Chapter 10: The Man Who Wanted a Simple Story
The next morning, Nolan Pike arrived at Diane’s house without an appointment.
Mark saw the SUV through his front window and stepped outside before Pike reached the porch.
“She doesn’t have to talk to you,” Mark called.
Pike turned with an irritated expression.
“This isn’t your concern.”
“You’re standing across from the garden you tried to photograph without permission.”
“I’ve never needed your permission to walk on a public sidewalk.”
“You don’t,” Mark said.
“But Diane doesn’t owe you a private meeting.”
Diane opened her door before Pike could answer.
“I’d rather speak with him here,” she said.
She remained on the porch with the screen door between them.
Pike glanced at Mark and apparently decided against demanding privacy.
“You embarrassed the company last night,
” he said.
“I told people what I did,” Diane answered.
“You made a public accusation.”
“I didn’t say your company stole anything.”
“People will reach their own conclusions.”
“Then give them accurate information.”
Pike looked toward the flower beds.
“You’re making a career out of being difficult.”
Diane laughed sharply.
“At seventy, I don’t need another career.”
“You need to consider the consequences.”
Mark shifted a step closer.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It is a statement of practical reality.”
Diane opened the screen door.
“The practical reality is that I won’t sign another statement without independent advice.”
Pike straightened his jacket.
“Then I have nothing else to discuss.”
He returned to his SUV and left.
Mark asked Diane whether she felt safe.
She admitted that Pike’s visit frightened her,
but she also knew that fear had already led her to do something unacceptable.
“I’m going to call Officer Ramirez and correct my statement,” she said.
“Do you want someone to sit with you?” Mark asked.
“I need to do it myself.”
She went inside to make the call.
Later that afternoon, Ramirez visited Mark at his house to explain that Diane had formally clarified her earlier allegation.
The officer did not promise that every consequence was finished.
She confirmed that the police report would reflect the correction and that no criminal trespass charge had been brought against Mark.
“I appreciate you taking the complaint seriously,” Mark said.
“We take reports seriously,” Ramirez replied.
“That includes inaccurate ones.”
After she left, Mark pulled his small garden cart from the garage.
He planned to return several borrowed folding chairs to Omar and Priya.
Instead, he found Diane waiting near the sidewalk with a plain cardboard box.
“These are June’s old plant labels,” she said.
“I kept them because I couldn’t bear to throw them away.”
“Why bring them to me?”
“Because the collection shouldn’t depend on one woman’s memory anymore.”
Mark opened the box.
Dozens of thin wooden stakes bore handwritten names, dates, and observations in faded pencil.
Some labels were too weathered to read.
Others recorded useful information about plant growth and flowering periods.
“These belong with the history we’re assembling,” he said.
“I thought so.”
“You could give them to Priya.”
“I will, but I wanted to speak with you first.”
Diane took a breath.
“I owe you an apology for how I treated you.”
“You do.”
“I was wrong to claim that you threatened me.”
“You were.”
She looked down at the red salvias beside his walkway.
“I damaged your trust before I knew whether you could be trusted.”
Mark waited without rescuing her from the silence.
“I don’t expect us to become friends,” Diane continued.
“But I intend to behave differently.”
“That’s something I can judge over time,” Mark said.
Diane nodded and handed him the box.
Before leaving, she stopped beside the boundary stake that had started the argument.
“Your flowers are doing well,” she said.
“They’ve survived an impressive amount of drama.”
She almost smiled.
“June would have enjoyed that line.”
