Sunflower

Even behind the protective mask, Joanna Richardson could feel the fierce heat as she pulled the ladle from the furnace and poured the viscous liquid into the molds. She was trying to get perfect yellow color in her stained-glass creation. Even as the liquid cooled, she could see that it was going to be a winner. This was her fourth attempt. She had tried very hard with different settings on the furnace and different concentrations of cadmium sulfide. Now she could see that the pigment hadn’t completely mixed with the glass and the yellow shade varied slightly across the plate. That was perfect.

She fetched her scales and the bottle of cadmium sulfide. She carefully measured out seven grams and tipped it into a little plastic bag. Then taking the bottle and a spade she went out the door and into the woods at the back of her workshop. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, she buried her bottle and her work gloves, carefully replacing the leaves to hide the place.

Back in the workshop she thoroughly washed her hands and cleaned down the work bench. The glass plate was cooling and she could see it was perfect. She got out her patterns and carefully cut the glass plate into a series of yellow petals. Then she pulled out her latest work. The petals fitted the spaces in the center to show a beautiful sunflower.

She picked up the piece and carried it up to the front of the property, where there was a rustic log building. The sign out front said, “The Cookhouse.” It was her husband’s restaurant. He had been a timber getter in his younger days and wanted to re-create the atmosphere of a work camp canteen. The menu favored quantity over culinary sophistication. On the walls were many photographs of the owner in his younger days felling massive blue gums, or winning woodchop competitions at agricultural shows.

She reflected that he had had a fine physique in those days – sadly gone to seed now.

He was sitting at a corner table with a man she recognized as their insurance agent. She walked over to them and showed off her artwork.

“That looks great Mrs. Richardson,” said the agent. “You are certainly talented. Michael and I were just discussing the insurance renewal on the restaurant and your workshop. Has anything changed?”

“No” replied Joanna, “everything is just the same as last year.”

“Babe, could you get us two steaks?” said her husband, Michael. “Patrick’s shorthanded in the kitchen, and anyway I prefer your cooking.”

“Where’s Maria?” asked Joanna.

“She’s sick and has taken the afternoon off.”

Joanna nodded. “Uh, huh” she said.

Joanna headed off to the kitchen and nodded at Patrick the cook. She walked into the cold room and selected two large steaks. She put them on the charcoal grill and started preparing a mushroom sauce.

When the steaks were done, she plated them up with a salad. She poured the sauce over one steak. Then she looked around to see that Patrick was engaged in something else, pulled out her bag of cadmium sulfide and mixed it with the sauce. It blended in perfectly.

She turned back to the charcoal grill and tossed the plastic bag onto the hot coals. Then she pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket and looked at it briefly. It was headlined “Cadmium Sulfide Safety Data Sheet.” She skimmed the lines to where it said that a lethal dose was five grams and that the poison took effect two to four hours after ingestion. She tossed it too into the flames.

She turned back to the dishes, and her heart nearly stopped. Which was which? She tried to remember which was the one she had finished last. She scrutinized the sauce. Yes – this one was slightly lighter. She took them out to the diners.

“Looks great” said the insurance man. “Thank you, babe,” said Michael.

“Well, I’ve got a favor to ask of you,” said Joanna. “After you’ve finished your meal, let’s go home and have an afternoon together. It’s so long since we did that. Patrick can clean up here.”

“Oh, I’d love to, babe” said Michael, “but I’ve got a meeting this afternoon, with er, er Frank Peters, our lawyer. He’s um redoing my will.”

“Well, OK – that’s important” said Joanna, “perhaps another time. I might go and see my friend Belinda and take my artwork to the gallery.”

Michael smiled up at her. “See you later,” he said.

Joanna drove into town and stopped off at the law offices of Frank Peters. His secretary smiled at her as she walked into his office and closed the door. They embraced. “I’ve got a room booked at the Excelsior,” said Frank. “Let’s go,” said Joanna.

Three hours later, they were lying in bed when Joanna said “that was great – but you had better be careful. I read somewhere that 85% of men who have a heart attack during sex are with someone other than their wife.”

Frank laughed and then turned serious. “You’ve got to do something pretty soon” he said. “Michael has just about finalized all the papers. He’ll sell the restaurant, take the cash, and clear out with Maria. He’ll hit you with surprise divorce papers. I’ve already prepared a will, writing you out of it, but he hasn’t signed it yet.”

“I have, and I think we will hear about it soon,” said Joanna. At that moment, her cell phone rang.

The voice at the other end sounded panicked. “Mrs. Richardson it’s Maria.”

“Oh, hello Maria,” replied Joanna. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Mrs. Richardson, it’s your husband. He was vomiting, and then he passed out. I think he’s had another heart attack.”

“Really, what was he doing? The doctor told him not to do anything too strenuous.”

“Mrs. Richardson, please come and get him. My boyfriend will be home soon.”

“Maria, you had better call an ambulance,” said Joanna.