more positives on the Elisa test than anticipated, so there has to be extensive further testing.”

Elizabeth knew that the Elisa test only established if a phytothera fungus was present. There were many different types of phytothera. To know whether it was phytothera ramorum or not, a different test would need to be performed. The fact that he had told her this stunned her to near silence. “Oh.”

“So you can understand the delay. I wouldn't worry, though. From our testing in the spring we know the chances of a high incidence of positive Phytothera ramorum results is extremely unlikely.”

“Thanks for the information.”

“I've really said more than I should, but I know I can trust you to keep this to yourself.”

“Of course.”

“So you'll just have to bear with it. Try to keep tabs on where the plants from the blocks that were sampled go. In the event of a problem it will make the trace forwards that much easier for us.”

“I'm aware of the protocol. I've been doing my best to institute best management practices, so I've been keeping a log on all host plants coming and going, though with the way everything is frozen right now, nothing is going anywhere.”

“I'm glad to hear it.”

After Elizabeth hung up the phone, she wondered what he had meant by that. Was he glad to hear she was keeping a log, or was he glad to hear that the plants were staying put for the time being? Regardless, it was strange that he had called and told her so much. Had the big wigs decided they needed to do a little diplomatic soothing to keep the growers from getting up in arms? There was no way Fitzsnobbiam would go out on a limb, divulging supposed top secret information to put her mind at ease. There had to be some other reason for it. The feds were always trying to stay two steps ahead of the game.

But Elizabeth was true to her word and kept the information to herself. It would have been more than funny if his whole purpose in telling her was to have it spread throughout the industry.

Christmas came and the whole SOD issue was still unresolved and hanging over Elizabeth's head like a huge unwanted bunch of mistletoe. She'd heard from George, though he hadn't actually told her anything she didn't already know. In fact he'd told her nothing at all, just performed his usual light flirting, even after she'd congratulated him on his engagement. She didn't hold it against him - it was just his way. And it wasn't as if her feelings had ever really been involved.

She'd heard from Fitzsnobbiam again too. A Christmas card to the nursery. Probably signed by his secretary. There was a short greeting written in neat, draughtsman style script - no news his good news. Who was he trying to kid? She wanted to hear something.

The family was together on Christmas morning, the girls all sitting around the tree in their pyjamas while their father, adorned with a fake beard and Santa hat, ho ho hoed as he passed around the presents. Their mother bounced around the room, snapping wildly with her camera. Her pictures were famous for missing heads and assorted other body parts. If a Christmas gift was her intended object, the ceiling would be the focal point.

Presents were soon ripped open and wrapping paper discarded across the entire room. Liddie and Kate were squealing over new outfits, gift cards, and MP3 players. Mary was reading the new book her dad had bought her, the rest of her presents still unopened on her lap. Elizabeth unwrapped a deep green cashmere sweater. It was lovely and soft, but she doubted her mother could have found one lower cut if she had tried. She looked over at Jane who was holding up an identical sweater, only powder blue.

“Open mine.”

Jane dutifully dropped the sweater and rifled through her pile, coming up with a small, shiny gift bag. “Smaller always means better,” she said, and eagerly pulled out the tissue. “Oh - a piece of paper - yay!” They had a tradition of giving each other gag gifts as well as real ones.

“What does it say?” asked Elizabeth, grinning knowingly.

“It's probably written in Sanskrit or something and I'll have to go online to translate it. Oh! Ikebana! Beth - I love you!” She jumped over her pile of presents and threw her arms around her sister in a huge hug.

“I love you too, Janie.”

Jane's face suddenly fell. “I'll have to book time off for this - it's a month long course. There's no way I can swing it.”

“All taken care of. Your boss was sworn into secrecy.”

“But . . . how?”

“I won't need Mary in the nursery all of January, so she's filling in for you.”

“Mary!” Jane laughed. “What does she know about flower arranging?”

Mary looked up from her book. “What's to know? Throw a few flowers into a vase and stick a bow on - done!”

“Don't listen to her,” said Elizabeth. “She's actually excited about it and has been practicing with mom's silk flowers in the garden shop.”

“Where am I going to stay? Don't tell me you've got that all planned too.”

“Okay.”

Jane threw a wad of wrapping paper, hitting Elizabeth squarely on the head. “Tell me, Oh Manager of My Life.”

“May said she would love to have you. I hope you don't mind.”

“Mind? This is wonderful!”

Elizabeth grinned.

“My present will seem like nothing compared to this.”

But Elizabeth loved the book of botanical prints that Jane had bought her, and the pair of filigree silver earrings with little amber beads.

The first week in January, Jane moved into May's guest bedroom and started her course. She called Elizabeth in the evenings full of happy news about May and Sam's nursery, their little dog Emma, her fellow students, and some of the interesting things she was learning. On the weekend she called at lunchtime. Her voice didn't have the sparkle it had during her previous calls.

“I was supposed to meet Carrie and Lou for lunch today, but something came up and they had to cancel.”

“Typical.”

“We did talk for a bit, though. Carrie told me Charles is seeing a lot of Darcy's sister, Gina. She said they are inseparable.”

“Oh Janie - don't listen to her. I'm sure she thinks she and Fitzsnobbiam are inseparable too.”

But Jane would not be appeased, no matter how hard Elizabeth tried to build up her spirits. She said she hoped Gina and Charles were happy, because then at least someone was happy in the world.

Elizabeth spent the rest of the afternoon roaming around the nursery in a deep funk. She'd left her cell phone on her desk and when she returned to the office she noticed that she'd missed two calls. One was from the NTA - no message had been left. The other number she recognised as Fitzsnobbiam's.

Chapter Nine

Posted on Wednesday, 30 January 2008

Elizabeth stared at her phone with misgiving. Two calls from government agencies on a Saturday did not bode well. She chose the lesser of the two evils and dialled the number for the NTA. The answering machine kicked in after two rings, so she left a message.

“Hi, this is Elizabeth Bennet at Glacierview. I wasn't in when someone from your office called earlier today. I will keep my cell phone with me if you need to get a hold of me.”

She debated returning Fitzsnobbiam's call, but decided that if it was important enough he'd call back. She really preferred the idea of discussing whatever it was with the NTA representative. For all she knew it would be George, and though she no longer was into him, she didn't mind chatting with him.

As she was sitting there thinking, the phone rang in her hand and she almost dropped it. She checked before answering - it was the NTA number.

“Hello.”

“Elizabeth?”

It was George. “What's up? I didn't think they worked you on Saturdays.”

“All hell has broken loose. There have been a hundred nurseries with suspicious positives, and I'm sorry to say yours is one of them.”

“Suspicious positives? What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that samples from your nursery tested positive for SOD. Twelve, actually.”

“I don't believe it!” Elizabeth felt anger and fear run through her. Legs shaking, she pulled back her chair and sat down.

“Hold on! Let me finish.” Papers rustled at the other end of the phone and then George spoke again. “It doesn't mean your plants have the disease - not definitely. Hence the word suspicious.”

“Then what does it mean? The way I understand things, either a result is positive or it isn't!”

“The FHA are questioning the testing. They don't trust our results because they weren't found at their precious lab back east.”

“So - what happens now?”

“There's a meeting in Abbotsford on Wednesday. It would be great if you could make it.”

“I can't go to the mainland right now. My dad's sick and my sister Mary is doing Jane's job while Jane's taking a course in Victoria. Everyone else is laid off for the month.”

“You could attend the meeting by speaker phone. I was just hoping to see you.”

“Don't forget you're engaged - and to your boss's daughter.”

“Baby! You know I didn't mean anything, only that it would be nice to see you.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and changed the subject. “What can I do until then?”

“Business as usual until you hear different. Leave it with us to get sorted. Call reception at 10:00 Wednesday, and Marianne will hook you up to the meeting. Oh yeah - keep quiet about this - we don't want to cause a big panic in the industry. We're only contacting the nurseries with suspicious positives.”

Elizabeth reflected that one hundred nurseries out of the three hundred and fifty or so registered in the certification program was a sizeable chunk. The test results were bound to become common knowledge before too long. “I'll do my best.”

“And no worrying.”

“Thanks George.”

When the phone rang again, Elizabeth knew it would be Fitzsnobbiam.

“Sorry to disturb you on the weekend, Elizabeth,” he said, “but there've been new developments in the P. ramorum program that I think you should know about. We've received quite a number of questionable results.”

“Those suspicious positives?”

“So, you know already?”

“I just now got off the phone with George.”

“Wickham?” His voice had changed subtly - it sounded almost wary.

“Yes. He told me that Glacierview had twelve samples test positive. But he also told me that the FHA doesn't trust the lab results.”

“We don't.”

“Simply because they weren't done in your own lab?”

“Is that what George told you? I'm glad I called, then. The last thing we need is that kind of back biting remark to send tempers flaring again. There isn't some sort of Federal/Provincial petty rivalry going on. We're in on this together - we all have the same goal at heart. The problem isn't with the lab, it's with the kind of tests performed. And possibly it goes even deeper than that - but that's speculation on my part.”

Elizabeth grabbed the one thing he said that she felt needed addressing over all the rest. “What was that about the kind of tests performed?” She didn't really expect a straight answer.

“There's more than one test to determine P ramorum. One is much quicker than the other. Both the US government and our federal government have agreed upon using the slower test because it's considered more reliable. Because of the volume of tests being performed and the time restraints, the lower mainland lab opted for the quicker tests.”

“So, does that mean the results are wrong?”

“We are taking these positives only as an indicator of probability.”

“So, my suspicious positives could turn out to be negative?”

“It could go either way - we could have a very serious situation on our hands.”

Elizabeth sighed. “So you're retesting all the samples that came out positive?”

“That would certainly simplify things, but we think the samples may be tainted. The results are way out of proportion. We'll have to go to each nursery involved and take new samples from the suspect plants.”

“What do I do in the meantime?”

“That's going to be discussed at Wednesday's meeting. Will I see you there?”

“No. I'm doing it by phone. Could you at least tell me which of my plants tested positive?”

“We're not disclosing that to anyone yet.”

“What? I'd say the growers with suspicious positives have a right to know.”

“We don't want any plants disposed of before we can get there to retest them.”

“I would never do anything so irresponsible.”

“I'm not saying you would - I know how seriously you take the P.ramorum threat. It's simply FHA policy, besides I don't have the list in front of me.”

`Like heck you don't.' thought Elizabeth. “Thanks for the information you were able to give me.”

Elizabeth sat at her desk for a long time after the two phone calls. She stared blankly at the walls, worst-case scenarios playing through her head. If her buffer zones weren't organised right and there truly were diseased plants, it could create a domino effect. The result would be catastrophic. The only thing that gave her any hope for a better outcome was the knowledge that they'd passed the spring testing with flying colours and since then they hadn't brought in any stock from outside sources. She didn't see how the disease could have entered her nursery and spread so widely with the safety precautions she'd been taking.

Telling her dad seemed unfair. His cold had put him in bed for a week - something unheard of for the man who'd always worked through whatever ailed him. Talking to her mom about the problem would be pointless. And Jane had enough troubling her right now. Elizabeth kept everything to herself. By Wednesday she was overwrought. She hoped the meeting would ease her tension and eliminate her fears.

The phone connection to the meeting wasn't very good. Even with the volume up it was difficult to hear all the speakers. And when more than one person started to speak at a time it was impossible to tell what anyone was saying. Some of the questions she wanted to ask were raised, but the answers were inconclusive. The lab supervisor spoke, the NTA project manager, even Fitzsnobbiam himself. It seemed the main focus of the meeting was to keep the growers calm and put off answering the hard questions.

All Elizabeth really learned was that the FHA would do the sampling as quickly as they possibly could, using all the manpower at their disposal. The NTA's role would only be as a liaison. In the meantime, no plants were to go in or out of the nurseries affected. Unaffected nurseries would finally receive their certification papers. Everyone in the program was to continue on with the workshops, which would run in February and March, depending on the area.

The next day Elizabeth got a call from George.

“The word is that the FHA will be sampling in your area starting Monday. This whole thing is such a fiasco. Do you know they are sending out fisheries inspectors and dock inspectors - people who know nothing at all about plants? We have trained samplers they could use, but no dice.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“The feds never make sense, baby. I'm glad I'm outta there. Anyway, I'm up to my eyeballs in this liaison crap - their big concession to the NTA - we get to do their phoning for them.”

“I don't envy you.”

Monday. Elizabeth hung up the phone and got out her day timer to check what was already on her agenda for the following week. At least they were getting right down to it. Usually her little corner of the island was left until close to last. From the looks of things she'd have the time to go out with the FHA inspectors, whichever day they came. She wanted to supervise the sampling procedure every step of the way. If they didn't like it, too bad for them.

After lunch she drove around the nursery, familiarising herself with the locations the forty samples had been taken from. It would have been easier if she'd known which twelve to target, but that kind of openness from the FHA was obviously too much to ask. She had asked and been denied, after all.

The weather was mild for early January. Dull grey clouds hinted at rain to come, but for now were content just to skulk over the distant sea. Down below the nursery on the waterlogged flats, she could see large patches of white: trumpeter swans wintering in the wet fields. A faint opalescent glow in the sky reminded her that the sun was up there somewhere. Even in its dismal dreariness, there was beauty to be found in the afternoon.

Elizabeth's cell phone rang, sending her running back to her truck where she'd left it on the dash.

“Glacierview,” she said, not bothering to check the display.

An all too familiar voice said, “Hi Elizabeth. I'll be at your nursery tomorrow morning to take the samples.”

“You? Tomorrow? But, I just spoke to George this morning and he told me the inspectors were coming up island on Monday.”

“I have family plans in your area so I thought I'd get started a day early. I'll see you at 8:00 am.”

Why did it have to be him?

She was having no luck at all. Now Fitzsnobbiam would be nosing around in her nursery again. With his damn superior attitude he'd be certain to find fault with something. Sure, he'd been almost nice the last two times she'd dealt with him on the phone, and he had told her that stuff about the tests - they hadn't mentioned that alternate test thing at the meeting - but she knew it had been a strategic FHA ploy to lull her into submission. And it had worked too.

She'd been planning to shadow the FHA inspectors when they came, and Fitzsnobbiam or no Fitzsnobbiam, she wasn't going to change her mind about that.

Elizabeth started up her truck to head in for the day, when her phone rang again. She was tempted to throw it out the window, but instead she checked the display. It was Charlotte.

“Char! What a treat to talk to a friend and not some government flunky. This sodding P. ramorum problem is giving me nightmares.”

