The Blossom Sisters (20 page)

“Because we live here, that's why. We started here, and it just naturally followed that we would continue working here,” Rose said defensively.

“What that says to me is you three took the easy way out. Everyone else has to shuttle back and forth while you three call the shots. I'm not trying to demean you, it just doesn't make sense from a productivity standpoint. Shady Pines has to be around fifty thousand square feet and is virtually empty except for the one wing that's occupied. At one time it was a thriving operation, now with just caretakers watching over the property. I know, I know, all the rules and licenses are in effect. Will you all just think about the space, about having everything in one place? It makes more sense for the three of you to take the golf cart over in the morning and back again at the end of the day. You need to scale back and just do an eight-hour shift instead of this round-the-clock nonsense.

“As much as you all don't want to admit it, you aren't getting any younger. Believe it or not, you're actually getting older. Just like everyone else on God's green earth. Why in the name of everything that is holy do you want to work everyone to an early death? You're a family, all of you, so that means you need to enjoy each other's company, make all the things you haven't been able to do—either for health reasons, lack of money, or whatever else—work for you. This is the time when you should be enjoying your lives and still be productive, but not to the point of obsession.”

Iris looked up at her nephew. “But you said you wanted us to do away with some of our projects. We need all those projects to keep earning the money we've been earning. More so now that we've added to our staff.”

“I looked at your books, ladies. They are robust. You paid out outrageous bonuses none of you need or even want for that matter. I can see a salary of some sort, absolutely. I can see vacations twice a year for as many days as you all decide on. You can take bus trips. Hell, I'll even drive the bus for you, and I'm sure Barney will agree to do it, too. I'm going to get my bus driver's license. You're obsessed with making tons of money and forgetting to live your lives. I'm tired, and I'm sorry if I'm not coming across to your satisfaction.”

“I understand everything you're saying, Augustus. You are making some valid points. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting with everyone, and you could give a PowerPoint presentation. Would that work?”

“It would, but I want you to close up shop for a week or ten days. We can hire people to help us move Initial B Enterprises to Shady Pines. What we're doing now, what I set up for you all, was just supposed to be temporary. I told you that at the time, and you agreed. You said you all wanted the new staff to feel like they belonged right off the bat. We assigned jobs, but it's around the clock, with no real routine. People, especially elderly people, and I mean no offense, need to sleep at night; they don't need to work shifts. It's unsettling. They don't need pressure and deadlines. The bottom line is that you have too many irons in the fire. We need to whittle back and go with just your moneymakers. As an example, the fortune cookies. You could corner the entire market here in Sycamore Springs and even the outlying towns. You can hire delivery boys from the college. Think about how much easier it will make your lives.”

The sisters looked at one another as Gus droned on and on. Finally, Rose said, “You need to go home now; it's getting late, Augustus. You certainly don't want to keep the young lady waiting. We will talk about all of this tonight, and, by tomorrow, we'll have an answer for you, one way or the other. We appreciate your concern for our well-being, and we know your heart is in the right place. Will that work for you?”

Gus sighed. “It will work if you talk and discuss it all with an open mind. I just want you to remember one thing: Money can't buy happiness. You all found happiness and fulfillment. And made a lot of money in the bargain. You don't need more sacks full of money to continue. Being more than comfortable financially, being happy, and having the companionship of each other should be your top priorities from here on in.”

“You're forgetting our overhead, nephew,” Violet snapped.

“No, Aunt Vi, I am not forgetting it. If you operate out of Shady Pines, you can take many tax deductions. It has to be a legitimate operation from the get-go. That's what I'm trying to drive home to you all. You can do this. You really can. But you're going to have to make concessions for the well-being of all of you, not just you three.

“Okay, I'm leaving now; you have a lot to think about. I'm here for you and will do whatever I can to get you all on the right road, because I love you and care about you.”

Rose stretched out her arms to her grandson. She hugged Gus, and he hugged her back. He turned to see if Violet and Iris would do the same. He was thrilled when both his aunts smiled and held out their arms.

Gus whistled for Wilson, who came on the run.

“Call us,” Rose said. “Go to the men's room and call so we know how it's going. Good luck tonight.”

