Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

by Susan Mallery

  “Your sister, I presume. I see the resemblance.”

  Kelly laughed. “If you mean we’re both female, then sure. Otherwise, she’s the sophisticated Disney princess and I’m the unremarkable face they draw for the background.”

  Both Helen and Griffith swung their attention back to her. Kelly realized a second too late that the words might have sounded more bitter than she’d intended.

  “Um, what I meant was—”

  Griffith stared at her. “Kelly, I like you just fine the way you are but if you’re not happy, you should make a change.”

  She flushed. “No, I didn’t mean that...exactly.”

  Helen kept her mouth shut but looked plenty knowing. Kelly was sure there would be talk of this conversation later.

  Sven walked into the room and waved to her.

  “The competition,” Griffith murmured. “You’re trying to make me jealous.”

  “Oh, please. You know it’s long over.”

  “Just checking. I don’t want to be your rebound guy.”

  “I’m not the rebound guy type.”

  “This is just so interesting,” Helen said. “You two do remember I’m standing right here, don’t you?”

  “You’re best friends.” Griffith winked at her. “You already know everything. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

  “A wise man.” Helen laughed. “I’m intrigued and can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

  Olivia joined them. She smiled her perfect, pearly white smile. “Hi. I’m Kelly’s sister, Olivia.”

  Kelly introduced Griffith and Helen, then kept her eye on her non-boyfriend to see how he would react to the sensual power that was her sister.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her hand. “You used to date my brother, didn’t you?”

  Kelly relaxed. There was no obvious tension in his body and his tongue wasn’t hanging out, so hey, a win for her.

  “Some in high school, then later in college.” Olivia sounded disinterested at best. “Who’s that guy?”

  “Sven,” Helen said with a grin. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  “I’ll say. Yours?”

  “The man ruffles my hair when he hugs me, so no. As far as I know, he’s completely single.” She looked at Kelly. “Unless you know something I don’t.”

  Kelly knew that her friend was making sure she didn’t mind if her sister made a play for her ex, which was lovely and supportive.

  “He’s not seeing anyone,” Kelly told her sister. “It’s a small town. We all know when someone sneezes, let alone dates.”

  Olivia nodded slowly. “I’m going to have to go introduce myself. Just to be neighborly.”

  “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

  Olivia grinned. “In mixed company, yes.” She made a beeline for Sven.

  “She’s not awful,” Helen whispered after she was out of earshot. “You must be relieved.”

  “I am. But the sister thing is strange.”

  Sally walked to the podium on the stage. “It’s seven o’clock, everyone. Let’s get the meeting started.”

  Helen and Kelly started toward the chairs. Griffith joined them and sat next to her. Olivia settled on the other side of Helen, then shocked the hell out of Kelly by pulling a small notebook out of her purse.

  Kelly leaned across Helen. “What’s that?”

  “I did some research this afternoon. Demographics on the town and the surrounding counties, that sort of thing. It would help a lot if we were on the sound. Waterfront communities always brings in a crowd.”

  “Not something we can easily change,” Helen said.

  “I know.” Olivia sighed. “Unless there was a really big earthquake and the western part of the county fell into the sound. But that’s probably not something I should wish for.”

  “Death and destruction,” Griffith whispered in Kelly’s ear. “I’d go see the movie.”

  “You’re such a guy.”

  “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

  * * *

  Despite the tall blond Viking god sitting at the edge of her peripheral vision, Olivia paid attention to the woman leading the meeting. Ryan might have been part of her returning home game plan but she knew he was someone she could manage. Sven, on the other hand, was an unknown. The last thing she needed was a messy affair mucking up her summer. But if the opportunity presented itself, she might be willing to change her mind, just not tonight.

  After a slightly rambling introduction, Sally had gotten to the point of the meeting. Getting more tourists in town.

  “Maybe some kind of summer festival,” one person suggested. “The old Johnson farm is growing potatoes.”

  “No one wants to take pictures of potatoes,” Sally said. “Pumpkins are attractive. Is anyone growing pumpkins?”

  “I have a couple of vines in my garden.”

  “I doubt that’s going to attract many people.”

  “What about opening up the tulip fields to tourists?” Olivia asked.

  Everyone turned to look at her.

  “Excuse me?” Kelly asked. “Open it up for what?”

  “Planting. Bulbs are planted in the fall. We could invite people to come plant.”

  “I don’t think so. I don’t want a bunch of people who have no idea what they’re doing anywhere near my farm.”

  “I’m talking about a couple of acres near the road. You wouldn’t miss them at all. People would make the trip for a big planting party. It would give them ownership. They could sign up for a newsletter and get updates on how their bulbs are doing. Then they’d for sure want to come back in the spring.”

  “She’s right,” someone called. “It could be fun.”

  “Not for me,” Kelly grumbled. “This is how I make my living, people.”

