Vanessa 1969
"There you are, little one," I whisper to the little seedling I've just planted in the pot.
I add the mix of plant food on top of it before putting down the topsoil. I can sense the new life already growing even though it's only a few weeks old.
"So, that's your secret," Lorie giggles, carrying a large bag of soil to me. "You talk to them."
"Plants are living things too," I smile. "They benefit from hearing us talk to them. Or sing."
"Ah, so that's why you sing to the roses when you're watering them," She smirks at me. "And here I thought you were just a fan of the rolling stones."
"I love them, but so do the plants," I wink at her before picking the pot up and carrying it to the shelf with its brothers and sisters.
"So, I know there's probably no point in asking, but some of us are going to the Pentagon to protest," Lorie jumps up on the counter, giving me a hopeful look. "You wanna come?"
"No," I shake my head. "I'll pass."
"you know, sometimes I don't get you," Lorie sighs, staring at me while I take another pot. "You're all for the environment, you'll sign petitions, but you never come out and protest. So what's with that?"
"I don't believe in that sort of thing," I frown, starting the process again. "It's a waste of time."
I'd learned my lesson a long time ago, and I wasn't ever going to repeat it.
The front door chimes alert us that a customer is here, and I glance at Lorie to answer it.
"So I'm your maid now?" She tries to look offended.
"I pay you, so kind of," I teased back and motioned to the front. "Go. If you need help, call me."
Lorie jumps down and saunters off to deal with the customer while I add the unique mixture I make for the plants. It was magic, and I knew I shouldn't, but it helped the plants grow healthy and strong, even if their owners didn't do an excellent job of caring for them.
I'd lived in DC for the last ten years, running a plant nursery for three of them. It wasn't very glamorous, and the money wasn't spectacular, but I was around plants every day, and it was quiet.
I enjoyed my life and wasn't about to change it because things were changing again.
Never again.
Lorie was young, and she had the benefit of being human. She was only eighteen now, and in a few decades, she'd age, and all of this would be a distant memory. A way of life that no longer existed except for history books.
That wasn't the case for me. I had centuries of life to live. Maybe even thousands of years, depending on how things went, I would never forget the things that happened around me. It wasn't possible for me. The elven and vampire blood wouldn't allow it.
I was ninety-five, and I'd reach my hundredth birthday in five years. Then, legally, I would be an adult, and perhaps I'd move out of America, somewhere where I could forget the past for a while and pretend to be someone else.
Maybe.
"Vanny, Mr. Conti is here. He'd like to talk to you."
"I'll be right there," I sigh, cleaning my hands before fixing my hair up. I wasn't interested in Paul Conti and knew why he was here, but I had my reasons for playing nice.
"Miss Mifsud," Paul cheers with a toothy grin. "always such a delight to see you."
"Mr. Conti," I smile politely, walking behind the cash register. "How can I help you today?"
"Paulie, please," He insists, coming over to stand on the other side of the counter. "Only people who work for me call me Mr. Conti."
Paul Conti was a mobster. There were no two ways about it. He was classy, and I'd give him that, but there were only two reasons he came into my shop. To buy flowers for his mother or to try to convince me to take their 'protection.'
He had the whole package, a tall, good-looking, twenty-six-year-old Italian, and I wasn't buying it.
"Did your mother like the tulips?" I try to keep the conversation professional. Not in the mood to go down this road again.
"She loves the" Paul's grin broadens. "You have a magic touch. You make me look like the best son in all of Washington."
"That's sweet," I nod, counting down the seconds until we reach the inevitable line.
The door opens again, and I glance at it before giving Paul my attention again. The guy was nice until he felt you were disrespecting him, and I didn't feel like putting up with a temper tantrum.
"Hey Paulie, would you get your flowers and let's go. I'm starved," Jack complains, his hands in his pockets.
Jack Lombardi looked like a typical twenty-two-year-old Italian American. With dark brown eyes, thick lashes, and a roman nose that screamed roman empire.
At least that's what you saw on the surface. The truth was, Jack was older than any of the men he worked for, and he'd been in the game with these grandfathers.
Our laws prevented us from influencing human history directly. That was the dragon king's decree, but no law said we couldn't play minor roles in it. That was Jackie's perspective on the matter. He never allowed himself to be more than a good and loyal grunt.
"I'm in a meeting, Jackie," Paulie frowns. "Go get a sandwich."
Jack starts spouting off in Italian, and I have to hide my laugh at some of the choice words he's using.
They go on for a minute about angering their boss if they're late and how Paul couldn't leave without getting a clear answer from me.
Like I hadn't been doing that for six months.
"My answer is still no," I lean over the counter. Giving Paul my response in Italian. "I'm sorry, Mr. Conti, but the only business you and I will do, is you buying my flowers and trees."