“Mom and Dad are getting tired of hearing about this girl I’ve named the rose after. And they’re not the only ones.”
“O-oh?”
“Yep. Don’t mean to alarm you, but there’s a passel of folks up that way wantin’ to see if you’re a figment of my overactive imagination or if you’re real.”
“Oh, I’m real all right.”
He brushed the crumbs from those gorgeous lips and then leaned my way, the smell of lamb still fresh on his breath. He whispered, “Well, that’s good. ’Cause I’m all done with pretending. What about you?”
I had a feeling he meant a little more by that, but I didn’t say anything in response. Then again, with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, I couldn’t really speak, now could I?
14
Journey to a Star
You might be Greek if you thought everyone got pinched on the cheeks and money stuffed in their pockets by their relatives.
The rest of the week seemed to drag by. I could hardly wait for Saturday, when Alex and I would head north to this until-recently-fictional place called Splendora. He made his early morning delivery to the shop around 8:00 and then picked me up at Super-Gyros.
“What is this?” he asked, pointing up to the new banner Babbas had hung the evening before. “You’re selling meatball subs now? Buy one, get one free?”
I did my best not to groan out loud. “Yes. Don’t ask.” Why my father had decided to counter Laz’s Greek pizza with an Italian sandwich, I could not say. We’d never sold anything but Greek food at Super-Gyros. Didn’t make a bit of sense to branch out to other cultures, even to draw in business.
Oh well. At least I didn’t have to spend the day fretting over anything related to the sandwich shop. I had to make a trip to a very intriguing place called Splendora.
My nosy family members gathered in front of Super-Gyros to see me off. My father, of course, griped that he couldn’t manage the Saturday lunch crowd without me, but Yia Yia and Mama offered to take up the slack. I had a feeling the ladies were just tickled to see me heading off on a date with the handsome flower guy.
The Rigas Roses delivery van wasn’t exactly a luxury limousine, as I’d already learned, but it provided an interesting way to travel, and it was spacious, especially without my bike taking up so much room in the back.
“Didn’t really give the van a close look last time,” I said. “You’ve got a lot of room in here.”
“If you think this is big, wait’ll you see the double-wide my parents live in.”
“Double-wide?”
“Trailer.” He gave me a warning look. Well, a playful warning look. “Only, don’t call it that, okay? Mama calls it a manufactured home.”
“Manufactured home.” I repeated the words to make sure I got them right.
“But just for the record, they started building a big two-story house a few months ago. It’s not done yet. Too much going on with roses being in season right now.”
I wasn’t sure what roses had to do with a house being built but didn’t ask. In fact, I found myself pretty tongue-tied for the next several minutes as my nerves kicked in.
Thank goodness Alex was proficient at small talk. He chatted with ease until we got to the Galveston Causeway. The expansive bridge crossed over from the island to the mainland, but I’d only been across it a couple of times over the past few weeks, usually to pick up supplies for the restaurant.
“Hold your breath,” he said as we approached the expansive bridge.
“W-what?”
He gestured to his mouth, pinched tight, and puffed his cheeks out. I drew in a deep breath and held it until I thought I might explode.
“Beat you!” he said when we got to the mainland side of the bridge. “That’s a little game my sisters and I have played ever since we were kids, by the way. I always win.”
“Gotcha. Guess I’m not as full of hot air as you.” Where the comment came from, I had no idea, but he laughed.
“You got me there.” We rode on a bit longer in silence. After a couple of minutes I noticed Alex watching me out of the corner of his eye.
“What is it?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Just thinking how nice it is to have someone to share this ride with. I come up and down this stretch of road all the time by myself. Glad you came with me today.”
“Me too.” He had no idea how glad.
“I-I really enjoy your company, Cassia. Maybe a little more than I’ve said.”
“I like being with you too.”
A delicious silence filled the van.
“I can’t remember the last time I felt this at home with someone,” he said after a few moments. “I really mean that. We were destined to meet. Destined to be right here, right now, headed to—”
“Splendida?” I offered.
