A tall stick-like waitress with frizzy gray hair tied into a messy bun on the top of her head made a beeline for the group. She slipped a stack of menus onto the table, asking, “What’ll you have to drink, honey? I see the Larson comedy team has started without you.”
Honey? Rich smiled. It was the first sweet word he’d heard all week.
“A medium amber, please.” He offered her a faint smile and turned his attention to the men. “I appreciate everyone coming. There are a few things I need help with.”
“If it’s with my sister, I’m clueless, pal.” Lars took a sip of his beer, squinting at him over the frosted mug with still-sober eyes. “Trust me.”
“Ditto here,” Finn chimed in as a rousing cheer erupted at the bar and was followed by the birthday song crooned loudly and off-key by some very spirited regulars. “Torrie’s a complete enigma and I don’t want to tick her off. You know I have to work with her, right?”
The waitress interrupted their discussion with a frosted mug of beer, and he nodded his thanks.
Gus gave him a sideways glance of utter dread. “Hey, don’t look at me.” His tone was solemn but held a hint of alarm. “News flash. Torrie has never…ever…taken any kind of advice from me.”
“Well, why am I not surprised?” Rich grinned at the youngest Larson brother, who was always the brunt of his older brothers’ playful jesting. “You’ve never had any worthwhile advice to give.” He clicked glasses with Lars while sharing a conspiratorial wink.
“Knock it off, will you?” Gus frowned and shook his head. “I have absolutely no idea why you lamented the fact you were an only child when we were growing up.” He tipped his mug of beer toward his two older brothers, who were grinning. “I ask you, who needs this kind of abuse?”
“If it’s any consolation,” Rich admitted, “your sister’s not listening to me either.” The ring was still burning a hole in his pocket as proof. Besides needing more time to think about their relationship, she was also carrying around a lot of old baggage and wading through a lot of issues. The fire did little to help the situation.
“She’ll come around.” Lars thumped him on the back. “Torrie has been a little gun-shy with men since she’s had Iris. You two are perfect for each other. You’ve always been her hero even when we were in high school.”
“Yeah, true.” Gus admitted. “To be honest, I haven’t seen her this happy in a long while. I don’t know how you got Ivan Winters to fall onto his own glass paperweight, but word has it he was last seen leaving town with a bruised jaw.”
“Your final hurdle is the Forresters,” Lars said. “Their denial of Iris as their grandchild has eaten at Torrie for six years now.”
Finn spun his mug around and around slowly in his hands and shook his head sorrowfully. “Talk about a couple of dimwits. Who wouldn’t want to know their only grandchild?” He squinted up at the men.
Rich straightened in his seat. “Well, on such a jovial tone, I guess I’ll tell you why I’m here. I need one of you to hand deliver a package of material to them at their residence in New York and help me with my final hurdle.” He shoved the manila envelope into the center of the table. “Inside are duplicate DNA samples of their son, Daniel, that I was able to get through a bit of legal manipulating, and DNA samples of Iris, as well as a series of recent pictures of her. I think it would be more effective if an uncle made the contact instead of a lawyer with a vested interest in Torrie as his future wife. I want to make one last attempt before I give up and convince Torrie to write them off and let go.”
“I’ll go,” Lars volunteered. “Finn needs to run the landscape center. It’s his busy time of the year.”
“And I need Gus’s help this weekend,” Rich said. “Why not take Elsa with you?”
“I thought Torrie was planning to take Iris and Estella to stay with her for the three days when you’re away in Dallas,” Lars said.
Rich smiled. “Yes, but with Elsa helping you in New York, she can ask Torrie to babysit her boys along with our girls. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to keep her away from my house in town. I want to set up a surprise for her when I come back on Sunday.”
“Well, babysitting those four rascals should keep her occupied.” Lars grinned.
“And if anyone can be persuasive with the Forresters, it’s your sister,” Rich pointed out. He remembered all the chores she used to hoodwink her brothers into doing for her when they were growing up.
