Page 40 of Violet Thistlewaite Is Not a Villain Anymore
The bed that was just on the other side of the wall from his, where he could hear her toss and turn each night. Where he spent more and more of his own evenings wondering if he could—
Get it together, Nathaniel.
Still, he supposed he owed her an answer. Calmly, Nathaniel tore a leaf of paper from one of his notepads and wrote back.
V—
Apologies. I’ve been very busy.
—N
He rushed it to the other side of the greenhouse and set it on her messy worktable next to a pungent bucket of compost, feeling guilty about the lie, then went about his day, adding a dash of goblin bane to his cauldron and stirring for precisely three and a half minutes before setting it back to simmer and heading inside to take inventory in the shop.
He was delighted when the bell rang moments after he unlocked the door, but the woman who came into the shop wasn’t looking to buy anything at all. “Quinn says you’re the one to talk to about this blight business,” she said.
“Yes,” said Nathaniel, glancing out the window to Wingspan Green, where he could just see the pile of rock goblins. “We have it contained, and I’m working on—”
“Contained?” The woman laughed. “You’re mistaken. The hedge separating my yard from my neighbor’s is black and rotted.”
Nathaniel’s heart sank as he promised the woman he’d investigate and gave her instructions about what to do. About midday, after he’d served all of three customers for the morning—one of whom had asked him outright whether he knew that Sedgwick’s chargedhalfas much for witch’s burr (half!) as Marsh’s did—Nathaniel went back to the greenhouse to check on the blight.Sedgwick’s was coming for Marsh’s, that much was clear, but it would have to wait, even if his deadline with the bank was looming closer with each day. If the blight was spreading, it needed to take priority.
The flower Violet had grown between their windows had given him the idea that he could try an infusion of lady’s favor and soil from one of the Darktide Isles, which only existed at the lowest tide when all three moons hid their faces. The balance between the two ingredients, one that only appeared under the moons and one that never saw their light, might—
There was another note waiting for him.
Liar.—Violet
P.S. I know it’s not part of my lease but I noticed the remains of a vegetable bed along the fence in your half of the garden. Would you mind terribly if I revived it? I shall pay you in fresh tomatoes.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before penning a response.
V—
I don’t suppose you would believe I’ve been kidnapped or called away on business or, I don’t know, accidentally turned myself into a decorative end table with one of my experiments, would you?
—N
P.S. Do as you wish. Pru and I certainly aren’t using it.
An hour later, after he went inside for a cup of tea, another reply appeared.
I saw you flee (FLEE, Nathaniel! Like a rabbit!) back into the apothecary yesterday when I came out to the greenhouse. Am I truly so frightening?
—Violet
P.S. Thank you. Do let me know if you have requests for produce.
P.P.S. What kind of decorative end table? With shelves? Drawers? I’m still in the market for good furniture for my parlor.
Nathaniel felt ashamed all over again; he hadn’t realized Violet had seen him duck out of sight.
She obviously didn’t hold his confession against him, or if she did, she was playing it awfully close to the chest until she could berate him in person. But nothing he knew about Violet Thistlewaite suggested she would do such a thing. She was clever and stubborn and determined and creative and kind, but never, to his knowledge, judgmental. He picked up his pen and tore a new scrap of paper from his notebook.
V—
You caught me. My distance had nothing to do with you. The story I shared with you is not one I often discuss. What you must think of me.
Yours in cowardice,
