Bleeding Heart by Liza Gyllenhaal Page B

Woodhaven—at gardening events and benefits—but she seemed to make a point of staring right through me. I’d seen her be gracious and charming to those she wanted to impress. I was just someone she clearly felt she needn’t bother with. Whether that was because she knew about the fiasco with Richard or because she simply disliked me for myself alone, I couldn’t say. That Vera Yoland had called me—twice—seemed unbelievable.
    “Yeah, the first one’s with the messages I left for you yesterday,” Mara said, “right there beside your phone.”
    I closed the door and went back to my desk. It was covered with stacks of mail and message slips. I knew that Mara would be troubleshooting any really serious problems, but I could tell from sorting through the many “While You Were Outs” that I needed to step in soon and handle some of these matters myself. Sal Lombardi had called twice over the last week, which was odd because we usually dealt directly with his caretaker. I found Brook Bostock’s messages as well as those from two other regular clients. And there in Mara’s looping hand was Vera Yoland’s name and number. She lived in one of those meticulously restored Victorians in Lenox. Her gardens, which had been featured in
Martha Stewart Living
a few years back, had been maintained for decades by Coldwater Landscape Design. Could Vera be thinking of making a change?
    I was running late, but my curiosity got the better of me. I picked up the phone and dialed Vera’s number. She answered on the second ring.
    “Oh, yes! Alice! Thank you so much for getting back to me!” Her emphatic patrician voice carried across the room. Mara looked over and frowned. “I’ve been hearing such absolutely amazing things about the gardens you’re putting in for Graham Mackenzie!”
    “Thank you,” I said. “It’s an enormous undertaking, but I think he’s pleased with how things are coming along.”
    “Someone told me he insisted that everything be finished by the end of June. Can that be possible? What an incredible task! You must be laboring away like Hercules!”
    Vera Yoland’s laugh was high, brittle, and, it seemed to me, a little nervous. She must have been aware that she’d been rude to me and was now anxious about approaching me to take her gardens on. Six months ago I would have jumped at the chance. After my experience with Mackenzie, though—and the joy of creating something totally new and original—the prospect of maintaining Vera’s staid English-style property seemed less than thrilling. But the sweet revenge of having her ask—after treating me so dismissively in the past—was pretty delicious.
    “That’s the deadline,” I told her. “And I’m doing everything in my power to honor it. Graham Mackenzie is
such
a generous and supportive client. It’s actually been more like a collaboration—and I think the outcome is going to be pretty spectacular.”
    “Oh, how marvelous! That’s just what I was hoping to hear! And you’re feeling pretty confident about that end-of-June completion date?”
    “Yes, though we’re not nearly there yet. I’m still waiting for shipment confirmation on some—”
    “Oh, that doesn’t matter!” Vera said breezily. “We’ll come in and help fill in any holes you might have with mulch or annuals. Every garden we include gets a little free face-lift right before it’s shown.”
    “We?”
I asked, suddenly confused.
    “The Garden Conservancy, dear,” Vera explained. “Didn’t I make that clear? I told your girl yesterday that I was calling about Open Days. I’m one of the regional representatives. Everyone’s been talking about the Mackenzie property, and we decided that we wanted to feature it that first Saturday in July as the kickoff to the entire summer season. It will be such a coup! We’re expecting a huge turnout. I know it’s going to be a tremendous draw and we . . .”
    An Open Day. The Garden Conservancy wanted to show my garden