“It’s really a showplace, isn’t it?” called Victor Benson from his own porch. “Your wife…” He paused, realizing his mistake. “… well, she really has a green thumb.”

“I guess so,” said Ben. The house was Marla’s domain now. Every corner of the porch had a pot with flowers spilling out of it.

Victor Benson’s gray-white hair was styled like a game-show host’s. He was perpetually tan and talked about golf courses like Torrey Pines that he played regularly, as if Ben knew what he was talking about. “Thanks to her, your property value just shot up,” said Victor. “I see Abigail Atwater just went in.” He let the comment hang. He was Kerrigan County’s Century 21 Realtor and seemed more than a little irritated to find his biggest competitor going into his neighbor’s house. Ben hadn’t thought of using Vic, thinking his neighbor was too close to them.

“I need to have you over for an estimate,” said Ben. “I’ll call you.”

“You know my number.” Victor waved, giving Ben a look like he didn’t believe him.

Since he’d last been to the house, Marla had turned her attention to the garden. Last year, he had offered to hire a landscape architect, but she’d looked irritated at the suggestion. As he went to open the screen door he saw ten firebush plants and a small stack of flagstone tiles waiting on the front porch for her attention.

He had never spent much time in the garden, but from the porch he could see that the small patch of land between their house and the Benson’s Victorian was now thick with flowers, rows and clusters of boxwood topiaries, geraniums, black-eyed Susans, blue salvias, and azalea bushes, blooms and bulbs in clumps of greens and reds and yellows and purples. The flowers were in full bloom, and he was sure that the bees would soon follow.

As he got to the door, he saw Abigail Atwater standing in the foyer, punctuating her conversation with her pink nails. “You have my card,” she emphasized.

“I do,” said Marla from inside the house. He could see Marla flicking it. “I’ll talk with Ben and we’ll get back to you when we’re ready to sell.”

“This really is a stunning home,” gushed Abigail. “It’ll go in a minute.”

He heard Marla’s laugh. It was a laugh that told him he was in big trouble.

As Abigail opened the door she said, “Well, look who it is.”

“Yes,” echoed Marla. “Look at him.”

“Sorry,” said Ben. “I should have warned you.”

Marla raised her eyebrows in silent agreement.