“You could advertise for a manager,” I suggested cautiously.
“No, I couldn’t,” Emma said. “There’s no such thing as a perfect someone, and besides, I don’t really want a stranger stepping into my boots.” She smiled wanly. “Pay no attention to me, Lori. I’m tired and when I’m tired I get fed up with unblocking blocked drainage ditches and listening to parents complain because their little darling’s lesson was canceled.” Her gaze drifted from the pergola to the stone wall to the rose-covered ruin of a trellis. “I won’t let it spoil my time here, though. An hour or two spent up to my knees in green stuff will put me right.” She bent to examine the feathery leaf of an otherwise nondescript plant, murmuring, “Interesting, very interesting . . .”
I left her to her green stuff and went back to work, wishing a knight in shining armor would ride over the horizon to slay my friend’s paperwork dragons.
Ten
Emma’s initial survey of the gardens at Ivy Cottage had unexpected results. Jack, Bree, and I had finished liberating the brick paths from the undergrowth and were in the kitchen sipping tea and comparing blisters when Emma asked us to join her near the old wishing well. Her face was flushed, her hair was falling out of its ponytail, and her voice trembled with excitement as she made her surprising announcement.
“All work in the gardens must stop,” she declared. “Right now. Immediately. No more cutting, slashing, or uprooting until I’ve created a comprehensive garden plan.”
“Why?” Jack asked. “I didn’t notice any endangered species when I looked ’round the other day. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“It’s not about protecting endangered species. It’s about . . .” Emma paused to regroup, then continued urgently, “I realize that your uncle’s property looks like a neglected mess, Jack, but it isn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing with it and he did it brilliantly.”
“I didn’t think he’d done anything with it,” said Jack, perplexed. “How could he? He didn’t even own a spade.”
“Have you looked in the shed?” Emma asked, waving a hand in the direction of the ramshackle garage.
“Not yet,” said Jack. “The doors are jammed.”
“Ask Mr. Barlow to open them for you,” said Emma. “I think you’ll find a full complement of gardening tools inside. Your uncle couldn’t have done what he did without them. He must have been a great nature lover.”
“He was,” Jack confirmed. “He used to sit at his windows with his binoculars and take notes on whatever caught his eye.”
“I knew it!” Emma said triumphantly. “Don’t you see? He designed his gardens to attract wildlife—birds, bees, butterflies, bugs. Look . . .” She strode away from us, pointing to her finds as she passed them. “Bee balm, butterfly bush, yellow hyssop, witch hazel, milkweed, yarrow, cosmos, hollyhocks, globe thistles, blackberries, clematis, alyssum, sunflowers, calendula, . . .” She returned to the well, saying, “I could go on, but I’ll put the rest of it down on paper.”
“I don’t see hollyhocks,” said Bree. “Or sunflowers. Or—”
“They haven’t come up, yet,” Emma cut in, “but I found last summer’s leaves and stalks, so I know they’re here. I found four birdbaths, too, and a pair of bird tables for winter feeding. They’re falling apart, but they could be repaired or replaced.” She clasped her notebook to her chest and peered up at Jack hopefully. “Your uncle created gardens that celebrate and support life, Jack. It would be a crime to destroy them.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, looking doubtful. “Can they be simplified? I’ve got to sell the place, you see, and I’m not sure anyone but Uncle Hector would enjoy living in the middle of a nature reserve.”
“Once we tidy them up, they’ll have excellent eye-appeal,” Emma assured him. “Not everyone wants a lawn,” she added encouragingly. “All I ask is that you leave the gardens alone until you’ve seen my plan. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow—Thursday at the latest. There is one thing you can do, though, and I suggest you start doing it as soon as possible.”
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“Examine the cottage’s external walls,” Emma replied. “If they’re in good condition, the ivy won’t hurt them. If they’re deteriorating—if the mortar’s loose, for example—the ivy will hasten their decay, in which case you’ll have to strip the vines and make the necessary repairs. While you’re up there, make sure the vines haven’t gone under the roof slates or taken root in the gutters and downspouts. If they have, prune them with a firm hand. Bees love ivy and it provides shelter for small birds, but it has to be kept under control.”
“Why not remove the ivy entirely?” I asked. “Doesn’t it make little holes in the walls?”