While her bruises healed, Darby talked to the Asheville police, the prosecutor, dealt with reporters from the Lakeview Weekly to reporters from Asheville, from Raleigh, and from the Associated Press.

The original case against Dr. and Mrs. Graham Bigelow had generated considerable media at the time. The current one dredged all of that up while layering on the new.

She knew Zane dealt with reporters, too, just as she knew both of them breathed a sigh of relief when the news cycle switched to some other scandal.

As June wound down toward July, she finished up work at Zane’s, squeezed in the stonework between guests at Emily’s last bungalow, started the Marsh job on the lake.

With the help of her crew, and the surprise that Zane knew his way around a nail gun, she had her equipment shed under roof, and a sweet little garden shed completed and stocked, and the skeleton of her greenhouse erected.

Maybe she’d neglected the interior of the house for now, but she built her business, client by client.

She worked with two of those clients on a pretty Saturday afternoon while their little boy took a nap in the shade.

“When you deadhead?” She demonstrated to both Charlene and Joe. “You not only tidy up the plant or bush, you encourage new blooms. And your herbs there? You want to pinch off the flowers.”

“Oh, but they’re pretty,” Charlene objected.

“But the plant’s energy’s going to the flower instead of the vegetation, and once they flower, your leaves can get bitter. You also want to pinch back the plant to encourage it to fill out. Look here at the branch point, now count up a couple leaves, pinch off the stem. You’re going to use that in something you cook, and your basil’s going to be stimulated at the same time. It’s going to grow back even better.”

“We’ve just been taking off a few leaves here and there,” Joe explained.

“Yeah, so I see.”

He studied the plants through his horn-rim glasses. “And that’s why they look a little straggly?”

“Yeah. Try this way, and by the time you want to harvest, you’re going to have tons.”

“If we do, I’m going to make you pesto.”

Darby angled her head at Joe. “I’ll take it.”

She moved around the yard with them, giving advice, delighted that they both took notes.

“Uh-oh. The boss is waking up. I’ve got him, babe.” Joe tucked away his notebook as he went to his little boy.

“We really appreciate you coming over just to talk us through some of this, again. Your crew is so helpful.”

“It’s what we’re here for.”

“Your bruises are healing. Any trouble with the shoulder?”

“None. It’s down to that ugly yellow stage, maybe still a little stiff first thing in the morning, but not as much. And it works out quick.”

“The advantage of being active and in shape,” Charlene declared. “We were surprised to get an invitation for the Fourth.”

“Why? You and Britt are friends. You’re basically my doctor at this stage.”

“Now that we know the whole story of what happened in this house, we thought Britt and her family would want to keep their distance.”

“You had nothing to do with it. Neither did the house.”

“When I think he might have broken in that night. The baby. Babies,” she said, with a hand pressed protectively to her bump.

“Don’t. He’s back where he belongs, and he’s going to stay there.”

“Joe keeps telling me exactly that. I wonder—Even in a friendly, safe community like this, there can be trouble. I wonder if you’d consider teaching a self-defense course.”

“Oh, I’m not qualified.”

Charlene let out a wide-eyed laugh. “Are you kidding me? Think about it. Maybe over the winter when your work slows down.”

“I’ll think about that if you and Joe think about getting a composter.”

“I know we should.” Charlene let out a sigh. “It feels like another chore.”

“You’ll be amazed how it pays you back. I’ve got to get to Zane, and I have one more stop to make. Party planning in full swing. We’ll see you on the Fourth.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

She glanced across the street before she got in her truck. Even knowing there would be no brutal man in a Mercedes, she couldn’t break the habit.

Yet.

She swung by the Marsh job to check on Roy and Ralph, then spent an hour working with them to finish the new stone steps.

In their boat, the Marshes tacked over. “They’re beautiful!” Patsy called out. “Absolutely beautiful!”

“And safe!” Darby called back.

“How about a ride around the lake?”

She shook her head at Bill’s offer. “Wish I could, but I’ve got to get on. I’m late already. See you on the Fourth.”

