“I actually sold my last package the other day, but my plan was to package and label some new teas today. If you like I can get you small a tin of it right now.”
She nodded, her expression eager.
I invited them to look around while I mixed some spearmint tea with a sprinkle of damiana, which is a reputed aphrodisiac. For good measure I added pinches of herbs and spices to inspire feelings of passion, including cinnamon and basil, and I labeled it “Passion Potion.” I decided I’d sell it at cost. If nothing else, it would be a bracing cup of minty tea.
I set a bit of the mixture aside. I knew a few people who’d be willing guinea pigs, my mother being at the top of that list.
A moment later she was walking out of the shop with her husband, and talking about returning to their motel room and having some of the brew.
19
Thursday had rolled around, and it was time for another Autumn Daze Nights.
This week’s festivities were a bit larger, more lavish than the previous week’s. The weather was a bit cooler and more leaves were shifting into autumn hues, so it truly felt like a fall night.
More seasonal decorations – including lights, pumpkins and hay bales – had been arranged throughout the downtown area, so the atmosphere was festive.
I’d been in a baking mood so I had trays of homemade cookies, chocolate-dipped pretzel sticks and scones to offer customers. I was also offering my usual quick twenty-dollar palm readings, and Vanessa also was working in my shop that evening.
She was dressed in a periwinkle blue wrap dress and knee-high black boots. Her long blonde hair was curled into soft waves that cascaded down her shoulders. She had her nails manicured in her favorite delicate nude pink polish to show off rings and bracelets from my shop.
I stood in the middle of my store and looked around. Everything seemed tidy and in place. Suddenly I saw the protective flower arrangements I’d had set up around the store were gone.
“What happened to my flowers?” I asked Vanessa. Everything was gone except for the daffodils. They continued to multiply, but the poppy remained in the middle, as red as ever.
“I’ll give you a clue,” she said, as she nibbled on a pretzel stick. “Fiona.”
“Let me guess. She didn’t like the look of them?”
Vanessa nodded. “She said you were crazy to be jamming a bunch of weeds into vases.” She inclined her head to the daffodils. “These guys were the only ones to pass inspection.”
“I had Gerber daisies and lilies in the mix as well,” I grumbled.
“No matter. She said you should have expensive and colorful arrangements set up, because that will inspire customers to spend more money. She let the daffodils be, because of the weird magic going on with them. Plus, she said a big display of spring blooms looks exotic and expensive in October.”
I sighed. That definitely sounded like my mother. There went my extra barrier of magical protection.
“Why’d you have all those odd plants mixed in? A lot of them did look like they were plucked from the roadside. Did they have some kind of magical purpose?”
“They did indeed,” I told her.
Tom and my mother then emerged from the back of their house and made their way across the parking lot. Upon spying Tom’s progress, Vanessa and I hurriedly hid one large plate of baked goods to ensure he wouldn’t eat everything before guests had a chance to sample them.
“Are they …?” Vanessa asked, her mouth hanging open. As we got a closer look, we began laughing hysterically.
Tom was dressed in a top hat and tails, a red carnation in his lapel. He carried a pearl-tipped walking stick. My mother was all in white, decked out in a beaded tea-length flapper gown replete with a white ostrich feather boa, a beaded cap, and arm-length satin gloves. She held a jet-black cigarette holder and had her lips painted a tomato red hue.
Instead of making their way to the side door of my boutique, they went around to the front of the shop. I saw my mother wave over a tourist, asking the young man to take their photo. A few other cell phone cameras clicked and flashed as other folks on the street started snapping pictures of the outlandish duo. Tom and my mother happily waved and posed. Mom then announced in a loud, clear voice, that they had just gotten married and were celebrating with a night on the town.
We heard a chorus of congratulations and a smattering of applause as they continued to wave and bow to their audience.
“Give ’em a thrill, my little cactus flower,” Tom said.
That was all my mother needed. She started doing a few Charleston dance steps, and I saw her raise the hem of her dress a few inches to flash a hint of garter.
