At the condo they’d slipped into an amicable routine, and to his amazement, without discussion, they’d smoothed their wrinkles of past umbrage. They’d also evaded mention of the future council vote. But it was always there, about to cause another rift between them. Because of the future, Jeff had accepted his place on Anna’s sofa as her temporary roommate—without pushing for more.
He’d be glad if the council delayed the vote for a decade. But as he leaned his head against the ferry’s window, his cell rang, and the caller ID said “City of Gamble.” As he answered, he said good-bye to his and Anna’s pleasurable days of ignoring the vote, and hello to their inevitable split.
“Jeff Egan,” he said as if he were still at work.
“I thought you’d like to know the council voted not to send your permit to the hearing examiner,” Grabowski said.
“Fine.” Jeff’s word came out more as a sourdough lump than a Joy-to-the-World frosted sugar cookie. A month ago he’d have been ecstatic, but now all he could think of was how unhappy Anna would be.
“The council knew Naomi Blackmore had lawyers lined up and ready to go. Nobody wanted to waste money on a legal fight when she had a right to develop commercial property in a commercial zone,” Grabowski said.
At last he acknowledges the zoning laws. Jeff had traveled a long and torturous route to what should have been that easy goal. “So what next?”
“Proceed as planned. You have a green light. You can start the demolition whenever you want.”
“Okay.”
“Our building inspector will be keeping an eye on you.” Taunt, taunt.
On his deathbed, Grabowski would gather strength to be a jerk. “I’m sure the inspector and I will get along. My plans are up to code,” Jeff said.
For the rest of the trip across the Sound, he stared out the window at distant Olympic Mountains. Funny about success, he thought. You struggle to get ahead in life, but it doesn’t mean much if you have no one to share it with. And when the person you’d like to share it with will hate you for it.
Jeff was about to call Mrs. Blackmore and tell her the news, but he decided to send an e-mail. He wasn’t in the mood to hear her crow about a victory that made him feel sorry.
He pressed his phone’s e-mail icon and typed with two thumbs:
To: Naomi Blackmore
Re: Cedar Place
Council gave go ahead. No hearing. Will call tomorrow to discuss schedule.
And to break Anna’s heart.
When Jeff walked off the ferry, he felt drained. The spring day should have warmed him, but then the weather was probably a teaser and rain would soon roll in. Nevertheless, he held up his face to the sun as he walked toward Rainier. In ten minutes he’d be at the condo to spell Anna and see Earnest, who was now gleeful about his cone liberation.
This time, as Jeff had learned from past mistakes, he would break the news to Anna himself so she wouldn’t hear it from someone else. He owed her that, though he had no idea what to say or how to make her feel better. He’d been racking his brain for a way out of the mess, but nothing had come to him. Because he had to follow through and do his job, he was trapped. The council’s vote marked the end of his and Anna’s new friendship, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Jeff approached the intersection of Rainier and Witt’s End, so named because George Witt’s house, perched above the beach, was the last one on the road. Everybody laughed about that name, and tourists took selfies in front of the street sign. Next to it was another sign, yellow and black, block print: NO TURNAROUND. Once you’d started down the road, that was it.
Farther along Rainier, Jeff came to a Jones & Mulligan Realty sign that had not been up when he’d walked to the ferry that morning. From the Plexiglas box attached to the post, he pulled out a copy of the realtor’s brochure. The lot was for sale. A quarter acre. Flat. One lone apple tree grew at the back in a clump of weeds next to an alley.
The lot was on the edge of the commercial district, far enough from the heart of town to keep the price affordable, but close enough that no one would think twice about walking an extra two blocks. Hmmm. Interesting. Jeff would keep it in mind.
He folded the brochure and slipped it into his pocket. He had to hurry. Jeff would give Earnest raw carrots and zucchini for lunch.
CHAPTER 50
Perched on stools around Plant Parenthood’s counter, Anna, Joy, and Lauren arranged tiny Easter bouquets of violets and lily of the valley in vases made of eggshells, which Anna had hollowed out and dyed soft pastels. With all but her barest essentials moved to the condo, her shop was nearly empty. There was nothing left to carry home at the end of the day but the stools and a few more boxes. That would be it.
