The Blossom Sisters

by Fern Michaels

  They all made small talk, mostly about the crazy storm raging outside, the flooding that was taking place, and, of course, worry that the power was eventually going to go out. There was no real concern for him on their faces. They were just doing what they perceived to be their duty. He missed their open smiles. He was definitely not out of the woods where they were concerned. Maybe he’d blown it all for good. The thought was so awful, Gus had trouble swallowing the tea. He wanted to say something, something meaningful, but he couldn’t find the words. Finally, he blurted out, “I love you all so much, I don’t have the words to tell you. I know you’re disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in myself. I know those are just words, and, like you guys have always said from the time I was little, actions count more than words. Can’t you see it in your hearts to give me a second chance? Please.”

  Violet was the first to chirp up. “Well, that is not going to happen anytime soon, young man.”

  “You can’t just trample on a person’s feelings, flip them the bird, then expect to waltz back into their lives when you get a boo-boo. We are no longer in the lifesaving business,” Iris said so coldly, Gus shivered. He thought that was the most he’d ever heard Iris say at one time.

  Two down and one to go. Gus looked at his grandmother. “Drink your tea before it gets cold, Augustus, so you can take the dogs and leave us. We have things to do today that we only do on bad-weather days.”

  They weren’t going to give him an inch. Not even half an inch. His eyes still burning, Gus gulped at the tea as instructed. Time to get out of their lives. He finished his tea, stood up, and realized he wasn’t wearing shoes or slippers. He did have on socks, a pair knitted at some time in his youth by his grandmother. He looked toward the laundry room, where Violet stood holding his old Bass moccasins. He’d had them since he was a senior in high school. He’d bought them with his own money from his job clerking at the supermarket. They were old, soft, and broken in. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t taken them with him when he’d moved out eons ago. Out with the old, in with the new, or something like that, most likely.

  Gus shook his head at Violet. “I don’t want to ruin them. I’ll just take my clothes and shoes. Maybe I can still save the shoes.” Violet shrugged as she yanked clothes out of the dryer and stuffed them in a white drawstring trash bag. Trash. Well, he felt like trash. Who in the hell ever thought that these three women, the loves of his life, could turn on him like this? (Probably the same way they wondered how he could cut them out of his life for Elaine.) Certainly not I, he thought to himself. He had a bad moment then, where he just wanted to curl into himself and bawl like a baby, so they would rush to him and hug him, smother him with kisses as they assured him in their gentle, loving voices that they would make it all right for him. He wanted that so bad he could taste it, could feel their warm arms around him, hear the soft words being whispered.

  Instead, he heard a noise that shook the house and rattled the windows. He saw the alarm on the older people’s faces, heard shrieks and howls coming from all parts of the house. The kitchen door leading into the dining room burst open. He saw a sea of white hair as senior citizens came on the run, their voices fearful. What the hell was going on?

  His grandmother sighed mightily, looked around, and said, “I think lightning hit the old sycamore out by the front porch, and it hit the ground or the verandah.”

  Gus looked around in a daze. “Who are all these people?” he finally managed to ask.

  Violet ran to the front of the house and was back in a minute. “You were right, Rose, it was the old sycamore. It’s gone. The good news is we’ll have firewood for the next ten years once we get Mr. Younger to come and split it for us. Oh, the left side of the verandah is gone. We’ll need to use the back door until we can get it repaired.”

  “Who are these people?” Gus asked again, pointing to the group of chattering seniors with white hair who had barreled into the kitchen from all directions in the house.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, young fella, but we work here,” Oscar said, his dentures clicking as he tried not to lose them in his excitement.

  “Doing what?” Gus demanded.

  “Don’t concern yourself with our friends, Augustus. Just take the dogs and go, so we can do what we have to do,” Rose Blossom said. “By that, I mean putting in calls to people to get the best price on repairs, and, of course, the insurance company. We need to be first because I’m sure other people will have damages, too, and we don’t like to wait. As you know, I like keeping the house in tip-top shape.”

