"Daphne. " Roz's son spared her the briefest glance.
"Evergreen variety. And you've used a splice side-veneer graft. "
He stopped, swiveled on his stool. His mother had stamped herself on his face - the same strong bones, rich eyes. His dark hair was considerably longer than hers, long enough that he tied it back with what looked to be a hunk of raffia. Like her, he was slim and seemed to have at least a yard of leg, and like her he dressed carelessly in jeans pocked with rips and a soil-stained Memphis University sweatshirt.
"You know something about grafting?"
"Just the basics. I cleft-grafted a camellia once. It did very well. Generally I stick with cuttings. I'm Stella. It's nice to meet you, Harper. "
He rubbed his hand over his jeans before shaking hers. "Mom says you're going to organize us. "
"That's the plan, and I hope it's not going to be too painful for any of us. What are you working on here?" She stepped over to a line of pots covered with clean plastic bags held clear of the grafted plant by four split stakes.
"Gypsophilia - baby's breath. I'm shooting for blue, as well as pink and white. "
"Blue. My favorite color. I don't want to hold you up. I was hoping," she said to Roz, "we could find somewhere to go over some of my ideas. "
"Back in the annual house. The office is hopeless. Harper?"
"All right, okay. Go ahead. I'll be there in five minutes. "
"Harper. "
"Okay, ten. But that's my final offer. "
With a laugh, Roz gave him a light cuff on the back of the head. "Don't make me come back in here and get you. "
"Nag, nag, nag," he muttered, but with a grin.
Outside, Roz let out a sigh. "He plants himself in there, you have to jab a pitchfork in his ass to budge him. He's the only one of my boys who has an interest in the place. Austin's a reporter, works in Atlanta. Mason's a doctor, or will be. He's doing his internship in Nashville. "
"You must be proud. "
"I am, but I don't see nearly enough of either of them. And here's Harper, practically under my feet, and I have to hunt him like a dog to have a conversation. "
Roz boosted herself onto one of the tables. "Well, what've you got?"
"He looks just like you. "
"People say. I just see Harper. Your boys with David?"
"Couldn't pry them away with a crowbar. " Stella opened her briefcase. "I typed up some notes. "
Roz looked at the stack of papers and tried not to wince. "I'll say. "
"And I've made some rough sketches of how we might chang
e the layout to improve sales and highlight non-plant purchases. You have a prime location, excellent landscaping and signage, and a very appealing entrance. "
"I hear a 'but' coming on. "
"But. . . " Stella moistened her lips. "Your first-level retail area is somewhat disorganized. With some changes it would flow better into the secondary area and on through to your main plant facilities. Now, a functional organizational plan - "
"A functional organizational plan. Oh, my God. "
"Take it easy, this really won't hurt. What you need is a chain of responsibility for your functional area. That's sales, production, and propagation. Obviously you're a skilled propagator, but at this point you need me to head production and sales. If we increase the volume of sales as I've proposed here - "
"You did charts. " There was a touch of wonder in Roz's voice. "And graphs. I'm . . . suddenly afraid. "