Page 22 of Scrooge and the Girls Next Door

“Good morning, Miss Lily. What brings you in today?”

She smiles at me, her lined skin a healthy peach color that belies her eighty-plus years. I make a mental note to invest in a sun hat. “I need plant food. Two of my fiddle-leaf figs aren’t thriving like they should. Their sun is good, so I’ll try some vitamins next.”

“Sounds good,” I say, leading her toward the gardening section. It’s only a courtesy since Miss Lily no doubt knows the store better than I do. She’s done business here as long as Bill has owned it, according to him. “How’s the family?”

Miss Lily and her husband have lived in Creekville for twice as long as I’ve been alive. He retired as dean of the law school in Charlottesville before his death, and Miss Lily worked right here in Creekville as a high school English teacher after her kids were grown. They left and raised their kids in more metropolitan areas, but two of her grandkids have settled in Creekville in the last couple years after marrying locals. Her oldest grandson married a local too, but they’re on assignment with his FBI job.

“Everyone’s healthy and happy,” she says. “Izzy will be in sooner than later to get weatherproofing supplies for the goat huts, so keep an eye out for her. How’s life for you, dear?”

I have to step carefully here. Miss Lily’s questions aren’t always what they appear to be on the surface. She had more than a small hand in encouraging all of her grandkids’ marriages, and she’s been content since the last one, Landon’s, fell into place. I wonder what she’ll do now without more grandkids to marry off. I have a bad feeling some of the unattached young people of Creekville may be in her crosshairs soon.

Best to let her know I’m too busy for matchmaking.

“Did you hear I got the house? Started moving in this weekend.” I’d mentioned on her last visit that I’d made an offer.

“Well, congratulations, honey. Isn’t that something? You’re a homeowner.” She beams, and I can feel her genuine delight. “What kind of shape is it in?”

“It’s rough,” I admit. “But it’s more cosmetic than structural. It’ll take time and pinched pennies, but I’ll be able to shine it up.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. I haven’t been able to stump you with a repair question in over a year.”

I grin and tap the side of my head. “If I learn it once, it sticks.”

“You’re fortunate,” Miss Lily says. “I know too many people who keep learning the same things over and over again.”

I pull a bag of Happy Frog from the shelf. “This is a new fertilizer we’re carrying. It’s organic, and it works amazingly well. Itcanbe smelly for a couple of days, but it shouldn’t be a problem if you aerate the soil.”

“That’s different than my usual brand.” Her glasses hang from a chain around her neck, and she places them on her nose to study the label. “Does it matter if it’s organic if it’s a decorative plant?”

“Great question. To me it matters how these products are manufactured, and this is more earth-friendly.”

She smiles. “I do like the earth. I’ll take it.”

I carry it to the register for her. “We’re seeing a growing interest in organic products, which is great.”

Her eyes assess me, her expression thoughtful. “Would this expansion into organic lines coincide with your hiring date?”

“Close. I realized in one of my business classes that we probably had an untapped market for this kind of thing, so Bill let me test new product sales for a class project, and it worked out well.” I love that it’s also a positive change I can make. It’s not my job to save the whole environment, but I can work on it garden by garden in Creekville.

“You’re a sharp one, Paige Redmond. Bill did well to hire you.”

I know her compliment brings a visible glow to my cheeks, and I don’t care. It’s always nice to be appreciated.

“How is Evie settling in at the house?”

“She loves it. Went crazy decorating it yesterday for Christmas.”

Miss Lily laughs. “I believe it. That girl is a firecracker. Has she made friends with everyone on the street already?”

“There’s barely been time for that, and to tell the truth, there aren’t many kids on Orchard.”

“That certainly didn’t stop her from wrapping me around her little finger,” Miss Lily says.

“True. She’ll make sure we meet all the neighbors soon, no doubt. Speaking of which . . .” I try to drop in the segue in an off-hand way, but her eyes sharpen.

“Yes?”

“Do you know much about the house next to mine?”

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