Sprouted

by Gina LaManna

  “Look at all this,” Meg said, gesturing to the pots, the plants, the dirt. “Who’s the idiot who spends money on dirt? Isn’t it just what you get from your backyard?”

  “Actually,” a soft woman’s voice rang out from behind us. “Not quite. Hi, I’m Marcy. Can I help you with something?”

  “Yeah, are you a plant doctor?” Meg asked, extending her hand for a shake. “Because we’ve got a baby in need of some TLC.”

  The woman grinned broadly. “I like that. I’ll have to start putting Dr. Marcy Berry on my business cards. What is it we have here? Aww, what a cute little guy!”

  Meg nodded. “It’s for Lacey here, my second-best friend. She’s having a baby, and my first-best friend’s wife wanted her to practice caring for something.”

  “I care for things,” I corrected. “It’s just...you know, extra practice.”

  “Of course. They always say plants come before the babies!” Marcy laughed again. “Come, step into my office.”

  Marcy was a pretty woman with long, slender legs clad in light jeans with just a dusting of dirt where she’d recently wiped her hands. She needed no makeup to be pretty, and she had a fresh, bright look about her. I immediately liked her company.

  “Well, it looks like the soil might be the issue.” She frowned. “So, I’m going to make you become the idiot who buys appropriate dirt. Otherwise, this little guy isn’t going to survive.”

  “We’ll buy the dirt,” I said quickly. “Whatever Venus needs.”

  Meg nodded. “I suppose that’s like saying Sprout needs diapers. Diapers aren’t fun to buy, but you still gotta have ‘em.”

  “Eloquent,” I said tightly. “Marcy—which, um, bag of dirt-stuff should we buy?”

  Marcy detailed a few options for us, along with instructions for proper care. One of them being to water the plant with nothing but water. Coffee should not be considered water.

  “You can smell the coffee, I take it?” I wrinkled my nose. “We thought he was drooping and needed a little perk.”

  “Like babies,” Marcy said, ever the patient one, “plants shouldn’t be fed coffee until they’re in college.”

  Meg stared dumbly at her for a long moment before she burst into laughter. “You’re funny! She’s funny, Lace. I think Marcy will be my next best friend.”

  I gave Marcy an apologetic smile. She was far too kind to comment, and instead, she ducked behind the counter as an older woman with tightly curled white hair approached. This woman wore a somber expression, and as she neared the counter, Marcy’s gleam of excitement diminished ever so slightly.

  “Again?” Marcy responded to an unspoken statement. “Why?! I don’t understand people.”

  Meg leaned closer, eavesdropping carefully.

  “I guess we’ll have to ask Billy to put up the barbed wire after all,” Marcy said, her voice a soft whisper. “What a nuisance.”

  “Nuisance?” Meg prompted. “Anything I can help with? I’m a cop and a PI.”

  “Ex-cop,” I clarified, “and PI-in-training.”

  “Really?” Marcy’s eyes widened. “Maybe you’ll have a thought.”

  “Sometimes I have a thought,” Meg said grandly. “Sometimes I have multiple thoughts. Really depends on the day.”

  Marcy and the older woman froze for a second, determining whether Meg had a punchline to follow that up. When she didn’t, Marcy resumed her explanation.

  “Someone’s been stealing our plants,” Marcy said. “It’s never a lot, and it’s just started recently. Mostly from the greenhouse, but sometimes it’s random things from the gardens, too.”

  “Who steals from a plant store?” I asked. “I mean, no offense, but it’s a lot of work to care for living things. Wouldn’t it be easier to steal, say, a cupcake or something?”

  “One would think,” Marcy said, and her shrug explained she didn’t understand any more than we did. “It’s bizarre, too. It’s got to be the same person, I’d think—we’ve never had this happen before. So far, they’ve taken a ponytail palm, some ferns, and a bonsai tree.”

  “Yeah...” I said slowly. “None of that means a thing to me. Sorry. I’m a brand-new plant parent.”

  “Welcome to the club,” Marcy said, leaning forward with a wink. “It’s an addiction; just wait until you get sucked in.”

