They ended up in a solarium at the back of the house. It had light green tile floors, and the entire room was clad in metal wrapped windows. Greta’s breath caught at the soft morning light that made the plants glow like jewels.

And what plants they were! Towering monsteras ten feet tall with aerial roots dripping to the ground like the tangle of wires to a soundboard. A jade plant—no, tree—with a trunk as thick as her arm. Flurries of hanging philodendrons snaked their tendrils across the ceiling. Geraniums and orchids, begonias and ferns. Each area of the solarium was like a microclimate of sun and heat and humidity perfect for each plant.

The glass almost melted away as the plants inside blended with the plants outside in Greta’s vision.

On a low shelf in the very far, sunniest corner of the solarium was a magnificent euphorbia cactus that had to be at least twenty years old.

All Greta wanted to do was examine each plant, run her fingers along their leaves and nodes and spines and spikes, and fill her lungs with their fresh, sweet air.

But the company was gathering in the ring of chairs at the center of the solarium, and Camilla was wheeling a tea cart over to them. It was laden with a silver samovar of tea and one of coffee, a three-tiered serving plate of delicate pastries and tiny sandwiches, and three carafes of juice—orange, apple, and a reddish purple one that might’ve been cranberry or could’ve been anything.

They ate and drank and Greta attempted to stay close to Muriel and not spill anything or get crumbs on the immaculate floor as she listened to the conversations around her.

They were inaccessible to her at first—grandchildren and mayoral scandals, mutual friends and a newspaper story she hadn’t read—but as the plates were cleared and the coffee cups drained, the conversation turned to plants, and Greta felt every muscle relax.

They didn’t have an official name for their klatch, but Greta came to think of them as the Garden Gang. They were all over sixty, mostly single, and passionately loved plants. They’d begun meeting once a month to help one another with garden projects, swap bulbs and cuttings, and visit botanical gardens together. However, they had, in their third year, begun to have aspirations larger than simply meeting up socially and sharing their love of gardening.

One of their number, Tangerine Huang, was on the city council and suggested they volunteer to plant flowers and other sustainable plants in a neighborhood park that was being rebuilt. After that, they volunteered with community centers, schools, and neighborhood project crews and had been doing so for the last six years.

Greta said she could imagine them turning up en masse, dressed in their linen suits, jodhpurs, and flowing colors, while the other volunteers looked on in awe.