Wildfire and Roses

by Hope Malory

  “That’s so not like you.”

  “What am I supposed to do? The insurance money will cover only a fraction of the replacement costs of the building and current inventory. It would be like starting over, except on a smaller scale than when I bought it. I want to scream. Why is being an adult so hard?”

  Brenner did what she said she would do and took the day off to help with the many details that required her attention. Blake stayed and took over, encouraging Beasley to relax and let him take care of things. Bradley drove down from Kingston and brought several casseroles his wife had prepared. He spent the day helping Blake do chores around the house. The other two brothers offered to come help. Even Baxter, who lived in California, said he would fly to Tennessee. Beasley assured them she appreciated their offers but had plenty of help. They called every day. After three days, she had to run Blake off, insisting she was okay, and she promised to call him if she needed anything.

  The week crawled by. She had the company laptop at her house, so she plugged in the office password and clicked on the financial icon once again. She had studied the financials a dozen times. No matter how many times she ran the figures, the funds from the insurance wouldn’t be enough without incurring huge debt.

  Her mother’s mantra was “live within your means.” Her parents, her mother in particular, had drilled into them to never borrow money. Yet she had taken out a small loan to purchase equipment with plans to pay it off before the due date. They wouldn’t have approved of her taking on any financial obligation, much less the amount necessary to reconstruct Beasley’s Gardens to make it what it was before the fire. Her mother’s words echoed in her ears: “Never go into debt. Better to live with what you can afford than lose it.” What am I going to do?

  Chapter 24

  Brenner was unable to leave her work to go with Beasley to Florida. Two employees were on extended leave from the dance studio. When she offered to wait a few weeks, Brenner insisted she go by herself.

  She boarded the plane, choosing a seat beside a woman with silver hair, sad eyes, and spotted hands that vibrated with what appeared to be Parkinson’s. They smiled and nodded at each other, but the lady seemed to want her privacy as much as she did. The young female next to the window wearing designer jeans and a cashmere sweater, didn’t look up when she took the seat beside Beasley. The Rolex on her wrist looked authentic.

  After she settled in the center seat and the jet took off, she thought about her great-aunt. What a life she had led. Her husband, Bryce Emmersen, came from East Coast money and graduated from Princeton with a degree in economics. After graduation, he landed a position at the World Bank, and they relocated to Brussels.

  Jacqueline came from a middle-class family, but she had earned a diploma from a prestigious all-girls college. When they moved, she secured a job in Brussels with NATO as an aide in a diplomat’s office. Her boss had recognized her potential and kept promoting her. A few years later, she became a diplomat herself.

  She napped throughout the rest of the trip.

  The pilot’s voice came through the speakers, announcing their descent into Daytona. The flight had been short and uneventful, the way she liked it. She had declined Jacqueline’s offer to pick her up at the airport, choosing instead to rent a car so she would have more freedom to explore the area.

  The sea air, the palm trees, and the sight of the ocean during the drive to visit her great-aunt had already lifted her spirits. Jacqueline’s miniature schnauzer, Cricket, yipped at the sound of the doorbell. When Jacqueline opened the front door, her face was wreathed in smiles. She opened her arms and encircled her in a loving embrace. “Come in, my dear. It’s wonderful to have you here.”

  She kissed the warm, paper-thin skin on her great-aunt’s cheek. Cricket yelped a greeting. She reached down to ruffle her head. “Hi, cutie. I’m glad to see you too.”

  Jacqueline’s haircut, a stylish bob, and her thin frame from daily walks on the beach reminded Beasley of Nonna. She surveyed the palatial, high-ceilinged condo with its generous crown molding and paintings from countries all over the world displayed on the muted aqua walls. The stately, ornate grandfather clock they had shipped to the States from their time in Brussels, chimed three times. The room was a welcoming space and a place to sit and read or chat with friends. The scents of cinnamon and sugar filtered in from the kitchen. “Are you baking my favorite cinnamon rolls?”

