Killer Calories

evening’s dinner table.” She hesitated, then added, “You can hold this for me, if you like.”
    She held out her wicker basket, which was half-filled with cut flowers.
    “I would like. Thank you.”
    Phoebe Chesterfield led her through the backyard, past the flowing fountains, a bronze sundial, garden gargoyles, and colorful beds of pansies, impatiens, lobelia, and marigolds. “Do you do all the gardening yourself?” Savannah asked. “I have a fellow who weeds and waters for me. But I do the rest. It keeps me off the streets and out of pool halls.” Savannah chuckled, but Phoebe kept a completely straight face. She had assumed the old lady was kidding.
    What she wondered, but couldn’t ask, was how Phoebe had time to tend the garden and still keep tabs on everyone from her telescope in the bell tower.
    They passed an herb garden that scented the air with spearmint, lavender, and sage. “This reminds me of my granny Reid’s yard,” Savannah told her, allowing the sweet memories to flood over her. “She had a spearmint bush, too. Told me it was a chewing gum tree. When I was about four, I found sticks of spearmint gum ‘growing‘ from it.”
    “Humph.”
    From Phoebe’s monosyllabic reply, Savannah didn’t know if she appreciated the childhood tale or not. “Do you have grandchildren of your own?”
    “No. Neither my brother nor I has ever married,” was the curt reply.
    They entered the rose garden and Savannah was astonished at the beauty and variety of her collection. Against a backdrop of emerald rhododendron foliage Phoebe had a breathtaking display of deep scarlet blossoms mixed with equally elegant whites.
    “Are those Mr. Lincolns and John F. Kennedys?” she asked, breathing in the honey-sweet fragrance of one full, snowy rose and its accompanying apple green buds.
    “Yes, they are.”
    “What a wonderful idea, displaying them together like that. The effect is quite dramatic.”
    Phoebe smiled just enough for Savannah to know she had touched a chord with the woman through her garden.
    “And is that a Fortune Teller?” she asked, pointing to a bush with unusual magenta flowers.
    “Yes, it is.”
    “I thought so. I love that distinctive, lemony fragrance. And your Roselina is lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so full.” She waved a hand in the direction of a copper arbor laden with deep pink wild roses. “Do you use Epsom salts to balance the soil?”
    “Yes, I do. And I feed each bush at least two banana peels, to enhance the mineral content”
    “With excellent results, if I do say so myself.”
    Phoebe studied her quietly for a moment, and Savannah thought she saw a light of something that might be grudging respect in those pale blue eyes. “How do you know so much about roses?” she said, snipping a perfect Moon Shadow bud and laying the velvety lavender blossom carefully in the basket Savannah was holding.
    “My granny Reid taught me. She says you can always tell a true lady by her love affair with roses.”
    “Humph.” Phoebe gave Savannah a knowing sideways glance and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you can tell a woman who isn’t a lady by the other affairs she has... if you know what I mean.”
    “I don’t know for sure,” Savannah said, adopting Phoebe’s conspiratorial tone. “But I have heard rumors .”
    “I’ve done more than heard. I’ve seen.” She pointed to the mission tower and its belfry.
    “I’ll bet you’ve seen a lot of things from up there,” Savannah said, winking at her. “In fact, you could probably write a book about what you’ve witnessed.”
    Assuming a pained expression, Phoebe nodded emphatically. “It hasn’t been easy, living next door to all that debauchery over the years. All the nakedness. The fornication. The various and sundry iniquities.”
    “I can imagine.” Savannah shook her head and clucked her tongue.
    “There have been times when I wondered why the earth didn’t just open and swallow them whole, like with Sodom and Gomorrah .”
    Harking back to her Sunday school days, Savannah was fairly certain that hadn’t been the fate of Sodom or Gomorrah . But she didn’t think it conducive to argue theology with Miss Chesterfield here in her rose garden. Instead, she decided to lead the conversation gently to a more specific topic: Kat Valentina.
    “Well, it looks as though Justice had her way, after all,” Savannah said, keeping her voice low and secretive... though from whom, she wasn’t