The Gardens of Digby Green: Like Nobody Else “I’ll make some calls, and when I’ve learned more, I’ll let you know.” He ended the call. “Come on, come on,” Frank said. Ray shook his head. “Guys, my wife didn’t show up for her girls’ night out, and according to the friend who called, Rose
The Gardens of Digby Green: Poker Night Ray Wilkinson opened the back door, and switched on the kitchen light. He pulled a plate of left over tuna casserole from the fridge, and stuffed it into the microwave, but didn’t start the machine. A shower came first. Soap and water never rinsed away autopsy memories,
The Gardens of Digby Green: Garden Girls The engine started, and the truck rolled on. From stop to stop he drove, while the truck box got hotter and hotter. Rose gagged and wished for water. Her thirst wasn’t the worst of it, though. The driver kicked her each time he passed her with another
The Gardens of Digby Green: In the Dark She kicked at him, but he swept her other foot from under her and slammed her to the floor. His knee came down on her back before he pulled her left hand from under her. Rose screamed despite the man’s weight compressing her ribcage. Grunting, he
The Gardens of Digby Green: Rejects Rose left the church and pushed the upper range of the speed limit on her way back to the shop. Usually, Tim from Roseland Garden Supply was right on time. She’d need every possible minute to cope with arranging her Mother’s Day displays alone. When she’d parked the
The Gardens of Digby Green: Poor Kimmy Christine, Jo, and Connie. Her staff was dropping like spent fuchsia blooms. Rose took a deep breath. “You’ve done great work to help me keep up with orders, Connie. Get well as fast as you can.” “Wish I could be there to help you set up the Mother’s
The Gardens of Digby Green: Roseland Digby Green leaned the handle of his shovel against the fork of a sapling as he surveyed his newest garden. Small, and private, not more than three feet by six feet, it fit perfectly into this clearing, with its mixture of light and shade. He’d mulched it well.
The Music of Spring: The Fountain As we matured, our music changed too. When we released the sixth disc, times were tense. Nete wanted a solo career, and the violinist we interviewed was reluctant to adopt a Muse’s name. The discussions, long, loud and bitter, left everyone on edge. “I’ve had enough of this,” Melete
The Music of Spring: That Doesn’t Say Spring The graphics department proposed shots of Greek ruins, photographed through color filters. All of us shuddered at the sight of the Parthenon beneath a salmon pink sky. “No, that isn’t even the right temple. If it were Delphi, or Parnassus, it still wouldn’t work. The picture has
The Music of Spring: Spell That Wilson’s uncle gave ‘Spring’ its first recording contract, and me my first business headache. “I need your names for the liner notes,” he announced. “Speak up.” The Ferguson triplets told their names, and he scribbled on a notepad. He took the flutist’s name and the trumpeters’ too. Slapping his