  “Probably won’t be a problem,” I said. “I meant it when I said a cupcake would be a lot easier to care for.”

  “By care for, she means devour,” Meg said. “What did you mean about all those plant-thingys?”

  “All I meant was that there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to what the thief has been taking.” Marcy shrugged. “They use different soils, they’re mostly different families, some need full sun, others are partial shade...”

  “You’re losing me again,” I said. “And this has never happened before?”

  She shook her head.

  “Don’t you worry.” Meg slapped a hand on the counter, rattling it so hard that Venus tipped right over. Meg moved quickly to right the plant and swipe the spilled caffeine-dirt off the counter. “Meg the PI is on the case.”

  “Oh, that’s so nice of you!” Marcy said, clasping her hands together. “Tell you what. The dirt’s on me. Take as long as you need to look around. Ask any questions. We really want to catch this guy before he robs us blind. Again.”

  Meg and I proceeded to study the gardens. However, since neither of us knew the names of basic trees, let alone fancy plants, we didn’t get very far. Neither of us could actually identify what had been taken.

  “Bad idea to volunteer,” I told Meg. “I think we should just pay for the dirt ourselves and let these nice people be.”

  “Don’t you have a desire to save the world?” Meg lifted her arms up angelically. “We can make a difference, Lacey Luzzi.”

  “In plants?”

  “Ugh, is this how indifferent you’re going to be over your own child? Here. Hold Venus. Connect with her.”

  “Now it’s a her?” I asked, just as I looked down and felt my foot squish in mud. “Oh, that’s disgusting. It rained last night, and this place is like a quicksand pit.”

  “That’s it!” Meg looked up at me. “It’s perfect!”

  “What’s perfect?” My shoe squelched as I yanked it out of the mud, and that’s when it dawned on me. “Footprints. Oh my gosh, footprints!”

  Meg nodded, proud. We scoured the outside of the plant store. Just when we’d made almost a full square around the facilities, we found a little divot near the back of the lot.

  “Oh, jackpot,” I said pointing down at a shoe print that was nearly double the size of my own imprint. “We’ve caught ourselves a big one.”

  “Seriously big,” Meg said, comparing her shoe size to the imprint there. “Did Bigfoot return from the dead?”

  “Since when is Bigfoot dead?”

  “I knew it.” Meg jabbed a finger at me. “I knew they were all rumors.”

  “Maybe they are,” I said slowly. “Will you look at that?”

  A hole the size of a small crater had indented the ground a few feet further, and this time, it was clear what had happened. The thief, probably a large male, judging solely by shoe size and the depth of imprint, had climbed the fence and landed with a heavy thud on the ground.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a butt imprint,” Meg said, pointing to two clearly defined smudges on the ground just beyond the shoe prints. “One cheek, two cheek, mud cheek, bruised cheek.”

  “Whoever it is, they’re probably walking around with a painful tailbone,” I said, surveying the height of the fence. “Ouch. That’s a decent sized fall.”

  “Great,” Meg said. “So basically, we just stroll around the Cities looking for someone walking with a stick up their ass and a pained expression.”

  I winced and shook my head. “Not happening.”

  “Fine,” Meg said. “Then I’m returning tonight for a stakeout. If the guy is as big as he looks from his shoes, well...” Meg paus
ed for an evil sort of laugh. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

  “Oh, boy,” I said, and my hand ran soothing circles over my stomach. “Poor Sprout is going to be born with a load of knowledge.”

  “Just doing my part,” Meg said with a salute as we headed back inside to relay our findings to Marcy. Before she could find the plant doctor, Meg stopped and pointed at the television. “Hey, look! It’s you again!”

  I glanced up at the screen behind the counter which, of course, was blaring the news. It must have been a slow news week for the Cities because once again my image was plastered across the screen.

  This time, they even showed a clip of me being helped outside by Anthony after all was said and done. We hadn’t left the scene of the crime for quite some time, what with my having to give a long-winded statement to the police and all. Which meant some numskull reporter had stuck around for some extra footage time. Should I ever find the numskull, I’d have a few pleasant words for him.

