The Love Potion Is for the Houseplants

How it begins

The monstera had proposed to the fuse box.

It had done so with a ring of white flowers, three heart-shaped leaves, and a vine pushed firmly through the handle.

Ben stood in the greenhouse doorway with his toolbox.

"Is that normal?"

"For the monstera? No. It usually prefers the radiator."

Iris heard how that sounded as soon as she said it.

Rain drummed on the glass roof. Along the central aisle, two lemon trees leaned together so closely their labels touched. A fern had arranged fallen petals into an arrow pointing at the watering can.

Ben set down his toolbox outside the wet area.

"I'm going to isolate the supply first."

"Can you do it without upsetting anything?"

"The plants or the electricity?"

"Either would be lovely."

He gave her a look that was not unkind, then returned to the service entrance.

Iris waited beside the monstera. Its newest leaf brushed her sleeve.

"This is a workplace," she whispered.

The leaf pointed at the fuse box.

"I know. We all have problems."

She had meant to encourage flowering before the council inspection. The tonic had been carefully measured, responsibly labeled, and stored beside an almost identical bottle marked GENERAL AFFECTION.

That final detail had become important at six that morning.

Ben returned carrying a battery lamp. He placed it on the dry bench and studied the vines without touching them.

"What's the usual way to persuade one of these to move?"

"Light, water, patience."

"Good. I brought two of those."

He lifted the lamp toward the far side of the greenhouse. Slowly, the monstera's leaves turned.

Iris watched him give it room.

Most people who heard the word witch expected a spectacular answer. Ben appeared willing to wait for a plant to make up its mind.

That, she thought, could become a much less manageable problem.