Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen Page B

order to shop there too, to look like she belonged. She opened the bag and brought out a beautiful blue silk shirt. It was about three sizes too big, but she hadn’t had something so decadent in a long time, not since she took all that money from her boyfriend the car thief and lived on it for a year. David had money, but he’d never been a gift giver, never big on rewards, remorse, or apologies.
    Sydney sat on the steps and put the shirt to her nose and smelled that wonderful wealthy scent of the shop. It smelled like fine paper and English perfume. “It’s so beautiful.”
    Evanelle lowered herself to the step beside Sydney and rummaged through her tote bag again. “I know it’s too big. Here’s the receipt. I was walking downtown this morning trying to find some nice male backsides. There was Maxine’s, and I thought of you, and I knew I had to get you this. This shirt. This size.”
    Bay had approached and was shyly fingering the soft shirt in Sydney’s hands. “Evanelle, this is my daughter, Bay.”
    Evanelle chucked her chin and Bay giggled. “She looks just like your grandmother when she was young. Dark hair, blue eyes. She’s got Waverley in her, that’s for sure.”
    Sydney put an arm around Bay protectively. No, she doesn’t . “Strawberry Pop-Tarts are her favorite. Thank you for them.”
    “Nice to know when things find a good purpose.” She patted Sydney’s knee. “Where is Claire?”
    “Busy in the kitchen, preparing for a luncheon.”
    “Are you going to help her?”
    “Yes.”
    Evanelle’s sharp eyes were on her. Sydney had always loved Evanelle. What child doesn’t love an old lady who gives presents? But Claire always seemed to understand Evanelle better. “Keep this in mind about Claire. She hates to ask for anything.” Bay ran back to the yard and did cartwheels for them, and they complimented her. Some time passed before Evanelle said, “It’s not an easy thing to do, ask for help. You were brave to come here. I’m proud of you.”
    Sydney met the old woman’s eyes, and knew that she knew.
     
    It was nearly five o’clock in the afternoon on Friday when Claire, Sydney, and Bay arrived home from catering the luncheon in Hickory. Bay had fallen asleep in the van. Sydney thought Claire might be peeved at having to take Bay along, but she didn’t argue at all when Sydney said she didn’t want to leave Bay with Evanelle just yet. They’d only been in town three days. She wasn’t leaving her daughter alone in a strange place. Claire had said, “Of course not. She’ll come with us.” Just like that.
    Bay had enjoyed herself. The old ladies in the Amateur Botanists Association loved having her there, and every time Claire and Sydney came back from collecting plates or refreshing drinks, Bay had cleaned up the area or organized the coolers in that way she did, instinctively knowing where things were supposed to be.
    Sydney carried Bay upstairs and put her on her bed, then turned on one of the floor fans Claire had brought down from the attic because summer was filling the house, tightening it with heat. She changed into shorts and a T-shirt, thinking Claire was going to do the same before unloading the things from the van.
    But when Sydney went back downstairs, Claire had, in that short time, brought everything into the kitchen and was loading the dishwasher and filling the carafes with baking soda and hot water to soak. She was still in her blouse and skirt, the blue apron still over her clothes.
    “I was going to help you,” Sydney said.
    Claire looked surprised to find her there. “I can do this. When I hire people, it’s only to help serve. You can relax. I didn’t know if you’d prefer a check or cash, so I went with cash. The envelope is there.” She pointed to the kitchen table.
    Sydney paused a moment. She didn’t understand. Wasn’t it a good day? Didn’t they work well together? The ladies at the luncheon loved Claire’s food, and they complimented Sydney