  “It’s a couple of acres,” Olivia repeated. “Seattle is about an hour away. The population of the metro area is nearly four million people and they all ignore us except when the tulips are blooming. We need to change that. I’ve been researching what other small towns are doing to attract tourists and their dollars, and the list is impressive. We have to work with what we have to be more appealing.”

  She motioned to the space around them. “This craft mall, for example. It has potential but it needs to be updated. I walked through it today and the flow isn’t user friendly. There were booths I couldn’t get to without looking at a map and backtracking three times.”

  “I told you,” an older man said. “It’s not set up right.”

  “The bigger problem is the roof,” someone in the back yelled. “No point in putting lipstick on a pig. If we don’t get a new roof soon, we won’t have a craft mall.”

  The room went silent. Sally sighed. “Yes, the roof. You’re right. That is the bigger problem.”

  “What about a bake sale?” a woman offered. “Or a car wash?”

  Olivia raised her hand. “How much is the new roof?”

  “Thirty thousand, give or take.”

  “You’re not going to get there on cupcakes.”

  Sally raised her eyebrows. “You have a better idea?”

  Olivia felt everyone turning to stare at her. She knew what they were thinking. She was an outsider—she didn’t belong. The only reason they were listening was that she was Kelly’s sister.

  “An auction,” she said confidently. “A big evening with a nice dinner. A silent auction during cocktails and a live auction during dinner.”

  “We don’t have the money to pay for that,” the old man grumbled.

  “Get a couple of sponsors and price the tickets at seventy-five dollars each and you don’t have to.”

  “Seventy-five dollars?” the old man asked, his tone outraged. “Who pays that for
dinner?”

  “A lot of people. I’m not talking burgers and fries.” Olivia smiled at Helen. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I actually like the idea of an auction. We haven’t done anything like that before. There are people with money around here. They don’t want to be bothered with a lot of donation requests, but I’ll bet we could get them to come to an auction. It would be a matter of offering the right items.”

  The unexpected support gave Olivia courage. “I’ve done this sort of thing before for a women’s shelter, and it was very successful. Helen’s right. It’s about getting the right kind of donations to draw a big crowd.”

  “You could donate one of your tiny homes,” Kelly murmured to Griffith.

  “It would be cheaper to just pay for the roof.” He looked at Olivia. “I’ll donate a custom design and a five-thousand-dollar gift certificate.”

  Several people gasped.

  Olivia had a feeling she looked as shocked as Kelly.

  “Thank you,” she managed to answer.

  “I’ll donate the garden for the house,” Viking-god Sven said loudly. “And a thousand dollars’ worth of plants for someone else.”

  “Oh, all right,” the older guy grumbled. “The missus and I have season tickets to the Seahawks. We’re going on a cruise and will miss one of the games. You can have those.”

  Seattle was a rabid football town, Olivia thought as she scribbled in her notebook. If she could put together a package with a hotel and dinner at a nice restaurant, she could have a great item.

  Several more people offered suggestions. Olivia wrote them all down. Sally called for a vote.

  “All in favor of letting Olivia here plan an auction to help pay for the roof, raise your hand.”

  Every hand shot up.

  “Then that’s what we’re going to do.” Sally looked at Olivia. “I want a comprehensive plan in ten days. Can you do that?”

  Olivia felt a flush of pride. “I can.” She hadn’t expected to walk out with a job, but she would take it. As for the no pay part, that was a detail.

  “Good.”

  They moved on to other business, then the meeting ended. Olivia approached Sally and got her contact info.

  “Let me give you my cell, as well,” Olivia said. “I’m hoping word will spread and people will want to call me to donate things.”

  “Oh, honey, you have no idea. Brace yourself. There’s going to be junk.”

  “There always is.”

  “How did your event in Phoenix go?”

  A simple enough question. Olivia had gotten involved with the women’s shelter at Marilee’s request. Her mother had wanted to bring attention to the real estate company—helping battered women was simply the delivery device for what she saw as earned media.

  While Olivia had started out with the same attitude, she’d quickly found herself enjoying the work. She liked convincing people to give more than they’d planned and had enjoyed the overwhelming details of helping put on a fancy dinner for five hundred people. Unfortunately after two years, Marilee had complained the event was taking too much time and she wasn’t getting enough in return.

  “The second year, we increased our donations for the night by thirty percent,” Olivia said proudly. “It was nearly a million dollars.”

  “I see. So thirty thousand doesn’t intimidate you.”

  “Not at all.”

  Olivia walked back to her seat. Griffith rose and pulled Kelly to her feet. “Give your sister your truck keys.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s going to drive herself home. You and I are going out.”

  Kelly looked surprised, then flustered. “I can’t. It’s only Olivia’s second night here. I should go home with her.”

  Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.” She held out her hand. “I know how to drive a truck. Hand over the keys.” She smiled. “You’re insured, right?”

