“Saffron.” Alexander frowned down at her, eyes dancing between her eyes. After a moment, his expression cleared. “Take care.”
Saffron smiled up at him. “Don’t worry about me, Ashton. As for you, don’t go eating any strange-looking leaves.”
Alexander took her hand and pressed his lips to it, and then he was gone.
* * *
The note wedged in Dr. Maxwell’s door inspired much the same trepidation as a summons to the department head’s office had previously inspired, though for a very different reason.
The powers that be at the university had made Dr. Aster the new head of botany, but he had not yet moved into Dr. Berking’s former office. A summons from him meant one of two things: Saffron was about to receive a lot of extra work, or she was in trouble.
Wondering which she was in for, she skirted the boxes outside Aster’s door that were stacked and neatly labeled for the move. She knocked once before being told to enter.
Dr. Aster sat before her amid empty bookshelves and a bare desk, his lined face blank as a sphinx’s. In his brisk voice, he said, “Miss Everleigh, you are aware that Dr. Maxwell has extended his leave of absence from the department and applied for a sabbatical. As such, your position as his research assistant has been rendered unnecessary.”
Saffron was speechless. She hadn’t considered that with Maxwell gone she wouldn’t have a job in the department. Scrambling, she began, “I could assist another professor, perhaps—”
“I understand that during your involvement in the investigation of Mrs. Henry’s poisoning, you carried out a small experiment regarding the effects of extract of Solandra xolotum.”
Her stomach dropped. Aster couldn’t abide any disregard of rules. She was about to be sacked. There was no point trying to deny it. “Yes, sir, I did.”
Aster frowned, and Saffron braced herself for her dismissal, but he said, “Take a seat,” and she did. “Detective Inspector Green asked me to advise him on the feasibility of it being done with a reasonable assurance of accuracy. It was clearly not something one could publish,” he said sternly, his tone smacking of disapproval, “but I assured him that your word as a scientist could be trusted, even if your loyalties lie with Dr. Maxwell.”
Tongue-tied by this unexpected support, Saffron simply replied, “Thank you, sir.”
Aster raised a faded eyebrow and continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “As it happens, with the various staffing changes, a research position has been made available.”
“I didn’t know that, sir,” she said, a cautious hope blooming in her heart.
Aster steepled his fingers. “There is a good deal of time in the intervening months before you can complete the pigmentation project. An opportunity has come up recently that requires the same scientific curiosity and purpose, and occasional disregard for convention that you seem to excel in. We will consider it your application for your graduate studies.”
Shock rendered her speechless, but before she was swept away by excitement, Saffron spoke the thought that had been on her mind for weeks. “Dr. Aster, before you say any more, I must ask you something. Dr. Berking said something during our … confrontation, about my father. And his work, his unpublished work.”
Aster’s gray eyes sharpened a degree. “I’m afraid your father’s unpublished work is not up for discussion.” Saffron mutely nodded, filing that away for later consideration. “However, there is room for discussion regarding the potential for research in the realm of phytotoxicity.”
Saffron left the meeting sometime later, her mind whirling with possibilities. With more poisonous plants in her future, the next six months were going to be very interesting after all.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not exist without many people, but first and foremost is my husband. Erfawn never questioned for a minute—at least out loud—my sudden and somewhat irrational need to write a mystery novel, nor did he doubt my ability to actually write it, let alone get it published. Thank you for your unwavering support and your hours of listening to me babble about poisonous plants and helping me solve all the problems I got my characters into. Thank you for giving me the time I needed, as a new mother and a new writer, to make this happen. And thank you for inspiring my favorite fictional biologist.
My parents are the reasons the novel I had to write was a historical mystery. Years of Sherlock Holmes and Poirot sank into my brain and became a part of me that I treasure. Thank you both for the gift of your encouragement to pursue my love of writing and reading, and now for your insights into this book and others. I truly have the best family, full of supportive, loving people who didn’t even blink when I told them I was writing a book about a crime-solving botanist. Thank you all for your enthusiastic support!