She turned, saw that Roy had walked down the dock, sat with his legs dangling over.

“What’s that about?” she asked Ralph.

Ralph gave his usual grunt and shrug. “Probably sulking ’cause he’s working on Saturday.”

“Well, you can clean up and knock off now. We’ll work on the terraces on Monday.”

Though she rolled her eyes, Darby walked down the dock, sat by Roy.

“Workday’s done. It’s a dumbass time to sulk about it.”

“Not sulking. I like looking at the water. Don’t go on it because I get seasick, which blows.”

“That does blow.”

“But I like looking at it. And I like looking back from here and seeing those steps I had a part in building. They look damn good.”

Darby looked back herself. “Yeah, they do.”

“I’m sitting here, looking at the water, looking back at those steps, and damn if I don’t see in my head just what you’re going to have us do on that slope. I can see it. You ask me to see it last year, even a few months back, I’d’ve said, What, I see a damn steep slope mostly weeded up. But I see it just like we’re going to do it.”

He knocked a fist on her thigh. “And I know how to go about it, too, or a lot of it. So I’m sitting here, taking in the water and the pretty nice breeze off it, and it hits me. I’ve done got myself a trade. Ain’t that a hell of a thing?”

“You’ve got a strong back, Roy. You’ve also got smart hands and a good eye. The hands and the eye are better than they were, and they weren’t bad to start. If you think about going off and starting your own business, I’m going to punch your lights out.”

He ducked his head, grinned. “Believe you could do it, too. No, I’m thinking I’ve got a good job. I’ve got a trade. I’m making a regular, decent living. And I’m thinking, well, hell, I might just ask Adele to marry me.”

“Holy shit, Roy!” She punched his shoulder, then grabbed him, kissed him, making him duck his head again and laugh. “She’s terrific!”

“You know what’s most terrific? She’s never tried changing me. She loves me like I am. And I guess I changed me some, and you did, and she still loves me like I am.”

“You better grab on to that, my man.”

“I think I’m gonna.”

“Clean up, knock off, go get the girl. I’ll see you Monday.”

She gave him another punch, scrambled up. “I’m so late!”

She took the new steps, pleased at how the stone felt—sturdy, level—under her boots. And grinned all the way to Zane’s.

She found Emily and Britt with him on the patio. “Sorry, sorry. Stuff. I am totally in party mode now. What do you need me to do?”

“They want me to string lights,” Zane complained. “And they say I need at least two more tables for food, with canopies over them.”

“Sure, we can do that.”

He just closed his eyes. “And to think I actually believed you’d be on my side of this.”

“We’ve hired a local band for music,” Emily said definitely.

“Live music? This is so cool.”

“I’ve got outdoor speakers,” Zane reminded them. “I’ve got an endless playlist.”

“Not live.” Britt patted his hand. “We’re going to set up a few games for the kids. With little prizes.”

“I’m loving it. I’ve got some old plywood at my place. We cut a hole in the middle, paint it up, and you’ve got a beanbag toss. We could do a water balloon toss, a little scavenger hunt. There’s tons of stuff.”

“And here I figured I’d throw a bunch of food on the grill, buy a truckload of drinks, and pick up sides.”

The three women just stared at him with a combination of derision and pity.

“So,” Darby continued, “I can make a big green salad, but if you let me out of the actual cooking, which everyone will thank you for, I’ll take care of the kids’ games and prizes.”

“Deal, but I’ll give you a hand with that,” Britt added. “It’ll be fun. And we’ll probably need you on board for the lights.”

“I’ll pay for the band.”

“Emily, you’re not paying—”

She cut Zane off with a look. “It may be your house, Zane, but this is a Walker-Keller-Norten-McCray operation. Now, as I was saying before, people will bring food because that’s what they do, but we’ll finish up our menu, our supply list, then hand out assignments.”

Outnumbered, definitely outgunned, Zane retired from the field of battle.

After the women in his life rolled over him, Zane sat with Darby on the patio. He contemplated his beer.

“What was I thinking in the first place?”

“Kick-ass party,” Darby reminded him.