“Your mom is something else,” Vanessa chuckled. “I’m going to take some pictures and post them on Facebook for your shop and Thingamajigs.” She grabbed her phone and ran outside. “That’s Tom and Fiona Wheeler,” she proudly told the crowd. “They own Thingamajigs over there, and Fiona’s daughter Poppy owns Blue’s Boutique here.”
She quickly shot off a few photos and dashed inside. A few appreciative wolf whistles followed her.
A moment later the crowd settled down and the newlyweds made their way into my shop.
“I see the bride and groom have arrived,” Vanessa said, then started humming a few bars of Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” as my mother curtseyed and Tom bowed.
“Yes,” Mom said. “We bought these outfits in Vegas, but didn’t end up wearing them, so we figured there’s no time like the present. We’ll be strutting the town tonight,” she said, while Tom slowly twirled her so she could show off her sparkly sheath.
Once he let go of her hand he instantly went over to a plate of sweets. “Are these chocolate chip cookies?”
“Yes, Tom,” I replied. “I’ve been baking all week. There are also chai sugar cookies, white chocolate and raspberry macadamia nut cookies, and oatmeal and cranberry cookies.”
My mother turned away from us and flung up the back of her dress, revealing a pair of hot pink panties monogrammed with “The Mrs.” over both butt cheeks. She wiggled her rear and addressed Tom. “Take a bite out of this, darling.”
Vanessa and I simply looked at one another in amazement as Tom ignored the cheeky gesture. He picked up a chocolate chip cookie, his face beatific as he took a bite. He instantly looked over the tray, already deciding on what his next option would be. Vanessa and I smirked at one another.
My mother looked over the cookies. “Tom! Don’t make a pig of yourself!” she chided.
She came over to the counter, and picked up a scone and took a nibble. “Cranberry-orange?”
I nodded.
Tom turned his head in our direction, cookie number two in hand. “There’s more?”
“Yes, Tom, but pace yourself. These girls are offering the treats to customers.”
“In that case, pick something out for yourself, Fiona.”
I told him he didn’t need to do that. He was family, after all.
“Vanessa. Wrap up three of those candles,” he said, crumbs flying from his mouth. “One of the ones that smells like something I’d like to eat, and two of something flowery for Fi here.” He paused, looking at some of my teas on display. “What’s this? Passion Potion?”
My mother’s head snapped in the direction of the display. “What?” She tottered over and picked up the tin, eyeing it with curiosity. “This is new.”
“It’s just something that was suggested, more on a whim,” I said, waving it off.
“It has damiana,” my mother said. “What’s that?”
“It’s commonly touted as an aphrodisiac.”
“Does it work?”
“I don’t really know. I just thought I’d put a couple tins out. I’m selling them at a slight markup and awaiting feedback.”
Mom kept looking at the tin of tea with avid interest.
“If you want to try one, go ahead,” I said. “How’s this: You get one free with the purchase of three candles?”
My mother ha
nded the tin to Vanessa so she could package it.
Tom handed a fifty-dollar bill to her to pay for the candles.
Vanessa began to hand him five dollars in change along with the bag of candles, and my mother neatly intercepted the cash, pocketed it and handed him the sack.
“Tom, go put this in the kitchen and come back. We’ll go take a walk and see what’s happening around town tonight,” my mother said.
“You’re not opening your shop?” Vanessa asked.
My mother shook her head, finishing her scone. “No. Business tends to be slow for us for these types of events. We’ve got some orders for reclaimed wood and antique farm equipment so we’ve got a good bottom line – a very good one – this month. Vanessa,” she said, eyeing the young girl. “You look very pretty tonight. That blue suits you.” She then turned and scrutinized me thoroughly.
“Do I pass inspection, too?” I hazarded to ask.
“You do. That emerald green looks good on you. And you wore a dress. Again. It shows that you have a figure. You also wore your hair down, which is as rare as you dressing like a girl.” She paused and looked me over with greater intensity. “Who is he?”