  Kelly flinched. “You’re kidding.”

  “It’s a small pickup with automatic transmission, sis. Not an eighteen-wheeler. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. I won’t be late.”

  Griffith winked. “She’ll be late.”

  They walked out together.

  Olivia watched them go. While part of her had wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her sister, she’d said what she had because of the Marilee lie. Guilt was a powerful motivator, she thought.

  She wasn’t even sure why she’d avoided the truth—something she was confident a psychologist would have a field day with. Was it because her relationship with her mother was so strained these days? Or was she embarrassed by the fact that she’d gone looking for her mother in the first place? Questions that would not be answered tonight, she told herself.

  She felt a small twinge of something she was afraid might be envy. Not because she wanted Griffith for herself but because he seemed nice. He wouldn’t have an agenda or a wife waiting at home. He wasn’t interested in arm candy or status. He was just a regular kind of guy who was smitten with her sister. It was the kind of relationship Olivia had never had before. Men looked at her and saw—

  To be honest, she had no idea what they saw but it wasn’t anything close to being smitten. Men wanted to sleep with her, to show her off, to claim her, but no one had ever loved her. Especially not Ryan.

  So why had she come back for him? What did she think was going to happen?

  “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as she walked to her sister’s truck. She was here now. She could figure out what she was capable of without having to worry about what Marilee would do or think. She was free. The auction would be a success or failure completely due to her. This was her chance to prove what she could do. To the world and maybe to herself.

  10

  Griffith took Kelly’s hand and led her out to the parking lot. She stopped by his truck and stared at their joined hands.

  “Technically you never asked,” she told him. “About tonight or any of it. You’re assuming I said yes to your proposition.”

  She looked good in the dim light of the parking lot. All big eyes and pouty mouth. He also noticed that while she made her complaint, she didn’t bother pulling her hand away.

  “I’m not assuming. You did say yes.”

  “When?”

  He grinned. “When you asked if I was going to kiss you.”

  “That never happened. And if it did, it was the vodka talking.”

  “Oh, I know it was the vodka, but it was also you.” He opened the door to his truck. “Get in.”

  She climbed onto the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

  “My place.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  He grinned. “Yes, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

  He was still chuckling when he climbed in beside her.

  He liked how things were going between them. Slow was fine. Slow was better. He was the kind of man who could appreciate anticipation as much as victory.

  He liked Kelly—he thought they had a lot of potential. He wanted to see where that went, as long as neither of them wanted to fall in love. Griffith wasn’t a man who failed at much, but he’d failed at his marriage and he wasn’t going there again. He was determined to keep things simple. If a promise wasn’t made, it couldn’t be broken.

  It only took a couple of minutes to drive to the older neighborhood where he lived. He pulled into the driveway of the nearly hundred-year-old quasi-Victorian he’d bought seven months ago.

  Kelly got out before he could walk around to hold open her door. She stared up at the house.

  “Not a tiny home? Are you rejecting the very work that brings you fame and fortune?”

  “It brings me neither, and no, I didn’t plan on
buying the house. I was living in one of my own designs when this place came on the market. A developer was going to buy it and tear it down. I couldn’t stand to see that happen.”

  “You’re softhearted.”

  “Don’t sound surprised.”

  “I am, a little. Are you going to restore it?”

  “Every inch. I figure it will take me about ten years.”

  “That’s a long time to live with construction.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  They went inside.

  He’d already started work on the front parlor. He’d taken off the hideous paneling and replaced it with beadboard and a chair rail. Era-appropriate wallpaper was on order and he’d sanded the floors.

  She paused to study the room. “What are you going to use this for?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s a parlor, so a formal living room makes the most sense. But I’m not a formal living room kind of guy. Maybe a study or a home office.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not at the front of house. You’d have to keep it too tidy. Go with the formal living room. Women will love it.”

  “Because I’m going to have a stream of them coming through?”

  “You never know.” She smiled. “I’m here, after all.”

  “Interesting. Thanks for the advice.”

  He led her toward the kitchen. It had been updated in the 1960s and featured avocado-colored appliances, except for the refrigerator, which was from the 1990s.

  He switched on the coffeepot, then collected a can of decaf and scooped out enough for a couple of cups.

  Kelly prowled the kitchen before moving to the family room. She studied the worn sofa that had come with the house and the magazines scattered across the coffee table. She pulled out one and held it up.

  “For the articles?” she asked sweetly.

  He glanced at the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition and shook his head. “Not mine. You’ll have to talk to Ryan about that.”

  She put down the magazine. “That’s right. He lives with you. How’s that working out?”

  A question for which he had no answer.

  When his brother had blown out his shoulder, Griffith had been in the house about a month. Offering Ryan a place to stay had seemed like the right thing to do. The same with offering him a job. But things hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected.