The President's Daughter - Mariah Stewart [102]
“Your Siberian iris should be divided,” she’d announced at breakfast on the morning that Simon had left to visit Stinson.
“I’ll put it on the list for the gardener. I’m not sure when he’ll be able to get to that. He’s had some problems with his hip, you know. Arthritis,” Betsy had told her as she spooned scrambled eggs onto her plate.
“Have you thought of possibly hiring someone else to come in?” Dina offered.
“Shhhhh,” Betsy shushed her. “It’s Mrs. Brady’s husband, and he’s been working here for years. I’d hate to have him think that the minute he can’t work like he used to he will be replaced. Not good for his morale. He worked with my dad and my granddad. I simply couldn’t just replace him.”
“Would you mind if I just tidied things up a bit, then?” Dina asked.
“Now, I don’t want you to feel obligated, Dina.”
“Actually, I’d feel better if I was doing something. I’m not used to sitting around. I hate the feeling that I’m hiding out and wasting time that could be spent doing something useful. I’m getting a bit stir-crazy.”
“I understand completely, my dear. After breakfast, I’ll show you where the garden shed is and where the tools are kept. Feel free to do as much or as little as you like.”
“Maybe it will make me feel less guilty about the time I’m spending away from my business. We’re just gearing up for our busy season, and I know I need to be there.”
“You did say you had reliable help, though—”
“The best. But still . . .”
“Well, you have been on the phone with Polly about twenty times since yesterday, Dina,” Jude reminded her. “And wasn’t that Mrs. Fisher you were speaking with this morning? It’s not as if you’ve been neglecting things altogether.”
“I know, but it’s not the same.”
“Of course it isn’t the same, but it’s going to have to do until Simon comes back with a suspect.”
“Having a suspect won’t mean a thing without a game plan,” Betsy noted. “Unless, of course, someone confesses to having killed Blythe. I for one am not holding out any hopes for that happening.”
“Well, obviously, but we can’t formulate a game plan without knowing who—”
Dina shook her head and walked outside, leaving the two women to bicker to their hearts’ content.
She’d only thought to separate a few choice plants that were overgrown, but before the morning had ended she’d weeded out three beds and made room for the new plants she’d divided from the old. Besides keeping her physically busy and giving her a respite from focusing on something other than all the changes in her life, she found in the gardens at Wild Springs an unexpected connection to the grandfather and great-grandfather she had never known.
And in the afternoon, after she’d cleaned up from the garden and Betsy had cleaned up from the barn, the three women gathered in the sitting room for tea as they had every afternoon since Jude and Dina had arrived and went through the photo albums that lined the bookshelves. It was during those times that Dina got her first glimpse of what it meant to be a Pierce and just how much underlying hostility had yet to be resolved between Jude and Betsy.
“Now, these pictures were all taken when my father was Ambassador to Belgium. Lovely photos of Mother there, this was right before she took ill. . . .” Betsy’s face grew wistful. “We lived in Brussels for a time. It was lovely. Blythe and I attended a tiny school for the children of diplomats where only French was spoken. I had to learn the language very quickly. Blythe already had taken French, of course, at school here, but I couldn’t speak a word. We only stayed there for a year. After Mother became ill,