Chapter 5: The Sample Case
Mark went home with a photocopy of Diane’s research agreement and an uncomfortable collection of questions.
The agreement contained only two pages, and its narrow language did not match Pike’s confident statements.
He was no lawyer, and he refused to pretend otherwise.
He called the county agricultural extension office instead.
An adviser named Simone Price listened patiently before explaining what her office could and could not verify.
“We can help identify plants and document their history,” she said.
“We cannot determine legal ownership of a cultivar from a telephone description.”
Mark thanked her for the distinction.
She offered to visit the next day with a plant pathologist named Felix Arora.
“I would rather have someone tell me what we don’t know than sell me certainty,
” Mark said.
Simone laughed.
“Then you’ve called the right place.”
At the warehouse, Mark spent the evening shift checking inventories while his assistant manager tried to talk him into changing his weekend plans.
“I heard you have a flower scandal,” Tessa said.
“Apparently that’s what passes for entertainment on my street.”
“You should charge admission.”
“I’d settle for getting my Saturday back.”
A delivery driver interrupted with a damaged shipment, and Mark returned to practical problems he could actually solve.
Yet he kept thinking about Diane’s hands as she held June’s photograph.
They had trembled when she spoke about the first cutting.
They had not trembled when she called 911.
The contrast bothered him.
The next morning, Simone and Felix arrived in a small county vehicle with clean tools and a portable shade tent.
Priya met them on the sidewalk beside Mark’s red flower bed.
Nate brought coffee, and Lucia carried a notebook for recording observations.
Felix made one rule before examining anything.
“We will not take samples from a private yard without the owner’s consent.”
Nate immediately offered access to his compost pile.
Harper joined by video call while her landscaper stood beside the fence.
Diane emerged from her porch only after Elise waved her over.
Felix examined the leaves and stems from the plants still growing in each yard.
He explained that appearance alone could not establish genetic identity.
Plants grown under different conditions could look different even when they shared a parent.
Conversely, unrelated plants could produce similar red blooms.
Simone recorded oral histories from Bernard and Elise while Priya organized the old photographs by date.
The six deeds became a useful historical guide, but nobody presented them as proof of scientific authorship.
Diane surprised everyone by volunteering her oldest surviving plant for a carefully documented cutting.
“June called this one Lantern,” she said.
Felix looked at its narrow leaves.
“Do you know why?”
“It was the first one that stayed bright after sunset made the other reds look brown.”
Priya smiled at the poetic description.
Felix wrote the nickname down without treating it as a laboratory measurement.
By midday, they had located five distinct clusters of surviving plants and one empty bed where a line had apparently disappeared.
The empty bed belonged to Bernard and Elise.
Elise remembered clearing it after a fungus outbreak eleven years earlier.
“We thought the plant was gone,” she said.
Diane frowned.
“I took a cutting before you dug it out.”
“You never told us.”
“I kept forgetting that telling people mattered as much as keeping plants alive.”
Mark looked away before Diane could see his expression.
He was not yet ready to praise her for an admission that had taken decades.
At two o’clock, Nolan Pike returned.
His SUV stopped beside Mark’s driveway, and a second vehicle parked behind him.
A young woman in a Crownleaf polo shirt stepped out carrying a camera case.
Pike opened the passenger door and removed his slim sample case.
“What a charming gathering,” he said.
“We’re conducting a county extension visit,” Simone replied.
“Then you’ve heard the exciting news about our Scarlet Star line.”
Felix said nothing.
Pike turned toward Mark.
“I believe we spoke by phone.”
“Briefly.”
“I thought you might appreciate our offer to purchase a few ordinary plants from your strip.”
“Which ordinary plants?”
Pike smiled.
“The ones your neighbors have been fussing over.”
“You’d need to ask their owners.”
The photographer raised her camera toward Priya’s garden.
Priya stepped forward.
“Please do not photograph my yard for commercial use.”
The woman immediately lowered the camera.
Pike’s smile tightened.
“We’re documenting regional horticultural history.”
“Then you can begin by speaking to the people who grew it,” Simone said.
Pike placed the sample case on Mark’s garden wall.
He opened it to reveal a white plastic tray holding six tiny plants in labeled pots.
Each bore a glossy red tag reading CROWNLEAF SCARLET STAR.
“Our finished product will be available nationally by spring,” he announced.
Diane stared at the tray.
“Where did you get those cuttings?”
“From our authorized propagation program.”
“Those are not the same six lines I gave you.”
Pike closed the case partway.
“I wouldn’t expect you to remember every sample after so many years.”
Diane pointed to the third pot.
“That leaf curls toward the stem on hot days.”
“Many plants do that.”
“And its young growth has a pale stripe that disappears when it matures.”
Felix leaned closer without touching the pot.
“That is an interesting observation.”
Pike snapped the case shut.
“We’ll continue this discussion at Friday’s preview.”
He turned and walked toward the SUV.
The photographer lingered beside the sidewalk.
When Pike was far enough away, she whispered to Mark, “I didn’t know anyone lived here.”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“He said the original gardens had been cleared years ago.”
She handed him an ordinary business card with her first name, Keira, printed beneath the company logo.
“If you want to know what the invitation says, call me before tonight.”
She hurried after Pike before anyone could question her further.
