“And you weren’t thrilled?”
“I was enraged! I had three years’ worth of back issues of Southern Living, bookmarked with ideas for our first house. And this place was a dump. Two bedrooms, one tiny little bath that didn’t even have a shower. No washer or dryer, and the kitchen was a nightmare. If Mitch had bothered to show me the place, I could have pointed that out. I could have pointed out the fire station across the street, and predicted that every time there was an alarm, those fire trucks would go racing out of there with sirens wailing, waking our sleeping baby. But most of all, I hated that my husband didn’t understand me enough to know you don’t make that kind of a decision without consulting your partner.”
“Point taken,” Jack said.
“I tell you, I stewed and fumed over that house every day, until when I got pregnant with Holly, I laid down the law, we sold that house, and we picked out another house together in Ardsley Park.”
“And you lived happily ever after.”
A smile crept across Libba’s round, ruddy face. “We did, didn’t we?”
“I don’t see that kind of ending for us,” he said. “Cara is determined to move into another building, over on East Hall. The guy who owns it is a bottom-feeder, had it on the market forever, and couldn’t unload it. I took a look at it, just out of curiosity, and it’s a real piece of crap. That block is no place for a florist’s shop, and it’s no place for her. But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m staying out of it.”
“No chance of a reconciliation?” Libba asked.
Jack shook his head vehemently. “I tried. Now I’m done. A man can only crawl for so long.”
63
Cara heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. She stuck her head around the kitchen doorway. “Bert? Is that you?”
A blond head came into view. “It’s Leo.” He topped the last stair and flashed her his trademark Southeastern Region Salesman of the Quarter smile. “The shop door was open and unlocked, but there was nobody around downstairs, so I thought I should come up here and check things out. You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked in this neighborhood, Cara. Anybody could walk right in here, like I just did.”
“Thanks for the helpful advice, Leo. What do you want?”
He glanced around the kitchen. “I saw all the boxes downstairs. You’re moving?”
“Yes.” She slammed the packing-tape dispenser on the top of a cardboard box of dishes and dragged it across the closed flaps, snapping off the tape at the end.
“How come? I thought you liked it here. It looked like a pretty sweet setup.”
“The building has been sold.” Cara moved over to the next box. Leo leaned over and plucked a mug from a nest of wadded-up newspaper.
“Hey, I remember these. They were a wedding present from my aunt, right?”
“Keep it,” Cara said.
“That’s okay,” Leo said, handing the cup back. “I got plenty myself.”
He leaned back against the counter, crossed one foot over the other, oblivious of the fact that he was in her way.
“Where are you moving to? Not out of town, right?”
She put the tape down on the countertop. “Is there a point to this drop-in, Leo? Because if there is, I wish you’d get to it. Bert will be back with the van any minute now, and I want to finish boxing up this kitchen.”
He glanced around the kitchen. “What happened to your new boyfriend? How come he’s not the one doing all the heavy lifting?”
Cara flushed. “None of your business.”
“Sounds like he’s out of the picture now. Just as well. The dude was not in your class, at all.”
Leo reached in his pocket, brought out a Chap Stick, and ran it across his lips, smacking them noisily, and in the process reminding Cara of how much she’d loathed that particular nervous habit of his.
“Again. Why are you here?”
“Well yeah,” Leo said. “The thing is, your dad called and asked me to look in on you.”
“Why would the Colonel do that?”
“He’s worried about you. He said he’d tried calling you several times, at the shop and on your cell phone.…”
“Who gave him my cell-phone number?” Cara demanded. “I didn’t.”
“Okay, I might have shared that with him. But only because he was really concerned about you. He called me because he said he hadn’t heard from you, and he was even thinking of flying down here to see if you were okay.”
“I knew I should have changed that number after we split up,” Cara said. “He actually asked you to come over here and spy on me?”
