I was still embarrassed about the fire, not so much my accidental, incidental part in causing it, but my chickenshit stunt of running away. I didn’t trust myself to explain it without sounding like the fool that I was. When I finally did call, it was because I realized Viridian already knew I was foolish and ignorant and anxious to please. I guess she might know things about me that I didn’t know myself.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” I began.

“Carla!” Her deep glad voice came over the phone line and enveloped me. “Of course you aren’t. I’ve been thinking of you. I’ve been out in the garden, trying to curb its excesses.”

That was such a funny way to say it; it made me smile. I told her I’d come over and get everything in shape.

It had been more than a week since the party and the fire. The pile of burned fence boards was gone and the fence line was scraped down to bare dirt. Some of the fence panels were still standing, and there was a fan-shaped scorch mark on one. It could have been a lot worse. All of Fairfax could have burned, and all the wooded acreage around us, up the slopes of Mount Tam, across the ridge line and down to the ocean. It was too enormous to think about. The thought actually made me relax a little and let go of some of my remaining guilt. How could one insignificant person like me have that much destructive power? I wasn’t some tragic figure. I was more like Mrs. O’Leary’s cow that started the Great Chicago Fire.

I parked the truck and took my tools out to the back garden. I was still shy about ringing the front doorbell, though I’d done it before. I wanted to be occupied with something when I first saw Viridian, not standing there looking useless.

The plantings had been left to get too dry, so I set a drip hose all around the main bed. The rhododendrons weren’t happy. Foxtails and wild carrot had crept into the borders. It felt good to yank them out and set things to right. I didn’t have a hand in the vegetable garden, but I tied the drooping tomato plants to their stakes and pulled up some seeding lettuce. There was a patch of lavender that was doing just fine.

I’d been working about twenty minutes when Viridian came out through the breezeway. “There you are. Leave that for now and come talk to me.”

I followed her into the kitchen, which was back to its usual clean-but-cluttered state. “I had a taste for lemonade,” Viridian said, opening cupboard doors and bringing out two glasses. “And there’s apricot cake from the bakery. How does that sound?”