Amy threw on some clean sweats and opened the door into the cozy living room with its crackling fire. Leone was clattering cups and spoons in the kitchen; a pot of tea sat brewing on the countertop.

Amy's heart lurched at the happy domesticity of the scene. She was suffused with a feeling of contentment, as if she'd just arrived home.

Confused at the sudden rush of emotion she gulped a deep breath of...of...

"Oh my God. What's that smell?"

"You don't like it?" Leone looked up anxiously.

"No. What is it?"

"Scullcap." She sounded a little dejected.

"What crap?"

"Scull cap. Shake the water out of your ears. Connie told me to burn it."

"What the hell for? It smells like feet-"

"It does not smell like feet. It's a nice smell."

"Satan's feet. Why the hell are you stinking up my cabin?"

Leone frowned at the question. "Mmm...termites. It's a natural termite deterrent." She brought over two steaming mugs of ginger tea. "Termites? Here? In Connie's cabin? And that smell chases them away how?"

"I don't know how," Leone snipped back, very unhappy with the topic of conversation. "It just does."

"Maybe they think Satan's coming," Amy groused, sinking onto the couch. "Okay, I give up. I'm too tired and you're too ridiculous to argue with."

She reached for her mug, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "Can you turn it off now? I'm sure the termites have all absconded. In fact, I might not be far behind them. Wouldn't it be better to get in pest control?"

"Nope, Connie told me what to do. We just sit here and let the incense burn out, nice and easy. So stop your yammering and * 53 *

drink your tea." Leone joined her on the couch looking relieved the conversation was over. As usual she sat too close, almost shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Amy glanced at her with a small frown; Leone seemed oblivious that she was eating up the prescribed space for a normal seating arrangement. Amy decided to let it go. This time she was prepared for any sudden hugging.

After a few moments of fire gazing and tea sipping Leone turned and asked, "So, can I see your devil's club sketches?"

"Mmm, yes." Thoroughly relaxed and content, Amy went to collect her folder and camera from her backpack. When she returned to the couch she sat in the same place she'd just vacated without a second thought, unfazed that she was wedged so close to Leone's long, lean body.

Right up until dinnertime they browsed through the sketches and then the photos, discussing the merits of each, happily sipping tea, crushed into the corner of the couch, as the little cone of incense burned away.

v The wonderful aroma of beef curry greeted them as they entered Marie's cabin.

"Perfect timing, you two. It's ready for the table. Leone, uncork the wine please," Marie called from the kitchen. In a few minutes they were sitting at the dining table enjoying a robust Pinot Noir with their meal.

"So, you had a good day in the field?" Marie asked.

Amy nodded enthusiastically. "Oplopanax horridus. The very first one on your list, and I knew exactly where to find it."

"She remembered the clump Jori fell into years ago." Leone chuckled.

"Oh, Lord, what a day that was. Poor Jori. Talk about learning the hard way." Marie shook her head at the memory, a rueful smile on her lips.

"The initial sketches are fantastic," Leone said.

* 54 *

Marie looked hopefully at the bag Amy had brought with her.

"I don't suppose you brought them with you?"

"No. But I'll call by and show you the ones Leone and I singled out. I plan to start in Connie's studio tomorrow. But if the weather's good then I'll go out again and paint later at night."

"What's next on the list?" Marie asked.

"Um, next is Prunus emarginata. I can find bitter cherry most places along the river. After that it's Hyoscyamus niger. Black henbane, I didn't know that grew here. It's a poisonous weed isn't it?" "Yes. You'll find it higher up near the south ridge, close to the logging track," Marie said.

"It's way up there?"

"Mmm, about a half mile or so back from the road before it bends around Big Jack." Marie mentioned a particularly large tree used as a local waypoint.

"I'll take you up there tomorrow if the weather holds," Leone said. "No need, I can go myself now that I know where to look."

"I'd rather Leone went with you. It's a long hard hike, and I'm sure she can help carry something," Marie said.

"All I take is my backpack. I hardly need a sherpa."

"Well," Leone pointed out, "what if you fell or something? Or that panda came after you again? It's a long way out."

"What panda?" Marie looked inquisitively at Leone.

"Ignore her. She's teasing me because I thought I saw something in the woods today."

"Something in the woods?" Marie was immediately concerned.

"Oh, it was nothing, just a spooky feeling. But something was sniffing around my fish. Leone assures me it was a small animal with big feet." Amy caught the look between Leone and her mother.