“The SOD thing has flared up again?”

“With a vengeance. You wouldn't believe the hell I've gone through the last few days worrying about the latest crisis - and no one to talk to about it.”

“Sounds like you need a night out to relax and totally take your mind off things.”

“You can say that again. I need someone to come and save me.”

“I'll save you - that's what I'm phoning about.”

“Charlotte - you're a Godsend! I'd love to hang with you.”

“Here's what's planned for tonight. Bill's boss is having this thing at the Rose and Ring. Just us and some of her family. Maria's coming too.”

In her overwhelmed state Elizabeth had all but forgotten the existence of Bill, but it would be awkward to back out now, though an evening spent with Bill Collins and his boss, Catherine Dubarry was an ordeal she could do without. She'd barely seen Charlotte since that evening she'd announced her engagement, and she'd really put her foot in it that night. The fact that Charlotte still wanted to be friends with her was something worth protecting. As much as she'd have liked to, she was in no position to renege.

“I won't be able to stay late, Char. I'm so tired and I've got that jerk Fitzsnobbiam coming to inspect the nursery first thing in the morning. I just got off the phone with him and he said he'd be here at eight.”

“That explains your mood.”

“I know you don't think he's so bad, but don't even try sticking up for him. You know he said I was ignorant and clueless and that the disease was so widespread because of people like me.”

“He never said that to your face.”

“He knew I was close enough to hear him.”

“Isn't it about time you got over it? In my opinion his attitude to you changed pretty damned quickly - you're just in denial.”

“Char - if you get like that with me I might change my mind about coming.”

“Forget him. Forget plant diseases. In fact forget that plants were ever invented. Unwind and break loose - God knows you need to. How about Maria picks you up so you don't need to drive and you can drink strawberry daiquiris all night.”

“And face Mr I'm-Perfect-and-You're-a-Loser Fitzwilliam with a hangover tomorrow? Yeah, right.”

Charlotte laughed. “He might be easier to take like that. I'll let Maria know you want a ride. See you at the Rose and Ring at seven!”

Elizabeth was relieved when they finally pulled into the pub parking lot. Charlotte's little sister Maria had talked about nothing but how excited she was to be meeting Mrs Dubarry at long last. She'd heard a lot about the lady from Bill and she'd gushingly regurgitated every overblown fact he'd ever spouted. A neon sign flashing in the pub window dampened Elizabeth's relief, however.

Karaoke Thursdays.

“Oh my Lord!” she sighed as she got out of the car.

“Karaoke's fun,” said Maria. “You should see Bill. He usually does My Way, but he doesn't sing as well as he thinks he does.”

Elizabeth could well imagine. He probably sounded like a sick cow that needed to be put out of its misery.

They entered the pub and looked around. Elizabeth always hated that feeling she got when she entered a pub alone - or virtually alone, as she was with a bubblehead like Maria. She was happy to immediately spot Charlotte waving from the far end of the room, close to the fireplace. Nice and cosy and away from the draughts. Good choice. The cashmere sweater she'd got for Christmas wasn't all that warm. It was a little fancy for a Thursday evening at the pub, but she hadn't had a chance to wear it yet.

“Why do we have such a big table?” she whispered to Charlotte, after being introduced to Mrs Dubarry. Bill had launched into his first rambling joke of the evening.

“Remember, I told you,” said Charlotte, looking a bit cagey. “Mrs DuBarry's nephews and her daughter Anne are coming.”

“Oh yeah - I forgot. Are you up to something? You've got that look on your face.”

“No - I, um - it's just - oh, you'll find out soon enough. They've arrived.”

The look in Charlotte's eyes was now saying, “Don't kill me.”

Elizabeth turned slowly. The first person she saw was a slim girl in a black dress. Short, pale hair cupped a sallow face livened by large mascaraed eyes. Behind her was an athletic looking man with rough-hewn features. Elizabeth's gaze slipped easily beyond him and froze.

“Tell me he's not with them.”

“Darcy Fitzwilliam is one of Mrs Dubarry's nephews. Sorry.”

“You are evil incarnate - you knew all along!”

“I thought you wouldn't come if I told you.”

“That's the one thing you got right today. How could you do this to me? You know he's the last person on earth I want to see. You expect me to sit here and make small talk with him when he's probably going to close the nursery down tomorrow?”

Charlotte grabbed a glass of wine and shoved it into Elizabeth's hands. “Here. Drink this and try to be nice.”

Mrs Dubarry began busily introducing everyone.

“Elizabeth and I already know each other very well,” said Darcy. “In fact it's her nursery I'm going to first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I didn't know you were a nursery owner,” said Mrs Dubarry, resting her steely eyes on Elizabeth with more interest than she'd previously shown.

“It's a family business. I manage it for my father.”

“Oh, one of those small ma and pa businesses. How quaint.”

Elizabeth put the wine glass to her lips and tried to look inconspicuous, but with Fitzsnobbiam's eyes still on her all she could do was wish she hadn't worn her new sweater - the neckline was cut a little lower than what she was used to wearing.

“We have met before too,” said Bill to Darcy, taking his hand and pumping it.

“Yes - at the Blackfin last April. I remember.”

Mrs Dubarry had enough of the niceties. She took Darcy's arm and steered him towards a chair. “You must sit beside me and tell me all the latest news from Victoria.”

“You may have missed it, but I'm Colin Fitzwilliam, Darcy's cousin. Well his other cousin, because Anne's our cousin too, only she has the pleasure of being Mrs Dubarry's daughter,” said the other man as he took a seat beside Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth Bennet,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Her friends call her Beth,” Charlotte said helpfully, a look of contrition upon her face, then she turned away as a nudge from Bill demanded her attention.

“Beth.” Colin grinned broadly. “So you're who Darcy has come all this way to see in such a secretive manner. I understand now. I didn't think he'd rush up here just for an exciting night of karaoke.”

Elizabeth blushed. “It's simply business.”

“Really? He wouldn't tell me where he was going or what he was doing. How do you explain that, then? Top secret espionage? He works for the FHA, not the CIA. Or are you a master spy too, with sealed lips?” He made a gesture like a zipper closing his mouth.

Elizabeth laughed. “It's a confidentiality issue. Everyone is so freaked out about this disease, if word gets out in the industry that we are even suspected of having diseased plants it could ruin our business completely.”

“And Darcy doesn't mix business with pleasure?”

“I don't think he knows how.”

Colin glanced up the table at his cousin. “You don't say! So tell me - how does he act when he does an inspection? Does he resort to the old third degree?”

“Worse. I think he's one of these people who lets power go to his head. Last time he was totally unreasonable.”

“So he goes all Gestapo on you? Hmm - sounds like his technique could use a bit of work. I'll take him aside and teach him a few lessons if you like.” His eyes crinkled with humour.

“No. I can deal with it.” Elizabeth took a sip of her wine and sighed. “Actually, the last thing I want to talk about tonight is work. I came out to get away from my problems.”

“Sorry. Drink up your wine and I'll buy you another one. Where is that waitress?”

“It's okay - I'm good.”

“I need to order a beer anyway. I'll be right back.”

He got up and walked over to the bar. Charlotte turned her head and whispered to Elizabeth. “You've got to admit he's nice, at least. Forgive me?”

“Don't worry about it, Char.”

Darcy looked over from his conversation with his aunt. His eyes met Elizabeth's and stayed for a few moments. He half smiled and then returned his attention to his aunt.

`What was that all about?' Elizabeth asked herself. `And why didn't I look away?' She was glad when Colin returned, a jug of dark amber liquid in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“This was easier than waiting. I brought you a glass, in case.”

“Thanks, but I don't drink beer.”

“Suits me fine,” he grinned. “Now I don't have to share.”

Elizabeth took another small sip of her wine. “What is it that you do?”

“I've got a couple of boats up in Campbell River. I run a little sport fishing business.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Reeling in a big salmon is always a thrill, but I work hard for my money, not like Darcy with his cushy government job and all the benefits he gets. I love being my own boss, though. So what if I can't afford to go to Hawaii every winter?”

“I know what you mean,” said Elizabeth. “The nursery is hard work too, but at the end of the day I only have myself to answer to, and my dad, of course. But he and I see pretty much eye to eye on everything.”

They continued talking on just about every subject, from hiking to skiing to movies and books, as comfortably as if they'd known each other for years. Their conversation was punctuated with outbursts of laughter. Elizabeth couldn't help but reflect on how different Colin was from his cousin. He wasn't anywhere near as good looking but he had an affability that was far more attractive than Fitzsnobbiam's aloof manner.”

Elizabeth noticed Darcy looking over at them from time to time. “Why does you cousin keep staring at us?” she asked.

“He's probably wishing he could trade places with me. I get to talk to a beautiful, vivacious young woman and he's stuck with crusty old Aunt Catherine.”

“It's more likely that I'm doing something he disapproves of.”

“Yeah. Talking to me rather than to him,” Colin said smugly. “Don't look now but the karaoke is about to start. Bill's going first.”

“Oh joy!”

“Why don't you sign up for a song?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “No way. I'd rather sit here and be subjected to the torture of listening to those exhibitionists than go up there and make a fool of myself.”

“Oh Beth,” cried Charlotte, leaning over towards them. “I've put your name down for the next one so you can't get out of it.”

“Some kind of friend you are!”

“I want to listen to at least one person who can sing on key,” said Charlotte. “Bill loves the limelight but he can't carry a tune in a bucket.”

The music started and Bill ripped the microphone from its stand. Elizabeth burst into a fit of giggles as she watched him strutting across the stage like Tina Turner, belting out, “Rollin', rollin', rollin' on a river.”

“There should be a law against that,” said Colin. “I just spewed beer out my nose.”

“Be glad he's not dressed like her,” responded Elizabeth, causing Colin to go into a choking fit at the idea.

Elizabeth looked up the table and noticed that Anne was trying hard not to laugh and even Darcy had a barely controlled smirk upon his face. Mrs Dubarry was nodding her head to the rhythm with every appearance of enjoyment. When Bill returned to the table she patted his arm and told him he was a born entertainer. Elizabeth decided that either Mrs Dubarry had no taste whatsoever, or she could make a sarcastic comment and keep a straight face with the same level of expertise as her own father, Mr Bennet, could.

Elizabeth was announced as the next performer but it took Colin agreeing to accompany her to get her onto the stage. She sang Gordon Lightfoot's version of Bobby McGee in a clear, light voice, and Colin joined in on the chorus. During the song, Darcy got up and walked close to the stage. When it was over he put his hand out to help Elizabeth down the steps in the poor light.

To cover up her astonishment at this unexpected act of gallantry, Elizabeth said, “Good attempt at intimidating me by coming up so close, but I managed to get through the whole song without messing up the words.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “I know you don't mean that. I liked your singing.” He turned to his cousin. “Yours I could do without.”

“Are you going to sing us a song, Mr Fitzwilliam?” asked Elizabeth tauntingly.

“I can answer for him,” said Colin. “He may enjoy putting down my singing, but there's no way in hell you'd get him on this stage, or any stage for that matter.”

“Colin's right.”

“Why? Do you think you're better than this? I know I'm not a great singer but at least I came up here and sang when my friend asked me too, and so did Colin.”

“It's not that he thinks he's better,” said Colin. “It's just that he can't be bothered to do it, no matter who asked him.”

“I can't just get up and sing in front of people I don't know.” Darcy stood in thought for a minute and then continued. “I don't really have to make excuses about it. But I think it's great that you came up and sang here for everybody, Elizabeth. I'm sure you don't normally perform for strangers either, but you did, and you did it very well.”

“What are you all talking about?” asked Mrs Dubarry, even though they hadn't quite made it to the table yet.

“I was just telling Elizabeth that she sang well,” said Darcy.

“Your voice is untrained, Miss Bennet, but you weren't too pitchy,” said Mrs Dubarry, taking on the air of a connoisseur. “My Anne has a lovely voice. If she weren't so prone to throat infections she would have had classical training. And I could have had a career in the opera if I had learned.”

Elizabeth mumbled something and got away as quickly as possible. When she sat back beside Charlotte, she hissed in her ear, “That old crow! If she had learned! She's got a high opinion of herself, doesn't she? I can see where Fitzsnobbiam gets it from.”

Charlotte chose to ignore the remark. “What are you going to do?” she asked instead.

“About what?”

“Two hot guys after you. That's what you get for wearing such a sexy sweater.” She smirked.

Elizabeth put her hand to her neckline self-consciously. She'd forgotten about it. “Get real!” she said. “They're not after me.”

“They are. Darcy was drawn to the stage by a tractor beam. What did he say to you?”

“Just that getting up on the stage was more than he would do, but I sang well.”

“See!”

“He was only being polite.”

“He didn't have to go over there. He likes you!”

“In your dreams. Anyway - I can't stand him, so it doesn't matter one way or the other.” She hoped that would shut Charlotte up.

Luckily Colin came over and sat beside Elizabeth again, so Charlotte had to lay off teasing her.

“Have you ever met Darcy's sister Gina?” he asked. “She's an incredible singer.”

“No, I've not met her, but I've heard she's a lot like her brother.”

“Gina? She's a shy sweetheart, not a workaholic recluse. Who've you been talking to?”

“When the sampling team was at the nursery last spring they talked a bit about her. I guess I got the wrong impression. Do you know any of them - Charles, Carrie, Lou, or Hurst?” Elizabeth thought it best not to mention George.

“I've seen Carrie in action - poor Darcy - but actually, he's a damn sight more patient with her than I'd be and he fends her off quite tactfully. Charles I know very well - they're best friends. The other two I haven't a clue.”

“You cousin seems to take the responsibilities of friendship seriously. He takes great care of Charles,” said Elizabeth acidly.

Colin appeared to have missed her tone. “Funny you should say that. He did get Charles out of a real jam last year sometime.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I don't think it matters if I tell you. I don't know how well you know Charles, but he's always in and out of love with some pretty girl. He usually falls for the ones that are the least suitable for him too. Anyway, there was this girl Charles met when they were doing those nursery inspections. She was connected with some rinky-dink nursery they were taking samples at. You know how it went - they were stuck there for a whole week. She was always hanging around him, distracting him from his work. Charles fell for her hard, but it was obvious to Darcy her feelings didn't run as deep. Maybe she wanted him to turn a blind eye to some of the many infractions in the place. Maybe she'd heard the guy was rich. Anyway, he kept seeing her even after they'd finished with the area, but Darcy knew it wasn't a healthy relationship for Charles.”

