by Hope Malory
“My sister, the adventurer. I wouldn’t have the nerve to do the things you do. I think you’re nuts, but I’m envious.”
Beasley shook her head. “No reason for you to be. I wish I had your artistic talent. The sketches and oil paintings you do are the best. Although you taught me to dance, I’ll never be half the dancer you are.”
“Let’s face facts. We’re royalty. You are the queen of the outdoors, and I’m queen of the dance floor.”
“So true. Now, let’s make the s’mores.”
They talked about the unearthed items in Nonna’s attic and their plans for working on the house. “Do you think it will be strange to live in the house we grew up in?” Brenner asked.
“A little. So many memories.”
“Yeah, like the tree house our brothers wouldn’t allow girls to invade.”
Beasley laughed. “But we did anyway when they weren’t home. Remember when Bradley tied you to the oak tree?”
“How could I forget? He left, and it was an hour before you got home and rescued me. And what about the time you got mad at me for kicking over the tower you built with blocks and tore the arm off my doll? I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”
“You, little sister, were not so innocent yourself. You cut my hair while I slept.”
Brenner giggled. “Yeah, that was a good one.”
~ ~ ~
The white picket fence still enclosed the yard they had played in as children. The screened-in back porch had often lured Beasley to sit and read or observe the ever-changing colors of the woods surrounding the house.
She surveyed the exterior. The white Cape Cod, built in the 1940s and last renovated in the eighties, had deteriorated after their parents died.
She moaned. “We have a ton of work to do. The cracked sidewalk, the peeling paint, and the rotting wood on the windowsills must be fixed.”
“And that is a fraction of what we need to do,” Brenner added.
Inside, Beasley looked around. “You made a lot of progress.”
“Blake helped. He spent three full days here and promised to paint and work on the yard.”
“That brother of ours still takes care of us.”
The house was sizable with plenty of rooms, but some were cramped. They could knock out walls to make the space more open. Once refurbished, the house would suit their needs.
The kitchen brought back memories of her mother cooking their meals. Running her hand over the laminate countertop, Beasley said, “We need to replace this, but when we complete everything, it will be awesome. The house is sturdy and well built. We’re lucky to have cool architectural details. The wide moldings, the arched doorways, and wainscoting are my favorite features.”
“I like the solid wood panel doors too, but these light fixtures are out of here,” Brenner added.
Beasley squinted through the rain-splattered window to the backyard. The rose garden she had helped her mother plant when she was ten needed care. Each year on the anniversary of her parents’ death, she planted another rose bush. She envisioned a new, lush lawn; walkways; and gardens when she finished her magic. The roses, naturally, would take center stage. After all, she owned a landscaping business.
Brenner made a list of repairs. “Some paint and updating the kitchen and bathrooms will do wonders, and my priority is to put in a dishwasher. The oak floors are in fair shape, but we need to have them sanded and stained. This hideous wallpaper and ancient carpet are the first to go.”
It would be worth all the work to restore the spacious home where she and her five siblings grew up. Though the kitchen would have modern conveniences, they intended to retain the original character of the home. “One must after we refresh the fireplace is building floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on either side to house our massive collection of books. Add that to your list,” Beasley said.
Brenner preceded her upstairs to show her the items from the box she had found in the trunk. “I call dibs on the dress. It isn’t your style, and I love vintage.”
Beasley inspected the form-fitting red silk dress with long sleeves, a scoop neckline, and a six-inch ruffle at the hem. “Absolutely. Looks like it will fit you. Nonna must have been much smaller when she wore this. I can’t imagine her with any of these things, knowing she would consider them extravagant. Let’s continue to search. Who knows what we might find?”
By lunchtime, they had cleared ten more boxes but found nothing unusual. At least nothing to help solve the mystery. Brenner made a one o’clock appointment with a local carpenter for an estimate on replacing doors and hardware on the cabinets. If they painted the base cabinets themselves, along with stripping the wallpaper and repainting the dining room and bathroom, they would save money.
Beasley stayed downstairs and cleaned out a closet while Brenner went upstairs. Later, Brenner called to her. “Come up here. You need to see this.”
Skipping every other step, Beasley raced up to the attic. Brenner showed her a letter she found in the drawer of an old desk.
“Did you find an envelope?”
“No, only this. Would you read it? Because of all the dust in here, my eyes are blurry.”
My Darling,
Time stops when I’m with you. When we’re apart, you are always with me in my heart. From the first moment I saw your gorgeous face, I knew we were meant to be together forever. I miss you. Although I’ll see you in two weeks, it feels like an eternity.
Mother and Father are eager to see you again. They cherish you as much as I do. Soon, you will be my beautiful bride. I want to give you the world and spoil you. I love you more than words can say and always will.
Grainger
“Oh, my gosh. This gets stranger the more we learn. How can we find out about the connection between Nonna and the Devlins?”