“Splendora.” He chuckled.
“Right, right.” I shrugged, overcome with embarrassment. “Splendora.”
“I hope you like it,” he said, then gestured to the acreage to our right and left. “It’s not like this. There’s not much to look at here. But as we get farther north I think you’ll enjoy it.”
I enjoyed the view already, but it had nothing to do with trees and such. That gorgeous face. Those eyes. That solid physique. Just thinking about what a lovely job God had done putting Alex together made my cheeks grow warm. You’re wrong, Alex Rigas! There’s plenty to look at here.
“It’s not exactly California,” he said, then laughed. “But we’ve got some nice scenery up north.”
“Up north?”
“Well, Splendora is north of Humble, so we still have a ways to go.”
This led to a discussion about the Humble Oil Company, which had been bought out by Exxon. This somehow led to a conversation about the price of oil, which in turn led to a lengthy speech about drilling in the Gulf of Mexico. To be honest, I didn’t know a thing about drilling—unless you happened to be talking about drilling a hole in a phyllo roll-up to put in the custard—so I had nothing to offer. Still, I enjoyed listening to the cadence in his voice, the lilt as he talked about the things that mattered to him. And the way his eyes sparkled as he talked about his family . . . wow! I could stare at those gorgeous eyes all day.
“So, tell me who I’m going to meet when we get to Splendora,” I said when he stopped for breath. “I don’t know anything about your family, except that they’re in the flower business.”
“I grew up in a family of women,” he said. “My dad and I were totally outnumbered.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I have three older sisters. One is married, but the twins are both single and still live at home with my parents.”
Sounded familiar.
“They should both be there today.”
“Twins? What are their names?”
“Lily and Jasmine.”
“Oh, wow. Should’ve guessed. Flower names. I like that.”
“You think those are interesting, you should meet my married sister.”
“Let me guess.” I paused to think about it. “Rose?” When he shook his head, I tried again. “Daisy? Iris?”
Alex laughed. “No. Her name is Blossom. Like the old TV character.”
“That poor girl.” I shook my head and tried to imagine her pain.
“I think she’s gotten used to it now, but she took a lot of ribbing in school. You wouldn’t believe what she went through.”
“No doubt. Does she live in Splendora too?”
“Yep. Her husband Darrell washes trucks at Uncle Donny’s truck stop.”
I still didn’t have a clue who Uncle Donny was but didn’t ask.
As Alex switched gears to talk about his brother-in-law’s time in the military, my thoughts shifted back to his earlier comments about living in a double-wide trailer. Er, manufactured home. Alex had grown up in a humble setting. Maybe he wouldn’t be so put off by my family’s apartment above the shop. Not everyone lived in a huge two-story house like the Rossis’.
; “This is all so new to me.” I gestured to the pine trees to my right. “I’ve never been in Texas before.”
“Ever?”
“Nope. Lived in Santa Cruz my whole life. I enjoy looking at the difference in terrain.” I pointed out to the highway with its surrounding greenery. “Everything here is so . . . flat. And green. Very, very green.”
“I never get tired of the green, but the flat part is an issue. I’d love to visit the mountains. Still, we’ve got great flowers here, at least in my neck of the woods. Wait till you see our nursery. And Mama’s gardens out front. I think even you will be impressed.”
“Even me?”
“Oh, I’m just saying you know your flowers. You’re a pro. So you’re probably more discriminating than most.”
Wow. No one had ever called me a pro before. Leave it to Alex to set my heart to fluttering. My face heated up as I thought about just how special he made me feel. And from his description, the family was pretty wonderful too. Suddenly I couldn’t wait to get to Splendora.
About thirty minutes into our trip we turned off Interstate 45 onto a road marked Highway 59 and headed through the heart of downtown Houston. I had to admit, the Bayou City was pretty impressive. I looked to my left and took in the expansive skyscrapers. Then I shifted my attention back to the five-lane freeway, which serpentined ahead. Thank goodness Alex knew where he was going. I’d end up driving around in circles if you put me behind the wheel.