Elizabeth could feel her anger rising. It was obvious the girl was Jane, though the situation had been completely misrepresented. “Really? So what did Darcy do?” She'd always known he'd had a hand in the break-up, now she was being given proof.

“He didn't want to see his best friend hurt, so he got him transferred back to Victoria, out of harm's way. Charles would still have kept seeing her, even at that distance, if Darcy hadn't convinced him the girl was only using him.”

“That seems pretty damned interfering.” Elizabeth took a couple of breaths to calm herself. “How did he know for sure she was only using Charles? What if she was in love with him?”

“Most people don't fall in love that quickly. Anyway, I'm sure they're both over it by now.”

“I guess,” Elizabeth managed to say. “But that sort of lessens Darcy's victory, doesn't it?”

Colin shrugged. “It sounded better when he told it.” He took a swallow of beer and then looked back at Elizabeth. “Hey - are you okay?”

“Suddenly I've got this blinding headache. I think I'd better go.” She reached for her jacket from the back of her chair and at the same moment remembered that she'd come with Maria. “Damn!”

“What's up?”

“I didn't drive here and I don't want to make Maria leave when she's having so much fun with Anne.” Both girls were on the stage pretending to be The Supremes, giggling more than they were singing. “I'll have to find a quiet corner where I can sit it out.”

“You shouldn't have to do that. If you don't feel well, I can give you a ride.”

“But you don't want to leave this early.”

“If you're going there's no point in me staying,” he said graciously. “Just give me a couple of minutes to say goodbye to my aunt.”

“Thanks. That's really kind of you. I'll go outside to wait, if you don't mind. The cold air will be good for my head.”

Elizabeth said goodbye to Charlotte, waved to the rest of the people at the table without making eye contact with any of them, and pulled her jacket on as she got up from her chair. She needed to get out of the room and away from Darcy as fast as she could. It was bad enough that he'd done all he could to separate Jane and Charles, but bragging about it to his cousin, and who knows who else, just made what he'd done that much worse. Saying that Jane was only interested in Charles so she could get him to look the other way on his inspection, or because she was interested in his money, was totally outrageous. Elizabeth had never seen two people more in love. Dealing with the aftermath that morning after Jane's ill-fated trip to Coombs had been heart wrenching. Even now Jane was just a walking shadow. She had sounded so low the night before when they'd spoken on the phone. It was painfully obvious that she couldn't get Charles out of her thoughts.

Elizabeth slammed the front door as she walked out of the pub and onto the long front porch that overlooked Comox harbour. The cold enveloped her like a cloak - holding in all the anger and resentment that was building within. “I could kill him!” she muttered as she leaned upon the railing and drew in a few deep breaths of the salt tinged air. The sky was dark over pewter water. Stars sent their light spiralling down to reflect on the still surface. There wasn't a breath of wind. At any other time she would have relished the tranquility of the scene, but her thoughts were in a turmoil that even the beauties of nature could not soothe. Once she got home she would probably pace the floor until dawn. The worst thing was that she was going to have to face Fitzsnobbiam in the morning. He was probably going to impose a quarantine, or worse yet, have thousands of her plants destroyed. She bit back a sob and then a voice spoke from behind, proving that there was something even more horrible in store for her than she'd already imagined.

“Elizabeth? I told Colin I would drive you home. He's had a couple of beers already tonight so I'd rather he didn't drive you, besides there's something I'd like to talk with you about before we have to deal with all the P. ramorum issues in the morning.”

Chapter Ten

Posted on Monday, 4 February 2008

Elizabeth wondered if she should call a cab, then walk back into the Rose and Ring, and sit down at table to wait for it to arrive. She'd only just met Colin Fitzwilliam, so she could hardly go up to him and demand he drive her instead of letting his cousin do it. Anyway, he'd been drinking. In her anger she hadn't even considered that. In the end, she followed Fitzsnobbiam to the car park and got into his car. It was the simplest thing to do, especially as her head had begun to throb in earnest.

They drove up the hill from the pub and turned left on Comox Avenue in silence.

“I thought you had something you wanted to say,” Elizabeth said finally. He'd have her home in a couple of minutes - when was he planning on having this important talk?

“I do, but I can't talk and drive at the same time. Would it be okay if I pulled over somewhere?”

“Sure, but I do want to get home soon - that was the point of my leaving early.”

“I understand. This should only take a couple of minutes.” He pulled off to the side of the road after rounding the turn onto Glacierview Drive. “I just want to clear things up about us before this SOD business makes everything go crazy.”

“Us?” Elizabeth was at a total loss. What on earth was he talking about?

“Us.” Darcy's face was illuminated by the streetlamp he'd parked under. He looked tentative and almost vulnerable - something Elizabeth had never seen on his self-assured face before. “I know I'm crazy to have let this happen . . . it's unprofessional . . . and full of potential for conflict of interest, but I can't help it and I really need you to know that whatever happens tomorrow - whatever results are found with this next set of samples - whatever conditions I see at your facility - whatever repercussions there may be - whatever actions I may be forced to take - it's just business, completely separate from our private relationship.”

Elizabeth shivered where she sat, as the outside cold began creeping into the parked car. She stared into Fitzsnobbiam's eyes, trying to determine whether he'd had too much to drink. Nothing he had said made any sense so far. Her temples were in a fog of pain, adding to her confusion. “Our private relationship?”

Darcy gave her a crooked smile. “I know - not much has happened yet, but I'd like us to go out together and get to know each other better. Though I feel I know you quite well already, even if most of what has gone on between us has been on a business level. I want you to understand that I've never done this before - asked someone out who I've dealt with professionally. That first week when I met you and started to feel attracted, I told myself I was being an idiot letting a quick mind and a pretty face distract me from my work. And it appeared so wrong - so senseless to get caught up in something with someone from a run-down nursery I was inspecting. Like I was opening myself up to being used. But the more I saw you, the harder it was to try to stop thinking about you. About the possibilities between us. Even though your mother is a complete ditz and your younger sisters act like little tarts, and your father seems content to let everything fall down around him - you rise above all that. I've stopped fighting it - in fact, I've let myself fall pretty badly.”

Elizabeth finally got it - he was trying to tell her that he liked her. That he wanted to go out with her despite the fact that she was all wrong for him and it was a totally stupid thing to do. “How incredibly flattering.”

Darcy had been looking at her expectantly, as if assured of a positive reception and only awaiting confirmation that she understood exactly where he was coming from. Her cryptic answer took him aback. “What? I've just told you that I'm practically putting my job on the line because of you, and that's the answer I get?”

“You insult me and expect me to jump into your arms?”

“I'm being honest with you. Am I supposed to be happy that you manage a suspect nursery I'm inspecting? That I've already gone against my ethics a couple of times by sharing confidential information with you? That your family isn't exactly my idea of the world's most perfect in-laws? Did you want me to act like this situation was a dream come true, like some sort of fairytale? I never thought flattery would be the way to your heart, and anyway I'm above that kind of smooth talk.”

Her eyes flashed. “Fairytale? It's more like a nightmare. I leave the pub because I have a headache, and you subject me to this load of BS. And then you have the nerve to say you're just being honest! If you like honesty so much, I can be just as brutal as you. I do not want to go out with you, and I never have. I don't even like you the least little bit. How could I? What have you ever done to make me like you? First you put me down because there're weeds in my nursery and I'm dressed like a hick. Then you go around the place with your nose in the air like there's a bad smell. You're so Goddamned superior all the time.” Elizabeth stopped for a breath in order to control the sobs that would surely follow her burst of anger.

“So that's what you think of me,” he said in a hard voice. “I can see I've made an impression.”

“What do you expect? I don't know anything good about you. When I think of what you did to George . . . !”

“Wickham? What lies has he been telling?”

“Lies! Right! You got him to take the fall for your own mistakes, just because you wanted your precious friend Charles to have the job instead of George. Luckily he's finally found work again, no thanks to you.”

“There's a guy whose smooth talk has paid off.”

“But that's not the worst of it. How could I like the person who has destroyed my sister's hopes? Can you deny that you deliberately separated her and Charles?”

“Why should I deny it? I went easier on him than I did on myself.”

“And tore Jane's heart to shreds! Just so you could keep Charles for your sister. You are the most uncaring, arrogant, self-important person I've ever met. I wouldn't go out with you if my life depended on it.”

“I'm glad we've got all this out of the way before tomorrow, just like I wanted to,” he said coldly, turning the keys and starting the engine. The car jerked forward as he roughly threw it into drive. “Forget I ever said I was falling in love with you.”

They were silent as he drove down the road, a little faster than the speed limit. A minute or two later he stopped at the bottom of her drive, skidding a bit in the gravel.

“I hope your headache is better in the morning.”

Elizabeth said nothing. She jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and walked up her steps without looking back. She opened the front door hurriedly and closed it with a thud of finality. The tears she had been holding back broke loose then, and she ran straight to her bedroom.

Her night was spent sleeplessly as she lay in bed with the conversation in the car revolving in her head. Tylenol had dulled the pain, but nothing could take back the cruel words Fitzsnobbiam had thrown at her face in the name of love. How could he say those things about her family and still think she'd want to go out with him? What made him think he was better than her, just because he had a big deal government job and all she did was run a small nursery? And he didn't even care that he'd hurt Jane so badly - he was happy about it.

What was even harder for her to understand was how he'd fallen in love with her, like he said he had. They'd barely spent any time together - a few confrontations at the nursery, a few evenings in the same company, and a few phone calls discussing SOD issues. How could that lead to love? She looked back on all those times, all their conversations, trying to figure out what she'd done to prompt his attraction. She didn't think she'd ever been especially nice to him, and she'd never noticed him treating her with any more interest than he'd treated anyone else. Sure, Charlotte had teased her that Fitzsnobbiam liked her, but she'd never taken her seriously. Now it turned out to be true.

But love? From someone so . . . distant and reserved? Did he really know what love even was? Not that it mattered. His supposed love for her, which he'd so grudgingly given, would soon fade. Love couldn't last without encouragement - and she certainly hadn't shown him any. In fact, after all the things she'd said to him, she imagined his feelings of love must already have turned sour. It was just as well: they'd have to face each other in the morning.

She was dreading that.

A shower had done a little to refresh her, and two cups of strong coffee had substituted for the lack of sleep. Elizabeth sat in her office with nothing to do but wait as the minutes ticked by. It was 7:00 am. He would be meeting her at 8:00. It was an inevitable evil that couldn't be avoided - she had to go through with it, and there was really nothing that could prepare her for that.

Out of habit she turned on her computer and checked her email. There were a few business memos and some spam, but one email alone caught her attention.

[e-mail] Please Read This

What did he think he could write to her that she would want to read? She moved the mouse indicator over the delete button and was about to right click, when she changed her mind. If it was more of what she'd got the night before she could delete it quite easily after skimming it over. It was best to know his mood before seeing him - she'd prefer not to have another confrontation.

She checked the time of the email - it had been sent in the wee hours of the morning. Apparently Fitzsnobbiam had been unable to sleep too.

With a certain amount of trepidation she double clicked his name to open the email, and began to read.

Elizabeth.

I'm not writing this email to bother you by repeating things you clearly have no interest in. We can forget all that. I do feel it necessary, however, to set matters straight on a couple of misconceptions you have. I know you are fair enough to give me the opportunity and not delete this at once.

`So, he's going to guilt me into reading this,' she thought. `See if you can set me straight, buddy, but I doubt anything you have to say can change what I believe.'

You accused me of two quite different things. One, if I understand correctly, that I broke Charles and your sister up so that he would go out with my sister. And two, that I got George Wickham fired to hide my own incompetence.

I freely admit that I separated Charles and your sister. I didn't want to see him hurt, and he'd fallen for her in a big way. From what I could see, she had no deep feelings for him. I won't repeat here what I said last night about other members of your family. Though I don't place Jane in the came category, I still felt associations of that kind were best to be avoided. I also suspected that she might have encouraged Charles to please her mother.

“I'm not reading this crap!” Elizabeth muttered. She shoved her chair back and walked over to the window to stare out across the parking lot. Dark was giving way to a grey morning. `How dare he say things like that about Jane? She's the sweetest . . . and what made him think he could tell how she feels?' She leaned against the cold glass for a few minutes to calm herself down before going back to the email.

If I was wrong about this, I'm sorry, but I assure you I only acted in Charles' best interest. He's been hurt badly before and I admit that I have a tendency to be overprotective of him. As for my sister - she is still very young. She's not quite eighteen and in her first year of university. Charles is twenty-five. I wouldn't promote a relationship between them, other than their friendship. If in the future it develops in a romantic direction, that's up to them. I have no idea where you got the idea I was trying to get them together.

As for George Wickham, what I have to say about him isn't pleasant. I'm not telling you any of this with the intention of hurting you, if you do feel something for him, but if that is the case, it's better that you know the truth about him. He is very good at making friends and gaining trust, especially with women. He does have trouble maintaining the charade, though.

He got his job at the FHA mainly through the use of his powers of persuasion. His credentials aren't worth the paper they are written on. His first supervisor was completely infatuated with him and he was able to cover up his ineptitude by blaming most of his blunders on other people. When he became a member of my team he wasn't so lucky. He continually took short cuts in his work, stretched his lunch breaks, and overused his expense account. He didn't get much accomplished, but what work he did do was slip shod. There was no care and attention taken, and no interest in accuracy. Because of his bad work habits, I kept a close watch on him.

He was not fired in a cover up or because I wanted Charles on my team; he was fired because I discovered that he often wrote phyto-sanitary certificates for exports without making proper inspections of the plants in question. It was his way of making a little extra money on the side. He was charged with fraud and served a suspended sentence because it was a first offence. There were also incidents with female employees and clients. To my knowledge he never went beyond legal limits, but he used these women as it suited him.

When you told me he was working for the NTA, I was surprised they had hired him, given his track record. I probably should have told them about his history, but I know they had a hard time staffing the recall and the certification program on such short notice. I hoped that he'd learned his lesson, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and not hold his past against him. I might have made a huge mistake.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm sorry for any distress I may have caused you. When we meet in the morning I promise to keep to business and not bring any of this up.

Darcy

As Elizabeth continued to read the email, she went from doubt, to incredulity, to disgust with herself for being so easily beguiled. When she finished reading, her mind still dazed, she began again, and found her reaction to the first half of the email to be less volatile. The second half just made her want to curl up and hide from embarrassment.