  “Yes, I took them out of the oven a moment ago. Why don’t you put your bags in the guest room, and we’ll have one when you return? Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “I would love some.” She moseyed through the short hallway to the bedroom bathed in light shining in through the towering windows and layered with a peach glow from the pastel paint on the walls. Her bed for the next week was a white four-poster topped with a sumptuous down comforter encased in an aqua duvet. A floor lamp and a white wicker reading chair with a thick peach and aqua printed cushion graced a corner adjacent to a bookshelf. She would be comfortable in the cozy surroundings during her stay.

  Without delay, she unpacked. Her mouth watered as she recalled the treats waiting for her. Since she had eaten a small salad at the airport hours before, hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach.

  Fresh tulips splayed from a blue vase centered on the bistro table set with two cups of tea and a platter of warm, glazed rolls.

  Beasley bit into one of the pastries and rolled her eyes. “These are as yummy as I remember. So, what’s on the agenda?”

  “This is your week, dear. Tonight, we can walk on the beach and go into town for dinner if you like. My usual routine includes a bridge club meeting here on Tuesday, volunteering at the library on Thursday morning, and a weekly lunch with friends on Friday. You are welcome to come along. Other than that, we can do whatever you want together, or if you want to explore without a feisty old lady slowing you down, you may go wherever you please.”

  “Come on, you are not old, but you are feisty. Most people half your age can’t keep up with you. I don’t want to go on a lot of tourist excursions while I’m here. For such a long time, it has been so stressful that a week relaxing at the beach sounds perfect.” She peered through the glass doors to the ocean. “Your view is incredible.”

  “That sold me on the condo. The sand and sea always tug at me. At this stage in my life, I can slow down and enjoy. Most mornings, I sit on the balcony and watch the sunrise.”

  “I would do the same if I had a view like that.”

  Jacqueline and her husband never bore children. They had traveled the world and rubbed shoulders with high-powered people. Twelve years ago, when they retired and returned to the US, they bought a home in Maryville, Tennessee, to be closer to family. Despite being overqualified, they both acquired jobs at Maryville College. With his expertise in economics, he became Chair of the Division of Social Sciences, and she began as a history professor and later became Chair of the Division of Humanities until Bryce died.

  ~ ~ ~

  After returning home from their feast at a local seafood restaurant, Jacqueline retreated to her room to read before going to bed.

  Before Beasley had boarded the plane, she turned her phone off and didn’t bother to turn it back on. How gratifying not to be tied to an electronic device. She pressed the on button and found texts from Brenner and Will, both of whom were checking to confirm she arrived in Ormond Beach. A smile crossed her lips. They were attentive, approaching the point of hovering. So were her brothers, Blake most of all. It meant a lot to her. Despite her protests she could handle everything on her own, Will had called her every day since the fire. His composed demeanor helped her persevere through the nightmare. During several of the calls, he encouraged her to come to California for a visit. She postponed answering him, uncertain if her heart could take being so close to him and then having to leave again.

  ~ ~ ~

&nb
sp; She slept late, a rare luxury. Easing out of bed, she opened the curtains to view the ocean before dressing in shorts, a tank top, and wind shirt. When she went into the kitchen, she found a note beside the sink.

  Out running errands. Be home by 11:00.

  Jacqueline

  She reached in the cabinet for a glass and crossed the cool stone floor to retrieve orange juice and cream cheese from the refrigerator. After pouring her juice and spreading the cream cheese on a bagel, she sank into the padded chair. Sunlight streamed through the hurricane-reinforced French doors and reflected on the glass-top table where she savored her breakfast and the views. The ocean beckoned. She stepped outside and sank into a chaise. At almost ten o’clock, it was warmer than average for early January.

  From the balcony, she scanned the area. An employee finished cleaning the heated salt water lap pool and washed the deck. Guests draped towels on the backs of chaises, claiming their spots. A young man swam laps, freestyle on the first length and back stroke on the return lap. Blue skies and puffy mounds of clouds hovered over the sapphire ocean.