About twenty minutes later the area around us grew more wooded. Majestic pine trees now surrounded us on both sides of the road, their deep green bristles breathtaking.
“Is this Splendora?” I asked.
“Nope. We’re almost to Humble. Then Kingwood. Then Porter. Then New Caney. Then Splendora.”
“I see.” Only, I didn’t. Not really. But I did see tall pine trees stretching to the expansive blue sky. I also saw reams and reams of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. I must’ve said “wow” a thousand times.
When we arrived in Splendora, Alex pulled off at a truck stop with an odd name. “Hope you don’t mind a pit stop,” he said. “I need to get some gas, and it wouldn’t hurt to stop in for a visit with Uncle Donny.”
“Your uncle works here?” I asked.
Alex shrugged as he turned off the engine. “Well, he’s not technically my uncle. He’s D.J.’s uncle. But everyone in town calls him Uncle Donny. He runs the place.” Alex gestured at the Donny’s Digs ’n’ Dogs sign above the truck stop.
Digs? Dogs? Huh?
“Hope you’re hungry. He’s got the best hot dogs in the state. I suggest the number three: extra cheese and heavy on the onions.”
Um, no thanks. I’d never been a fan of hot dogs, especially loaded with onions.
But when we walked inside, the luscious aroma of the hot dogs cast some sort of spell on me. Before long I was nibbling on the number three and talking to an elderly fellow with a twang so delightfully thick that it captivated me and carried me away to a different place.
The man smelled of gasoline, but I was so intrigued by his conversation that the scent took a backseat.
“Has she met the family yet, Alex?” Donny asked.
“Nope. We just got here. I called Mama last night to give her a heads-up that company’s coming. She said she’s gonna roll out the red carpet.”
“Well then . . .” Donny smacked his lips. “What time should we be over for supper? If she’s rollin’ out the red carpet, that means she’s deep-frying catfish and hush puppies, and I wouldn’t want to miss that.”
“No doubt. And I’m sure Mama would love to have you and Aunt Willy over for supper.”
“Aunt Willy?” I couldn’t help but repeat his words. Was this some sort of code? And how in the world could I possibly eat another bite after such a huge hot dog?
“Well, folks call her Willy,” Alex said. “But she’s really Wilhelmina. She’s Scarlet’s aunt.”
“And my lovely bride,” Donny said, his face lighting in the most delightful smile. “And what a bride she is.”
“I see.”
Turned out the petite woman served up baked goods at the truck stop and appeared to do quite the business. Donny raved about his wife’s baked goods, proclaiming them to be the best in the state.
“Is your aunt Twila going to be there?” Willy asked. “I owe her a cheesecake. She won it at the church in a raffle. I could bring it tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be there,” Alex said. “You know how it is when our family gets together. And Dad’s frying up a mess ’a catfish outside in the fryer. Plenty for all, even with Aunt Twila there.”
This got a laugh out of everyone, but I didn’t know why.
Alex shared a funny story about his aunt’s over-the-top eating habits and then turned to me. “I can’t wait for you to meet Aunt Twila. She’s quite a character.”
“Aunt Twila?” I snapped my fingers. “Oh, I remember the story about her. She’s a chrysanthemum.”
“Yep, and she’s also a singer. Started out at our local church, and now she sings all over the place with her two best friends—Jolene and Bonnie Sue.”
“They all sound like characters from a sitcom.”
Donny and Willy laughed.
“Wait’ll you meet ’em,” Donny said. “They pretty much are characters.”
“But they’re very real,” Willy added. “Though sometimes I have to wonder.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah, they’re real, all right. You’re about to get all the proof you need. All of these fine folks live right here in Splendora, just a hop, skip, ’n’ a jump from the old homestead. Not that a trailer is a homestead exactly, but you get the idea.”
