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of Pauline’s reach. “I’ve already agreed to help,” she said. “You asked the garden club to furnish the team’s motel rooms with fresh flowers. Remember?” RuthAnn is president of the garden club.
    “Yes, of course,” Pauline said. “Just don’t let Sybil Rand help,” she added, smiling to signal that she was making a joke. “She might stick something fatal in among the roses. Oh, Howie!” she called, and hurried away to twist somebody else’s arm.
    “It’s Sybil I want to talk to you about, China,” RuthAnn said. She glanced around to make sure we weren’t overheard.
    “I suppose somebody’s told you about her entry in the garden club contest.”
    “Actually,” I said, “Sybil told me herself.”
    RuthAnn is a square-faced woman with hefty arms and shoulders. She’s usually willing to wade into a fight for a good cause. But this morning she looked as if she’d met her match. “I voted to give her the Most Unique Garden award,” she said, “but Wanda Rathbottom felt like Sybil was just thumbing her nose at us. Wanda wants to make a rule that nobody can enter poisonous plants in the contest. You’re a plant expert, China. What do you think?”
    Just at that moment I spotted Sybil herself, moving through the crowd. She was wearing a flowing black and gold top over skintight black pants, and her slender arm was heavy with gold bracelets. She moved with the purpose and grace of a jaguar. She was headed for Andrew and Ruby.
    “I’m an herbalist, not a plant toxicologist,” I said, my eye on Sybil, “but I think Wanda’s overreacting. A lot of common garden plants will make you sick if you snack on them. Iris bulbs are poisonous, for instance. So is larkspur. So are bluebonnets.”
    “Bluebonnets!” RuthAnn’s eyes got big. The bluebonnet is the state flower. Telling a Texan that bluebonnets are poisonous is like saying that Christmas trees make you sterile.
    “It’s the alkaloids that cause the trouble,” I said. “I’ve never heard of a person who died, but livestock can get sick just from eating the seeds.” Sybil had reached Andrew. She spoke briefly to Ruby. Then she put her braceleted hand on Andrew’s arm, leaned close, and said something in his ear. She moved lazily, but there was an underlying tautness, like muscles rippling under a cat’s fur. My instincts jangled. Something was going on here.
    “Why, China, I never imagined!” RuthAnn said. “And Wanda just donated twenty pounds of seed so the Lions Club can plant bluebonnets for their Adopt-a-Highway project.”
    “The seeds won’t hurt you if you don’t eat them,” I said. “But maybe you’d better tell Wanda. Not everything is what it seems.”
    “Oh, dear,” RuthAnn sighed. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I have to tell her. She’ll be so upset.” Shaking her head, she hurried off in search of Wanda Rathbottom.
    I looked back at Sybil and Andrew. They had left Ruby standing alone and were walking together toward the old kitchen, Sybil’s black shoulder familiarly brushing the gray sleeve of Andrew’s sport coat, an inscrutable smile on her face.
    I got my lemonade and went to join Ruby. “Everything okay?” I asked.
    “Of course,” Ruby said airily, not looking at me. “Sybil and Andrew have some sort of business arrangement. They went to discuss it.”
    “Oh, I see,” I said. If Ruby was worried, she didn’t want to talk about it. But then maybe she wasn’t. The old saying “Love is blind” definitely applies to Ruby. Roxanne came up to remind me that I was due for a trim, and we got into a discussion of Ruby’s last perm, which had turned out exceptionally frizzy, making her look even more like Little Orphan Annie. Then Arlene joined us, of Arlene’s Beautiful Nails, and Ruby, Roxanne, and Arlene talked fingernails. I concealed mine, which are short, with ragged cuticles. I spend a lot of time digging in the dirt.
    Andrew reappeared, without Sybil, and it was time to start the ceremony.