“But it’s not the only reason I’m here.” Rich felt a sick empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and forced himself to continue. “I think I know who started the fire in the warehouse below Torrie’s apartment.”
Silence filled the booth and somber faces stared intently at him while he related Denise’s suspicions about Henry Jordan as a likely suspect. When he finished, he was met by eerie silence. Three pairs of cautious eyes stared at him.
“Come on, guys,” he broke the stillness. His gaze circled the table. “I need some help here.”
Finn blew out a long breath and sat up straighter in his seat. “So Henry did it for the insurance money? Whew, I need another beer.”
“Me, too,” Lars agreed. He shook his head sorrowfully. “What was he thinking?”
“Order a shot with mine.” Gus groaned. “I knew he was struggling with cash flow, but I never thought he’d be desperate enough to go to extremes.”
Silence enveloped them again like a wet blanket thrown over roaring hot flames.
Finally, Gus spoke. “Well, I don’t want to see Henry Jordon accused of arson. If Henry had a lapse of judgment, it was probably the result of the steep mortgage and pressure from Ivan Winters. I don’t want to see the old man in trouble. He’s been helping folks all over town when they were down on their luck since he started that dang garage. I can’t tell you how many people had their vehicles repaired on credit or who couldn’t pay and were given a special Henry Jordan discount. There were others he wrote off, knowing they’d never be able to pay.”
“I’m certain Torrie doesn’t want Henry to be reported to the police and come to any harm,” Finn admitted. “She’s been responsible for his bookkeeping for quite a few years now. And she says no matter how tight the budget was, Henry was always a man of integrity, making certain all the employees were paid even before he was.”
All three brothers’ heads bobbed in agreement.
“Well, considering he’s my sister’s grandfather, I’m not one for stirring up any dust either,” Rich admitted. He remembered Torrie telling him Henry had let her slide on her rent a month or two when she was short of cash. With a hopeful gaze, he regarded the three men who were like brothers to him. An idea had been simmering in his head all week. “Do any of you know what the warehouse site is zoned?”
“I believe it’s commercial and a portion was grandfathered in as residential,” Lars admitted. “That’s why the apartment is still there.”
“What does the town need if the building was razed? Maybe we could join forces, buy the warehouse, raze it, and build a business complex which we could collectively share and profit from.”
Gus’s face came alive. “Hmmm. Not a bad idea. Once demolished, we could build a car wash on one end, and on the other, I’d rent space for a motorcycle repair shop. Or we could set up space for storage rentals. The town is in desperate need of those. I’m guessing everyone here is agreeable to throwing in some cash for this?”
Around the table, everyone nodded.
Rich picked up the stack of menus and distributed one to each brother. “But I thought you wanted to go to North Carolina and work on race cars, Gus.”
“My first love has always been motorcycles.” Gus took a sip of beer. “If I had the choice of staying here or moving away, I’d choose Hickory Valley and you clowns, hands down.”
“Then it’s settled.” Rich smacked his hand on the table and signaled for the waitress. “Gus and I will present our plan to Henry before I fly out to Dallas late tonight. I’m in for my share of co
sts for whatever it takes to buy the building, demolish it, and establish a legitimate business you fellas come up with. Let’s order and brainstorm while we eat. I’ll be back on Sunday. Watch out for my girls, will you? Torrie said something about an amusement park with Elsa’s boys, and she was going to enlist your help on Saturday.”
A series of groans and snickers spewed out from Gus and Finn’s mouths.
“And one more favor.”
“Sure, man.” Gus gave him an evil look. “What can be worse than spending an afternoon on thrill rides at an amusement park with four squealing, sticky-fingered kids?”
With a smug grin, Rich’s gaze flashed around the table. “I need you to find homes for six kittens before your precious niece and my darling daughter get permanently attached to the little fur balls.”
“You are really pushing your luck, man,” Gus said.