She should have noticed the warning flags about George's behaviour from the beginning, but she had been oblivious to them. And why? Simply because he had warm, honey-brown eyes and an appealing smile. She'd been flattered by his obvious interest. Flattered by his little trick with the clippers. And all the time he'd been using the tools of his trade to manipulate her. And later, when she'd got over her infatuation, she'd still made excuses for his flirting. She'd dismissed his familiar attitude as him just being George. He was engaged to someone else and flirting with her - she really should have been appalled. And she didn't doubt that if she'd ever shown her willingness to continue their relationship, he'd have been all too ready to oblige - fiancée or no fiancée.

As for Darcy Fitzwilliam, her mind was in turmoil about him. She couldn't forgive him for dismissing Jane's feelings the way he did, or for his interference. But she knew she had misjudged him in many other respects. Reserved he might be, and officious - but he wasn't unfair or dishonest. He'd been open in his dealings with her, and not manipulative. He really had passed confidential information on to her, and not for some governmental subterfuge. But because he'd wanted to set her mind at ease, just like he told her. And maybe he was too much of a stickler for rules, but he'd pushed the rules to the limits out of kindness - not to get anything from her.

Elizabeth felt bad for some of the unnecessarily hurtful things she'd said to Darcy. And ashamed that she'd been such a poor judge of character; that she'd decided to hate one man because she'd felt insulted and like another because she'd been flattered, only to be blinded both times to each man's real worth. She still didn't like Darcy and certainly didn't want to go out with him, but she no longer had such a strong antipathy for him. And she had no interest in referring to him as Fitzsnobbiam anymore.

She looked at the clock. It was 7:55, and she knew Darcy would be absolutely punctual. She had five minutes before she had to face him, and now, after reading the email, she felt it would be even more of an ordeal than she had previously anticipated.

Chapter Eleven

Posted on Thursday, 7 February 2008

Elizabeth decided that rather than sit inside and wait the last five minutes, she would go outside and meet Darcy in the parking lot. The air was misty and damp, but it wasn't actually raining. She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her neck and tucked the ends into the collar of her jacket. She held a clipboard in one hand. Upon it was the nursery map marked with all forty sample locations.

Darcy's car pulled into the parking lot a moment later. He got out and put on his white disposable overalls before going over to greet her. His glance slipped across her face without making contact as he said good morning.

“I read your email just now,” she said.

“Well, I'd better get started then. I'm going to have to take samples from these twelve locations.” He held out a list.

It was obvious he'd meant what he said about sticking to business only and not bringing the subject up. Elizabeth felt relief rush through her, but she was glad she had taken the first opportunity to at least let him know that she'd chosen to be fair. She took the list from his hand and checked it against her map.

“This doesn't make sense. I don't think you'll find the same plants tagged at all those locations.”

Darcy took both the list and the map from her and did the same cross check she had done. “May I take this with me? If I can't locate all of the plants, where will I find you?”

“Right beside you,” answered Elizabeth. “I'm coming out with you.”

Darcy turned to Elizabeth suddenly and his eyes met hers for a millisecond before dropping. “Are you sure you want to? I can manage on my own.”

“Before I even knew who was coming to do the sampling I'd decided I was going to go along with them. This affects the nursery's future and I want to be as involved as I can. The fact that you are the sampler makes no difference to my decision. I've got a business to run.”

Darcy nodded without looking at her again. “I'll get my sample bag.”

They walked to greenhouse number three in silence. Elizabeth led Darcy to the red flagging tape that was tied to a branch at the corner of a block of plants, half way up the bed.

“Sample seven was taken from here, according to this. It's the first one on your list.”

“But this rhodo is Unique, not Bow Bells. Could the tape have been moved?”

“No - everyone working here knew not to move the flagging tape. And the only Bow Bells we have are in greenhouse two, not here. I think it's more likely that George got mixed up with the names.”

Darcy nodded grimly. He sanitised his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves, then he took a zip lock from the side pouch of his cooler bag. He leaned over and examined the rhodos and then randomly picked ten leaves from the block of plants. “I'm supposed to look for symptomatic material,” he said. “But these plants look nice and healthy to me.”

“Positive results have come from plants showing no symptomatology, haven't they?”

“It has happened a few times in the case of rhodos.” He sanitised his hands again before zipping the bag closed, then he removed the rubber gloves and put them in a disposal bag. He treated his hands one more time, took a permanent marker and made some notes on the zip lock, then placed it in the cooler compartment. He gave the block of plants a cursory glance over and said, “Where to next?”

“Greenhouse four, over there.” Elizabeth pointed.

They went to all twelve sites and followed the same procedure. Generally, the names on the list did not agree one hundred percent with the name of the plants flagged. And in a couple of cases they were different plants entirely.

“Why was George doing this job when he doesn't know his plants at all?” Elizabeth cried in exasperation, as the last block of plants on their list turned out to be maples instead of oaks.

“He has no scruples,” said Darcy. “But I'm afraid that the problem is more complex than George not knowing his plants.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can't say until I know for sure. Just leave it to me.” He didn't look at her but studied the branches and stem of the young tree in front of him.

There was that secretive attitude again. Elizabeth grit her teeth and looked heavenward. Then she asked, “How are you going to take a sample from leafless trees?”

“I'm looking for cankers and lesions in the bark. I can take a scraping.” He walked along the row of trees, eyes trained. “There's nothing,” he called from the end of the row, but I'll take a few scrapings anyway, if you don't mind. I'll be careful not to damage the maples.”

“Do what you need to do,” said Elizabeth. “As long as there's something you can test. I don't want to be slapped with a quarantine till spring.”

“That's what I'm trying to avoid.” Darcy worked his way down the row. When he was back beside Elizabeth he held up the zip lock bag and said, “See, they are quite small. All the lab needs is ten different leaves or, in this case, bark samples that are big enough to take a hole punch to.”

“So that's the last sample. You're finished now?”

“I should be but . . . I don't want any mistakes. With all the naming problems we've encountered today, I'd like to take samples from the rest of the sampling locations. He might have mixed all his numbers up too.”

“I'm for doing the job right, no matter how long it takes,” said Elizabeth.

“Isn't this keeping you from other things?”

“Nothing's as important as this.”

Elizabeth looked at the map, and they worked their way back, Darcy sampling while she found the next batch of plants marked by red flagging tape. They worked in near silence, only speaking when necessary. Every so often Elizabeth would watch Darcy when he was intent upon his work. He looked strained. There were times when she thought his eyes were on her too, but whenever she turned to see if it were the case, he was looking somewhere else. It took a little more than three hours to finish sampling.

When they returned to the parking lot, Elizabeth offered Darcy a coffee. She wouldn't have been surprised if he refused, but he accepted. She went into the office to prepare them both a cup while he went to his car to complete the sanitation process and put the samples on ice in a large cooler in his trunk. When she brought out his steaming cup, he was rinsing his hands under a hose.

“Getting rid of the Purell build-up,” he said, drying them on a towel. He took the proffered coffee and sipped it. “Thanks.”

“Thank you for going to all that trouble. You did much more than you needed to.”

“I'd have done the same anywhere I had the same concerns,” he said dismissively.

“Yes, I can see that you would.” She felt awkward, standing there in the parking lot, not knowing what to say next as Darcy silently drank his coffee, looking off somewhere in the middle distance. “So - what happens with the samples now? Do you ship them by Purolator?”

“Nothing can go by Purolator on a Friday - it could get stuck somewhere over the weekend with no refrigeration. No - I'm driving them back to the Victoria FHA office today. They'll be shipped by air to our lab in Ottawa as soon as possible.”

“You're going back to Victoria? I thought there were other places up island you had to sample after the weekend.”

“No. I only came up here to take your samples.”

She turned and stared at him. “Just mine?”

“Yes - I wanted to be sure they were handled correctly. I'm actually investigating a different aspect of our current P. ramorum problems instead, and have to make a trip to the mainland.” He passed his empty coffee cup to her. “Take care.”

Before turning towards his car he looked into her upturned face. His grey eyes held hers for a few painful moments. Elizabeth felt her breath catch in her throat.

“As soon as we know anything you'll be informed,” he said. He got into his car and was soon driving out of the parking lot and up towards the road.

Elizabeth stood watching the driveway long after he'd gone. All morning she'd only thought about her own feelings - how difficult it was to have to deal with Darcy after all the words that had passed between them the night before and the revelations of the email she'd read in the morning. She'd only regretted her spiteful reaction for the embarrassment it had caused her. She hadn't taken his feelings into account at all, besides thinking that his anger might make the situation that morning even more difficult for her. But his pain was just as real as hers. And that one look had shown her how deeply he was hurting.

The next two weeks Elizabeth spent most of her waking hours caught between wondering about the progress of the new tests, and going over that awful conversation in the car with Darcy, and the surreal three hours she had spent sampling with him the following morning. It was difficult to admit how fully she had misjudged him, but as she became more accepting of the fact, she found that her new insights cast every aspect of his behaviour in a different light.

She could now see that what she had taken as arrogance and a superior attitude was just his serious focus on doing his job as diligently as possible. His reserve she had interpreted as snobbery, his pride as vanity, his humour as mockery. She'd taken pleasure in mistrusting his kindnesses. She'd been completely blind to every one of his good qualities.

And with this new, clear-thinking approach, she realised that he was the kind of person she could like. It hurt when she remembered his words, so hollow and stark, forget I ever said I was falling in love with you. She felt awed that she could unwittingly have instilled feelings of love in him, and though she didn't want his love, or love him in return, she was saddened that she'd cast it aside so harshly. She was sorry that it was something that needed to be forgotten. She thought about him, somewhere on the mainland, doing whatever top secret investigating he was doing, and hoped that he still cared a tiny bit for her.

She was contemplating this quixotic attitude one morning as she checked her email. There were promotional fliers from suppliers trying to sell new and improved products, queries from buyers wanting to know how long they would have to wait for orders, and a few emails from other nurseries suffering under the same restrictions as Glacierview, airing their grievances. She'd just finished reading one of these when a new message popped up. It was from dfitz. She clicked it open, her heartbeat quickening as she did so.

Elizabeth

If he should contact you, I would advise you not to have dealings with George Wickham anymore. He has been fired by the NTA for intentionally falsifying samples, cover ups, negligence and incompetence. His actions put the entire project at risk. Our findings at your nursery helped uncover and prove exactly what he had been up to. We believe that most of the suspicious positives were the result of his actions; he was the sampler for almost every one of the nurseries affected.

As far as I can determine he never bothered to follow proper sanitation procedures. When the weather was bad, he collected samples as quickly and easily a he could, often in advance, and then falsified the information on the bags and flagging tape. He operated with complete disregard for everyone and everything. His only goal was to make as much money as he could with as little effort a possible.

I'm confident that the results of the latest samples I took at Glacierview will turn out to be negative and your current worries will be over.

Darcy

Elizabeth didn't know what she had expected to read in the email. Possibly the results of the sampling or an explanation for another delay. But certainly not this. She was amazed at George's total irresponsibility - for him it seemed nothing was sacred. The disease threat hadn't been taken seriously. Didn't he understand the magnitude of destruction that could have resulted from his actions? Blocks and blocks of nursery stock destroyed and businesses ruined, livelihoods shattered? The spread of a disease that had the potential to devastate native species in the wild? It was unbelievable that he could have been so callous and selfish. Then she remembered that there were a few times when he'd made comments that showed he thought the whole program a farce and a waste of time. He'd corrected himself every time - made it seem like a joke. He'd always been ready to commend her on the way she took it all so seriously. She hated all this further proof of how easily he had duped her.

`Never again, buster,' she said to herself.

The next day she received a call from Lou at the FHA.

“Hi Elizabeth, remember me?”

“Sure, Lou. Please tell me you have my results.”

“I do. Darcy just put them on my desk and asked me to call you ASAP.”

Elizabeth was surprised at how disappointed she felt that Darcy hadn't phoned her himself. In the past all she ever wished was for someone else from the FHA office to call her. “Is it good news?”

“Yes! All the tests were negative. Your quarantine is lifted. The NTA will be sending you your certificate as soon as they get their paperwork done. Which shouldn't take too long now that George Wickham doesn't work there anymore. Did you hear about him?”

“Thanks. That's wonderful news.” Elizabeth felt like a huge weight had fallen and she was floating free. “I heard about George too. What he did was . . . terrible . . . incredible.”

“Yeah. What a rotten creep, eh? All the time he came on like he was so nice. I always knew what a sh*t he was, though, because he'd been fired from here a couple of years ago. His fiancée dumped him right away, of course. Anyway I'm glad I could give you the good news. Nice to talk to you again.”

“Bye.”

Elizabeth could hardly believe that her month of ordeal was finally over. Her plants were healthy and the business was safe. And to top it all off, Jane was arriving home that afternoon. She got on the phone and called Mary at the florist.

“Celebration time!”

“Because it's my last day working here and I'm coming back to the nursery on Monday?”

“Not that. Because we're disease free! No more quarantine! We can sell plants again.”

“So, where're we going?”

“Jane loves Tita's.”

“Tita's it is, then.”

Elizabeth ran up to the house and shared the news with her parents next.

“I told you all along things would work out Beth,” said her father, kissing her on the cheek. “But it's good to see my cheerful Elizabeth back. You were dragging yourself around here with such a hangdog expression on your face that if I hadn't've known better I'd've sworn you were crossed in love. But that's your sister Janie's area of expertise.” He sighed.

Mrs Bennet was ecstatic. “We need to have a grand season opening sale! We could hang streamers and serve punch and have balloons for the kiddies, and a free pair of gardening gloves with a twenty-five dollar purchase. Those really cheap gardening gloves that we ordered so many of a couple of years ago. You know - the tacky ones that no one wants to buy. But we should wait till my new shipment of Italian bird baths comes in.”

“We're opening Monday, mom, with no fanfare.”

“Thank God those ugly Closed for the Season signs will come down at any rate,” said Mrs Bennet, disappointed. “They brought on my depression you know. And my insomnia. I haven't been able to sleep a wink the entire month.”

“You should have a good sleep tonight then, dear,” said her husband.

“Tonight? Are you crazy? How will I be able to sleep knowing all the work I'm going to have to do to get the garden centre ready to be open on Monday?”

Even her mother's mood swings couldn't spoil Elizabeth's happiness. She drove around the nursery removing all the flagging tape George had put up and rolled it into a tight little ball which she threw into the garbage with as much force as she could. Jane arrived and they hugged each other tightly, tears and smiles on their faces simultaneously.

“Damn I missed you,” Elizabeth whispered in her sister's ear. “Such big worries and you weren't here to give me moral support.”

“Serves you right for not telling me all about it on the phone.”