“So what are we going to do?” Because Joy had been comforting herself with cookies since the council’s vote, her face looked plumper.
“There’s nothing more we can do. It’s over,” Anna said.
“Isn’t there somebody we can strangle?” Joy asked.
“That wouldn’t help anything,” Lauren said.
“It would help me. I’d feel better if I could strangle Mrs. Scroogemore,” Joy grumbled.
“Anger doesn’t do any good. It’s not worth it,” Anna said. Look what it had done to her and Jeff, and how hard it had made life for Earnest.
Lauren, in a long flowered skirt and velveteen matador’s jacket, sorted through violets. “This fight’s worn me out.”
“I’ve still got plenty of venom to spread around,” Joy said.
“Save it for John and Penelope. They’re going to need it if they have to fight their way back to England,” Anna said.
“He hasn’t escaped from the salt mine yet, and then he has to find her. It’s going to take a while,” Joy said.
“You haven’t written much lately.” Lauren set her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her palms.
“As you both know, we’ve had other things going—not that preparing for the council meeting did us any good,” Joy said.
“We gave it our best shot. We can’t ask more from ourselves than that,” Lauren said.
“But we lost,” Joy said.
“Lost” seemed to echo around the room and bounce off the walls.
That was how Anna felt: lost. Later today she would put daffodils and tulips in Easter bunny vases for April Pringle and Peggy LeClerc, and chocolate eggs into a bird’s nest she’d found in the woods for Tommy, who’d given Igor a new home. The gifts would mark the end of Anna’s floral career in Grammy’s house. Her work and history here would be over.
Also over was her peaceful interlude with Jeff, who’d tried hard to cushion the blow of the council’s vote. He’d moved back to his apartment supposedly because Earnest could now be left at home alone—but Jeff had probably also thought that the sight of him was salt in Anna’s wound. Now the condo felt like it was missing something, and Earnest had gone into a funk. Easter was supposed to be about rebirth, but in Anna’s air hung death by stoicism.
She pulled tiny heart-shaped leaves off a violet’s stem. “This morning I looked on craigslist for another place to rent. There’s nothing.”
“Something has to come up sometime. We’ll find a way to stay together,” Lauren said.
“I wish we could find another old house,” Anna said.
Joy worked a lily of the valley into her bouquet. “Damned Mrs. Scroogemore. And Jeff.”
“He meant well. I believe that now,” Anna said. “He tried to get us into a warehouse, but it won’t be vacant for a few more months.”
“He’s still right up there with the Twit, as far as I’m concerned,” Joy said.
“No, the Twit was cruel. Jeff may have hurt me, but he didn’t intend to.” Anna fluffed up her tiny bouquet and started a new one in another eggshell.
As Anna climbed upstairs, she felt as if she were dragging her heart behind her on a string. Tattered, bruised, and heavy with sadness, her heart bumped on each step. When she reached the turret, she
closed the door and wished that Earnest were here, but he had to stay confined in the condo kitchen for another week. She’d brought home his faux oriental rug and her white wicker rocker, so the turret was as spare as a monk’s cell.
With a sigh, she sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. The peace she always felt here evaded her. Dear house, she said in her mind, I’ve lost you. A bulldozer is going to destroy you in a few days, and there’s no more I can do. I’ve tried hard to save you, but I’ve let you down.
I’m just bricks and boards, the house replied. You can picture me in your memory. That’ll be enough.
Grammy and I won’t be connected anymore, Anna replied.
Piffle! Grammy jumped into the conversation. Girl, I’m not going anywhere. Don’t you know that love is eternal? We’ll always love each other. Stop being glum.
I’ve lost my shop. I can’t find a place to rent, Anna said.
Just wait. Good things come with time, Grammy said. Hope for the best and expect even more.