Beasley shrugged. “No idea. We’ll keep searching for anything that can tie all this together. After being away from my business, I’ll need to spend long hours there, but I’ll try to fit in a little research. Most of her friends are gone, but some of Mama’s may know something. I’ll check with them. I considered contacting Jacqueline to ask if she had heard of them since she knew Nonna better than anyone.”
As the sole living relative who would know about Nonna’s past, her sister and their great-aunt Jacqueline, was their best shot. Their grandfather had Alzheimer’s before the accident that killed their parents, but the disease worsened afterward. After Nonna and Grandpa moved into the house to care for her and Brenner, he became despondent and gave up. Nonna couldn’t give him the advanced care he needed, which forced her to put him in a nursing home. The last several times Beasley or any of her siblings visited him, he didn’t remember them.
“While you were in California, I texted our brothers, thinking one of them might have heard the name. No luck. If you’ll help me, I’ll load as many boxes as I can pile into my car and go through them later.”
Beasley agreed. “Excellent idea. I’ll take a few too.”
She hopped into her blue late-model, two-door, soft-top Jeep, along with the six boxes she had jammed inside and headed home. She turned on the radio and tuned into her favorite pop station.
“Much better,” she said aloud, thinking about the hip-hop music Brenner had listened to all the way home from the airport yesterday. Knowing she would spend at least twelve hours a day at work for the near future, she made mental notes of what she needed to do: call Jacqueline, go through the boxes, pay bills, go to the grocery store, do laundry, and research the Devlins. She considered calling Will to explain she hadn’t meant she wasn’t interested. But what would that accomplish? It wouldn’t alter the circumstances. Better to move on and forget him.
Chapter 10
Will trained hard for the triathlon scheduled two weeks away, and he was in shape and prepared. Today’s routine in
cluded biking the distance of the race and then running one mile afterward. Since forecasters predicted severe storms for the following day, he planned to go to the gym and then finish the swim portion of his training.
After he completed the bicycle route, he stopped for water. Something caught his eye. Pausing, he put his hand above his eyes to shade them from the sun. A bald eagle perched at the top of a pine tree. Reaching for his cell phone, he took several shots. Scrolling through to see if any were in focus, he stopped at photos of Beasley. Some he had taken the day they spent together on the way back from Yosemite, others at Donner Lake, and one Casey took of the two of them when they all went white-water rafting together. He scanned through the pictures of her and of the two of them together. Happiness reflected on their faces. Is it possible to miss someone this much?
All he had thought about over the few weeks since she left was her. Where was she and what was she doing? Did she think of him? What if she was seeing someone else? The thought gave him a twinge of jealousy. She was in his head.
The few times he had picked up the phone to call since she left, he recalled their last conversation and put it down. It’s obvious, she doesn’t want our relationship to continue. When he had asked her to compete in the triathlon with him, she had said, “I’ll see what I can do.” But they hadn’t talked since she had gone home to Tennessee. Surely, she didn’t plan on returning to California.
During the running leg of his training, he thought of calling her. Since she worked on Fridays, he would wait and call on Saturday.
His relationship with Beasley was so different. His years with Madison had become routine; someone to go places and do things with. Tired of her whining, he’d concluded there was no point in pretending they would have a future together.
With Beasley, things were different. He could envision a future with her. The depth of his affection and passion outweighed anything he and Madison had shared even though he had met Beasley such a short time ago. She seemed to feel those things for him too, but he couldn’t understand her complete reversal before she left.
After lunch, he went into town to run errands. His cell phone chimed, signaling a text.
Cameron: Want to grab a beer and shoot pool?
Will: Sure. 7:00 work for you?
Cameron: Yep. Meet you at Charley’s.
He spotted Cameron’s tousled blond hair right away. The shorts, a faded T-shirt, and sandals were his usual uniform. When Will played pool with Cameron, he rarely won, but on their third game, he did. “Time to quit while I’m ahead.”
They went to the bar and ordered a beer. “You’re in a better mood. The past few weeks, you’ve been in a funk. Was it because of Beasley?”
Will scrubbed a hand along his jawline. “Yeah. We had something, or so I thought. Everything went well until she broke off all communication right before she left. We haven’t talked since.”
“Have you tried to call her?”
“No. I considered it, but I doubt it would make a difference.”
“Don’t do what I did. I was too stubborn to make the first move. Regrets are tough, man. Mine was not trying harder to make it work. At the time, I thought being right was better than being happy.”
“So, that’s what happened between you two. You were great together.”
“I realize it now, but that’s history.”
“You’re both still single; it isn’t too late.”
“I could say the same for you. Call her. The answer may be no, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
~ ~ ~
Beasley rose before the sunrise to run before going to work. She wheeled into Beasley’s Gardens at six-thirty to catch up on paperwork and emails before her employees came to work. The brilliant colors spilling out of the pots of petunias hanging on both sides of the entrance and the air fragrant with blooms of roses and lavender greeted her.
Her friend and former coworker, Kate, had filled in for her during her trip. Kate was efficient and understood the nursery business as well as she did. She smiled when she found Kate’s detailed notes.
“I wish she could be my assistant,” she moaned.