“Don’t you mean manufactured home?” I teased.
“Yep, ’n’ thank you fer the reminder, little missy,” he said. “Mama would have my hide if she heard me callin’ it a trailer.” Strange how his twang deepened the closer we got to his old homestead.
The mention of catfish now made me a little queasy. My stomach already ached from eating the massive hot dog, which made climbing back in the van quite the task. I found myself growing more nervous as Alex turned off the highway onto the back roads.
“Are we getting close to where you grew up?” I asked as the road ahead narrowed and a canopy of trees enveloped us overhead.
“Yep. Not far from D.J. Neeley’s place. You met him, right? Bella’s husband? He was ahead of me in school several years.”
Before I could answer, Alex pointed to a beautiful patch of land to our right. “We’re here.”
“Wow.” I’d never seen a property like this one. The trailer—er, manufactured home—was nestled up against the new house, which was still well from completion but on its way. Alex wasn’t kidding when he said the family was building a two-story house. It was a sprawling wood-framed beauty with large porches both upstairs and down.
And the garden! It took my breath away. Colorful azaleas—really, a rainbow’s worth—filled the largest bed to my right. A pathway ran through the bed on the left, and the lush foliage surrounding the gazebo literally made me gasp.
“A traditional English garden!” I felt the sting of tears in my eyes at the sheer beauty of it all.
“Yes, complete with a bridge over a little creek and some pretty magnificent trees that my grandfather planted when he was my age.”
“Oh, Alex.” I held my breath, unable to take it all in at once. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Glad it meets with your approval.” He turned the van off and then reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “If you think this is great, wait till you see the nursery. After supper I’ll take you for a walk. If we can ever get some time to ourselves.”
“I would love that.”
Before our feet had landed on the ground, a tall woman slightly on the rotund side rushed our way. She flung her arms around Alex’s neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How’s my boy?”
Alex’s face flushed an appealing shade of pin
k, which served to put me at ease. “I’m good, Mama. Good.”
“And this”—she took my hands and gave me a solid once-over—“must be our little rose.” She threw her arms around me, my face landing squarely in her ample bosom. If I didn’t suffocate, I’d greet the woman.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rigas,” I said when I came up for air.
“Not half as nice as it is to meet you, honey.” She gave my hands a squeeze and then winked. “You don’t mind if I call you honey, do you? We’re not big on formality round here, and we sure love our pet names.” She released her hold on my hands and gave Alex a nudge with her elbow. “Right, little buddy?”
He grimaced. “Mama, I’m not ‘little buddy’ anymore.”
“Well, shoot. You’ll always be my little buddy-boy.”
This led to a conversation from her about the “bud” angle—apparently it had something to do with his green thumb with the roses when he was a little boy.
I followed behind Mrs. Rigas into the manufactured home, which was a lot bigger on the inside than it looked. Not at all what I’d pictured. Neither was the fellow in the recliner, who stood when we entered the room and greeted me with a smile.
“So this is our Cassia!” The man swept me into his arms. “I’d know you anywhere. You’re our little rose.”
I looked up, up, up into the eyes of this kind stranger, convinced everyone in Splendora was tall. Must be something in the water. “So I’ve been told, sir.”
Mr. Rigas was an older version of Alex, only with a plusher midsection and graying hair around his temples. Though he reminded me of Babbas in appearance, this fellow’s warm greeting convinced me that their personalities must be opposite.
“Hope you’re ready fer a crowd,” Mr. Rigas said with a grin. “I’m about to fire up the fryer for the best catfish you ever ate, which means folks’ll show up soon as the wind blows the scent their way.” He slipped his arm around his wife’s ample waist. “Not that I’m the only one working, mind you. My sweetie here knows how to throw a great shindig.”
It warmed my heart to hear him refer to his wife as his sweetie. For a moment I wondered how Mama would respond if Babbas ever gave her a love name like that.
A Bouquet of Love Page 13