Right, Anna thought with suspicion. But then, she remembered the love in her nearly full glass. It was a good thing that had come with time. Also, Earnest was healing, and she and Jeff didn’t hate each other anymore.
Go out there and meet your beautiful life like that butterfly did. Remember? Grammy asked.
Anna closed her eyes and pictured the butterfly’s empty chrysalis on the windowsill and the flap of her glorious wings as she’d crossed the lawn. Instead of begrudging her fight to free herself, she’d gone out to greet her fate. It had been waiting for her, full of hope.
Grammy urged, Don’t hold back! Let go! Enjoy!
Till what would have been closing time if Anna still had her shop, she pulled her knees to her chest, looked out at Gamble’s roofs, and thought about Grammy, the house, and the butterfly. Its joyful swoop across the lawn had been a kind of Easter—a pupa’s rebirth in a new form. Slowly, it occurred to Anna that maybe rebirth was going on every minute, everywhere, and, like fights, it was a fact of life. Phoenixes rose, reborn, from ash heaps. In a burst of renewal, daffodils rose from the earth every spring. New ideas sprang from old tired ones. Maybe Anna herself could rise above the spirit-crushing disappointment of losing the house, and, as Grammy had suggested, go out to meet her own beautiful life.
That’s my girl, Grammy intruded in Anna’s mind.
As Anna smiled to herself, Joy shouted from downstairs. “Anna, you’ve been gone so long. Are you alive up there?”
Yes, Anna was alive. Very alive. She untied her heart from the string she’d been dragging it by, and she put it in her chest again. With a lighter step, she went downstairs. She had bouquets to finish. There would always be more bouquets. They, too, were a fact of life.
CHAPTER 51
Jeff had never been to Naomi Blackmore’s house. As she hung his raincoat in her entry closet and he glanced down the hall to her living room, he couldn’t say he’d ever want to come back.
He’d have expected a modicum of taste from a wealthy woman, and he had to hand it to her: She’d not painted her walls hot pink. But as he followed her into the living room, he cringed at the moose head over her fireplace, the deer antlers in her chandelier, the cheetah skin on her thick white carpet, and the grizzly’s claws holding up the copper ashtray on her coffee table. Her trophies belonged in a hunting lodge, not coupled with floral chintz slipcovers and ruffled pillows.
It’s a good thing she’s never met Earnest, or his head might be up there with the moose. Jeff noted that the moose looked like Mick Jagger.
Jeff was not squeamish, but he’d never seen the point of killing innocent wildlife for sport. When Mrs. Blackmore picked up her gold cigarette case from the mantel, it occurred to Jeff that maybe she belonged on the wall, and the moose should be lighting up a cigarette and blowing smoke around the room. If life were fair, the moose would be nibbling grass around the gazebo on her lawn, which rolled down to the beach. But life wasn’t fair, as Jeff well knew. Animals and people got screwed every day, though he did believe that life usually met their needs.
“Are you the hunter?” he asked.
“You bet. Bagged them all over the world,” Mrs. Blackmore said. “Now we hunt from a helicopter. Makes it easier.”
“Indeed.”
“I’ll show you my zebra when you leave. He’s in the den.”
“Can’t wait,” Jeff said through lying teeth. He’d do whatever it took to butter her up before he sprang his question on her, the purpose of his visit.
He spotted a gold lighter on her coffee table and got up from the sofa. “Here, let me do that for you.” Shamelessly gallant, he held the flame to her cigarette as she puffed—and he held his breath to stave off a coughing fit.
“How did you celebrate the city council’s vote?” he asked.
“Dinner with friends at my club. They couldn’t believe those ridiculous girls trying to stop my project. Who do they think they are?”
“They are ridiculous,” Jeff agreed, amiable as a favorite uncle. “I thought of a way you can get back at them.”
“Oh?” The downturned ends of Mrs. Blackmore’s mouth turned up.
“I’ve heard they wanted to buy your house. You could sell it to them for a dollar and let them move it somewhere,” Jeff said.
“Why would I ever do something like that for those damned girls?”
