“Charlotte, should you be fiddling with Molly’s plants?”
I turned, mid-inspection of the herbs, to find Lucille standing in the doorway of the guest bedroom. I must’ve left it ajar when I entered. She was standing in a ruffled gown with her hands on her hips, as if she were trying to look stern.
Per Molly’s request, I’d recently added cilantro, basil, dill, and mint to the collection of herbs in the Wardian case. Mint, in particular, was a favorite of mine. I was pleased to find that they were all thriving within their glass confinement, and I checked on them frequently.
“If you are concerned about Molly, I suggest you don’t touch the plants either,” I warned.
Lucille paused, appearing to ponder the idea of Molly scolding her. The corner of her lip twitched before she broke into a grin