“I want empathy and all I get is smart remarks!”

“That's because I know you,” said Jane. “I'll save the empathy for someone who actually does want it.”

They giggled and hugged again, then got ready to go out for dinner. They picked Mary up from work on the way to the cozy Mexican restaurant. They were seated by the fireplace; the ochre walls glowed like burnished gold in the warm light. The food was perfect. The three sisters talked happily over their meal and drank toasts to freedom, fresh starts, and good prospects.

Afterwards, when Mary had called it a night and gone to bed, Jane and Elizabeth sat together in the darkened living room, talking on a deeper level. Jane swore that she had come to terms with her loss and wasn't going to think about Charles anymore.

“He'll always be the ideal I judge other men by,” she said, “but I'm over being sad. I've got no regrets. He didn't back down on any kind of commitment to me. I'm glad we had that spring and summer together - it's something I'll always cherish.”

Elizabeth told Jane a little of what had passed between herself and Darcy. She didn't mention anything about Charles and how Darcy had interfered with their relationship.

“I always knew he was nice,” Jane said, “I'm glad you can admit it now too. I'm sorry for him - telling you he loved you and finding out you didn't like him.”

“I was b*tchy and I'm not pleased with myself, but don't feel too bad for him Jane. He's over me now. This morning he could easily have called me himself to tell me the news, but he got Lou to do it instead.”

“Do I hear a tinge of regret in your voice, Beth?”

Elizabeth had to admit to herself that she did feel regret. But what was it she regretted the most? That she had caused Darcy pain? That he had proved her a bad judge of character? That with all his good qualities he still had a major flaw because he'd hurt Jane? Or was it mainly that he had got over her so quickly?

Chapter Twelve

Posted on Tuesday, 19 February 2008

It was almost March. Elizabeth had registered for the workshop that was to take place in Nanaimo on the first Saturday of the month. She had received her information package and workbooks in the mail and she was reviewing them in her office. Everything seemed to be pretty straightforward from her perspective, but she had to admit she'd been more deeply involved in the program than most growers she knew, mainly because of her bad experience with the suspicious positives and her desire to make her nursery as safe from threat of the disease as possible.

Her office door opened and a familiar face peered in.

“Hey babe! How's everything going?”

Her gut reaction was to tell George to get lost and stay lost, but it was hard to say those words to his eagerly smiling face.

“Do I get to come in?”

“Sure. What are you doing here?”

He pulled the door closed behind him and walked up to her desk, sitting casually on one corner of it. “I missed you.”

“And you expect me to believe that's why you're here?”

“I knew that if anyone still believed in me, it'd be you. I've been slandered pretty badly this time. But you know what our friend Fitzsnobbiam is like. He couldn't rest till he'd had me framed and disgraced. Because of him I've lost my job, my girl - everything.”

“I've come to know Darcy a little better than I did the last time you were here. He's got integrity - something you don't have a clue about.”

“Fitzsnobbiam's wrapped you around his little finger at last, eh? Well I guess he had to cover all my exits when he threw me to the wolves. He's a great manipulator.”

“I thought I was so witty when I invented that nickname, but I was just being immature, so drop it, okay? I don't know what you want from me, but bad mouthing Darcy isn't going to get you anywhere.”

“I thought we were still friends, Elizabeth. I'd hoped we could go out again, but I can see you're not in the mood.”

“No, I'm not, George. Was there anything else, or can I get back to my books?”

He picked up the binder that was open in front of her and flipped through it. “I helped develop this manual and didn't get one bit of credit for it,” he said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “I've been blackballed, Elizabeth. Without references no one will hire me. I was hoping you'd put in a good word with that landscaping company you do so much business with.”

“Forsters? Why would I be so mean to my best customer? Look George, we both know what you did. If any prospective employer calls me about you, I'll tell them the truth.”

“That Darcy really did a number on you, didn't he?”

“George, you only have yourself to blame for the situation you're in. Could you please leave now?”

He put the binder back down and got up from her desk. The soulful look he attempted to affect with his honeyed gaze only made him look a little sick. His smile stiffened to a sneer. His “See you `round, babe,” rang hollowly in Elizabeth's ears long after he'd left the office.

“It's hard to believe I got taken in by that shallow worm,” she said to herself, laying her head in her hands.

A few minutes later Liddie burst into the office. “What's wrong with you?” she yelled. “I just saw George leaving. Why won't you give him a reference?”

“Because he's a no good, lying cheat who almost lost us our nursery, and what he did could have spread the disease throughout the industry and wiped out businesses all over the province and destroyed all kinds of plants in the wild.”

“Big deal! All that sudden oak death stuff is bull. The government just wants to make more money with all their stupid regulations. It would be awesome if George worked for Forsters. If you don't recommend him, I will.”

Elizabeth groaned. “Luckily Bob's not going to listen to you. And I don't want you to have anything to do with George, understand?”

“Fat chance anyway - he's left. You sure know how to spoil a good thing, prissy pants.”

“You'll get over it.”

Liddie slammed the door and left. Elizabeth shrugged and went back to her books.

Elizabeth walked through the hotel lobby, following the signs that said Nursery Trades Association - Phytothera ramorum Workshop. She'd driven to Nanaimo the evening before and spent the night with a college friend, Elinor Ferrars. The boardroom where the workshop was being staged was already filling up. She quickly found a seat and then looked around to see who else was attending. She recognised a couple of growers from her area and nodded to them. Her eyes travelled to the presenters' table. Sitting in the middle, talking to a plump, blonde lady, was someone she knew all too well.

She took advantage of the fact that Darcy was occupied to watch him. She'd never really paid much attention to his looks before. He'd always been someone she disliked having around and she'd ignored him as much as possible. That last day, when they'd gone out to take the samples together, he'd been dressed in heavy work clothes and the white coveralls. And she'd been so focussed on trying to keep her mind on nothing but the business at hand that she hadn't been able to look at him.

Today he was wearing a black shirt and jacket, but no tie. His dark hair was slightly long and hung down a bit over his face. She'd always admitted he was good looking, but before this she'd never realised quite how handsome he was.

And once he'd almost fallen in love with her. It was hard to believe.

He looked up and caught her staring, but she couldn't look away. Their eyes held across the length of the room and he smiled slightly. She returned a tentative smile, and then his attention was called away. The meeting came to order and Elizabeth worked at settling her racing pulse. If his look had taken her by surprise, her reaction to it had surprised her even more.

She missed all the introductions, but was able to focus properly again by the time the first speaker began. When Darcy finally spoke, she was impressed by the clear way he presented his information, and his depth of knowledge on all aspects of the subject. He answered questions thoughtfully, taking care to distinguish between opinion and fact. Though she asked no questions, a couple of times during the discussion his eyes caught hers and it was as if he were talking directly to her.

After the initial presentation, there was a buffet lunch to be followed by workshops where they were to break up into groups and go into smaller rooms. Elizabeth stood just inside the dining hall, scanning the room for a table to sit at.

“Would you like to join my table?” asked Darcy, coming up behind her.

“Yes, um . . . that would be nice.”

“Good.” He seemed a bit awkward himself as he took her elbow and guided her through the busy room. “How do you like the workshop so far?”

“Good - excellent. But I didn't see your name on the brochure.”

“No . . . Edmund Bertram is sick. I was called in at the last minute.” He hesitated and then continued. “Would it have made a difference if . . . if you had known?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and then came out with, “I would have looked forward to the workshop even more.”

He stared at her. “Really? Why . . . I mean . . .”

“You didn't call me to give me the results, but I wanted to . . . to thank you for doing such a good job and everything.”

They arrived at the table so whatever Darcy was about to say in response was cut off. Instead he said, “I think you know almost everybody here, except my sister Gina.”

Charles, Carrie and Lou were sitting there, along with a pretty girl with long chestnut hair.

Elizabeth greeted the others and then held out her hand to Gina. “I'm Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Gina Fitzwilliam. I've heard a lot about you,” the girl answered shyly.

“You have?” Elizabeth glanced around at Darcy and then at the other occupants of the table.

“Good things,” said Charles, laughing. “Only good things. It's great to see you, Elizabeth. I don't think I've seen you since the middle of last August when I . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Something like that,” said Elizabeth, taking the seat Darcy had pulled out for her. She turned to Gina again. “Are you here for the workshop?”

“Oh no! We're just here for lunch. Carrie and Lou brought me on a shopping trip.”

“We got the idea when Darcy was suddenly roped into this thing,” said Carrie. “Nanaimo is so boring without friends around.”

“I'm attending the workshop,” said Charles. “Wandering around a mall looking at dresses and shoes is not my idea of fun.”

They all went up to the buffet table to get their food and then sat back down. The conversation flowed about the same as it always had when Elizabeth had been out with them in the past, only Jane wasn't there to take up Charles' interest. He didn't pay any more attention to Gina than he did to Lou or Carrie, and Elizabeth got the impression he would have spoken as much to her if she had been sitting closer.

Elizabeth didn't talk much at all. She was nervous about saying anything to Darcy and he was quiet himself. She tried talking to Gina, but got little more than smiles and one-word answers out of her. Carrie was telling Darcy all about the clothes they had bought but getting hardly any attention in return. She decided to change her strategy and addressed Elizabeth.

“George Wickham isn't engaged any longer, did you know?”

Darcy looked up, listening more intently now.

“Yes,” she said shortly.

“And he lost his job.” Carrie shot a smug glance at Darcy.

Elizabeth snorted. “Serves him right.”

Carrie apparently wasn't getting the results she wanted so, in a last ditch attempt, she said, “I expected a bit more sympathy from you, Elizabeth. He told me that the two of you were hot and heavy at one time.”

“Carrie,” Darcy said warningly.

Elizabeth paled. “Hot and heavy?” She was close to stuttering, but she knew she had to keep her dignity and somehow get through it. “In his dreams.”

“You should really try this rosemary chicken, Elizabeth,” said Lou, leaning across the table. “It's amazing! They've got a great chef here.”

“The pasta salad is good too,” said Charles.

“Let's go see if there's any left,” said Darcy. “Coming Elizabeth?”

“Sure.”

When they reached the buffet tables, Elizabeth said, “I don't really want any more food.”

“Just pick a dessert, then. I want to apologise for Carrie.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Yes it is. She was trying to make you look bad in front of me.”

Elizabeth pretended to study the dessert choices. “I never . . . I did go out with George a couple of times, but that was it. I'm sorry I ever believed anything he said. I was stupid to buy his line, but your email, the one you sent after our . . . argument - it made me see things clearly.”

Darcy put a couple of cookies on his plate. “Would you like to go to dinner tonight, after the workshop, or are you driving back to Courtenay?” He glanced at her, as if trying to gage her reaction.

“I'm staying at a friend's, but she wouldn't mind.” Elizabeth chose a dessert without knowing what it was. “Do you mean with everybody?”

“No - just the two of us. If you'd rather not . . .”

She glanced up at him for a second and smiled before looking away. “I'd like that.”

The rest of the workshop was uneventful. Elizabeth was not in the same group as Darcy, or even Charles. She did all the exercises with only half her mind on the questions, which didn't matter because it was all so easy. She'd done her homework and most of the things addressed she'd already implemented in her nursery.

Afterwards she went back to the boardroom to wait for Darcy. She stayed to the side while he spoke with his colleagues and packed up his briefcase. When he joined her he said, “Where are you parked? I thought we could drop our stuff off in our cars and then walk along the harbour for a bit. We should be able to find somewhere good to eat when we're ready.”

“Okay. I'm in the underground lot.”

“I'm right outside here. Come with me while I get rid of my briefcase, then we can go to your car together.”

Elizabeth was afraid things would get awkward between them again, like they had been earlier, but this time she found it easier to make eye contact and talk naturally. All those memories that had been surfacing earlier stayed in the back of her mind where they belonged. And it seemed the same for him. By the time they reached her car they were joking and laughing. She unlocked it and tossed her bag in, and was about to lock it up again when her cell phone rang.

“I'll check who it is,” she said. She pulled the phone out of her purse and glanced at the screen. “It's Jane. I'll only be a moment.” She flipped her cell open and held it to her ear. “Hi Jane, what's up?”

“Oh Beth! I'm glad I got you. I've been trying for a couple of hours.”

“I had my phone turned off during the workshop.”

“Kate's just told us something terrible that Liddie's done and mom's having hysterics and . . . how soon can you be home?”

Elizabeth glanced over at Darcy. He had walked a little way from the car to give her some privacy. “Jane, I have plans for this evening. I'm coming home first thing in the morning.”

“We need you to come now.”

“What did that little idiot do this time?”

“Apparently she's been sneaking out to the pub at the Courtenay Hotel with that George Wickham guy and . . .”

Elizabeth cut Jane off. “The Coho? That's a stripper bar and she's only sixteen! I told her to stay away from him.”

“Since when does she listen to any of us? Kate says that Liddie was even going there with him the first time he was in town.”

“When he was trying it on with me? The slimy b*stard! I'll strangle him - but can't you and Mary and dad deal with mom?”

“Beth, Liddie's taken off with George. She text messaged Kate that she's going to Victoria to live with him.”

Elizabeth leaned against the car. “Oh God!”

“Can you come, please? We need you.”

“I'll be home in an hour, Jane. Hang in there, okay?”

“Don't speed.”

Elizabeth closed her phone. Don't speed, Jane had said. Impossible not to. She opened her car door and then remembered Darcy. She wiped at the tears that had suddenly sprung into her eyes, and looked over at him. He had begun moving towards her, a look of concern spread across his face.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I have to go home.”

“What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Elizabeth figured he'd heard so much of her side of the conversation that she couldn't hide it from him. He'd find out soon enough anyway. People talk, George especially. Carrie's snide comment was proof of that. “My stupid sister Liddie has run off to Victoria to live with George. She's only sixteen! My mom's freaking out and Jane's beside herself with worry. I have to be with them.”

“Sixteen? My God! What's being done?”

“I have no idea what my dad's planning to do, but you can bet we're going to try to find her somehow and bring her home.” Elizabeth got into her car.

“Wait! You're too upset to drive now. Why don't we get a sandwich and a coffee somewhere first?”

“I'm okay, Darcy, really. I promise I'll go to the first fast food drive through I see.” She shut her door and turned on the ignition, then pressed the power button to lower her window.

He was at the side of her car in one stride. Leaning over, he reached through the open window and covered her hand on the steering wheel with his own. “Be careful.”

