Danielle finally looked at me.
“All I asked was for her to move her car a few feet.”
I sat down.
There was no applause.
I was glad.
I hadn’t wanted a performance.
I wanted the truth to be visible.
The committee announced that Danielle would step away from chairing the garden program for the rest of the summer.
Another volunteer would handle the presentation.
Danielle didn’t argue.
For the first time since this began, she simply listened.
After the meeting, I headed toward the door.
“Marianne.”
I stopped.
Danielle approached me without her usual smile.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
She seemed surprised by my answer.
Then she nodded.
“Yes, I do.”
We stepped outside.
“I liked your hydrangeas,” she said.
I waited.
“I thought they’d make the presentation look good. Your front walk is one of the nicest on the street.”
“Then why didn’t you listen when I said the soap was damaging it?”
She looked embarrassed.
“At first, I honestly didn’t think it mattered.”
“And after I asked again?”
Danielle looked toward the parking lot.
“Then it became about you telling me what to do.”
There it was.
The problem had never really been detergent or flowers.
