turned on the
hot plate under the teakettle, and got out a tray of herb-cheese biscuits. I
serve my customers hot herb tea and a snack during the cool autumn weather,
iced herb tea or homemade nonalcoholic ginger beer during the summer.
I poked my head through the door to
Ruby’s shop to see if she was there yet. The Crystal Cave was dark and silent
and smelled of the incense that Ruby burns constantly. She doesn’t open until
ten. We joke that people who buy crystals and incense sleep later man people
who buy herbs.
Roz came through the door five
minutes later. She was wearing a soft lemon-yellow top and matching slacks,
with a paisley scarf looped with studiedly casual artifice about her throat.
She smelled lemony, too—some sort of fruity, citrusy perfume. I told her that
Meredith had agreed to dinner.
“I’m glad,” she said. She appeared
to be looking for something. “China, do you have any garlic extract?”
I was a little surprised. I wouldn’t
have thought that Roz would be into garlic. It just goes to show that
appearances don’t tell the whole story, or that garlic has a universal appeal,
or both. Probably the latter. Garlic is the most popular medicinal and
seasoning herb of all time. I found the extract for her, and a bottle of gel
caps.
“Would you rather have gel caps?” I
asked. With garlic, a lot of people worry about odor, although the extract has
been “odor-modified,” meaning that they took out a lot of the smell.
Roz shook her head. “Gel caps are
much less effective,” she said, with emphasis. “Jo introduced me to the
extract. I mix it with my morning tomato juice. I have high blood pressure and
an ulcer—it’s the show, of course—and the garlic helps both.”
I laughed. “It helps almost
anything,” I said. The world’s oldest medical text, the Ebers Papyrus, lists
garlic as an ingredient in twenty-two remedies for headache, insect and
scorpion bites, menstrual difficulties, worms, tumors, and heart ailments. For
a long time, people even thought it was a powerful antidote— a “charm against
poison,” as one seventeenth-century herbalist said.
Roz took the garlic extract and an
herb biscuit. She had turned away to look at the gift baskets when Violett Hall
came in, wearing one of her modest white-blouse-dark-skirt combinations. “I
wanted to tell you that Pudding’s ears are much better,” Violett said.
“Whose ears?” I asked, drawing a
blank.
“My cat. The one with ear mites.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Violett,” I
said gently, “but I think it will be several days before you can tell whether
your cat really is improved.” Healing herbs work gently and reliably, but I
hate it when people think they’re a miracle cure. I always try to make them
understand that herbs work more slowly than modern medicine’s silver bullets.
“Oh,” Violett said. She looked
around. “Anyway, Gretel asked me to pick up some more lavender oil,” she added.
“She—”
A book in her hand and a smile on
her face, Roz moved out from behind the paperback rack. Violett saw her and
stopped talking.
Roz adjusted her scarf, looking
distinctly uneasy.
Her smile faded as if someone had
hit the dimmer switch. “Hello, Violett,” she said.
Violett blinked. “What are you doing
here?” she asked in surprise. And then answered her own question. “Of course,
the memorial service.” She smiled uncertainly. “But why didn’t you call? We
have a lot to—”
Roz’s eyes flicked to me, as if she
were giving a warning, and Violett shut her mouth. Roz stepped smoothly into
the unfinished sentence. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting to see me. I haven’t
been able to get back to Pecan Springs very much lately. And of course I’m
still trying to recover from the shock of Jo’s death. It was so dreadfully
unexpected.” She took a bill out of her purse and handed it to me to pay for
the book and the extract. “Please tell Meredith that I’m looking forward to
dinner
hot plate under the teakettle, and got out a tray of herb-cheese biscuits. I
serve my customers hot herb tea and a snack during the cool autumn weather,
iced herb tea or homemade nonalcoholic ginger beer during the summer.
I poked my head through the door to
Ruby’s shop to see if she was there yet. The Crystal Cave was dark and silent
and smelled of the incense that Ruby burns constantly. She doesn’t open until
ten. We joke that people who buy crystals and incense sleep later man people
who buy herbs.
Roz came through the door five
minutes later. She was wearing a soft lemon-yellow top and matching slacks,
with a paisley scarf looped with studiedly casual artifice about her throat.
She smelled lemony, too—some sort of fruity, citrusy perfume. I told her that
Meredith had agreed to dinner.
“I’m glad,” she said. She appeared
to be looking for something. “China, do you have any garlic extract?”
I was a little surprised. I wouldn’t
have thought that Roz would be into garlic. It just goes to show that
appearances don’t tell the whole story, or that garlic has a universal appeal,
or both. Probably the latter. Garlic is the most popular medicinal and
seasoning herb of all time. I found the extract for her, and a bottle of gel
caps.
“Would you rather have gel caps?” I
asked. With garlic, a lot of people worry about odor, although the extract has
been “odor-modified,” meaning that they took out a lot of the smell.
Roz shook her head. “Gel caps are
much less effective,” she said, with emphasis. “Jo introduced me to the
extract. I mix it with my morning tomato juice. I have high blood pressure and
an ulcer—it’s the show, of course—and the garlic helps both.”
I laughed. “It helps almost
anything,” I said. The world’s oldest medical text, the Ebers Papyrus, lists
garlic as an ingredient in twenty-two remedies for headache, insect and
scorpion bites, menstrual difficulties, worms, tumors, and heart ailments. For
a long time, people even thought it was a powerful antidote— a “charm against
poison,” as one seventeenth-century herbalist said.
Roz took the garlic extract and an
herb biscuit. She had turned away to look at the gift baskets when Violett Hall
came in, wearing one of her modest white-blouse-dark-skirt combinations. “I
wanted to tell you that Pudding’s ears are much better,” Violett said.
“Whose ears?” I asked, drawing a
blank.
“My cat. The one with ear mites.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Violett,” I
said gently, “but I think it will be several days before you can tell whether
your cat really is improved.” Healing herbs work gently and reliably, but I
hate it when people think they’re a miracle cure. I always try to make them
understand that herbs work more slowly than modern medicine’s silver bullets.
“Oh,” Violett said. She looked
around. “Anyway, Gretel asked me to pick up some more lavender oil,” she added.
“She—”
A book in her hand and a smile on
her face, Roz moved out from behind the paperback rack. Violett saw her and
stopped talking.
Roz adjusted her scarf, looking
distinctly uneasy.
Her smile faded as if someone had
hit the dimmer switch. “Hello, Violett,” she said.
Violett blinked. “What are you doing
here?” she asked in surprise. And then answered her own question. “Of course,
the memorial service.” She smiled uncertainly. “But why didn’t you call? We
have a lot to—”
Roz’s eyes flicked to me, as if she
were giving a warning, and Violett shut her mouth. Roz stepped smoothly into
the unfinished sentence. “I’m sure you weren’t expecting to see me. I haven’t
been able to get back to Pecan Springs very much lately. And of course I’m
still trying to recover from the shock of Jo’s death. It was so dreadfully
unexpected.” She took a bill out of her purse and handed it to me to pay for
the book and the extract. “Please tell Meredith that I’m looking forward to
dinner
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