  “And that would be what, exactly?” Gus demanded again. He threw his hands in the air. “You know what?” He sat down and planted his feet firmly on the floor. “I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what the hell is going on here. Like, NOW!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

  Suddenly it was bedlam, a Chinese fire drill gone bad as the little group that wasn’t so little anymore started to chatter and grumble. Gus watched in fear as one old man shook his fist in his direction and called him a young whippersnapper. It took all of Rose’s persuasive powers to calm down her little group once she clearly interpreted the look on her grandson’s face. Augustus meant exactly what he said. He wasn’t going anywhere until he got some answers. She felt defeated, as did her twin sisters, as they all glared at Gus.

  “You need to wait right here, Augustus. Wilson, do not let him move. We’re going to have a wee meeting in the dining room. If you so much as move a muscle, Augustus, I will personally take the broom to you. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, do you understand your grandmother?” the dude with the loose dentures asked, his voice filled with menace.

  “I won’t move a muscle,” Gus promised. He looked down at his dog, who was taking his orders seriously. Wilson sat up on his haunches, his ears straight up, the fur on the nape of his neck as straight up as his ears. Winnie growled so loud, Gus itched at the sound.

  Gus watched as the seniors literally pushed against each other in their haste to get to the dining room. He could hear voices, loud and angry, but he couldn’t make out the words, and if someone had offered him his weight in gold to go to the door and listen, he would have turned them down. Instead, he looked at Wilson and hissed, “Traitor!” Wilson showed him his teeth. So did Winnie.

  “Yeah, well, guess what, Wilson? From now on it’s Milk-Bones, and no more Pop-Tarts for you. See how you like that! What the hell kind of guard dog are you? You let those old ladies brainwash you. You did, Wilson! I’m going to have to take you for therapy, and I have too damned much on my plate right now as it is.” Wilson showed him his teeth again. Winnie backed him up, but her heart wasn’t in it; her tail wagged.

  Wilson noticed. He lifted one paw and smacked her on the side of the head. Winnie’s tail stopped wagging in midswing.

  The moment the dining-room door opened, Gus sucked in his breath. He watched as the seniors filed into the kitchen. They formed a circle around the table and chair where Gus was sitting. He had never in his life felt so intimidated.

  Gus let his breath out slowly as his grandmother advanced, looked him in the eye, and said, “Come along, Augustus. It’s time to take a walk on the wild side.”

  Suddenly, Gus didn’t want to get up off the chair. He would have stayed glued to it, but Wilson nudged his knee and showed him his teeth for the third time.

  Gus didn’t know what made him say the words or where they came from, but they shot out of his mouth at the speed of light: “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

  “No, nephew, probably not,” Violet snapped.

  Gus wasn’t sure, but he thought the dude with the clicking dentures said, “We should have just killed him. It’s not too late, you know. Or we could shackle him to the tractor in the barn if you’re all too squeamish. We vote on everything else. Why didn’t we vote on that?”

  Gus felt his blood run cold when no one responded.

  Chapter 8

  THE BLA
CKNESS OUTSIDE THE OLD FARMHOUSE TURNED BLINDING white. And then the earsplitting sound of the lightning striking something close by brought everyone to a standstill. The old house rumbled again as Gus ran to the front door, his grandmother and aunts right behind him. “It hit the old sycamore again!” He could feel the anxiety of the three women as he opened the front door to stare at the destruction in the front yard.

  Gus loved that old tree. Once, a long time ago, there had been a fort nestled among its branches, with a sturdy ladder some handyman had built on his grandmother’s orders. He and Barney had practically lived in the fort during good weather. His grandmother would bring out food, and they’d hoist it up in a bucket from a pulley that same handyman had installed. He’d fallen out of the tree when he was nine and had his first broken bone, his arm. Five days later, Barney had fallen out and broken his ankle. Both of them wore casts, and they’d played tic-tac-toe on both casts for the six weeks they’d had to wear them. They’d staked claim to the old sycamore that same year and carved their names in it along with the date. Now it was gone. Gus could feel his eyes start to burn. Gone. The way his old life was gone. And the new life he had, just plain old sucked. Big-time.