  She understood why Aunt Jacqueline had fallen in love with this place and remembered the story she told them about her move:

  We planned to retire at the end of the semester, then Bryce died of his heart attack. I rattled around in that huge house for weeks. It held so many memories. I submitted my retirement papers and left to spend ten days at Ormond Beach, one of our favorite vacation spots. While there, I read an ad for a two-bedroom condo. The idea of moving rooted in my mind. After researching comparable properties, I made a below-market offer, and they accepted. Now, I live here, and I have never regretted the move.

  Beach-walkers stopped to take pictures of the two dolphins arcing gracefully out of the ocean. She watched as a fisherman reeled in an impressive-sized fish. Cricket came through the open door and scrambled up beside her, looking up with pleading eyes. Her food and water bowls were full. “Do you want to go outside?”

  Cricket’s tail thumped, and she scrambled toward the front door.

  “I guess that’s a yes.” Although she loved dogs, Brenner’s schedule was as erratic as hers, and it wouldn’t be fair if they couldn’t provide proper care for a puppy. She slipped her shoes on and grasped the spare house key from the counter. Cricket’s leash hung from a hook inside the cabinet beside the entry. “Come on, sweet girl. Let’s go for a walk.” Cricket wagged her tail and jumped in a circle.

  They traipsed across the Granada Bridge that spanned the Halifax River and Intracoastal Waterway. The bridge linked the mainland and peninsula of Ormond Beach. The blooms on the salvias, zinnias, and crepe myrtles seized her attention on the way back. Cricket barked at other passing dogs. The Princess, as she called Cricket, pranced down the sidewalk with her head held high as they returned to the condo. While she put the leash on the hook, Cricket raced past her to the water bowl. She made a face and laughed when the tiny dog lapped the water so fast it splashed on the surrounding tile. “You’re a thirsty girl,” she said as she reached for a paper towel to clean up the mess. Since Jacqueline wasn’t due home for another twenty minutes, Beasley scrawled a note saying she had walked Cricket and was going down to the beach.

  She removed her shoes and buried her toes in the white powder. The ocean roared as waves crashed on the shore, leaving glossy trails where the surf receded to reveal smooth, hard-packed, wet sand. Sandpipers scurried across in search of food. White herons bobbed their heads as they marched on long, spindly legs and yellow feet. Cyclers whizzed past on their wide-tired bikes. Families built sand castles.

  She dipped her toes in the water, a cool breeze blowing on her face. What can be better than this?

  She slid her running shoes on, laced them up, and jogged, leaving prints in the sand. During her jog, she daydreamed about being here with Will paddle boarding or windsurfing. In her mind, they jogged and biked on the beach, laughing and enjoying each other. A short-lived wave of peace washed over her. The smile soon faded as worry about her business that had literally gone up in smoke invaded her daydream. She shook her head, trying to push away the thoughts, but they muscled their way in. Sighing, she turned and headed toward the complex.

  Aunt Jacqueline was not yet there. No doubt she ran into someone she knows. Almost everyone in the community knew Jacqueline Emmersen. She volunteered, attended social group functions, and knew most of the city officials.

  Still fidgety from the memories of the fire, she ambled around, looking at the photographs scattered throughout the condo. Finding a photo of her mother, Brenner, and herself, she reminisced about the time they had visited. Tears stung her eyes when she discovered a shot of the three of them on the beach. With tenderness, she touched her mother’s face. Sometimes, she missed her so much she almost couldn’t breathe.

  Pale blue swathed the walls in Aunt Jacqueline’s room. A crisp white comforter with navy-and-lime-green pillows covered the whitewashed bed. A framed snapshot of Jacqueline with Nonna, swinging their arms to the side, heads back, and laughing, rested on the dresser. They looked to be in their thirties and were stunning young women.