“What?” I asked.
“You live in and for comfort. If you put on a dress that actually shows you have breasts, a waist and a butt, that means you’re showing it off for someone.”
Vanessa tittered. I gave her a dirty side-eyed glance. “What?” the young woman replied. “Fiona’s clearly on to something. Who is he?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s no one.”
Both looked at me doubtfully and crossed their arms simultaneously.
“Oh wait. It’s Roger Montgomery, isn’t it?” Vanessa asked. “You had lunch with him the other day.”
“Ooooohhh.” Mom’s interest was piqued. “Share details. That’s an order, not a request.”
“I just went out to lunch with him the other day. And if I’m being honest, I do like him … a little bit.”
“I think more than a bit,” my mother snorted.
“If you don’t watch it I’ll put you on palm-reading duty,” I snapped.
“So long as I get to keep what I earn, I’m fine with that. Plus I can charge extra since I’ll be a fortune-telling bride and can tell girls I’ll bring them luck.” She continued, waving her fingers by her temple.
“You might be onto something with that pitch,” I said.
“So are things heating up between the two of you?” Mom pressed.
“We honestly just chatted some and had lunch. That’s where we’re at in this particular story.”
“And you’re dressing like that, hoping he’ll come in and like what he sees.”
“Do I even have to bother with a yes?”
The wheels were turning in my mother’s head. “So, Roger Montgomery. Yes, I’ve met him before. Nice. Tall. Handsome. His family has money. About your age. I believe he’s a year or two younger than you. That’s good. Much better than someone who is more than a decade older than you, like your father was with me.”
There she went, bringing up my father again. “Do you have to mention age gaps?”
“What? I don’t think the age differences amount to any good. At first it’s not such a big deal, but wait until later.”
“Tom’s older than you.”
“But only by five years. That’s not a bad difference.”
“I’ll keep that magical number in mind,” I snarked.
“Now,” Mom continued. “Since you’re a touch older than him, you might have to work harder because you don’t have the luxury of being five or ten years younger than he is.”
“Mom, you are so progressive.”
“I know, dear.”
“You clearly didn’t catch the intended sarcasm.”
“Oh, I caught it, but because our world isn’t as progressive as it should be, you do have to keep these woman-man age gaps in mind. Youth is king. Or queen, as it were, when it comes to being a woman.”
Vanessa opened her mouth to argue.
“Don’t quarrel with me on that, Vanessa. I’m not making the rules. I’m simply stating what they are. You have some solid advantages, however. You’re in your early twenties, are one hot number, and you have enormous tits.” Mom made a cupping motion over her own breasts to indicate just how amply endowed Vanessa was. Then she turned to me. “Poppy, you may be thirty, but you have a lot of my good looks. Plus you have bigger tits than anyone in my gene pool, thanks to your father’s side of the family. A couple of those women in that pack even topped Vanessa’s endowments.”
“Their poor shoulders,” Vanessa griped, rubbing at her neck.
My mother ignored her and continued. “Poppy, you just need to work on the advantages Mother Nature gave you, and build on them with clingy V-neck sweaters and a good push-up bra.”
I shimmied my shoulders in Vanessa’s direction. “Well, I’ve just got to show these puppies off! That’s all I need to do and I’ll be married in no time. Then everything will be right in the world and nothing else can ever go wrong again when I have that magical ring on my finger.”
My mother waved my continued efforts at sarcasm, continuing her odd pep talk. “In that dress, if he comes in here tonight, he’ll be more than happy to peruse your merchandise, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Okay,” I sighed. Sometimes it was easier to simply agree with my mother. Tonight was one of those times.
The bell rang over my shop door and – speak of the devil – in walked the Montgomery brothers. Wyatt had a date on one arm and was rather forcefully pulling Roger along with the other. To my dismay, Roger also had a girl’s arm entwined with his.
My mouth went dry in shock and I felt my face grow hot. I hoped I wasn’t turning beet red, but my cheeks burned even more as I struggled to collect myself.
Mom gave me a knowing smirk and pinched my cheek. “Oh, seeing is truly believing,” she said as her eyes landed on Roger.
I hurriedly clamped my mouth shut, pasted on the biggest smile I could muster, and greeted the foursome.
“Welcome, welcome. What a lovely foursome we have here. Out on a double date tonight?”
Wyatt smiled, and Roger turned and looked downward.
“Yes,” Wyatt nodded. He inclined his head to each of us in turn, his eyes lingering a moment too long on Vanessa. “I’m on a date with Brittany here,” he said, indicating the blonde with ample assets who had been in my shop earlier that week. Since Vanessa had shot him down he apparently found another woman with similar endowments but none of the depth. Brittany still wore jarring blue contact lenses and had donned a short skirt and tight, midriff-baring sweater that ended an inch above her waist, showing a band of bare skin. She inhaled and stretched to puff out her chest, which caused the sweater to hike up farther.
“Her sister is in town, and ol’ Rog here is her date for the night.” Wyatt inclined his head toward Heather. Both women looked thrilled to be out on the town with two men, especially from the way each girl clung to her respective date’s arm. Brittany seemed more confident, however, while her sister seemed more desperate.
I nodded at the quartet, my smile set like I had lockjaw.
A moment later Tom followed them in. “I’ve got your candles put away, Fi. Oh, hello there, Roger, Wyatt. Out on the town?”
The brothers nodded – Wyatt enthusiastically, Roger less so – and introduced their dates again.
“Good to meet you two young ladies. You okay, dear?” he asked, looking at Heather. “You’re hanging on a bit tight there. Are you afraid you’ll somehow float away?”
Heather had the grace to look abashed and loosened her grip on Roger’s arm slightly. He visibly relaxed at the gesture, and Heather looked down.
Tom glanced over at me. “Poppy, why is your face so red?”
I shut my eyes and wished the floor would swallow me whole.
“Well, we’re glad to see you all on this fine fall evening,” Vanessa said, tactfully changing the sub
ject. I seriously do not value that woman enough. “Poppy is offering readings, and we have some treats for all to enjoy. Many of our items are on sale tonight.”
“And I’m offering readings, too,” my mother cut in. I suspect she picked up on my rapidly blackened mood. “Twenty-five dollars for fifteen minutes.”
“Oh, I’ve never had a reading before,” Brittany said, turning to her sister. “Neither have you. We should get one.”
“I do palms,” my mother said. “My daughter Poppy here does both cards and palms. Let’s get you set up in the corner there and we’ll read your fates. You boys can pay for your dates and have a cookie. My daughter made them, by the way, so when your taste buds have orgasms, you’ll know who to thank.” My mother moved to claim Brittany for her own, then turned toward the brothers. “Or if you two gentlemen would also like to know your futures, we’ll cut you a deal and do all four for eighty dollars.”
“That sounds fun,” Heather said. “Can we all get readings?” She looked up, landing a hopeful gaze on Roger.
Wyatt and Roger agreed, albeit rather unenthusiastically. Wyatt nudged Roger with his elbow, the older brother giving him an annoyed look as he fished for his wallet and pulled out four twenties. “Who do I pay?” Roger asked.
My mother swooped in claimed the money. I gave her a look and mouthed “You owe me half of that.” Probably more. She shrugged, blasé.
“Can I get read with my date?” Heather asked.
My mother shook her head. “Single readings only.”
“Then who should go first?” Brittany piped up.
“Just flip a coin,” Tom said through a mouth of partially eaten cookie.
“Good idea,” my mother said. “Men can be tails, for obvious reasons, and the ladies can be heads.”
It was tails.
I wasn’t sure which brother I’d get, but Roger insisted that I read his hand.
“I thought so,” my mother grinned.
“Thought what,” Heather asked.
“Never you mind, young lady. You’ll get your turn in a minute,” my mother said, as she pulled Wyatt toward my regular reading table.
Giving Up the Ghost Page 17