Worried they would gang up on her about needing a chaperone, she moved quickly on to another of her morning activities. "You should have seen the fish I caught, Marie." She held her hands up, about two feet apart. "He was a whopper. This big."

* 55 *

"Yeah." Leone snorted derisively. "Like it was ever that big."

"He was so. He had to be seven pounds at least. Maybe even closer to eight. I'll bring him over for your dinner tomorrow," Amy said. "More like five, maybe six pounds." Leone pointed out the discrepancy and was primly ignored.

"It's a deal. You deliver, and I'll broil it with rosemary and garlic lemon for supper." Marie was very happy at the offer of a hefty trout. "Now, are you sure Leone can't be of use tomorrow?"

"I could drive you up to the logging road and halve the hike time?" Leone pushed.

"No, thanks. The light up there's good. I can head out early if the weather's fine and have plenty of time to set up. Believe me, I'll work faster without you looking over my shoulder." Amy was adamant on retaining control over all aspects of her work environment. "I don't need a guide. I know these mountains and valley well, remember?"

Marie shared a dubious glance with Leone but conceded.

Leone looked as if she would argue on, but took her mother's lead and stayed silent.

"Okay. Now that that's sorted," Marie defused the conversation, "how about we look at the illustrations I'd like you to complete for Connie? Let's discuss it over coffee and I'll show you exactly what we need."

Amy knew this was the crux of the dinner invitation, the editorial chat. She was already more than a little concerned at retouching Connie's work. From what she had previously seen the illustrations were superb and definitely didn't need her to do anything other than admire them.

Marie returned from the kitchen with a pot of coffee in one hand and a pie dish in the other.

"I thought we could all take a slice and sit by the fire."

They retired to the fireside, each with a plate of pie and coffee.

Marie and Amy shared the couch while Leone took the overstuffed armchair.

"Okay," Marie began. "We've called you in at Connie's suggestion as she is currently incapacitated and we have a tight * 56 *

deadline for this work." She reached for the portfolio already sitting on the side table and extracted the two illustrations she had shown Amy last evening.

"This one is goldenseal, growth above ground. And this one is its root ball." She next produced a slip of paper with several black curlicue marks scrawled across it. "And these are the marks Connie hasn't managed to incorporate."

Amy frowned in confusion. "What are these? They have no relevance to the plant."

"It's a sort of an embellishment Connie adapted for the Garoul Press Almanac. The marks are much smaller than this, of course. Very unobtrusive. These are not to scale," Marie explained confidently.

Amy's brow knit over the separate papers. "Why on earth would she augment goldenseal with marks that didn't apply to the botanical accuracy of the illustration?"

"Kind of like a certifier?" Leone leaned forward in her chair.

"Like a signature for Connie's work. It's traditional for our artists to include them, but before Connie could finish these two illustrations she became ill. The marks that go with these particular illustrations still need to be added. Some squiggles belong to one, the rest to the other."

"It was agreed from the start that Connie wouldn't use her recognized signature but a series of marks we use for cataloging and other indices." Marie supported Leone's words.

"But she would have added any marks, superfluous or otherwise, at the same time she did the illustration. I told you last night, to go back into these could warp the paper." Amy squinted over Connie's work, still not happy with the explanation. "And Connie uses a lightweight hot press paper. It could cockle and scan incorrectly if I were to tamper with it. I can't understand why she didn't add these...marks as she painted. Was she interrupted?"

There was an uneasy silence between the Garoul women. Amy glanced up from her inspection to find them exchanging another look. What are they not telling me?

"Well," Marie said hesitantly, "neither Leone nor I are artists, and I certainly don't know all the ins and outs of Connie's work * 57 *

methods. We don't use certifiers on every illustration, but these two definitely need them. So, you're saying you can't do it?"

"I'm saying the chances of destroying Connie's work are too high to risk it. I can do the insets for you, but as far as touching up Connie's existing work? I think you need to leave these extra marks out or else get your designer to add them in digitally after they've been scanned. If an illustration is damaged at this point it will seriously threaten your deadline." Amy was blunt in her assessment.

What they were asking her to do was crazy.

"Oh dear. Well, you know best, Amy. We need to keep on track.

The deadline is too close to take any chances. If Connie's work were damaged we'd really be in trouble. Let's push on with your list of insets. How do things look now, Leone?"

