Killer Calories

gardenia prom corsage, a pinch from each Christmas tree, a rose from my sister’s bridal bouquet, spices from my grandmother’s herb garden... and a carnation from my grandpa’s casket spray.”
    “That’s nice,” Phoebe said, looking away. But Savannah thought she saw a misting of tears in her eyes. “But why are you going to put my azaleas in your special potpourri?”
    ‘Because I want to remember this moment, planting your powers with you and watching the sun set over the mountains. It's a lovely memory.”
    Phoebe cleared her throat, bent over, and picked another blossom. With a shy, childlike smile, she dropped it into Savannah 's hand with the other flower. “Here then,” she said. “You might as well remember me twice as often.”
    Briskly, she gathered her tools, then took off down the cobblestone path toward the house, leaving Savannah with the distinct impression that she wouldn’t need two tiny coral blossoms to remember Phoebe Chesterfield.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

    “ B oy, when the sun goes down around here, it drops like a lead balloon,” Savannah whispered to the daisy-studded bushes as she maneuvered along the now-dark trail. The tiny white flowers glowed faintly in the remaining twilight, marking the edges of the path that wound down the hill toward the spa.
    Only moments before, her way had seemed clear enough, she had the uneasy feeling that one bad step could send her skidding through thorny brush, past the occasional rattlesnake den.
    Okay, so there probably weren’t a lot of snakes slithering around at this time of night. Weren’t they supposed to conduct their reptilian business out on the rocks when the sun was hottest?
    Either way, she didn’t relish the idea of tumbling into Mr. and Mrs. Rattler’s living room while they were watching the evening news and eating their TV dinners.
    “Bring a flashlight next time, nitwit,” she told herself “or be sure to get home before dark.”
    Of course, she had the Beretta tucked into her waistband. But right then, she would have traded it for a three-dollar penlight or even a candle.
    Once she thought she saw a slender beam of light cut through the darkness, farther down the hill and off to her right. But the next instant it was gone, and she finally decided she had imagined the whole thing.
    About halfway down, she lost even those last few rays that had illuminated the daisies for her. Without their guidance, she was fairly stuck. Although she could see the lights of the spa, glowing at the bottom of the hill, the trail leading to it was a switchback.
    For half a second she considered heading straight down— i the shortest distance between two points and all that high- I school-geometry stuff. But she quickly discarded the idea as foolhardy. Wading through thistles and nettles as high as her armpits, not to mention close encounters with various species of nocturnal California wildlife didn’t appeal to her.
    “Okay, so call me a city girl,” she said to the crickets she could hear, chirping in the distance. Or were they frogs? “Point proven,” she added.
    Maybe a cane might help. If she could get her hands on some kind of sturdy stick, she could wave it around in front of her. As a kid she had played a pretty mean game of blind-man’s bluff. Hopefully, it was sort of like riding a bicycle, and she hadn’t forgotten.
    A little farther ahead, she could just make out the dark silhouettes of the avocado trees that marked the edge of the Chesterfields ’ property. Perhaps a branch from one of those might do the trick.
    Only tripping once and stumbling twice, she made it to the tree and began to feel around among the limbs for a suitable candidate. The thought occurred to her that it might be nice to have a handsaw or a pair of tree nippers for the job. But she had split more than her share of wood with karate chops over the years. What was one more?
    She had just selected her branch of choice, when she heard a soft thud directly behind her... like something dropping to the ground.
    An avocado?
    But even as the thought shot through her head, and she whirled around to face the source of the sound, Savannah knew it hadn’t been an avocado dropping. She recognized wishful thinking for what it was... even if when she heard it inside her own brain.
    In the darkness, she caught the stealthy crunch of feet on leaves, two steps, directly in front of her. A swoosh of movement as an arm swung toward her head.
    She ducked and felt the blow