Kate had worked at the nursery when Beasley first got her job with the former owners. A substantial amount of her professional knowledge came from Kate. Soon after Kate and her husband married two years ago, they started a family. They agreed she would stay home when their baby girl, Hannah, was born. Though Beasley begged her several times to return to work, Kate insisted she wouldn’t work until Hannah entered kindergarten. She agreed, however, to fill in occasionally.
Beasley opened her planner to find the appointment with a potential new client Kate had texted her about. Mr. Markus King was a well-known entrepreneur, and construction on his new home in Maryville, northwest of Azalea Valley, neared completion. Although Beasley’s business flourished, the word of mouth alone from this job would elevate her to a new level.
Before leaving town, she had advertised for an assistant, and Kate scheduled the interviews: three for this afternoon and two tomorrow morning. Please let one of them work out. I need someone now, especially if Mr. King awards us the contract.
A drive by his property had generated ideas, but she checked online to search for more. Her presentation needed to be flawless if she expected to win him as a client.
Employees started to arrive, and three customers browsed the lot. Taking a deep breath, Beasley sauntered outside to greet them. One lady wanted annuals or perennials she could plant late summer, and she pointed her to the sun tolerant ones. The woman bought several plants for her beds and more for the two oversized pots she purchased.
The couple who waited while she finished with the first customer, asked several questions. “We want to plant dogwoods. Is it the right time?”
She introduced herself. “The best time to plant them is during the dormant season in late fall through early spring. With proper care, you can plant our B and B dogwoods—that’s balled and burlapped—now. The summer heat stresses them out. You really need to water them well for the first two weeks. Let me show you some that might work for you.” Before making her recommendations, she asked about the location and amount of sun and shade the trees would get. After they mentioned they also wanted shade trees and knockout roses, she showed them several species. “The yellow knockouts are the only ones that smell like roses.” The couple purchased a few yellow ones along with two American red maples, and five dogwoods. She gave them printed instructions for planting and caring for the trees and offered for them to call her if they had questions.
When she arrived at the office, it was almost time for her first interview. It had been a productive morning so far.
The day raced by. Out of the three interviews, one was a possibility. A steady stream of paying customers and lookers passed through the nursery. The receptionist came into her office to complain. The accountant, Rhoda Cordasco, was on a rampage again. Beasley listened and assured her employee she would address it. When Rhoda snapped at Beasley a short while later, she called her into the office right then and braced for a confrontation.
“Listen, Rhoda, you can’t talk to me nor the other employees like that. I’ve heard frequent complaints about your inexcusable behavior. I need a little more respect from you.”
Adopting a patronizing air, Rhoda retorted, “Well, if you have a problem with my work, I’ll—”
Beasley held up her hand and interrupted. “I don’t have a problem with your performance, but you need to change your attitude, or you can find another job. Oh, and the reports I asked you for yesterday, bring them within the hour. Do you understand?”
With obstinacy etched on her face, Rhoda said, “The information is on your computer.”
Bristling, Beasley stiffened. Her pulse pounded in her temples.
“I don’t suppose you want to elaborate on that. Since when is it my job to do your job? Bring them to me.”
Rhoda nodded. “Is that all?”
Struggling to keep her temper in check, Beasley leaned forward, placed her palms on the desk, and said in a controlled voice, “Get out of my office.” She had more to say on the subject, but instead of uttering the scathing remark already formed on her lips, she shot her accountant a blistering stare and said, “Now, that’s all.”
When Rhoda stalked out of her office, Beasley rubbed her throbbing temples and cursed under her breath. If she doesn’t bring them on time, I swear I’ll fire her. I almost hope she misses the deadline.
Rhoda brought the reports to her minutes before the time limit and plopped them on the desk. Beasley had to bite her tongue to keep from firing her for insubordination. If she knew of another accountant available to hire, she would have. She made a mental note to ask around. To walk off her negative energy, she took a deep breath and marched toward the rear lots. Her landscape supervisor greeted her. “Thanks for sending roses to my wife. She loved them.”
“How is she?”
“Doc says the surgery went well, and she will be fine. Listen, I was on my way to your office. We’re getting low on inventory. Here’s a list of stock we need to order.”
“Thanks, Hank. You’re so efficient. What would I do without you?”
Most of her employees were congenial and dedicated. Rhoda had always been abrupt, more so to other employees, but efficient. The last few months, however, she had become more contentious. Her demeanor today was even more uncharacteristic.
After all the employees left for the day, Beasley locked the gates and the doors to her building. She was proud of her establishment. When she had taken it over, they’d been doing lawn installation and maintenance, as well as the installation of trees, shrubbery, flower gardens, patios, and walkways. Since owning the company, she had added erosion control, irrigation systems, and landscape design. Two months ago, she opened the gift shop. Beasley’s Gardens had grown from a small, local business into a regional enterprise. If Mr. King contracted with her, this would be her third job in Maryville. Due to word of mouth, a Knoxville developer had hired her company to landscape four of their buildings.