Gus laughed. “Didn't you say the exact same thing to me when I went off to my first prom?” The sisters laughed.

It was five-thirty when Gus climbed into his reclaimed Porsche for the trip home. An hour and a half to stop for flowers, get home, feed Wilson, shower, shave, dress, then drive around the corner to pick up his date for the evening. He couldn't decide if he was dreading or anticipating the evening. He started to whistle.
Whistling is a good sign,
he thought. Maybe the dinner would go well, and he and Jill Jackson would actually become friends of a sort.

Hope springs eternal. That's what his grandmother always used to say. She probably still said it, for all he knew.

Gus felt so good, he continued to whistle. He had a feeling that he had finally gotten through to his grandmother and aunts with the last round of discussions. But he was no fool. He knew things could change on the turn of a dime.

Chapter 21

G
US TOOK SO LONG TO SHOWER, SHAVE, AND DRESS THAT
Wilson started prancing around thinking he was going for a ride again, his favorite thing to do. “What do you think, Wilson? Too much gel in my hair? My aftershave too strong?”

Wilson pawed the tiled floor and let loose with a short bark that meant, let's move already.

Gus stretched his lips in front of the mirror to make sure nothing was stuck in his teeth.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He was acting like he had just marched into puberty.
Teeth okay, not too much gel, aftershave minty but faint.
His khakis held a sharp crease, his loafers had a nice shine, and his pale yellow shirt was perfectly ironed. By himself. His tie matched the shirt perfectly. His khaki jacket was fairly new and finished off his attire. He was good to go.

Gus checked his back pocket to make sure his wallet was where it belonged. His keys were on the kitchen counter, as were his cell phone and the flowers he'd bought on the way home. Gus hung up his wet towel, exited the bathroom, and headed downstairs, Wilson bounding ahead of him. The time was six-fifty. It would only take him two minutes to drive around the corner, park, walk up to Jill Jackson's door, and ring the bell.

After picking up his keys and cell phone from the kitchen counter, Gus checked the front door to make sure it was locked; it was. He turned the two lamps on in the living room. He made sure there were two night-lights in the kitchen that would start to glow as soon as dusk fell so that Wilson could find his water bowl and the bowl of dry dog food he always left when he went out and left Wilson home.

“Okay, big guy, I'm outta here. Answer the phone, fold the laundry, and, if you have time, make my bed. Get your rabbit and settle in. I won't be more than a few hours. I'll leave
Wheel of Fortune
on for you. Here's a Pop-Tart—make it last—and a chew bone. You got all that, Wilson?”

Gus couldn't believe the butterflies jumping around in his stomach when he got into his car and turned on the engine. He looked over at the bunch of spring flowers wrapped in layers of green tissue paper. He shrugged. He remembered the horror of his first date, when he was a teenager and he'd taken his date to a fast-food joint. He'd been so nervous he couldn't eat, even though he was starved. His grandmother had warned him to check his teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in them. To this day, nothing had ever been stuck in his teeth. She'd told him to chew slowly and not wolf his food the way he always did at home. The horror was he'd obeyed all his granny's advice, and the girl whose name he couldn't even remember had gobbled her food, then ate his.

He hadn't been this nervous with other dates, or with Elaine. What was there about Jill Jackson that had him in such a tizzy? Guilt. That's what his Aunt Vi would say.

Gus pulled into Jill Jackson's driveway. It was a pretty little house, with flower beds and a flower-lined walkway. In the center of the front yard, there was a huge sycamore tree that he knew would shade the entire front of the house when it was in full leaf. He looked down but couldn't see even one weed. The bushes were pruned, the lawn mowed. He didn't know how he knew, but he suspected that the backyard held flowers and shade trees. She probably had a terrace or a deck with nice outdoor furniture, where she would sit going over her legal stuff.

Gus sucked in his breath and rang the doorbell. He stepped back and waited, the flowers moving back and forth in the early evening breeze.

The door opened and Gus said, “I'm here to see Jill Jackson.”

He heard the musical laugh, then his face turned beet red. He blinked, then blinked again. He couldn't think of a thing to say, so he thrust the flowers forward.
Who is this person standing in front of me? Fireplug, my ass.
He could feel the heat on his face and neck. He thought he was going to strangle himself.

