“Yeah, the place is a mess.” Claude sidestepped the question as she inhaled. “Did you see Jackson Dunn on the way in?” she asked, exhaling a cloud of silvery smoke.
“I did,” Harriett confirmed. “I assume you were behind his upcoming break with tradition?”
Claude laughed at the idea. “Are you kidding? He would never listen to me. I just told Leonard that he might want to make sure there was no bad blood between you and Jackson. He knows Jackson’s got some unfortunate proclivities.”
“It’s ironic,” Harriett observed. “Leonard told me he had everyone out here vetted. You’d think a penchant for sexual harassment would be one of the first things you’d find during that process.”
“Leonard does his best, but the truth is, a few good lawyers and a filing cabinet full of NDAs can work wonders. It’s amazing how much dirty laundry a few hundred million dollars is able to hide,” Claude said. “By the way, it’s funny you mention sexual harassment. Did Jackson ever grab your crotch, by any chance?”
“As a matter of fact, he did,” Harriett confirmed.
“Yeah, he tried that with me once, too, when he was really drunk. Leonard made sure he never stepped out of line again. Men like that need to be trained like dogs.”
“Why bother to train them?” Harriett asked. “It would be better to just put them to sleep, don’t you think?”
Leonard emerged from the house at that moment, a tray laden with food balanced on one hand. When he reached the table, he served fruit, croissants, and soft-boiled eggs in pretty blue cups, and did it without so much as a wobble.
“You’re good at that,” Harriett noted.
“I’m not fancy like Claude,” Leonard said. “I worked my way through college as a waiter.”
“Leonard is the personification of the American dream.” Claude gave him a playful pat on the ass. “Janitor’s kid goes to Harvard on a scholarship and works his way up to the top.”
“Impressive. What was the secret to your success?” Harriett asked.
“A penis,” Leonard deadpanned, and Claude burst out laughing.
“That, and an almost supernatural ability to sense what others are after,” Claude added. “Leonard can peer into people’s hearts and minds.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Harriett said. “You two seem to have honed in on my friend Jo’s deepest desires.”
Claude blanched. “I was horrified by what happened to Lucy. I wanted to do something to help.”
“Lucy will be fine,” Harriett assured her. “I’ll see to that. But the self-defense program is just what Jo needed.”
“That butt-kicking academy is stroke of genius.” Leonard beamed with pride.
“Jo deserves all the credit,” Claude said. “It was her idea. The next time a man like Spencer Harding goes after a girl, he may be in for a surprise.”
“Instead of training every girl in the country, why not just get rid of the handful of men like Spencer Harding?” Harriett suggested.
“Why not do both?” Claude asked.
“She’s so ambitious,” Leonard joked. “Speaking of ambition, didn’t you have a successful career in advertising before you left it all for the world of plants?”
“It could have been a success,” Harriett said. “But it turned out I was missing something very important.”
“Which was?” Leonard asked.
“A penis,” Harriett said, and they all laughed loudly.
“Well, we’re certainly glad you’ve turned to horticulture,” Claude said. “If you can get rid of the weeds on the Pointe, you can name your price. Leonard will ensure Jackson pays it.”
Harriett took a toke on her joint. She hadn’t touched any of the food. She plucked a pomegranate aril from her fruit salad and squeezed it until its red juice stained her fingertips. “Money matters very little to me. I charge what I believe is fair—no more and no less,” she said. “I suppose that’s why I’ll never be rich enough for a house on the Pointe.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Leonard said. “I never expected to be wealthy, either. I just happened to stumble into a lucrative field.”
“You’re in finance, are you not? Hard field to stumble into.”
“I retired from finance ten years ago,” he reminded her. “Now I’m just an ordinary retiree.”
“An ordinary retiree with the clout to make a man like Jackson Dunn shake in his boots.”
Leonard laughed. “He’s worried I won’t renew his lease. After what happened with Harding, I’ve been cracking down. This is a family community. I don’t want any more trouble.”
Harriett turned her eyes to a flock of seagulls pecking the sand. As she took another toke, three of them lifted off and flew directly toward a pair of French doors that Leonard had left open. The sound of glass breaking soon followed.
“Shit.” Leonard jumped up. “There’s food out on the counters.”
Claude groaned. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”
“Of course,” Harriett told him. “Do you mind if I have a quick stroll around the grounds?”
“Not at all,” Leonard said. “Just keep an eye out for our seabeach amaranth. We have one of the biggest patches on the Eastern Seaboard.”
Harriett nodded, her attention already focused on a small older woman who’d appeared in the spot where the flock of gulls had been. The visitor walked to the edge of the scrub that separated the brilliant green grass from the beach and waved. She wore the somber gray dress of a domestic worker, and her hair was hidden beneath a kerchief of the same colorless fabric. She was twenty years older than Harriett, and she wore her age like a badge of honor.
Harriett trekked across the lawn to where the woman stood. “Hello,” she said. “Are you looking for me?”
“Yes, I’ve been waiting. When I saw the weeds and the bees, I knew you would be coming,” the woman responded.
“And now I am here. My name is Harriett.”
“Isabel.” The woman kept an eye on the house, but she didn’t seem afraid.
“What do you do on the Pointe, Isabel?” Harriett asked.
“I tend to the houseplants, and I take care of the workers. I know how to cure fevers and heal wounds, and protect the weakest among us from harm.”
Harriett was delighted. “You are like me. I knew the second I saw you.”
“Yes, women like us recognize each other.”
“Do you know why I’ve come?”
“The same reason I have. Girls are dead,” Isabel said. “You are here to avenge them. Spencer Harding is gone, but the scales are not balanced yet.”
“No,” Harriett agreed. “They certainly are not.”
“The people who work here on the Pointe over the summer see everything. But when the families go home, the workers leave as well. During the winter, when no one is watching, terrible things happen here. When people come back in May, it’s like the soil has turned poisonous. I can feel it now, seeping into my shoes. Mr. Harding was a bad man, but he was not the only one.”