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Chapter Thirty-Six: A Bitter Taste
Date de publication:
2026-11-08 10:54:52
Dernier chapitre
The Plants Know What You Did Chapter Thirty-Six: A Bitter Taste
By Sunday morning, the peace lily had decided that I was an acceptable person. This was a significant improvement over yesterday, when it had accused me of trying to poison it.“Better,” it whispered as I examined its leaves.“I’m glad.”“No bitter.”“That’s because I haven’t given you any of the water you were complaining about.”The plant rustled. “Good.”I’d removed the most damaged leaves and carefully flushed the remaining soil with clean water before allowing it to drain. The plant was still stressed, but its roots had begun to recover.I made another note on my clipboard. “Hopefully, we’ll figure out what happened.”“Home bad,” the peace lily murmured.I stopped writing. “What do you mean?”“Bitter water. Home bad.”I frowned. “Is it always bad at home?”The leaves shifted. “Sometimes. Sometimes sweet.”I considered that. “Sweet?”“Good water. Then bitter.”That was interesting. The plant seemed to distinguish between different watering events. If Rebecca had been using the sam
The Plants Know What You Did Chapter Thirty-Five: Something in the Water
Saturday morning began with a peace lily accusing me of attempted murder.“Bad water!”I stopped beside the recovery bench. “Good morning to you, too.”“Bitter! Burning!”“I haven’t watered you yet.”“No more!”I sighed and set down my coffee. The peace lily Rebecca Shaw had brought in yesterday looked considerably less cheerful than it had when she arrived. Several leaves drooped over the edge of the pot, and a yellow patch had spread across one of the larger fronds.I’d isolated it from the other plants and replaced the saucer beneath its container. I hadn’t watered it again, partly because the soil was already damp and partly because the plant seemed determined to hold me personal
The Plants Know What You Did Chapter Thirty-Four: The Things We Leave Behind
Friday mornings at the nursery were usually predictable. We received deliveries, prepared weekend displays, and dealt with customers who had spent the previous evening watching gardening videos and developed ambitious plans that bore little resemblance to their available space.Today, Noah was attempting to explain why a customer couldn’t grow a mature apple tree in a twelve-inch decorative pot. “Technically,” he said, “you could put it in there.”I stopped beside the register. “Noah.”He glanced at me. “What?”“Please finish that sentence.”He sighed. “But it would be a terrible idea.”“Thank you.”The customer looked disappointed. “I saw someone do it online.”“Was it a bonsai?” I asked.She considered that. “Maybe.”I smiled and guided her toward our dwarf fruit trees. By the time we’d found a suitable option, Noah had reorganized the outdoor display and Gerald the skeleton was wearing a scarf.I stared at him. “Why?”Noah looked offended. “It’s cold.”“He doesn’t have skin.”“Exac
The Plants Know What You Did Chapter Thirty-Three: The Man Who Paid
The first thing I did Friday morning was call my mother. This was a mistake.Not because I didn’t love my mother. I loved her dearly. But Elaine Faylan had a remarkable ability to turn a perfectly ordinary conversation into an interrogation, and I had already endured more than my share of those lately.“Good morning, sweetheart.”“Morning, Mom.”“Everything all right?”“Yes. I was wondering if you and Dad wanted to come over for dinner Sunday.”“Oh, that sounds lovely.”“Great. I’ll make lasagna.”“Will Adrian be there?”I closed my eyes. “Mom.”“What?”“I&rsqu
The Plants Know What You Did Chapter Thirty-Two: A Name in the System
Thursday morning began with a customer who wanted to return a cactus because it had developed an attitude. I stood behind the register, examining a perfectly healthy golden barrel cactus.“Could you explain what you mean by an attitude?”The woman folded her arms. “It keeps poking me.”I looked at the cactus. Then at the woman. “Have you been touching it?”“Well, yes.”I considered my options. There were several ways to approach this conversation, and most of them would result in a complaint.“Cacti have spines to protect themselves,” I explained. “They’re not particularly fond of being handled.”“I thought it would get used to me.”The cactus offered its opinion. “Hands. Always hands.”I pressed my lips together to suppress a grin. “Unfortunately, they don’t become less prickly with affection.”The woman looked disappointed. “Can I exchange it?”“Of course. Would you prefer something without spines?”“Maybe something friendlier.”I directed her toward the African violets. Behind me,
The Plants Know What You Did Chapter Thirty-One: Dinner and Other Dangerous Ideas
By Wednesday morning, I had decided that Reginald was no longer trustworthy. This was unfortunate because he was approximately the oldest living thing I knew, possessed a remarkable understanding of Fae magic, and had been one of my closest confidants for seven years.He was also an insufferable busybody.“Good morning, traitor,” I said as I entered the greenhouse.“Good morning, child.”“Don’t child me.”“You appear well rested.”“I’m considering relocating you to the compost heap.”“An empty threat.”I sighed. He was right, which made it worse. I checked his soil and adjusted the grow light above his display.“Cam called me twice yesterday evening.”“How attentive.”“He wanted to know whether Adrian had any living grandparents.”Reginald rustled. “A reasonable inquiry.”“Why?”“Family history is important.”“He’s a veterinarian, Reginald. Not a candidate for the throne.”“Your father is thorough.”“My father is a menace,” I muttered.“Which one?”I considered that and grinned. “Both
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