Chapter 7: The Friday Problem
Friday morning began with an unexpected delivery.
A courier left six rectangular boxes outside Mark’s garage.
Each contained a polished display board printed with the words BELLWEATHER SCARLET LEGACY PROJECT.
The boards were expensive, waterproof, and completely unsolicited.
Mark found a folded note inside the first box.
Crownleaf offered to sponsor the neighborhood Garden Walk in exchange for exclusive branding and the right to film the event.
The offer did not mention June’s family or the other gardeners who had maintained the plants.
Mark carried the note across the street.
Diane read it twice and then laughed without humor.
“He’s trying to buy the audience before we invite one.”
“What would you do?” Mark asked.
“Send the boxes back.”
“That’s what I thought.”
He called the courier company and arranged a return pickup.
The boxes remained sealed in the garage while Lucia painted handmade signs on recycled plywood.
Nate watched her write A GARDEN GROWN BY MANY HANDS across the largest board.
“That’s better than a logo,” he said.
“I accept payment in cookies,” Lucia answered.
Elise appeared with a tin of oatmeal cookies before he could respond.
At ten, a local reporter named Gail Ortiz stopped by after hearing about the police visit.
She worked for a small regional newspaper and had expected a routine neighbor dispute.
Instead, she found six households preparing labels for plants with names dating back nearly three decades.
“This is much better than an argument about property lines,” she said.
“It’s still an argument about property lines,” Mark replied.
“We’re just trying not to let that be the whole story.
”
Gail interviewed the neighbors individually.
Diane insisted that her own mistakes be included.
She described handing early cuttings to a commercial buyer without discussing the decision with the six families.
She acknowledged making a false accusation during the 911 call.
Gail did not soften her questions.
“Why should your neighbors trust you now?”
Diane looked at the hand-painted sign leaning beside Lucia’s chair.
“They shouldn’t take my word as the last word,” she said.
“They should look at their own plants and tell their own stories.”
The reporter wrote that sentence down.
Mark’s phone buzzed while he helped Bernard straighten a row of pots.
An email from Pike warned that Crownleaf would consider legal remedies if the neighborhood made false statements about the company.
Mark read it to Priya.
“That’s fair as far as it goes,” she said.
“We’ll keep our claims narrow and accurate.”
“Can a company threaten you for telling your own gardening history?”
“They can send an email,” Priya answered.
“What matters is whether we’ve checked what we’re saying.”
Mark called a local attorney for general advice and explained that no one planned to accuse Crownleaf of stealing a patented variety.
They intended to host an open garden walk and share their documented history.
The attorney advised them not to obstruct the company’s event or claim legal conclusions without evidence.
“That sounds like our plan,” Mark said.
He went back to planting signs beside the path.
At noon, Diane disappeared into her garage and returned carrying a long wooden crate.
It held six small ceramic markers, each stamped with a number and a stylized red flower.
“June made these for the first walk,” Diane said.
“I kept them when the signs disappeared.”
Elise touched marker number four.
“That was mine.”
“I remember,” Diane said.
“You painted the little stem crooked.”
Elise smiled despite herself.
They set the markers beside the corresponding gardens.
The sight gave the street a sense of continuity none of the modern signs could match.
At two, Keira called with a problem.
Crownleaf had moved its preview from the hotel ballroom to a garden center only four miles away.
The company planned to offer visitors free Scarlet Star plants immediately after the presentation.
“He’s trying to get the new plants into people’s gardens before anyone asks about the old ones,” she said.
Mark considered the implication.
Once customers had paid for a branded variety, many would have little interest in the history behind it.
“Can you tell us what the presentation actually claims?” he asked.
“I can tell you what’s on the public brochure.”
She read the sentence slowly.
“Crownleaf proudly introduces a new flower inspired by a lost neighborhood legacy.”
Mark frowned.
“Inspired by is careful wording.”
“Very careful,” Keira said.
“The stage script is less careful, but I can’t share that without breaking my agreement.”
Mark thanked her and ended the call.
He told the others that they needed to resist the temptation to turn their Garden Walk into a trial.
“Our job is to show people something real,” he said.
“If Pike says something inaccurate, we can respond to what he actually says.”
Diane folded her arms.
“You’re being very calm for a man I accused of trespassing.”
“I’m furious about that,” Mark replied.
“I can be furious and still choose not to make another mess.”