“I guess this is where I'm supposed to say, I clean up good. Come in, Gus, and I'll put these flowers in water. They're so pretty. Thank you. I love flowers.”

“Yeah, me, too. I mean, I like flowers outside. I don't pick them, I just like to look at them. You look different!” Gus blurted.

Jill laughed again. “Listen, I need to tell you something. Isaac Diamond's office called this morning. It seems he had some kind of accident and is in the hospital. The firm doesn't know if your wife is going to stay with them, or if she'll go with another firm. That means things are at a standstill. Do you have any questions? Because, if you do, I'd like to get them out of the way now and not discuss business over dinner.”

Gus shook his head as he listened to the words, but they really didn't signify anything to him. He didn't want to think about Elaine or her lawyer. He was concentrating on this beautiful creature standing in front of him. And to think, he'd called her a fireplug. His face and neck started to heat up again.

“You look great!” Gus blurted.

“Yeah, I know.” Jill laughed. She twirled around in her high heels and the bright yellow dress that flirted with her knees. “I'm vain.” She giggled again. “You look nice yourself.”

Gus Hollister fell in love at that moment. He risked a glance at his watch. At 7:04, he, Gus Hollister, fell in love with Jill Jackson. The date and the time were now engraved in his mind forever and ever. He could hardly wait to tell his grandmother and the aunts. He watched as Jill positioned the vase of flowers on the kitchen counter. He wasn't sure, but he thought she probably sat on the stool on the other side of the counter to eat or have coffee. The flowers would be directly in her line of vision. The thought pleased him.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice husky at what he was feeling.

“I am. All I have to do is lock the door and walk out.”

“Turn on a night-light and the outside light. It will be dark when we get home.”

“Good point,” Jill said lightly as she fit the key in the lock.

Gus held the car door for her, watching how gracefully she got into the bucket seat. He also admired a generous slice of leg when her dress hiked up. He saw the puckered skin on her upper thigh, but it wasn't registering. She showed no embarrassment, but the moment she was settled, she tugged at the dress.

Gus couldn't believe it when he ground the gears. He'd been driving a stick shift for years and years and never let the gears grind.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He had never felt so inadequate. He had never been good at small talk about trivia, but he struggled to appear manly and nonchalant. He risked a glance at her and saw that she looked amused. Crap. She probably thought he was being sophomoric.

“Do you like Bandoliers?”

“I do. I've only been there a few times, though. I like the tablecloths and cloth napkins. The lighting is good, too. And the tables are generously spaced so you don't hear other people's conversations.” She laughed then, and Gus almost melted into the seat. “How's that for casual conversation?”

Gus grinned. “Better than I could have come up with. Dates are . . .”

“Stressful?”

“Yeah.”

“But we know each other,” Jill said. “Unfortunately for both of us, we got off on the wrong foot. I allowed you to see only the business side of me. And you reacted to that and let me see your unflattering side. Let's just start over and just be Jill and Gus who are going out to dinner at a nice restaurant.”

“Whew! That works for me.”

“Well, there you go. What would you like to talk about, Gus?”

“I used to be a Boy Scout. Barney was, too. We actually made Eagle Scout. If there was a catastrophe, I could probably save you in some fashion, by building a fire without matches and finding roots and berries for you that are safe to eat.”

Jill laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. “That sure does make me feel good, Gus.”

In spite of himself, Gus laughed along with her. “Your turn.”

“After you save me, I could give you a recital. I took ballet lessons when I was little. I can still stand on my toes. I don't have a tutu, though.”

“I have a vivid imagination. What color?”

“Pink and white.”

“I have the vision in my mind now. We're here,” Gus said, swerving into the first parking place he saw.

Gus bustled out of the sports car, rushed around to the passenger side, and opened the door for Jill. He got another glimpse of her thigh and the long scar, and felt light-headed. He reached for her arm and pulled her forward. She smelled so good, he wanted to bury his face in her hair.

The next thirty minutes passed in a pleasant blur after they were seated in a dim, candlelit corner. They ordered white wine and smiled at each other across the table as they each contemplated the menu.