“It’s not spying. We were married for Pete’s sake. I care about you.” He ran an index finger down her cheek, and Cara flinched. “You dad cares about you. “
“The Colonel cares about the fact that I still owe him money,” Cara said. “Did he appoint you his new collection agency? Or are you his idea of a leg-breaker?”
“He never said a word to me about money. He said you’re having some challenges, that’s all. He thought maybe I could help. I would help, if you’d let me.”
“‘Challenges’?” Cara hooted. “I’m pretty sure my father never used that word in reference to me. He probably told you I’m a screwup and a failure. Did he tell you he wants me to close up the shop and move back home?”
“He mentioned that,” Leo said cautiously. “Your mom is gone and you’re his only kid. He’s lonely. Why is that so hard for you to swallow?”
“Because I know the Colonel. If he’s lonely, why has he never, not once, come to Savannah to visit me? And don’t give me any bullshit about him hating to travel. He goes to Vegas two or three times a year. If he was so worried about how my business was doing, why didn’t he come down here to see for himself? Since I moved here, I’m the one who has to fly or drive up to Ohio, to see him on his own terms.”
“I can’t answer why your dad does or doesn’t come down here,” Leo said. “Okay, he’s set in his ways. That’s the military, right? He’s always been like that. The Colonel just wants what’s best for you, Cara. I want it too. You say you’re moving because this building was sold, maybe that’s true. But I think you’re moving because business stinks, and you can’t make the rent here. It’s no big crime to admit it, you know. So what? Walk away. I don’t happen to agree with the Colonel about you moving up home again. There’s nothing in Ohio for you. On the other hand, I think enough time has passed, we should take another shot at making things work between us.”
Cara blinked. “You really think so?”
“Yeah.” He nodded thoughtfully. “We’ve both changed a lot. Matured. Maybe we got married too young to be able to appreciate what we had. But now, I know where I’m going, and what I want.” He leaned in so close Cara could smell his cologne. “I want you, Cara. That’s all. Just you. What do you say we load all these boxes in my car and take them over to my place?”
She took a step backward, and then another step. She could actually feel the blood rushing to her face, her fingertips tingling—with what? He’d caught her off-guard, that was sure.
“Move in with you again? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Close up the shop. But how do I pay off the Colonel?”
“I got money. I’m doing great. They just gave me the two biggest accounts in the territory. I’ve actually been thinking of selling the condo, buying a house again. Have you seen those houses out at Southridge? Four bedrooms on the golf course, swim and tennis club. You could decorate it like you like.…”
“And then what?”
“Whatever you want. I don’t know, you could maybe keep doing flowers if you wanted, work for somebody else, not as much pressure. And I was thinking, maybe next year, we could start a family.”
“Have a baby?”
He nodded. “Yeah. My mom is crazy to have another grandchild.…”
She felt a roaring sensation in her ears. “Are you crazy? I’m not moving in with you, Leo. I’m not clos
ing up my business and moving to some country-club development. I am not taking money from you to pay off my dad, and I am most definitely not having your baby.”
“We could wait on the baby like another year or so.…”
“Leo!” Cara was shouting. “We are over. We’ve been over. I don’t need your money, or your pity or your advice. Maybe you have matured, but I seriously doubt it if you were able to convince yourself that this fantasy of us remarrying and moving to the suburbs could ever become reality.”
“You don’t have to shout,” he said, putting on that hurt look of his. “I was just trying to help out, okay? You want to talk about fantasy?” He gestured around the kitchen, with its chipped laminate countertops and faded linoleum.
“This right here is a fantasy. You can’t even afford this place, and you think moving someplace else is going to fix things? Who are you kidding? The Colonel is right—you are a screwup. You’re pathetic, Cara. Really. So you just keep on doing what you’re doing. Stay right here in your dreamworld. Move on over to the next roach motel. You’re all about doing everything for yourself, not accepting help from anybody. Maybe that’s why the boyfriend left you. Great. Keep it up. Be a ballbuster. You’re going to end up the crazy dog lady of Savannah, broke and alone.”