She nodded, too choked up to speak. With a thin smile and a little wave of her hand, she backed out of the parking stall and headed for the exit. The image of Darcy, reflected in her rear view mirror, standing straight and still, stayed with her for the entire drive.

She didn't stop for food and coffee as she had promised, but there was a Mars bar in her glove compartment that she fished out and ate at the first red light. She was half way home, driving twenty kilometres above the speed limit, when she remembered Elinor, who was expecting her to stay over for another night. She slowed down, made a quick call with a lame excuse, and then concentrated on the road again. It was almost 7:00 pm when she turned into her own driveway. She'd never driven home from Nanaimo that fast before.

She parked the car and laid her head on the steering wheel. The adrenalin was beginning to wear off now she was home, and the thought she'd been holding back in the depths of her mind came bursting forth. All this has completely blown it for me. I'm never going to see him again. It wasn't until that very moment she realised just how much she did want to see Darcy Fitzwilliam again.

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on Friday, 22 February 2008

Elizabeth arrived home to quite a scene. Her dad was sitting in a chair, his head in his hands. Her mother was running back and forth in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around as she wailed about losing her favourite daughter.

“Nobody cares that Liddie is all alone in a strange city with that man! She must be so frightened!”

“She wanted to go, mom,” said Kate. “She's happy.”

“Happy? How can she be happy when she's broken my heart? This is just like that story I was reading in Star the other day. They never saw their runaway daughter again.”

“Try and be positive mom, please,” said Jane. “Dad will have her back as soon as possible, you'll see.”

Mr Bennet raised his head up as Elizabeth came into the room. “Congratulate yourself, Elizabeth. You were right and I should have listened to you.”

“Dad! None of us expected something like this to happen.”

“Let me admit that I've failed as a father. It's not everyday you find me owning up to a truth like that.”

“Talking that way won't help any. What are you going to do?'

“You should have gone already,” cried Mrs Bennet, putting away a stew pot and then taking it out of the cupboard again. “And stopped Liddie from being with that man all night.”

“How? I don't have a clue where they are.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I've contacted Sam Gardiner. He says I can stay at his place. I'm going to Victoria in the morning. You know this George guy better than any of us. Any idea what part of Victoria he'd go to? Did he mention any friends there?”

“I'm sorry, dad. I've been thinking all the way home. He never told me anything. The only people I know that he knows in Victoria have nothing to do with him.”

“He'll get her pregnant!” wailed Mrs Bennet. “My little girl an unwed mother! I'm not ready to be a grandmother.”

“Liddie's on the pill, mom,” said Kate.

“She's what?” yelled Mr Bennet.

Kate turned white. “She's on the pill, but she's never . . . it was a precaution in case - that's all.”

“And what about you?”

“Me?” cried Kate. “Why are you asking me? I'm not the one who ran off with a guy.”

“But you and Liddie do everything together.”

“No, Dad. I just like to have fun - have guys look at me and flirt and stuff, but I don't have a boyfriend or anything. I'm not easy.”

“You won't have a boyfriend for some time to come either. You're grounded for ten years.”

“Ten years?” Kate began to sob. “That's so unfair. I never did anything, Liddie did.”

“And you're not going to do anything either, if I can help it.”

“Has anyone eaten supper?” asked Elizabeth.

Jane shook her head.

“Kate,” said Elizabeth, “how about you and I cook some food? Jane, can you take mom to the living room? Dad, can you check the timers on the sprinkler system? They've been acting up lately. I'll call you when supper's on the table.”

The next day a stern Mr Bennet left at 7:00 am for the three hour drive to Victoria. Mrs Bennet had succumbed to her sleeping pills and stayed in bed till noon, giving Jane and Elizabeth a mercifully quiet morning. Kate sulked in her bedroom. Mary appeared at breakfast, her head inside a book.

“You were a lot of help yesterday,” said Elizabeth.

“Figured you'd handle it better than me. Looks like you did.”

“When mom's up she'll be ranting about how dad had better punch George out and worrying that George will kill him, all in the same breath. I'm going to be checking on the cuttings and Jane's going out for groceries, so you're stuck with keeping her calm.”

“What about Kate?”

“She's grounded for ten years, can't leave her room.” Elizabeth grinned.

“I'm taking Kate to Superstore with me,” said Jane. “She needs to get out of the house and stop feeling like a victim.”

“I sure hope dad finds Liddie fast,” said Mary. “I don't know how long I can take this craziness.”

Unfortunately Mr Bennet had no luck in Victoria at all. After a week of cruising the city, stopping random people on the street and showing them a picture of Liddie, asking if they'd seen her, he gave up and came home.

“I've left our number at all the homeless shelters and women's crisis centres. I've reported her missing to the police. I've been to every grungy flop house I could find. I don't know what more I can do.” He sat on the couch, looking worn out and grey, and stared off into space. “Sam's going to keep an eye out. She hasn't contacted you and told you not to tell, Kate, has she?”

“I'd let you know first thing if she did. I've tried calling her cell hundreds of times but it's turned off or something.”

“Her charger is plugged into an outlet in the kitchen,” said Elizabeth.

Mr Bennet sighed and closed his eyes. “She could borrow a phone if she wanted to call. I'm sure George has one. No - she's having too much fun to give any consideration to the fact we're all worried sick about her.”

The next evening the phone rang just after supper.

“It's for you, Dad,” said Mary. “Sam Gardiner.”

He took the call in his bedroom. He came back to the kitchen half an hour later. The girls were busy doing the dishes, but they all stopped and looked at him expectantly.

“Liddie has been found.”

“Thank God!” cried Mrs Bennet. “I hope Sam did some damage to George's pretty face.”

He ignored the remark and continued. “She's spending the night with the Gardiners. I'm driving there in the morning to get her and bring her home.”

“That is so good of them to take her in,” said Jane.

“She's willing to come home?” asked Elizabeth. “She doesn't want to stay with George?”

“Thankfully, yes. It seems her exotic experience didn't live up to expectation. George left her.”

“I'm coming with you to get our baby!” cried Mrs Bennet. “She needs her mother at a time like this. So terrible that George left her. She must be upset.”

“Am I glad to be home!” said Liddie, as she sat down to supper with her sisters. Mr Bennet had taken a plate of food to eat in solitude in the office and Mrs Bennet was lying down after the tiring trip. “May Gardiner treated me like a child and never even let me go on her computer. Sam looked at me like I was diseased and didn't say two words to me. You'd think I'd done something wrong!”

“Well you did,” said Elizabeth. “You ran off with a man at least ten years older than yourself.”

“I`m not talking about that. But don't remind me of George. I thought living in Victoria with him would be fun, that's why I went. And it was at first, though my cell died and I couldn't call anyone to show off about it. We went to some nightclubs and had some drinks and then he took me back to this place. I thought it was his place, but I guess it wasn't. Anyway, I was a little drunk, so I passed out on the couch and the next thing I know it's morning and these strangers are looking at me like I'm an exhibit or something.”

“Where was George?” asked Jane.

“The jerk must've just dumped me there and left. I never saw him again. The guys that lived there were pretty cool, though. They let me crash with them and gave me food and stuff, but they didn't have a computer or anything. But they had a TV and a DVD player so we watched a lot of movies. They were stoned most of the time, but I hardly touched the stuff - it made me feel weird.”

“They gave you drugs?” asked Elizabeth. “What else? Did they . . . did you . . .”

“Oh God no! You're as bad as May, asking that. They weren't hot, so I wasn't interested in them. Anyway, I still thought George would come back and I told them he was my boyfriend so they never tried anything. Well nothing I couldn't handle, anyway.”

“You don't know how lucky you are,” said Elizabeth. “But what were you thinking? When George didn't come back, why didn't you call?”

“I figured you'd all be mad at me, so I thought I'd just hang with them for a while. Anyway, they never had a phone. But I got a bit bored after I'd seen all their movies a couple of times so when that Darcy guy came and told me he was taking me to May's place, I said okay. If I knew that May's place would be even more boring, I probably wouldn't have gone.”

“Darcy?” asked Elizabeth. “What did he have to do with it?'

“Oops!” cried Liddie, covering her mouth and giggling. “I promised not to say anything. It's supposed to be a big secret.”

“Why was it a secret?” Jane wanted to know.

“Don't ask me. The guy's into secrets or something. Anyway, he was sort of nice to me, even if he did dis George and tell me I shouldn't go places with him. Like I would anyway, after he dumped me, the jerk.”

“How did Darcy know where you were?” asked Elizabeth.

“Who knows? I never asked him.” Liddie took a big mouthful of her lasagne and savoured it. “Mmmm. This is so good after nothing but instant noodles and chocolate bars. Druggies don't cook.”

“You are so exasperating!” cried Elizabeth. “What you did was stupid and dangerous and you're lucky you never got hurt. Can't you take it seriously at all?”

“Cool down,” said Liddie. “I won't do it again, if that's what you're worried about. I didn't have shower till I got to May's place. Do you know how gross it is to go without a shower for over a week?”

“At least I know it's a stupid thing to do,” said Kate.

“Nice to know someone has learned something from all this,” said Mary.

“I can't wait till I see Sandy and Dennis next and I can tell them about those guys. One of them had dreads and these really kinky tattoos. And the other guy was so funny - he knew every line from Napoleon Dynamite and he could do that dance too. I'm not kidding you - exactly like in the movie. I think he watched it every day.”

“We're not allowed to help the landscapers anymore,” said Kate. “Dad says that if we want to work for the nursery, we have to stay in the potting shed and wear coveralls. I'm even grounded, thanks to you, so you must be more grounded than me.”

Liddie smirked. “He says that now, Kate, but give him a week and he'll forget all about it.”

Elizabeth groaned and finished her supper quickly. She'd had enough of Liddie's conversation for the evening. There was only one thing about Liddie's whole experience that she wanted more information on, and that was something Liddie appeared to have no interest in talking about. She knew her youngest sister very well and Liddie had never kept a secret in her life.

But how and why had Darcy found Liddie and taken her to May's?

After a few days stewing over the mystery, Elizabeth decided to break down and call May. The worst that could happen was that May would refuse to tell her anything.

“We were asked to keep it confidential,” said May. “But now that Liddie has given most of it away I see no reason to be secretive anymore. Anyway, Sam's much happier not taking the credit for finding Liddie. That was all Darcy Fitzwilliam's doing.”

“But how? Why?” asked Elizabeth.

“I don't think you need to ask why, Elizabeth. It should be perfectly obvious. According to Darcy, he was with you when you got the call about Liddie. He did it to help you out because you were so upset that your sister was in trouble. He said something about it being his fault that George had ever gone to your nursery and met your sister, because he should have told the NTA everything he knew about the guy's prior history with the FHA. I don't really see how that was his fault. It's the NTA's responsibility to check backgrounds before hiring someone.”

“Yeah, he did tell me he blamed himself about that. But he was hoping George had learned his lesson.”

“Darcy told us that because of having dealt with George in the past he knew some of his Victoria hangouts. He got in touch with the lady who ran the apartments George used to live at, and she admitted she'd heard from him recently. I'm guessing he had to pay a bit for that information. Anyway he tracked George down at a seedy motel and after a bit George admitted that he'd ditched Liddie with a couple of dealers he knew.”

“Why didn't he call me instead of taking her to your place?”

“You'll have to ask him that. All I know is he wanted to keep his involvement quiet.”

“I'm not calling him. If he didn't want me to know it's better I say nothing. What gave him the idea to take Liddie over to your house?”

“One of the places he called at looking for George was a shelter that your father had been to. Our number was left as a contact number if any information about Liddie turned up. They gave him the phone number and he called us. We told him to bring her right over as soon as he found her.”

“Thank goodness it all worked out,” said Elizabeth. “I thought I'd blown it, telling him, but it was for the best.”

“If you're worried that the story will get out, don't be. From what I know of him, Darcy's the kind of person to keep things to himself.”

“You're right. That's not what was bothering me.”

“He's a good man you've got there.”

“He's not my man, May. I doubt I'll ever see him again, now the SOD thing is all settled.”

“Why would you think that? He's done a lot for you and I don't think it's all because of some plant disease. I've got a friend who works at the FHA - she's not that good with their secrecy policy. She told me that when Darcy brought your samples in and demanded they get shipped to the lab as a top priority, he even threatened to catch a flight to Ottawa and take them himself if they weren't put on the next plane and processed before anything else. Apparently he called the lab for the results so often that they put the samples through quickly just to shut him up. He was the one who figured out what George had been up to. He went to the NTA with all his evidence and exposed George.”

“He didn't do that for me. He was just doing his job. He takes it very seriously and he's thorough.”

“Believe what you want to, Elizabeth, but most people don't book off holiday days to search the sewers of Victoria for runaway teenagers unless they are emotionally involved in some way.”

Elizabeth would have liked to believe May, but it didn't make sense. If Darcy had found Liddie because he still cared, he would have called her, not taken Liddie to the Gardiners'. But she couldn't really blame him for not wanting to have a relationship with someone who had a slut for a sister. It had almost seemed like he'd wanted to be friends again, before that fateful phone call. But now . . . he'd done what he thought was his responsibility. He'd found Liddie because he'd kept quiet about George. But that's as far as it went. He hadn't wanted his involvement mentioned. That proved he wanted nothing more to do with Elizabeth on a non-business level. When the yearly sampling needed to be done again, you could bet he'd send someone else to inspect Glacierview.

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on Tuesday, 26 February 2008

Spring is the busiest time of the year in the nursery business. Elizabeth found herself putting in twelve hour days, seven days a week, with no time left for socialisation. Not that there was anyone to socialise with at any rate. She'd lost touch with most of her friends when she'd gone off to the mainland for college, and in the year and a half since she'd got back, work had taken over her life. She saw Charlotte occasionally, but that was it. Too much time spent in Bill's company made her head ache.

She thought about Darcy Fitzwilliam a lot. There were things all over the nursery to evoke memories. Just a roll of flagging tape was enough to put his image into her mind. But the thing that impacted her the strongest was the dark blue mug she'd given him his coffee in that day they'd gone out sampling together. She put it in a drawer so that no one else would use it. She knew she was being silly but she couldn't help it.

He hadn't called her since she'd driven away from him in the hotel underground parking lot. If an FHA contact called the nursery for any reason, it was always Lou. She was friendly, but she wasn't Darcy. Elizabeth missed him, though most of their interactions had been confrontational. She owed him so much but hadn't ever had the opportunity to thank him. Calling him wasn't an option. It was clear he wanted nothing more to do with her.

She threw herself into her work harder than ever.

