Patrick Jane makes devil's cherry tea just one more time, years after his secretive, short-lived run of attempts back in the old CBI attic.
He's in the garden when he spots the plant.
Or, perhaps more accurately, he's in the hopeful beginnings of a garden,
a small patch of tilled earth he's gradually expanding outward from the little cottage by the pond toward the trees that surround it.
He sows this bit of earth with whatever catches his fancy, wild onions and fiery hot peppers and some salad greens and a little persimmon tree,
and a few flowering bushes with pale pink buds that he added simply because he liked how they looked.
Teresa teases him, when she gets up in the mornings and finds him already puttering about his tiny garden,
and wants to know what exactly he plans to cook from that strange mixture of ingredients.
But Patrick just smiles, and kisses her goodbye for the day, and hands her a sandwich in case she once again doesn't find time for a lunch break.
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