“Get out,” she whispered. “Don’t call me again.”
“Not a problem,” he snapped, heading for the stairs. She stood in the hallway, watching him go. She heard the front door open, and now Bert was heading back to start retrieving the moving boxes. “Some asshole parked a black Lexus in the loading zone out back,” he called.”I had to park the van a block over.”
Bert stood in the downstairs hallway, glowering when he spotted Cara’s ex.
“I’m just leaving,” Leo said curtly.
“Shitbird,” Bert muttered.
Cara couldn’t help it. She had to have the last word. She ran down the stairs after Leo. “Tell the Colonel he’ll get his money. Tell him I have three weddings and a big fat contract to do all the flowers for a new hotel in town. Tell him…”
It was too late. She heard the back door slam.
64
It was nearly six by the time Jack got back to Savannah from Cabin Creek. He told himself he was only driving past the shop to see if Cara really meant what she said about moving out. He slowed the truck to a roll as he approached the shop, but when he saw the large, hand-lettered MOVED TO NEW LOCATION sign in the window, he pulled up and parked in the loading zone.
BLOOM HAS BEEN TRANSPLANTED TO EAST HALL STREET, the sign said in smaller letters. Trust Cara to make that seem like a good thing.
He fished the set of keys with the C&S Bank key fob out of his pocket and unlocked the front door. The first thing he noticed was that the little tinkling bell that announced visitors was gone.
The second thing he noticed was the smell of antiseptic. True to her word, Cara had stripped the walls of the reclaimed-pine shelves and the chippy wrought-iron trellis, the mirrors and the chandeliers. A slight indentation in the wood floor was the only sign that a flower cooler had once occupied this space. The shop was spotless. And empty.
He walked through to the back of the first floor, glancing into the kitchenette and noticing that this, too, had been cleaned out. The undercounter dorm-size refrigerator was gone, but he noticed that the coffeepot had been left behind.
Jack unlocked the door to the courtyard patio. To his surprise, the space looked the same as it had the last time he and Cara and the dogs had sat out here. He was relocking the door when he spotted a small yellow Post-it that must have fallen to the floor.
J—I won’t be needing patio furniture in the new place until I get backyard cleared out. Hope it’s ok to leave here for now.—C.
He shrugged. This was her idea of a good-bye note. No “Dear Jack,” no “Fondly, Cara.”
The second floor had been as thoroughly cleaned out as the first floor. The walls bore the faded outlines of where Cara’s pictures had hung, and there were depressions in the carpet left there by the now departed bookshelves.
Curtains still hung at her bedroom window, and when he brushed the thick linen panel aside to look out onto the street below, it released a scent he realized was Cara’s. Her box fan was still wedged inside the window casing.
Jack slid down to the floor, his hands on his knees, his back against the wall. He inhaled and the faint floral bouquet of roses and some other flower—maybe honeysuckle—filled his nostrils. He thought about the night they’d danced at Ryan and Torie’s wedding, the way she looked in that pink silk dress and how she felt in his arms.
Sweat trickled down his shoulders to the small of his back. It was unbearably hot up here. How had Cara stood it up here for these past few weeks? He stood slowly and started toward the stairs, but then he backtracked to the bedroom, where he unplugged the fan and tucked it under his arm.
As he was passing the kitchen, he spotted a lone coffee cup sitting on the kitchen counter. All the cabinets and shelves had been emptied. He wondered if Cara had meant to leave this one behind. He picked up the cup, and on the rim saw the faint pink remains of her lipstick. He told himself he would return the cup when he returned her fan. That’s what he told himself.
* * *
The prospect of returning home alone to the cottage on Macon Street did not appeal. Anyway, there was a good chance he wouldn’t really be alone. Zoey’s check still hadn’t arrived, so despite her sketchy description of a job offer in New Orleans, she was still hanging around, sleeping on the sofa at a friend’s house, but “dropping by” Jack’s place, ostensibly to be with Shaz.