Gus ordered prawns stuffed with crab meat and Jill ordered pecan potato–crusted salmon. They both chose the house dressing for their salads, then ordered a second glass of wine. They made small talk, mostly about Barney and his anticipated return later that evening.

Gus was now relaxed and enjoying the conversation he was having with his dinner companion, the woman he'd just fallen in love with.

The waiter served dinner, and suddenly Gus fell back into teenage mode. He couldn't eat the delectable food sitting in front of him. He made a pretense of cutting and moving the food around on his plate. It took him forever to chew a piece of the shrimp.

Jill stopped chewing long enough to ask, “Is something wrong? You're not eating. Aren't you hungry?”

Gus was tempted to make up a story about his grandmother making him eat something earlier, but in the end decided to go with full disclosure. He confessed to the teenage episode with his first dining-out date at a fast-food joint.

Jill smiled. “I promise not to watch you eat, and I can guarantee that shrimp or crab won't stick in your teeth.”

“I like your sense of humor. I just told you a secret. Your turn,” Gus said, popping half a shrimp into his mouth.

“I got burned in a house fire when I was eight years old, and the right side of my body is scarred pretty badly, that's why I dress the way I do. This salmon is really good. Do you think they'd give me the recipe if I asked for it?”

“Secrets aren't good. I'm all for full disclosure. I'm sure they'll give you the recipe minus one of the ingredients. At least, that's what my grandmother told me. ‘Recipes,' she said, ‘especially family recipes, are meant to stay in the family. ' I'm not sure, but I would think chefs probably feel the same way.”

Jill stopped eating and stared at Gus across the table in the candlelight. “Aren't you going to ask me any questions?”

“No. I won't share your secret with anyone. I'm not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. Not that I kissed you. Oh, hell, you know what I mean. Please don't tell anyone about my secret.”

“Deal,” Jill said, holding her hand out across the table. Gus reached for it. He thought it felt like soft silk. He held her hand an extra few seconds. Jill drew away first.

Gus finally felt comfortable enough to relax when he realized he was enjoying the give and take with his dinner companion. Being honest with himself, he thought he had never had such an enjoyable dinner. He liked this new Jill Jackson. It appeared she liked him, too. Just after the waiter arrived to remove their dinner plates and take their dessert order, Gus excused himself to go to the men's room, where he called his grandmother. His conversation was bullet fast and ended with his confession of telling Jill about his teenage dinner date. Obviously, his grandmother had him on speakerphone, because he could hear his aunts laugh. He ended with, “She was burned in a fire, and she said she's scarred. It happened when she was a kid.”

There was no embarrassment when Gus returned to his seat and said, “I had to check in with my grandmother and aunts.”

“That's nice. You're lucky, Gus, that someone cares enough about you to want you to check in. I don't have anyone; the aunt who took care of me after the fire passed away a few years ago.”

Jill leaned across the table. Gus thought she looked beautiful in the soft candlelight. “I need to apologize, Gus, for my . . . attitude when we first met. I thought you were throwing away a lifetime of love and caring, for someone who treated you like dirt. I'm sorry, I really am.”

“I wasn't exactly a peach myself. But that's behind us. In the end, it will all work out the way it's supposed to. I'm just glad you stuck with me.”

The waiter was back with two plates of red velvet cake and coffee.

“I love sweets,” Gus confessed.

“Me, too. When I have time, I bake raisin-filled cookies.”

“I'm addicted to Pop-Tarts, and so is my dog. That's our sweet and treat every day.”

Jill laughed.

And then dinner was over, and it was time to leave. Gus paid the bill and acted like the gentleman he was and got up to hold the back of her chair.

It was a beautiful April evening. The dark sky sparkled like diamonds. Gus didn't want the evening to end. He wished he knew how Jill felt.

“I really enjoyed dinner, Gus. It's been a long time since I had a night out like this. Thank you.” Gus felt his chest puff out. She, too, had enjoyed dinner.

There was very little traffic, and Gus made every green light. He was parking in Jill's driveway in less than fifteen minutes.

“Don't get out, Gus. I can make it to the doorway on my own.” She leaned over, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. The next thing Gus knew, she was sprinting up the walkway. It all happened so quick, he didn't know what to do. He lowered the window and shouted, “Can I call you again?”