"Despite losing Connie we're not too far behind schedule. Amy has less than five weeks to deliver thirteen insets. I know that's tight, but the plants are already here in the valley and in season. All Amy has to do is find them. Your last copy edits are done, Mom. The text is ready for proofing." Leone looked over at Amy. "I'll be proofing in Mom's back office for the next few weeks. Until we get to the reprographic stage, then I'm back in the city to oversee the move to film."

"Do you still print in Vancouver?" Amy asked, full of interest.

The Garouls ran a print house too, north of the border.

"Yes, Garoul Print is still up there. I'll fly up and approve the proof copy in late October. The almanac has priority and the presses are already booked up for us. We should be on time for our release early next year."

They all nodded in agreement. It was a tight but doable schedule.

"Would you mind if I took these with me?" Amy indicated the portfolio with Connie's work. "As a reference to her more recent styling. It might come in handy later when I begin my own work."

"Of course." Marie happily handed the folder over.

"Thanks. It's late and I need an early start tomorrow." Amy collected her coat from the hook by the door, calling over her shoulder, "I'll drop by tomorrow sometime with the trout and my * 58 *

devil's club sketches. With any luck I'll be able to show you the henbane ones, too." She was buttoning her coat when Leone rose to pull hers on, too. "For heavens sake, Leone. I don't need an escort tonight. Marie, tell her I don't need any help to find my own goddamned front door." She pulled her flashlight out of her pocket to prove her point.

"I'm sure Amy will be okay, Leone. Look, she's even got a flashlight." Marie put a restraining hand on Leone's arm.

Leone shrugged. "Okay. Good night, Amy. Maybe I'll catch you tomorrow." She settled back in to her chair. "Call me and I'll give you a lift up to the logging road."

"For the last time, I don't need a lift." Amy was unable to hide her exasperation. Embarrassed at her outburst, she turned to Marie.

"Thank you for dinner. It was fantastic."

She collected Connie's folio and said good-bye, stepping out into the crisp night air surprised to get away from Leone without more of a fuss. Maybe a full belly and a warm seat by the fire had damped down her hero reflex.

v Amy was glad of the walk home alone. It gave her time to stargaze as she gathered her thoughts. And she had plenty to think about tonight, Connie's illustrations being foremost in her mind. She knew instinctively Connie would never misrepresent a specimen she was illustrating.

Connie had been her teacher from an early age, when Amy had first displayed an interest in art and nature. It was not that surprising.

Amy came from an artistic family. Connie was already a recognized wildlife artist, and Amy's English father was as famed for his abstracts as he was for his drinking. Both her parents preferred to view reality through the bottom of a rose-tinted bourbon glass. If Connie hadn't been there for her, giving her all the love, care, and attention a young child needed... Amy shuddered to think how miserable her life could have been.

As it was, she whiled away her childhood years at an upstate * 59 *

New York boarding school, yearning for the holidays when she could escape to Little Dip and see her beloved aunt Connie. Amy was always fearful that maybe one year her parents would decide to drag her off on vacation with them. But it never happened. The dreaded year never came.

By the time she was in her late teens her father was in an early grave, bequeathing his daughter his artistic genes and Anglo American citizenship. At least with her British passport she could freely live and work in Europe. Her mother, Connie's sister, was on her third marriage and had moved to Argentina. Amy rarely saw her now, and it didn't seem to bother either of them. They orbited each other like distant planets.

In contrast, Amy was a satellite to her aunt's life. No matter how far her wanderings took her, Connie had always been her constant.

Between telephone calls and e-mail they kept up with each other's lives. Frequently, they'd meet in exciting European cities and tour the galleries and art shows together.

Amy kept a tight hold of those she loved. Besides Connie, many of the Garoul family kept her in the loop regarding Little Dip and all its news. It was important for her to know that home, Connie's home, was always there for her. Then came the frightening phone call from Marie, and Amy's world had splintered apart, the needled shards penetrating to her core. Connie was ill, hospitalized. And now Amy was back in the valley trying to complete her work and understand what the hell was going on.

Signatures and catalogue certifiers, my ass. No way would Connie add erroneous marks to her work. I'm going to check this out for myself. Connie simply doesn't work like that. And she knew just where to look-Connie's own library. Her shelves held every book she had ever contributed to, as well as a vast selection reflecting her own private interests. That would be Amy's starting point.