Page 22 of Tributary

I lean on the shovel and scoop out another mound of heavy earth. “Seems more like a job for your dad, though? Right?”

“Why? Because he has a dick?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Diana plunks the chicken into the hole and grabs the shovel from me. “She called me because I take care of shit,” she says, blowing a lock of hair out of her mouth as she fills in the hole. Diana pats the ground with the back of the shovel and stretches, then glares at me.

“Diana,” I say, offering her my handkerchief. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I—”

“I didn’t give Moorely permission to bring you to see the sensors,” she says, and bites her lip.

“You want me to sign an NDA?”

“Maybe. Probably.” She raps on the back door and waves at Moorely. When he opens the door, Diana shouts to Abigail, “hey, I have to handle this meeting. I’ll stop by after work, ok? I’ll take you out.”

Abigail nods, her eyes watery. Diana sighs. “Why don’t you go watch some Gilmore Girls? It’ll help. Right?”

Once Diana gets Abigail situated on the couch, the three of us head back toward the Houseplant Haven.

Moorely falls into step with her, and Diana punches him in the shoulder. “You can’t just bring people to see my work,” she says.

“Oi!” He shouts, and rubs his arm. “It’s not like I brought a pack of first year students. You know Wexler is funding the whole bloody project.”

She blows out a deep breath and squints at me. “We need to stop and have Sara draw up one of those contracts you mentioned.”

“The NDA? Sure. Let’s do it.” I can’t help but grin, and not only because she thinks I’d understand her ideas enough to try to steal them. I’m about to lay eyes on Diana Crawford in her element.

Diana’s lab is everything I imagined it would be. Her back room can’t be more than a few hundred square feet, but she’s got floor to ceiling shelves bursting with cannabis. I had a suspicion she was growing medical marijuana, but I had no idea she was using complex robotics and data analytics to optimize her products.

I stand, mesmerized, as she shows Moorely around, explaining how his sensors contribute to the schedule of the mist blowers and LED bulbs. “The blue and red LEDs combine for just the right color of light,” she says, fingering a leaf as we wander the aisles. “The water is fortified with nutrients—the plants no longer need soil.”

The dangling, ghostly roots get a puff of water as we pass, and the control panel on Diana’s tablet lights up. “I can monitor everything remotely,” she says, “but I’m in here almost all the time checking on them anyway.”

I have never been so floored by a presentation before, and Diana isn’t even pitching for investment funding. This climate controlled space is a Mecca for her plants. I listen to her talk about developing the perfect nutrient blend for her irrigation, the work she’s done to not only cultivate this strain, but reproduce it so each plant is genetically identical.

Her face is transformed as she explains all of this. There’s a lightness to her features, a literal glow in the purple light of the room as she speaks confidently. Moorely practically vibrates with excitement looking at the application of his technology. He keeps rocking from his toes to his heels, leaning in to squint at machinery before he gets puffed in the face with fertilized mist.

I only vaguely notice him, though. I only have eyes for this brilliant woman, and her amazing work.

“I want to invest,” I blurt, placing a hand on Diana’s arm.

She stiffens immediately. “I’m not your target market.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s no way in hell I’m signing over a single share of ownership. I paid outright for the tech from Moorely. This is all mine.” Her eyes flash and she clenches her jaw.

I scratch my chin. “Fair enough. But why not apply for a loan?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “You know marijuana is still illegal on a federal level, right? I can’t even get insurance on this place let alone a bank loan.”

“You don’t have insurance? Diana, that’s not goo—”

She shakes her head and stomps out of the room, shouting over her shoulder. “I don’t need your business advice and I don’t need your money, Wexler.”

Moorely scoots out of the back room, blinking in the bright light of the front of her shop. I close the door behind me, reveling in the pressure as it seals, fully concealing the botanical wonderland back there.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, Diana. I didn’t mean to imply that you need advice. I’m just so impressed by what you’ve been able to achieve here.” She bites her lip, seemingly unsure what to say next. “I’d love to hear more about your business sometime, and I promise I won’t offer advice.” How do I tell her that I just want to watch her mouth move, the smile in her eyes while she discusses her research and the remarkable results?

“Look,” she says. “I’ve got a lot going on right now. Moorely, did you get what you need? You have online access to the data dump…”

He shakes his head. “More than, Diana. This is…just so extra. Is that what the undergrads are saying?”

She rolls her eyes. ”Ok, well, I’ll see you at Hunter’s thing this weekend.”

She disappears back into her lair, leaving us blinking away the mist that seeps out when she opens her door.

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