By summer, rumours were flying around that the FHA were going to be doing another P. ramorum survey. Anyone on their list wouldn't need to be sampled by the NTA in the fall. Elizabeth knew that the FHA wouldn't be sampling Glacierview. It only made sense that they would target larger nurseries with a higher likelihood of having suspect plant material. Her nursery had been tested only six months before and hadn't even had a positive elisa result.

When Lou called to tell her that samplers would be there the following day, she was completely surprised.

“Wish it could be me again,” said Lou. “Not! Think of how hot it's going to be for the poor samplers in those horrible white coveralls.”

“Do you know who will be coming?”

“You might know one or two of the team,” said Lou, but she refused to divulge any more information than that.

“I think that's carrying FHA secrecy a bit too far.”

“Okay, I'll give. I was only having you on anyway. Charles is one of them.”

“It'll be great to see him again. Thanks Lou.”

Elizabeth sat there staring at her phone in indecision after Lou had rung off. She almost called Jane to tell her the news, but then thought better of it. She knew it was too much to expect Darcy to come. As department head he couldn't waste his time with an easy inspection at an inconsequential little nursery. He had more important fish to fry. But the fact that Charles was coming spoke volumes. Either Darcy felt Charles was safe to come within Jane's radius and not get involved again, or he was subtly giving him the okay to follow his heart. Elizabeth made a quick decision and dialled Jane's number.

“Can you take the afternoon off from the flowers tomorrow? I need a favour.”

“I think so. It's been pretty slow the last couple of days. What's up?”

“Kate and Liddie have gone up to Auntie Julia's and dad's got Chambe working in the back field. Mary's barricaded herself in her room, writing like mad on her novel, and refuses to come out till she gets another fifty thousand words. I've got a batch of cuttings that need potting up and I could really use some help.”

“No problem, Beth. It'll be just like old times. See you after lunch.”

“Come for lunch. I'll make your favourite sandwich.”

“You make the best BLTs! I'll be there.”

When Elizabeth got off the phone she drove around the nursery till she found Mary.

“Hey,” she called. “Want to take tomorrow off and work on your novel?”

“I thought I was helping you pot cuttings.”

“Not anymore. Jane's coming.”

Mary came up to the truck and leaned against the door. “So suddenly I'm not good enough for you?”

“No, I'm playing matchmaker.”

“Don't tell me Bill Collins has a twin brother and Char's getting you to line him up with Jane.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Scary thought. No - we're being sampled tomorrow by the FHA and Lou just told me it's Charles who's coming.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea? Charles hurt her big time.”

“Trust me, Mary. Everything's going to work out for them. I've got a feeling.”

Mary shrugged and went back to her work. Elizabeth drove to the propagation house and began preparing the soil mix for the next day.

Elizabeth was walking across the office when she saw the dark blue FHA van pull into the parking lot. She grabbed the site map she'd prepared for Charles and went out to meet him. He got out from the passenger side and came over to shake her hand, a grin of greeting brightening up his face.

“It's good to be here,” he said, looking around expectantly.

“I'm glad it was you they sent,” said Elizabeth. “Here's a site map for you and your . . .” Just then she noticed who the driver was. He'd got out of the van and was standing beside it, his still gaze directed at her. Her heart jumped directly into her throat. “ . . . I didn't know Darcy was with you.”

“You know him - he likes to keep an eye on me,” joked Charles. “Wants to make sure I do the job right, especially here.”

“Why especially here?” asked Elizabeth, wondering if she'd got it all wrong. Was Darcy still against Jane and Charles? Had he come to make sure nothing happened between them? But that made no sense - if he didn't want them to see each other he could easily have sent someone else.

“After George Wickham screwed up on your samples so badly he wants to make sure nothing like that happens to you again.”

Elizabeth laughed and all the tension left her. She glanced over at Darcy to see he was suiting up in the disposable coveralls. “Time to get your alien gear on, Charles.”

Darcy came over, cooler bag on his shoulder. “Hi Elizabeth,” he said. “I just want to let you know that we're not sure how many samples we'll take this time. Because new host plants are being added to the list all the time, we might take samples from non hosts as well as hosts, if we see something that could be symptomatic. We'll make sure that we take at least forty, though, so the NTA doesn't have to come tidy up after us.”

`So he means to keep it strictly business,' thought Elizabeth, her heart sinking. She smiled bravely and went ahead with carrying out her plan anyway. “Before the two of you get to work, I was wondering if you'd like to join me at noon up on the terrace for lunch. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me.”

Charles was halfway into his disposable overalls, but he stopped and looked up, smiling. “Thanks.”

Elizabeth turned to Darcy. His expression was unreadable. “Charles has already agreed so I can hardly deny him the pleasure,” he said, finally. He stared at the site map for a moment. “Where is the terrace, exactly?”

“Sorry,” said Elizabeth, pointing to the back end of the office. “Just up those stairs. See you both later, then.”

At eleven thirty Elizabeth left her cuttings and went up to the house to wash up and prepare lunch. Soon bacon was crisping on the stove and a plate of neatly sliced tomatoes sat ready on the counter. The special herb bread she'd picked up from the bakery first thing in the morning was sliced and ready for toasting. Fresh squeezed lemonade filled a pitcher. She'd pulled out all the stops.

She was setting the table when Jane came through the house and joined her.

“Four places? Are mom and dad eating with us too?”

“Lord, I hope not,” said Elizabeth.

“Who, then?”

Footsteps were heard and Charles rounded the stairs and almost bounded onto the terrace. He came to a screeching halt when he saw Jane. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, her mouth a rounded `oh!'

Darcy looked across the two of them to Elizabeth. “Well staged,” he said.

And then as suddenly as he stopped, Charles surged forward again. “Jane,” he said. “I was hoping to see you. How're things?”

“Beth didn't tell me,” she blurted out. “It's good to see you Charles.” She glanced accusingly at Elizabeth.

“I'd better put the toast on,” said Elizabeth.

“I'll help you.” Darcy followed her into the kitchen. “I never took you for a schemer,” he said when they were inside.

Elizabeth shoved four slices into the toaster and pulled the lever firmly down. “You saw their faces,” she said defensively.

He took a step closer and smiled. “Yes. But don't forget I brought Charles here, so I've obviously done some thinking about what you said that night.”

“Don't remind me of that night,” she whispered.

“Would you like me to take the tomatoes outside, or are you going to put the sandwiches together first?”

Elizabeth shrugged. He'd taken her at her word, and was back to strictly business again. “Either way. I just want to give them a few more minutes alone.”

He peered out the window. “Looks like they might appreciate it.”

Elizabeth glanced out too. Jane and Charles were standing close together, talking earnestly. “I don't mind eating cold sandwiches,” she said.

Darcy turned to her. “How've you been?”

“Busy. Non stop work.” She checked the progress of the toast. “And you?” she asked tentatively.

“Travelling a lot - P. ramorum conferences in Europe, a stint in Ottawa, and then a tour of California and Oregon nurseries. I'm probably the last person you want here after that.” He smiled a crooked little half smile.

`No, I want you here,' she thought. “You look pretty well decontaminated,” she said. “So, how come after all that high level work you get shafted inspecting an unimportant Nursery like Glacierview? I'd have expected you to go over to the mainland and do all the biggest wholesalers.”

“Your nursery is important, Elizabeth,” he said. And then he tempered his statement with, “All nurseries are important, big or little.”

“More FHA doublespeak,” she teased to hide the flustered feelings his remark had raised. “This toast is ready. Do you think we each need one slice or two?”

He looked out the window again. “Two.”

Elizabeth followed his gaze while she placed more toast in the toaster. “It doesn't look like we'll get a chance to eat lunch at all.”

“I don't know about them, but the food is right here, so there's nothing stopping us.”

Elizabeth laughed and picked up a knife. “Butter?” she asked.

They ate their sandwiches in the kitchen, forgetting to even check on the other two anymore. Elizabeth was picking at the last crumbs on her plate and Darcy was pouring another glass of lemonade when Jane and Charles walked into the kitchen.

“So this is where you're hiding? We wondered what happened to you guys,” said Charles.

“You didn't look like you were wondering anything of the kind last time I checked,” said Darcy.

Charles grinned. “I hope you've left us some food.”

“The toast is cold,” said Elizabeth, “and I think Darcy ate all the bacon.”

“I'll fry some more,” said Jane quickly.

Charles ran his hand down her arm and squeezed her fingers. “Thanks, but you don't have to. Tomato sandwiches are good.”

“To you maybe, but Beth promised me BLTs and that's what I'm going to have.”

Darcy looked at his watch and stood up. “I'd better get back to sampling. Don't take too long, Charles, or you'll give government workers a bad name.”

“I need to plant up those cuttings.” Elizabeth cleared their plates and put them in the dishwasher. “Remember you promised to help me, Jane.”

Jane didn't look up from her task of laying bacon out in the fry pan, but she nodded her head.

As Elizabeth and Darcy walked down the steps together, he said, “I have to go back to Victoria tomorrow. Charles should be able to finish sampling here pretty quickly and then he's got a couple more places in the area, conveniently scheduled.”

Elizabeth wanted to ask Darcy if he was coming back up island soon or heading off to the mainland, but the distance between them, which had disappeared while they were in the kitchen, had returned full force. She only nodded and then headed to the propagation house where the four-inch pots were waiting.

`Why did he come?' she thought to herself. `If he's going again tomorrow? Just to see if I was right about Jane's feelings for Charles? It wasn't to see me, that's for sure.' She tried to ignore the emptiness that was welling up inside her and instead concentrated on how well Jane and Charles' initial meeting had gone. Lucky them! She sighed and tied her hair back, then started potting up the tender young plants. An hour later Jane joined her.

“I was about to phone Mary to get her butt down here - thought you'd ridden off into the sunset with Charles.”

Jane pulled on a pair of gloves. “The sun doesn't set in summer until around 10:00 pm.”

“Don't be so literal - you know what I meant.”

“Oh Beth! It's just so great to see Charles again and know that we can be friends without the complication of emotional involvement.”

Elizabeth laughed out loud. “No emotional involvement! That's a good one.”

“Don't laugh at me, Beth. I mean it.”

This entreaty only served to make Elizabeth laugh even harder.

That evening Jane went out with Charles, and the next night too. She never made another comment about there not being any emotional involvement. Every time Elizabeth saw her, Jane's expression was brighter and her manner more carefree.

Charles soon finished his up island sampling and had to return to Victoria, but this time there was no talk of the ills of long distance relationships or suggestions that they see other people. Instead he told Jane that he was putting in for a transfer to Parksville as soon as possible, and she began studying employment sites to see if there were florists in Victoria who were hiring.

The day he left Courtenay, Jane spent the evening with Elizabeth.

“He loves me!” she said as they strolled the beautiful grounds at Filberg Park. “He told me that he loved me last year when he left, but he didn't think that I was in love with him. Silly man.”

Elizabeth kept what she knew to herself. Jane was the most forgiving person she'd ever known, but she still didn't want her to know the part Darcy had played in the break-up, just in case. There were some things even a saint couldn't forget.

Elizabeth was watering her newly potted cuttings when her cell phone went off. Some days she wished she could escape the darned thing, but she put down her hose and answered the cell. It was her mother.

“Beth - there's this lady here who insists on talking to you.”

“A customer with a problem?”

“I think she has a problem, but she's no customer. Get up here quick.”

Elizabeth sighed. Sometimes her mother was so aggravating. She refused to deal with anyone when things started getting confrontational, and the confrontation was usually caused by something that was Mrs Bennet's fault to begin with. Elizabeth would be stuck soothing ruffled feathers on both sides, not her favourite pastime in the world.

But this time Elizabeth had wronged her mother. The lady had come to the nursery specifically to see Elizabeth and she had no interest in talking about plants at all.

“Hello Mrs Dubarry,” said Elizabeth as she entered the garden shop and saw who was waiting for her. “What can I do for you?”

“You can take your hands off my nephew.”

Elizabeth stared at her blankly. “Pardon me?”

“Don't put on an act, Miss Bennet. I know your kind.”

Elizabeth could see her mother craning her neck to hear every word between them. “I think we should go somewhere more private to discuss this,” she said. “Would you like to come to my office?”

“I noticed a pretty sort of garden on the other side of the parking lot. We can talk there.”

Elizabeth ushered Mrs Dubarry outside and followed her through the door. They walked across the parking lot in silence and slipped through a gap in the shrubberies.

“Which of your nephews were you referring to?” asked Elizabeth.

“Darcy of course. I'm told your sister has got her hooks into his best friend, Charles, and that you are out to catch him.”

“I don't see what business it is of yours what my sister and I do,” said Elizabeth, her indignation rising. “And I would have thought your nephew was old enough to decide for himself who he goes out with.”

“Men are rarely ruled by their brains in such matters, especially when you young girls flaunt yourselves in such revealing outfits.”

Elizabeth looked down at her work clothes - an ordinary t-shirt and shorts.

“I was referring to how you dressed when I saw you last - in a sweater cut down to your navel.”

“Mrs Dubarry - I have never flaunted myself in front of your nephew or tried to catch him. We have a business relationship and that's as far as it has ever gone.”

“And will you promise never to take the relationship any further?”

“Why on earth would I make such a promise? I really don't know how Darcy feels about your interference in his life, but you have no right to come to my place of business and make insinuating accusations.”

“So, you have the cheek to refuse my request?”

“If Darcy and I decide to have a relationship, that's between him and me and has nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

“I'm his closest relative - it's my responsibility to see that he doesn't throw himself away on an upstart nobody! The Fitzwilliams are society people and when it comes to marriage they stick to their own kind. A middle class girl like you may satisfy his sexual needs, but Darcy knows his duty to his family. I plan on him marrying Anne.”

“Is that his plan too?”

“Darcy knows what is good for him.”

“Then I fail to understand what you thought to gain by coming here and talking to me, if everything is already settled so nicely.”

Mrs Dubarry broke off a stem of agapanthus and shook it at her, the blue blossoms bobbing frantically. “It isn't completely settled. And with a girl like you out to trap him - I know about your slutty sister and her escapade - you would stop at nothing.”

“I'm not staying here to listen to your outrageous insults.” Elizabeth reached out and grabbed the flowers from Mrs Dubarry's hand. “I'd like you to go now and stop destroying my mother's garden.”

She stalked out through the hedge without looking back. She circled around the garden centre to avoid her mother and returned to the propagation house by the back way. She pulled the door closed so forcefully that all the glass rattled in its frames. The woman was clearly insane. The one consolation she had about the probability of never seeing Darcy again now, especially after his aunt got through talking to him, was the possibility that insanity ran in the family. For some reason this reflection didn't make her one bit happier. Instead she burst into tears.

