Chapter 7
“The tomato plants will be far too close together,” Marina said, pointing toward the offending plants.
Clearly, Jack had never planted a garden before. Although Marina hadn’t gardened in years—she lived in a vintage apartment in San Francisco with a view of the bay—she’d often helped Ginger plant vegetables when she was young. Jack didn’t even have gardening tools. He was using a pocket knife, for heaven’s sake.
“That’s for the cilantro,” Jack said, pointing at the first row.
“Those aren’t cilantro.” The tomato plants were sitting by the holes he’d made. She was sure he didn’t have a clue about what he was doing. Jack covered up a hole he’d made in between two others. “There we go. How’s that?”
“Just don’t do anything else, please.” This guy was going to waste a second batch