  “There’s nothing left to it. Nothing at all,” he said sadly. “Do you think when they come to chop it up, you can ask them if they can save the bark where Barney and I carved our names? I’d like to . . . what I mean is . . . never mind. I know you three aren’t in the business of doing me any favors. I can’t believe it’s gone.” The lump in Gus’s throat was the size of a golf ball, making it hard to swallow.

  “We’ll ask,” his grandmother said curtly. “Close the door, Augustus, the rain is coming in.” Gus slammed the door shut and shot the deadbolt.

  “We should get on with this,” Violet said. “We’re losing valuable work hours with this tour.”

  “Violet is right; let’s just do it and get it over with.” Rose nodded as she opened the door to what had once been her beloved husband’s library. It was a handsome room, with wall-to-wall bookshelves, a massive fieldstone fireplace, and a stunning oriental rug, which seemed to grow more beautiful with the years. Gus remembered sitting in that room and listening to his grandfather read to him. His grandfather had died when Gus was twelve, and he remembered that his mother and father had not even come home for the funeral. It was after that that his aunts had come to live with him and Granny Rose.

  The drapes were gone, replaced with shutters, which seemed to throw the room off kilter even though they matched the bookshelves. The books were gone now, packed away in boxes in the attic. The shelves held manila folders, mailing envelopes, files of every color and description. There were boxes with lids on and initials scrawled on the sides for easy identification.

  Gus looked around as he tried to understand what he was seeing. His grandfather’s antique desk was gone. He and Barney used to hide under it. In its place were long folding tables that held six computers. Another table held four fax machines. A third table held four copiers. A fourth held nine telephones, the old-fashioned landline kind. Gus blinked. His first thought was wild and crazy: Were these ditzy oldsters running a bookie joint? He didn’t mean to blurt the words out, but he did. His grandmother looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. “That’s too silly to dignify with a response.”

  “What is all this?” Gus insisted, waving his arms about.

  “Hit it, Iris!” Rose said.

  Iris smiled and sat down at one of the computers and clicked away for several seconds. She got up and motioned for Gus to take her seat. “Check it out! Just scroll down, and everything is there.” She moved off to stand to the side with her sisters. “I almost wish we smoked, because we could light up now. We don’t even have any gum,” she whispered as she eyed her nephew, who looked like he’d gotten caught in a horror movie.

  “He isn’t going to take this very well,” Rose whispered to her sisters.

  “And do we care about that?” Violet said out the corner of her mouth. Her sisters ignored the comment.

  Ten minutes went by, then three more, before Gus swiveled his chair around to stare at his grandmother and the aunts. “It’s an impressive Web site. Whoever did it knew what they were doing. What is Initial B Enterprises?”

  The three sisters’ chests puffed out. “We are Initial B Enterprises—us, and all the people you saw earlier. It’s our business,” Rose said. “Iris, show Augustus our financial records.”

  Iris moved to another computer and clicked the keys. “Even you, nephew, should be able to understand this, you being a certified public accountant and all.” She got up and waved her arm with a flourish to indicate Gus should take her seat.

  The fine hairs on the back of Gus’s neck stood on end as he eyed the screen in front of him. The sisters huddled, not taking their eyes off Gus as they waited for his reaction.

  When it came, it wasn’t what they expected. “Who handles the accounting? Do you have a lawyer? What am I, chopped liver? You didn’t trust me to help you? For God’s sake, is this even real? Most important, is what you’re doing legal?”

  Rose sucked in her breath and tried to straighten her round shoulders and stand tall. “You are in no position to ask us any questions, because what we do is none of your business. But because my sisters and I do not want you storming around here trying to ruin our lives, I will respond. Yes, of course it’s legal. We have one of the best lawyers in the state working for us. And our accounting firm is top-notch, one you used to lust after but where you couldn’t get hired. I don’t know if you’re chopped liver or not, Augustus. None of us know what you are anymore. We did not want to involve you. You young people are so irresponsible, and you proved us right. And, yes, it’s real.”