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on Saturday, 1 March 2008

Elizabeth was in need of a break, so when Jane had invited her along on a trip to Hornby Island for the coming Saturday, she'd agreed readily, even though she'd feel like a third wheel with the two lovebirds. They were having a picnic, and Elizabeth had offered to prepare the main course. The drinks and dessert were up to the other two.

Elizabeth put a couple of ice packs in a cooler, and followed them with jalapeno havarti, salami, and a crusty Italian loaf. She added condiments, cherry tomatoes, and a bag of fresh, young greens. She was rummaging in the cupboards for the set of picnic dishes and cutlery when Jane came into the kitchen.

“Ready?”

“Just about. Yes! Found it!” She emerged with the picnic set, napkins, and a table cloth too.

“Did you pack lots of food?” asked Jane, peeking into the cooler.

“Tons.”

“Good.” Jane held her hand out to stop Elizabeth from removing a place setting from the bag. “We'll need that. Charles brought a friend.”

“Who?” Elizabeth's heart began to pump unnaturally.

“Darcy. I hope you don't mind. I know you had that big scene with him in January, but . . . you guys seemed to get on okay when they came to sample”

“I'm fine with it, Jane. I saw him again in March at that workshop too - you know, when Liddie pulled her stunt.”

“Oh yeah - Charles told me you guys all had lunch together. Then it won't be awkward for you - I'm glad.”

`Oh won't it?' thought Elizabeth as she put the rest of the picnic gear into a pack along with her bathing suit and towel. “You take this and I'll grab the cooler.”

Charles was waiting at the front door. He took the pack from Jane and the cooler from Elizabeth and put them in the trunk of his car.

Darcy was standing with the back door open and he motioned to Elizabeth. “Hi,” he said as she got into the car. He looked serious but he flashed her a tentative smile before he went around the car and got into the seat beside her.

Elizabeth wasn't sure if she'd responded at all. She sat quietly, waiting for him to speak to her while Charles entertained Jane with light chatter as he drove. Finally she took the initiative and said what she'd wanted to get off her chest for a long time. “I want to thank you for finding Liddie. There are really no words to express how much it meant to me and my family.”

He looked slightly annoyed. “How did you find out about that?”

“Liddie isn't exactly the soul of discretion.”

“No, I suppose not. The conversation we had from the slum George dumped her at to your friend's place was enlightening, to say the least.”

“What did she tell you?” asked Elizabeth, remembering with embarrassment how Liddie hadn't taken anything that had happened seriously at all, chattering on about the experience as if it was a normal part of everyday life.

“The thing that stuck with me the most was when she told me that George had said he liked her because she was fun, not like her frigid b*tch of a sister.”

Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God!”

“She's a silly little teenager - don't worry about it. Anyway, that comment only served to reinforce something that I already knew.”

Elizabeth looked at him. “What's that?”

“That you were never hot and heavy with George.”

She turned away, blushing.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn't have mentioned it.”

“No, it's fine. Thanks. I'm glad you believed me.” Elizabeth was quiet for a few minutes. She looked out the window and noticed they were already passing through Royston. They'd be at the ferry in ten minutes. “Why didn't you call me when you found her? Why did you want it to be a secret?”

Darcy's expression became withdrawn. “I . . . I didn't want your gratitude, Elizabeth. Simple as that. I looked for Liddie and George because you were upset. Because I was partly to blame. Because I thought I had a better chance of finding them than your father.”

“It was a kind thing to do. You really went out of your way for us.”

Darcy shrugged. “It would have been kinder if I'd never given George a break in the first place. Do you know why he ran off with your sister? Because he was so pissed at you for not giving him a reference. He told me she was fun for a while but he preferred a challenge. He never had any intention of staying with her in Victoria, and dumped her on his dealer friends first chance he got. According to him he knew she'd be safe with them because they are gay, and he thought she'd call home as soon as she woke up.”

“Some excuse - the disgusting creep.” Elizabeth could have said a lot more about it, but she didn't want to waste her time with Darcy talking about George. “I wanted to thank you about my samples too. I heard that you bullied everyone into making them a top priority.”

Darcy cocked his head toward Charles. “Did he tell you?”

“No - you've trained him too well. I've got more information out of you than Charles has ever given me. Someone at your office told May - I have no idea who it was and I wouldn't tell you if I did. I'm glad I found out.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said shortly, and then he changed the subject. “Do you go to Hornby often?”

“I've not been in years.” Elizabeth smiled. “We've got a perfect day for it.”

On the ferry they got out of the car and walked to the bow. The sky was clear blue without a single cloud. The sun was already heating up, but there was a light breeze that stopped it from being overpowering. The water was a deep jade, frothing white where the ferry cut through it.

“Look over there,” said Elizabeth. “A pod of orcas!”

In the distance they could just make out the big splashes as the whales arced in and out of the water. They were putting on quite a show. Elizabeth took it as an omen of good things to come for the rest of the day.

They drove across Denman Island without stopping and joined the line-up for the Hornby ferry. Charles insisted that they buy ice cream from a hippie lady in a brightly painted trailer. She incorporated home grown fruits into store bought ice cream, coming up with unusual flavours like chocolate rhubarb. Elizabeth settled for vanilla with cherries.

On Hornby Island their first stop was Helliwell Park. The trail they took led through forest and then along grassy bluffs overlooking the sea. The grass had dried to a pale blonde under the summer sun. Elizabeth and Darcy kept walking as Charles and Jane scrambled down the hills to explore the rock pools on the shoreline. Eventually Darcy stopped and sat on a rock, patting the smooth surface beside him.

“We'd better let them catch up to us. Sit.”

Elizabeth did as she was told. The rock was warm from the sun. “What a day!” she said, luxuriating in the beauty of the view before her.

“My aunt told me she visited you,” Darcy said. “I'd like to apologise for her behaviour. From what she said, it sounds like she was rude and insulting.”

“She was.”

“I wasn't quite twenty when my parents died. She's since assigned herself the role of surrogate parent, even though I've told her many times that her interference in my life is both unwanted and unneeded. She really overstepped her bounds this time.”

“I was afraid that after she talked to you about our argument you'd never want to see me again.” Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, searching his face.

His grey eyes flickered, seemed to deepen in colour. “It had quite the opposite effect.”

Elizabeth said nothing, caught in his eyes.

“I know your feelings have changed towards me, and you don't hate me anymore, but, how much have they changed? I still feel the same about you as I did in January . . . more actually. If you're interested only in being friends tell me now, and I'll never bring this up again, but if you feel there's a chance for us . . .” Darcy's voice trailed off.

“My feelings - God! Don't remind me that I said I hated you. How could I have been so blind?” Elizabeth looked away from those eyes that saw too much, and continued shyly. “I like you; I've liked you for quite a while, but I thought . . . I thought I'd spoiled all my chances with all those horrible things I said to you.”

Darcy reached his arm around her and pulled her head against his shoulder. “I deserved everything you said.” he whispered into her hair. “Thank you for forgiving me.”

“If you still like me, why didn't you call me or anything after we almost went out to dinner that time?”

“I wasn't sure how you felt about me. You had been pretty frank, you know. I'd been so sure of myself before and you blew me out of the water. I didn't want to put myself through that again.” He brought his other arm around her and held her closer. “I had all that travelling with work and the time wasn't right. I needed to see you to judge how you felt.”

“But what about when you came with Charles to take samples? I thought I was open and friendly but you ran back to Victoria.”

“I wasn't sure of anything. You may think you were open, but your attitude was hard for me to read. I thought you might just be trying to make up for how honest you'd been with me that time. Showing me that you could treat my nicely now. But my aunt's visit changed that. When she said you'd refused to agree never to go out with me, I knew that you would have told her straight out if you wanted nothing to do with me romantically.”

Elizabeth lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his face. “She thought it was all only sexual anyway.”

“To hell with my aunt,” said Darcy. “She hasn't got a clue.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, a soft, feather light touch. Elizabeth raised her head until she found his lips. The kiss unlocked the bonds that had been holding her tentative heart back. Darcy's arms were tight around her, but she felt herself fall. She was breathless when they eventually broke away. He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead again.

“I think they're coming.”

“Who?” Elizabeth said.

Darcy laughed lightly.

“Oh! Jane and Charles.” She jumped away and smoothed her hair, making him laugh even more.

“Wander around nonchalantly - I can see them now.”

“I'm not ready to, you know, tell them about us yet. It's still more than I can handle.”

Darcy leaned back on the rock in a casual attitude, his eyes teasing. “Take all the time that you need. I've got all day.”

Her face shot back towards his, stricken. “You're not going back to Victoria tomorrow!”

“Nothing could induce me.” He smiled up at her with such warmth that Elizabeth felt an answering blush radiate across her cheeks.

“Sorry we took so long,” said Charles. “But there were these incredible starfish.”

“That's okay,” said Darcy with a complacent grin. “We made good use of our time.”

Jane and Charles looked from Darcy to Elizabeth suspiciously.

“Aren't you guys hungry?” Elizabeth blurted out. “We've got about two more kilometres to go to complete the circuit, then we have to drive over to Tribune Bay for our picnic.”

“We could just attack the cooler when we get back to the parking lot,” said Charles.

“No!” said Jane and Elizabeth together.

Tribune Bay was a beautiful little horseshoe of blue water. The sailboats resting at anchor and the crescent of white sand dotted about with beach umbrellas gave it a tropical appearance. They wandered down the beach for a bit to find the perfect spot, away from people but still with a good log to sit on, and a nice view. Charles was ready to settle for almost anywhere, he was so hungry, but the girls were both adamant. Darcy simply found the process amusing.

“This is it!” said Elizabeth, sitting on a well weathered log with a flat stretch of sand in front of it.

“We've already passed three or four spots that were almost identical,” said Charles.

“At the last one there were people with a dog really close,” said Jane.

“But I like dogs.”

“All wet from the ocean and trying to eat your food?” asked Elizabeth.

Darcy laughed. “She has you there, Charles.”

Jane had taken the pack and was starting to unload it. Elizabeth joined her and spread the table cloth out on the sand while Darcy placed the cooler beside it. They made quick work of their lunch and then packed up the leftover food.

“Elizabeth and I are just going up to the changing rooms to put on our swim suits,” said Jane, throwing her tote bag over her arm. Elizabeth pulled her things from the backpack and followed her sister.

Jane waited until they were out of earshot from the men before she started talking.

“So, what happened between you and Darcy when we were playing in the rock pools?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right. He's been looking smug ever since then, and you're happier than I've seen you in a long time.”

“We sorted a few things out - that's all.”

Jane gave her a hug. “He still cares about you, doesn't he?” She eyed her sister closely and then continued. “And you've stopped being in denial.”

“I wasn't in denial,” said Elizabeth. “I thought he'd given up on me, so what was the point of telling you that my feelings for him had changed?”

“And now?”

“You'll be mad at me when I tell you this, but I like him even more than I like Charles.”

“Get serious!” said Jane, giving Elizabeth a hip check.

“Oh Jane! I feel so tingly and excited, I want to laugh all the time. I never knew it would be like this.”

Jane sighed. “My little sister is in love at last.”

“Love is a big word, Jane.” Elizabeth was suddenly serious. “I mean - I like him a lot and when he kissed me it was . . . wow! But isn't it moving a little too fast to say I'm in love with him? This is the first time we've ever gone out together and done something that has nothing to do with work.”

Jane gave her a knowing look and then raced her the short way left to the changing rooms.

When they got back to their log, Charles and Darcy had taken off their shirts and were throwing a Frisbee back and forth, wearing only shorts and flip flops.

“Ready to go in?” called Charles.

Jane nodded.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, but she shook her head. “You two go ahead and swim,” he said. “We'll stay here for a bit.”

Elizabeth tossed her clothes into her pack and spread out her towel. She sat down, resting back on her elbows. Darcy sat on the sand beside her.

“Working on your tan?”

She smiled up at him. “Just thinking about something Jane said, and wondering if it's true.”

“Your sister doesn't strike me as a liar,” he said, leaning closer. “What did she say?”

“Never mind.” Elizabeth laughed shyly.

He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Nice bikini,” he whispered. “The colour suits you.”

She smirked at him. “Nice shorts. Are you coming on to me?”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to let you know I'd noticed. If I were coming on to you, I'd just do this,” and he leaned closer and kissed her.

Elizabeth curved against him, bringing one hand up behind his head as the kiss lengthened. “I think it's time we went into the water,” she said after a few minutes.

Darcy leaned back a bit and stared into her eyes. “I don't know - swimming could be even more dangerous.” But he stood and pulled her up. They ran down to the water hand in hand and were soon splashing each other in the surf.

After their swim they took a long walk along the beach, talking about all kinds of things. They reached the large rocks that followed the right side of the bay out and around the point. Darcy jumped onto a long slope of rock and then held his hand out to help Elizabeth up. The sandstone had been smoothed by water and weather, and in some places pitted holes of varying sizes left patterns in the surface.

“I'm always amazed by these rocks,” said Elizabeth. “Look, that one there is a huge face.”

They clambered over the rocky spread, searching out interesting formations and coming up with funnier and funnier interpretations of the shapes. Finally they sat down in a little space between two boulders that separated them from the rest of the world. They looked out over the water, watching light waves lap against the smooth stone, seagulls swoop and soar over the ocean, and sailboats nod and sway in the distance.

“This is so idyllic,” said Darcy, putting his arm around her. “I wish today could last forever.”

Elizabeth's spirits sank. “Do you have to be at the office on Monday?”

“Actually, Charles and I will be sampling on the mainland then. I can't tell you where - top secret government espionage stuff.” He grinned at her. “But we've got all day tomorrow to spend together.”

Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder and sighed. “How is this going to work between us? I have a nursery to run here and you live in Victoria and your job takes you all over the place. We'll never see each other.”

Darcy reached out and touched her cheek, ran his fingers down along her jaw and tipped up her chin so that her eyes looked directly into his. “If it's important enough to us, we will make it work. Building a life together is important enough to me.” He paused, letting his eyes convey more than words ever could, then he continued with renewed emphasis. “Is it important enough to you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He held her tightly to him and rested his head on top of hers. Elizabeth was overcome by that same euphoric dizzy sensation she'd felt when Darcy had first kissed her. `Jane's right,' she thought to herself. `I am falling in love.'

And she gave in to the feeling, ready to embrace every new thing life was offering her.

~Fin~

---