Tonight he was in no mood for Zoey’s laughably obvious attempts to seduce him. What he was in the mood for was a cold beer and some hot wings. He called Ryan.
“Hey bro,” Ryan said. “What’s shakin’? You finish up over at Cabin Creek? Pick up the rest of the tools and stuff?”
“Change of plans,” Jack said. “Libba wants us to go ahead and finish everything. Including the kitchen.”
“Even with the wedding off?”
“Yep. She wants it finished. How did you guys do today over at Sylvia Bradley’s?”
“You don’t want to know,” Ryan said. “That old lady is driving me nuts. We put the new roof on that mud porch yesterday, and this morning when I got over there, she’d somehow managed to climb up on the ladder, and she proceeded to bitch me out about how the new shingles were a different color than the ones on the rest of the house!”
“Did you explain that those old shingles probably hadn’t been manufactured since the Eisenhower administration?”
“I tried, but you don’t explain nothin’ to Sylvia Bradley. She wants you to call her. I think she’s gonna try and talk you into giving her a new roof for the rest of the house.”
“Not happening,” Jack said succinctly. “Hey, I’m headed over to the Exchange to grab a bite. You wanna meet me?”
“Awww, man. Wish I could. We’ve got our first childbirth class at the hospital tonight.”
“Okay, no problem. Listen, in the morning, I’m gonna get the HVAC guy to walk through Jones Street with me, to see when we can get started on that.”
“Oh. So … Cara went ahead and moved out?”
“Yeah. Probably for the best. You know what a pain in the ass it is to rehab a building when somebody’s living there. Anyway, good luck tonight. I hope you do better with childbirth class than you did with high-school algebra. Cuz I am not helping out with that homework.”
“Smart-ass,” Ryan growled.
* * *
Jack sat in a booth by the window. The tables around him were filled with groups, families with young kids, gray-haired couples there for the early-bird specials, and groups of office workers stopping in for happy hour after work.
He drank a beer and ate half a plate of wings before deciding he was tired of avoiding his own home. Zoey had managed to find his spare key. By God, he would go back to Macon Street right now, and if she was there, he w
ould kick her ass to the street. And then he would go to Home Depot and buy a new lockset and install it himself.
65
“I forgot the coffeepot,” Cara said.
Bert dumped the last box of dishes on the dining-room table. Which was sitting in the middle of the large open space that would allegedly someday be Cara’s living quarters.
“Forget about it,” he said, collapsing onto one of the chairs. “We’ve still got to get your bed set up, and anyway, there’s no telling where your dishes or pantry stuff are. I’ll go over to Back in the Day in the morning and get us coffee and muffins.”
“No more takeout coffee,” Cara said stubbornly. “Our overhead here is going to be killer. We’ve got to start economizing. And that means no more five-dollar lattes. I’ll just run over to Jones Street and get the coffeepot. I think the pantry stuff, with the coffee and the sugar, are in that box there.” She pointed to a large carton on the floor. “If you’ll start unpacking that, I’ll take Poppy with me, and we’ll bring back pizza for dinner.
“Come on, Poppy,” Cara called. “Let’s go, girl.”
The dog came running and happily allowed herself to be loaded into the front seat of the pink Bloom van for the short ride back to their old home.
* * *
Cara let herself in the front door and felt the gloom descend on her, like a heavy wool blanket. She wouldn’t allow herself to look at the barren walls, at the swept-clean floor. Get the coffeepot and get out, she told herself.
Poppy raced down the hall. She stopped in front of the back door, glancing back expectantly at Cara, and pawed at the door.
“Okay,” Cara said with a sigh. “One more try. Maybe that squirrel will get careless, and you’ll get lucky.” She opened the door and Poppy was out like a shot.
She went back to the kitchenette and unplugged the coffeemaker.
Save the Date Page 40