Emily pulled her shirt collar up over her nose and coughed twice into her arm.

“Who was that?”

“It’s Harry Caldwell,” I said.

“He bought the estate next door three weeks back.”

I tapped my left thumbnail against my knuckles as I watched the cart turn into the paved circle three hundred feet down the block.

“Is he going to drive like that every morning?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“He got dirt all over the new stems,” she said, kneeling to brush a layer of dark grit off the green shoots.

“We only planted those twenty minutes ago.”

“The dirt will rinse off when we water them,” I said.

“He saw us standing right here,” she said, her words tumbling out fast as she looked toward the next driveway.

“He looked straight at you when he hit the gas.”

“Fill the green bucket at the side spigot,” I said.

“Two gallons for every root ball.”