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be great, and maybe next time we can . . . ,” Eleanor began, but then, seeing me approach across the room, dropped her voice to a whisper. It struck me that the two women—who’d met for the first time that afternoon—appeared to be remarkably familiar and comfortable with each other. Especially considering that one of them was Mara. I was surprised and, yes, more than a little hurt that Danny—whom I’d yet to steal a hug from—was permitted to sit on Eleanor’s lap. On the other hand, I was pleased that Mara seemed to be able to loosen up and enjoy someone else’s company besides her son’s.
    I gladly accepted the cup of tea that Eleanor offered and took a seat opposite Mara and in front of the plate of brownies. But my presence seemed to put a damper on the easygoing atmosphere. Eleanor asked politely after my progress.
    “Well, I think we managed to get a good start this afternoon. Wouldn’t you say, Mara?” I asked, smiling across the table at her.
    “Maybe,” she said with her usual shrug.
    “Mr. M told me you should have the run of the place,” Eleanor said. “I’m here from nine to six or so every day but Sunday. Youdon’t even need to check in with me, of course. But I’m happy to make you lunch or tea, if you give me a little warning.”
    “That’s very kind of you,” I said. Eleanor had a soothing, melodious voice, tinged with the singsong lilt of the Caribbean. She emanated warmth. It was hardly surprising that Mara and Danny had taken to her so quickly. I sometimes forget how formidable I can be these days. Clipped, focused, no-nonsense.
    “Oh, I love to cook! As I’m sure you can tell,” Eleanor said with a laugh, looking down at the gentle swells under her apron. “And I feel at such loose ends when Mr. M’s away on business.”
    “He’s away now?” I asked, though I really didn’t need to. I could feel the lack of his presence in the house.
    “In Europe. Then South America. The man has more frequent-flier miles than Santa Claus.”
    “I love Santa,” Danny announced, reaching for another brownie.
    “No way!” Mara said, grabbing his wrist as she swung her legs around the side of the bench. She stood up from the table. “We gotta get going.”
    “Let me make you and Danny a goodie bag first,” Eleanor said, lifting the little guy into his mother’s arms.
    “You really don’t—”
    “You’ll be doing me a favor, dearie,” Eleanor replied. “Lead me not into temptation!”

    I made a concerted effort to be more open and engaging with Mara after that. For one thing, I needed her help—now more than ever. We’d started spring cleanup and were fielding the usual calls about improvements from our regular customers. A row of red maples down the driveway. A fenced-in vegetable garden with raised beds. A rose arbor by the pool. It suddenly seemed that all our clients had a list of things they hoped Green Acres could get to that spring. For the first time, I let Mara handle some of these inquiries while Iworked at my computer on the plans for Mackenzie, my desk stacked with gardening books, magazines, and horticultural references.
    I also wanted to push Mara a little. She needed to build a future for herself and her son, but she wasn’t going to get anywhere if she didn’t start to learn how to interact with other people first. I knew she was naturally bright and intuitive. She’d mastered the accounting software—which had taken me weeks to learn—within a couple of days of being hired. And she understood the basics of horticulture in a way that I think is unusual for most girls of her age. I knew that my own well-educated daughters, now both in their twenties, couldn’t begin to tell the difference between a hemlock and a white pine. Or the best weed-and-feed for lawns in our area. Or when to prune back woody shrubs. Mara did. Some of this, it’s true, she’d picked up from working at Green Acres for the last year—but by no means all. Typically, she