  Gus threw his hands in the air. “What is it you do? I mean . . . how did you generate so much money? What exactly are you selling? It was hard . . . this does not make one bit of sense to me. No offense, but you’re old ladies. This is . . . who invests your money?”

  “Goldman Sachs! And a fine job they’ve done for us, as you can readily see!” Violet said smartly. “We’re all millionaires. You certainly can’t quibble with the numbers, now, can you?”

  Gus rubbed at his temples. His headache was back.

  “And you never told me. Even back before . . . well, before.”

  “You wouldn’t have understood. You were young, full of spit and vinegar. You thought then the way you think now. That because we’re old, we should be put out to pasture. We were going to tell you at one point, but then you got yourself involved with that gold digger, and we couldn’t take the chance. Can you even imagine what she would do if she knew about all of this? That’s why we took you out of our wills,” Rose said.

  “You took me out of your wills!” Gus yelped in horror.

  “Oh, this is just too much. I can’t deal with stupid,” Violet said as she made her way to the door.

  “Wait! Hold on here! I wasn’t talking about money. I don’t care about that. I thought we were family. You’re all I have. If you take me out of your wills, that means I’m practically an orphan. I don’t want to be an orphan!” Gus realized how ridiculous he sounded, but he didn’t care. “I don’t have any parents. You three were my parents. So, are you saying you disowned me and didn’t even tell me?” There was such hurt, such outrage in Gus’s eyes, the sisters backed up a step.

  “Well, maybe you aren’t so stupid after all,” Violet said, her faded blue eyes sparkling. “We thought of it as a temporary thing that could be corrected at some point in time. We’re leaving our money to no-kill animal shelters across the nation, to shelters for battered women, and, of course, to children’s agencies.”

  “That’s great. It’s your money, you can do whatever you want with it. But couldn’t you at least leave me a dollar so I’m in the will?”

  “We did leave you ten dollars,” Iris said. Gus deflated like a pricked balloon.

  “I know this sounds stupid, but does Barney know about all of this?
” Gus asked.

  “No, not really, but he is the one who got us the people who made up the Web page. He got us the best of the best. Barney never asked why, he just said okay, and his people contacted us. He had the good sense not to ask questions,” Rose said.

  “We’re wasting time,” Violet said. “Are we going to give him the tour, or is this it?”

  “I want the damned tour,” Gus blustered. “I want to know everything about Initial B Enterprises. In case you get arrested and go to jail. I cannot believe what you are doing is legal.”

  The sisters rolled their eyes, and they all trooped out the door and down the hall. “Well, here we go. This is Door Number One. Enter please, but stand still,” Violet said.

  Gus thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He saw four sewing machines and boxes stacked almost to the ceiling. There was only a small space that could technically be called a path. The lights were on not only because it was dark outside but because cartons had been stacked up against the windows. “What . . . what do you sew in here?” he asked.

  “Underwear. We monogram it,” Rose said.

  “Thongs to be precise,” Violet tittered.

  Gus turned pink. His thoughts turned to all he’d seen on the Initial B Enterprises Web site. He struggled to work his tongue around the question he needed to ask. “Whose underwear, excuse me, thongs, and what initials are you monogramming? OMG! OMG! You’re selling Anna Nicole Smith underwear? And you’re monogramming it?”

  The sisters crossed their arms over their chests and stared at Gus. “We can see how you would think that, but it isn’t true. We are selling Alice Nolan Sanders underwear. She was a resident of Shady Pines until she expired. We’re selling it in her memory. A percentage of sales goes to her family. It’s not our fault if people assume, and the key word here is assume, that we are selling Anna Nicole Smith underwear. She’s dead now, you know, God rest her soul!” Rose said virtuously.