  The condo was spacious. The rooms Jacqueline had decorated to be warm and hospitable, revealed a mix of soft and bold colors, and the deep-teal sofa contrasted with the light walls. White bookshelves filled with recent bestsellers beside old classics lined one wall. The delicate blue flowers on the white bone china displayed in the hutch drew her eye. There were at least two sets of twelve place settings from their days entertaining other diplomats and foreign dignitaries. The bottom cabinets held platters, gravy boats, tea and coffee pitchers, and serving bowls, as well as two silver chests.

  A picture of Nonna and her mother protruded from the lid of a box on the lower shelf. She lifted the container and started sifting through the photographs. Some of them depicted Aunt Jacqueline’s extensive travels. She still traveled to visit friends she’d made over the years. Beasley found photos of her brothers, sister, and herself in front of the Christmas tree when they were little, and there was one of her parents walking hand in hand on the beach.

  She took the box to the long granite bar and climbed onto one of the barstools. Many of the pictures portrayed Aunt Jacqueline and Uncle Bryce dressed in their finest at social events. She gasped when she picked up an image of her mother clothed in a red silk dress—the same one Brenner had found in the attic. So, it was Mama’s and not Nonna’s. Maybe Aunt Jacqueline gave it to her. In her lifetime, she had never seen her mother in anything like it, but she looked beautiful wearing it. She continued to rummage through and unearthed another of her mother wearing the ruby necklace. Hmm.

  Curious, she flipped faster through the photos. Perhaps Aunt Jacqueline could tell her about these. When she turned over the next one, she froze and stared. A key clicked in the front door.

  She whirled around when Jacqueline entered with her arms full of grocery bags.

  Jacqueline nudged the door shut with her foot. “I bought shrimp for tonight and extra for shrimp and eggs for breakfast. How does . . . ?” Jacqueline trailed off when she looked toward her holding up the picture.

  Beasley’s hand shook, and her voice quivered. “You lied to me.”

  Chapter 25

  Beasley planted her feet wide apart and stared, waiting for an explanation. Jacqueline’s years as a diplomat had created her neutral expression. Yet, the almost imperceptible flinch and a sudden pallor gave away her surprise at Beasley’s pronouncement.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Jacqueline spoke. “Dear, I didn’t intentionally deceive you. This is a long story, and I will tell you everything. Come sit in the kitchen, and I’ll explain.”

  Jacqueline sat facing her.

  Beasley articulated her words in a tight, controlled voice. “You assured me you had never met the Devlins; yet, this is a picture of Grainger Devlin with Mama. Why is she with h
im, and why did you tell me you didn’t know him?”

  Jacqueline took Beasley’s hand into hers. “My dear, I told you the truth—I didn’t meet them, because we lived out of the country then. I knew who he was, but your mother swore me to secrecy. Belle was with him because she was married to him.”

  Beasley sucked in her breath, feeling the blow as if someone had struck her in the stomach. Her eyebrows pinched together. “That can’t be true. She would have told us.”

  “Your mother wanted to put her former life behind her. It was a difficult time for her and for your grandparents. Belle fell in love with your father at seventeen when she was a junior in high school. They planned to get married when they graduated.”

  “Why didn’t they?”

  “Benton was a rebel back then. He lacked ambition to go to college and was content with a blue-collar job. Your grandpa, Elliot, always fancied himself an executive, though he never made it there. The ultimate snob, he didn’t like your father because he wanted his daughter to marry well. The summer between Belle’s junior and senior years, Elliot’s firm approached him about a promotion to move to Asheville. Belle longed to stay, but Elliot wouldn’t allow it.”

  Beasley wrinkled her nose. “So, Grandpa almost never came to visit because of his snobbishness. Without a doubt, he didn’t like Daddy, but no one ever explained why.”

  “Oh, he loved Belle and all of you, but he was also a stubborn man. Your Nonna went along with him to avoid disagreement for years, but she came to her senses and realized she needed her family in her life more than she wished to please him and give in to his biases.”

  “Good for her. So, what happened? How did Mama end up marrying a Devlin?” Leaning forward, she placed her elbow on her knee and her chin in her palm.