“Because you’d saddle them with a house that’s falling apart. They’d spend years trying to keep it together. Think of all their hard work!” Jeff forced a conspiratorial grin.
“Here’s even better. Think of saving yourself the demolition cost! Eventually those women will have to admit the house is hopeless, and they’ll have to pay to tear it down themselves. Add it all up. The price of moving the house, trying to renovate it, and finally demolishing it.” Jeff held up three fingers. “You’d be condemning those women to huge expenses and years of trouble.”
Mrs. Blackmore’s face brightened. “You’re brilliant, Jeff!”
“Have you ever seen The Money Pit? It’s old, but you can get it on Netflix,” he said.
“Yes, The Money Pit! That’s what those girls will have. How thrilling!” When Mrs. Blackmore clasped her hands together, her long platinum nails would have given the grizzly’s claws a run for their money.
“So you like my idea?” Jeff asked.
“It’s fantastic! Nothing like retribution.”
“Absolutely! Retribution!” Jeff agreed. And she is the recipient!
He told himself to tone down his relish. If she realized how sly a fox he was being, she’d shoot him and hang him up with the moose.
CHAPTER 52
The afternoon sun shone down like it was smiling light, and in the apple tree, birds belted out songs. Squirrels, nimble as Mikhail Baryshnikov, leapt across the roof of Grammy’s house. A breeze whispered from the harbor and cooled Jeff and Anna’s foreheads as they dug in the new garden—and as Earnest lay beside them in his library lion position.
In the last weeks, he’d witnessed major changes. Movers had jacked up the house, set it on a trailer, and driven it down Rainier to a new address. Volunteers had cleared the lot and carved out paths and flowerbeds. Inside the house, Anna, Joy, and Lauren had been cleaning and organizing their new shops. And everyone had been happy, especially Earnest’s two most special people, for whom he’d clearly rejoiced to see living together again in the condo.
Now as he sunned himself, the intense expression on his face suggested that he was busy thinking. Perhaps he was pondering his life before the recent changes, sorting through memories, and deciding which to discard or keep. He might have tossed out smoke inhalation, Mad Dog Horowitz, Tiffany the tumor princess, the drafting table leg, the damnable pickup truck that hit him, and that satanic plastic cone. But Earnest would definitely save in his heart forever steak, blackberries, Parmesan cheese, people crackers, and Granny Smith apples. He’d keep power naps, peewee soccer games, the Christmas boat parade, the library’s reading program,
his wizard hat on gotcha days, and his vile but beloved ball.
As a highly sensitive and intelligent dog, Earnest could separate wheat from chaff, and he would treasure what pleased him. Especially Anna and Jeff. He would never forget Anna’s lipstick hearts on his forehead and Jeff’s tireless tugs on Monty, Earnest’s once-stuffed rabbit.
Anna and Jeff lugged the last flagstone that had been piled in the yard and set it in its proper place at the bottom of the front porch steps. Laying their new path from the street to the house had been like fitting together pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and the stones now depended on each other for a harmonious effect. If one were removed, the empty spot would jar the whole—just as taking Anna, Jeff, or Earnest from the family they’d become again would ruin it for all of them. When they rarely mentioned their months apart, they called it their “winter break” and changed the subject.
Now Anna and Jeff would finish the path by filling dirt between the stones and planting creeping mint—and then customers could find their way to the front door without slogging through mud. April Pringle had persuaded the Gamble Island Rhododendron Society to plant free rhodies, camellias, and azaleas in beds around the house, and Mr. Webster had donated a small madrona tree to replace the heritage one that had been lost. Once Anna and Jeff had time to seed the lawn and put in Grammy’s plants that Anna had saved, the new yard, though smaller than the one they’d left, would be as beautiful.
Jeff stood up, offered Anna his hand, and pulled her to her feet. He put his arm around her shoulders and led her down the path to Lauren’s poetry post and the picket fence, which they’d moved here with the house. When they turned around to look at it, Anna couldn’t help but smile. The fight to save it had receded to a wisp of memory. The house standing on the lot Jeff found had erased the conflict.
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