****
Torrie sat at Elsa’s kitchen table with her hands propped under her chin and an unfinished slice of cinnamon toast beside her. Outside, a pale, uncertain Saturday sun struggled to heave itself over the horizon to greet the day. Faint rays peeked from behind low early morning clouds to shine weakly on the damp summer lawn. Soon its rays would light up the kitchen windowsill and the array of herbs Elsa cultivated in colorful pots.
On the table, a vintage white rose, one of the first of the season, stood in a cut-glass bud vase. From the backside of the house, Torrie could hear the whispers and giggles of Elsa’s boys and those of Estella and Iris as they roused themselves awake. There was excitement in the air ever since she had told them, when she arrived with the girls yesterday, she was taking all of them to an amusement park. By late morning, it would be a glorious day for enjoying rides, French fries, ice cream, and lots of giggles at Thrills and Spills Wonderland. She only hoped she and Gus could keep everyone happy, and she could devise a plausible excuse to escape riding any of the four roller coasters at the park. She hated heights and open cars on rails traveling at breakneck speeds.
But it wasn’t amusement rides troubling Torrie the most. All week she pondered her dilemma with Rich Redman. He had flown out on Friday evening to Texas to finish some business. He was planning to take her to dinner on Sunday night when he returned. She suspected he would choose the German restaurant beside Gibson Lake where they had first dined.
Torrie knew it was time to make a decision about their relationship and his offer of marriage. She was being unfair to him. If the truth were told, she was in love with him and his precocious little daughter. Even though they had only been together again for four weeks, the pull between them was indisputable. She had to admit she had harbored a secret crush on him since she was eleven years old and hung like an idiot upside down on her monkey bars, daring him to best her. He was one of the most generous men she’d ever met. Thanks to him, she no longer had to worry about Ivan Winters and her loan. Rich unselfishly offered security, continuity, and stability. And not only for her, but for Iris as well. It was wonderful to be around someone who found the details of your average, everyday life fascinating, or could sit around a table of females with cardboard crowns on their pink highlighted hair and stuffed animals under their arms and be completely relaxed and comfortable. And his crooked, sexy grin would melt any woman’s insides. So why was it so hard to take the plunge? Maybe because for the second time in her life, she just might be in love. And it was absolutely terrifying.
“Have you brooded long enough?” Elsa asked, stirring Torrie from her thoughts as she came into the kitchen, slipping on a pair of silver hoop earrings to accent her tailored blue suit. “You’re on breakfast detail. I promised Lars I’d meet him in a half hour at the dealership to help with some business he has in upstate New York.”
“Gee whiz, Elsa, I don’t know what to do.” Torrie sighed.
“With the roses? With your life? Or with Rich Redman? I need a little direction here before I offer some unsolicited advice.” Elsa smiled, slipped the carafe from the coffeemaker, and poured them both a cup. She sat across from Torrie and shoved the cream and sugar toward her. “You know, worry is like being stuck in deep mud. The wheels keep turning, but nothing happens.”
“But did you ever worry about giving up your freedom? Your independence?” Torrie asked.
“Well, there were no bells clanging in my head as a reassuring sign Neil and I were meant for each other.” Elsa gave a half laugh. “And I never thought about giving up any freedom, but rather how terrific it would be to have someone who cared for me—to have someone to share my accomplishments with and someone to bolster me in my failures. Neil gives me a sense of belonging. He’s not a person who would demand my undivided attention and devotion only to him. And Rich Redman is the last person who’d ever steal your freedom from you. I have the feeling he likes strong independent women. And he’s a romantic at heart. He’ll love and treasure you to the ends of the earth.” Elsa took a sip of coffee. “Maybe it’s time you moved on with your life.”
“I know.” Staring into the coffee cup like it was a crystal ball, Torrie took another teaspoon of sugar and stirred it into the brown liquid.
“Marriage is not a fifty-fifty union,” Elsa said. “It’s one-hundred percent merging with another hundred percent to make two-hundred percent. And it has to have flexibility because sometimes, as a wife, you’ll have to carry more than a hundred percent of the workload, and other times those numbers drastically flip-flop. It’s give and take, Torrie. The question you have to ask yourself is: Do you love him?”