  “Oh, I thought I recognized you!” The older woman next to Marcy turned to look at me. “You’re the pregnant hostage lady!”

  “That’s me,” I said, basking in the compliment. “Just regular pregnant.”

  The woman shook her head in dismay. “You poor thing. When’s your due date?”

  “Couple weeks away.” My hands spread across my stomach. “Coming up fast. The scare almost got me started early.”

  She tsked her sympathy, and we all turned back to the TV where there was a closeup of the three robbers as they entered the building. I squinted, watching them for any sign of recognition, but there was nothing that stood out to me. They wore gloves, masks, dark pants, and black turtlenecks. Save for slight wisps of hair, they were merely matching shadows.

  “Matching,” I said, deep in thought. “They’re matching.”

  Meg, meanwhile, was busy putzing around on her phone. She glanced over at me, flipped her device so I could see the screen, and grinned. “I know, right? Just think if you and I matched. Look—we can get the same pants as the lady robbers. Macy’s just had a sale on them at Maple Mall.”

  “Macy’s had a sale...on their pants?”

  “Yep!” Meg grinned broadly. “I mean, it sucks you got held up, don’t get me wrong. But don’t their behinds just look so round and nice in those pants? I’ve been thinking of getting myself a pair.”

  “Do you think the ladies went shopping together?” I asked. “They each have a pair that fits them well—and they each seemed to know one another well during the heist.”

  “Well, the sale isn’t valid online, so yeah, I think they went shopping.” Meg pointed out. “They might be thieves, but they’re also women. All women are suckers for a good sale.”

  Marcy and her older counterpart nodded along. “Unless one of them bought pants for the other two.”

  “I’m not convinced. It’s impossible to buy a pair of pants without trying them on first.” Meg shrugged. “But what do I know? I think the only way to solve this is a trip to the mall. Let’s find us Ginger and Legs and Blondie.”

  “I’m game.” I turned to Marcy as we prepared to leave. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for your help.”

  “Same to you,” Marcy said, walking beside us until we reached the car in the parking lot. “Thanks for your help. Good luck with your baby.”

  “Oh, my baby’s not due for another couple of weeks.” I patted my stomach. “We’ve got ages left to worry about that.”

  Marcy cringed, then gave an awkward sort of laugh. “I meant your plant, but I suppose it works for both.”

  Meg and I looked at one another and spoke at the same time. “Venus!”

  “Probably not a great sign we forgot our baby at the nursery,” Meg said, strolling back to retrieve the plant and our new bag of soil. “Let’s work on that. No more losing the baby. Say, what about Arnold? Wasn’t he supposed to be your practice baby, and he ended with some other family?”

  Marcy looked horrified.

  “The baby belonged to my kid cousins,” I said in explanation. “I mean—it was fake. Arnold was a fake baby.”

  “Don’t worry, Veenie-baby,” Meg said, cuddling the plant close. “We won’t abandon you like Lace abandoned Arnold.”

  “I didn’t abandon him. Come on, didn’t you want to shop?”

  “Fine.” Meg shoved Venus back into my hands. “You take the baby. I’m exhausted. This godmother business is taking its toll on me!”

  I lowered myself into the car, taking itty bitty movements. “Yeah,” I said. “You’re telling me.”

  Chapter 7

  THE BEST THING ABOUT needing a trip to the mall was the pretzel stand. Speaking of exhausting, eating for two was practically becoming a chore.

  “Are you kidding, woman?” Meg asked as we parked. “How can you be thinking of more food? I mean, I like to eat like nobody’s business. Literally. It’s nobody’s business how much I eat, but this is ridiculous. We ate breakfast at your grandma’s. You stole second breakfast for the road. We’re on third breakfast.”

  I looked at the clock on the dashboard before opening the door. “I think we’re close enough to call this lunch.”

  Meg bit her lip and considered it. “Yeah, okay. I’m on board. But no pretzel until I use my coupon at Victoria’s Secret. Clay’s been a little weird lately, and I think my spicing things up could really get him back in the game, you know?”

  I covered my stomach’s pretend ears. “He’s still my cousin you’re talking about.”

