“A little? Are you calling twenty acres ‘a little’?”

“I never thought it would grow,” Violet said defensively. “I mean, yes, I planted it. But I put it on that rocky east slope, not really thinking it had a chance of growing, but just to have something to do with it. I mean, that spot of land wasn’t going to be used for anything because it was generally so hopeless. And the thing was, I had all these experiments in the greenhouse and they’d exploded on me. I had to have a place to put them. But I forgot…”

When her sister stopped to chew, Camille said impatiently, “You forgot what?”

“I forgot about the nature of lavender. It looks fragile and frail-but it’s actually a very tough plant. In fact, it won’t thrive at all if you pamper it. It has to have sun, of course, but otherwise it’s happiest if you just leave it completely alone. So that dry, rocky spot actually ended up perfect for it-”

“Violet. The point is-it’s everywhere.”

“Oh, well. I guess. How do you like the potato salad?”

“Pardon?”

Violet motioned. “The potato salad-it’s got dried lavender buds in it. I found the recipe from a really old French cookbook.”

“The salad’s fine.” Camille’s attention was diverted. “I don’t want you cooking for me. Taking care of me like this.” She added more clearly, “I hate it.”

“I cook anyway. I like cooking. It’s no trouble.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, I’m not your problem. I’m no one’s problem.” She yanked her hair back, said lowly, fiercely, “I can’t work yet, Violet. I will. It’s driving me crazy, living off you, not pulling my share, but-”

“Oh shut up. How many times do I have to say it? The land belongs to all of us. You know how Mom and Dad set it up. Dad’s still positive that one of us will want to farm if he just waits long enough.” Violet added, “And Dad’s always asking how you are. If you’re talking about Robert yet-”