Elsa rose, went to the window and looked out, then turned and smiled. “So if you’re going out to dinner again on Sunday night, how about you rummage through my closet while I’m gone and pull out my aquamarine dress to wear? And shoes. Wait until you see what I bought. A pair of silver sandals with four-inch heels. Together, they’ll make Rich Redman think he’s the luckiest man alive when you two reconnect tomorrow! So lucky that hunky Rich will rue the thought of taking you to dinner and wasting time eating in a restaurant.”
“Gee whiz, Elsa, you have to stop playing up the sex angle.”
Elsa laughed. “I’m a married women with two kids. Please let me have my fantasies.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rich Redman paced the kitchen from the French doors back to the sink and over to the oven and back again where Lulu was finishing up washing some pots and pans. On each pass, he stopped long enough at the sink to jingle the change in his pocket before setting off again.
Lulu’s sudsy hands flew out of the sink, sending bubbles into the air. “Would you stop the infernal pacing!” she scolded. “For criminy sakes, you’re making me nervous. Everything is ready. The dinner will be perfect.” She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and tore her yellow apron off from around her slight frame. “All the food is warming nicely in the oven. Just keep the foil covers on until the last minute when you serve the food onto the plates.”
She glanced over at Rich, who was back at the stove, peering into the oven with the inside light on. “What do you hope to see in there? Oven imps? Trust me, Richard Lee, you can’t mess this dinner up. A child could serve roast beef and vegetables.”
“Lulu, have you ever seen me cooking anything?” Rich slumped against the counter and crossed his arms, watching her put away the last of the bowls and pots she had used.
“No, come to think of it, I don’t believe I have.”
“Case closed. I could mess this up without any effort.”
“You’re telling me that you’ve never cooked anything?”
“Do Ramen noodles count?” Rich pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at the little woman.
“Oh, boy.” She looked at him like he had grown two heads, but she recovered quickly.
“And I want this to be perfect.”
“It will be perfect.” Lulu grabbed her purse from the counter and went to him, patting him on the arm. “You’ll be fine. Once she sees that gigantic diamond, she won’t even be hungry. At least not for dinner.”<
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“Lulu!”
“For pity’s sake, Richard Lee Junior, get yourself a stiff drink to calm your jittery nerves. Use some of that expensive whiskey hidden in the study and go outside and cool off. Try counting the number of twinkle lights you had Gus string all over the back porch to look like Disney World. Meditate or star gaze. But please settle down. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Lulu.” He wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders. “You’re the best. I owe you!”
“You finally got that right, knucklehead.” She winked and headed for the door.
Minutes later, Rich went out to the decorated porch with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. It was a perfect night for a romantic outdoor dinner. The air was balmy and overhead stars, bright as the twinkle lights on the porch, were scattered across an inky sky.
“Lovely night, Richard Lee,” a voice said from the side of the porch.
Caught off guard, Rich jumped and choked on a mouthful of his drink. He swallowed so suddenly the whiskey burned a trail clear down to his toes. He coughed, his eyes watering, and fished out an ice cube, popping it in his mouth to soothe his throat. “For the love of Pete, you have to stop popping up like this, Grandmother Gertie. You have to go to the next dimension or I’m going to go crazy. What don’t you understand about heaven and hell?”
He drew in a huge breath. “I finished everything you requested in the letter. I found the jewels and I located my half-sister. We have the vintage roses robustly growing from both grafting and cuttings. What more do you want? See all those stars up there?” He waved his hand frantically at the sky. “Go find them. Go find cloud nine. Please go to the Light. Cut me a break and pleeeeese go to the Light or tell me what I need to do to get you out of my hair forever.”
“Get a grip, Richard Lee,” Gertie scolded.
“No, I’m serious. Dead serious. No pun intended. Must I smudge every room in this old house with sage? Call a priest to sprinkle holy water? Get a shaman with divination skills?”
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