  “And he’s my stud muffin. You get to talk about yours, so I’m gonna talk about mine. All’s fair in love and the bedroom.”

  “Love and war?”

  “Why’s it gotta be war?” Meg peered at the expectant mother’s parking sign. “You know, that’s a real handy thing. I’ve used it a few times, but this time it’s legit.”

  I squinted at her. “You’ve never been pregnant.”

  “Nope, I sure haven’t. But I do keep a beach ball in the trunk for those days my legs just don’t want to walk very far.”

  The sales clerks barely glanced our way as we brushed through the store. I found an adorable little stuffed animal, soft as cotton candy, and carried it along with me. “I have to tell Anthony where I was,” I said. “I’m not going to lie. I’ll say I was baby shopping.”

  Meg raised her eyebrows. “He won’t be happy you’re looking into the heist? It’s your ring that was stolen!”

  “Looking into the heist?” I gave her my own raised brow. “I’m just buying baby supplies.”

  We moved into the pants section, scanning the sales racks and pretending to keep an eye out for the black pants the ladies had worn for the heist. Meanwhile, Meg was gathering an armful of clothes for the dressing room.

  “When are you going to buy real baby things?” Meg asked. “You know, all the less fun stuff.”

  “I am buying baby things.” I waggled the stuffed animal back and forth. “Our baby is going to be able to swim in a pool of his or her things.”

  “Diapers? A crib? A stroller?” Meg bobbed her shoulders. “As a potential candidate for godmother, I’ve gotta look out for Sprout. And I have to say, you’re not inspiring confidence with Veenie-baby. You forgot him in the trunk, and it’s barely forty degrees outside.”

  I swore under my breath, hoping the plant’s leaves wouldn’t be frosty by the time we returned. “Fine, fine. I’ll buy stuff. But we have plenty of time.”

  “Lacey. I hate to say it, but there is a reason people are saying you’re very pregnant.”

  I waited, forcing her to look at me.

  “Don’t give me attitude, girlfriend! You are very pregnant. Look at you! That thing could pop out any day. You need a nursery. You need supplies. You can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore.”

  I waddled over to a bench right outside the dressing room. “Oh, my gosh,” I said, sinking into the hard-as-rock cushions. “It’s really happening. I’m going to be a mom. A mom! A mother! We’re g
oing to be parents.”

  “Yeah, we are,” Meg said with a grin. “Exciting, huh?”

  “I meant me and Anthony.”

  “Oh, him too.” Meg sat next to me. “Lacey, you’re going to be a great mom! Venus is just a plant. It means nothing for how great of a mother you’re going to be. If everyone in this world who had a black thumb couldn’t keep a child alive, we’d have a lot of trouble. It’s different.”

  “Who said I have a black thumb?”

  “Lacey, Lacey,” she murmured, soothing. “Relax. You’re stressing out. You’re going to be fine. You have the support of your best friend.”

  “Anthony is great. He’s been so caring, so supportive—”

  “Me!” Meg snapped. “I meant me!”

  “Right, you too,” I said with a wink. “I was just yanking your chain.”

  “Consider my chain yanked,” she said with a sniff. “Come on—we can start small. If we grab some onesies today, we can scout out Babies R Us tomorrow. You can’t procrastinate for much longer, chickadee.”

  I let my hands rest over my belly and felt the smallest kick inside. “He’s really coming out, isn’t he?”

  “Or she,” Meg said, and rested a hand on my stomach, too. She gave me a smile. “I’m really proud of you. And happy for you.”

  “Thank you, Meg.”

  “Your mom is going to be a grandma!” Meg smiled, softer. “She would be so excited, you know. She’d be over the moon.”

  I swallowed, unable to respond, sideswiped by Meg’s surprising tidbit of fact that I suppose I’d always known, but never truly considered.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said—”

  “I know,” I said, the tears pricking, peeping, fighting their way into my eyes. “You’re right. I’m just sorry she never got to meet the baby.”

  “Oh, but she’ll be watching over you. Don’t you worry.” Meg rubbed my back, her voice reminiscent of older, golden days. “And she’ll still be around, you know, in a little part of you.”