The Blossom Sisters

by Fern Michaels

  Gus couldn’t believe it when he ground the gears. He’d been driving a stick shift for years and years and never let the gears grind. What the hell is wrong with me? He had never felt so inadequate. He had never been good at small talk about trivia, but he struggled to appear manly and nonchalant. He risked a glance at her and saw that she looked amused. Crap. She probably thought he was being sophomoric.

  “Do you like Bandoliers?”

  “I do. I’ve only been there a few times, though. I like the tablecloths and cloth napkins. The lighting is good, too. And the tables are generously spaced so you don’t hear other people’s conversations.” She laughed then, and Gus almost melted into the seat. “How’s that for casual conversation?”

  Gus grinned. “Better than I could have come up with. Dates are . . .”

  “Stressful?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But we know each other,” Jill said. “Unfortunately for both of us, we got off on the wrong foot. I allowed you to see only the business side of me. And you reacted to that and let me see your unflattering side. Let’s just start over and just be Jill and Gus who are going out to dinner at a nice restaurant.”

  “Whew! That works for me.”

  “Well, there you go. What would you like to talk about, Gus?”

  “I used to be a Boy Scout. Barney was, too. We actually made Eagle Scout. If there was a catastrophe, I could probably save you in some fashion, by building a fire without matches and finding roots and berries for you that are safe to eat.”

  Jill laughed so hard tears rolled down her cheeks. “That sure does make me feel good, Gus.”

  In spite of himself, Gus laughed along with her. “Your turn.”

  “After you save me, I could give you a recital. I took ballet lessons when I was little. I can still stand on my toes. I don’t have a tutu, though.”

  “I have a vivid imagination. What color?”

  “Pink and white.”

  “I have the vision in my mind now. We’re here,” Gus said, swerving into the first parking place he saw.

  Gus bustled out of the sports car, rushed around to the passenger side, and opened the door for Jill. He got another glimpse of her thigh and the long scar, and felt light-headed. He reached for her arm and pulled her forward. She smelled so good, he wanted to bury his face in her hair.

  The next thirty minutes passed in a pleasant blur after they were seated in a dim, candlelit corner. They ordered white wine and smiled at each other across the table as they each contemplated the menu.

  Gus ordered prawns stuffed with crab meat and Jill ordered pecan potato–crusted salmon. They both chose the house dressing for their salads, then ordered a second glass of wine. They made small talk, mostly about Barney and his anticipated return later that evening.

  Gus was now relaxed and enjoying the conversation he was having with his dinner companion, the woman he’d just fallen in love with.

  The waiter served dinner, and suddenly Gus fell back into teenage mode. He couldn’t eat the delectable food sitting in front of him. He made a pretense of cutting and moving the food around on his plate. It took him forever to chew a piece of the shrimp.

  Jill stopped chewing long enough to ask, “Is something wrong? You’re not eating. Aren’t you hungry?”

  Gus was tempted to make up a story about his grandmother making him eat something earlier, but in the end decided to go with full disclosure. He confessed to the teenage episode with his first dining-out date at a fast-food joint.

  Jill smiled. “I promise not to watch you eat, and I can guarantee that shrimp or crab won’t stick in your teeth.”

  “I like your sense of humor. I just told you a secret. Your turn,” Gus said, popping half a shrimp into his mouth.

  “I got burned in a house fire when I was eight years old, and the right side of my body is scarred pretty badly, that’s why I dress the way I do. This salmon is really good. Do you think they’d give me the recipe if I asked for it?”

  Whoa.

  “Secrets aren’t good. I’m all for full disclosure. I’m sure they’ll give you the recipe minus one of the ingredients. At least, that’s what my grandmother told me. ‘Recipes,’ she said, ‘especially family recipes, are meant to stay in the family. ’ I’m not sure, but I would think chefs probably feel the same way.”

  Jill stopped eating and stared at Gus across the table in the candlelight. “Aren’t you going to ask me any questions?”

  “No. I won’t share your secret with anyone. I’m not a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. Not that I kissed you. Oh, hell, you know what I mean. Please don’t tell anyone about my secret.”

  “Deal,” Jill said, holding her hand out across the table. Gus reached for it. He thought it felt like soft silk. He held her hand an extra few seconds. Jill drew away first.

  Gus finally felt comfortable enough to relax when he realized he was enjoying the give and take with his dinner companion. Being honest with himself, he thought he had never had such an enjoyable dinner. He liked this new Jill Jackson. It appeared she liked him, too. Just after the waiter arrived to remove their dinner plates and take their dessert order, Gus excused himself to go to the men’s room, where he called his grandmother. His conversation was bullet fast and ended with his confession of telling Jill about his teenage dinner date. Obviously, his grandmother had him on speakerphone, because he could hear his aunts laugh. He ended with, “She was burned in a fire, and she said she’s scarred. It happened when she was a kid.”

  There was no embarrassment when Gus returned to his seat and said, “I had to check in with my grandmother and aunts.”

  “That’s nice. You’re lucky, Gus, that someone cares enough about you to want you to check in. I don’t have anyone; the aunt who took care of me after the fire passed away a few years ago.”

  Jill leaned across the table. Gus thought she looked beautiful in the soft candlelight. “I need to apologize, Gus, for my . . . attitude when we first met. I thought you were throwing away a lifetime of love and caring, for someone who treated you like dirt. I’m sorry, I really am.”

  “I wasn’t exactly a peach myself. But that’s behind us. In the end, it will all work out the way it’s supposed to. I’m just glad you stuck with me.”

  The waiter was back with two plates of red velvet cake and coffee.

  “I love sweets,” Gus confessed.

  “Me, too. When I have time, I bake raisin-filled cookies.”

  “I’m addicted to Pop-Tarts, and so is my dog. That’s our sweet and treat every day.”

  Jill laughed.

  God, how I love the sound.

  And then dinner was over, and it was time to leave. Gus paid the bill and acted like the gentleman he was and got up to hold the back of her chair.

  It was a beautiful April evening. The dark sky sparkled like diamonds. Gus didn’t want the evening to end. He wished he knew how Jill felt.

  “I really enjoyed dinner, Gus. It’s been a long time since I had a night out like this. Thank you.” Gus felt his chest puff out. She, too, had enjoyed dinner.

  There was very little traffic, and Gus made every green light. He was parking in Jill’s driveway in less than fifteen minutes.

  “Don’t get out, Gus. I can make it to the doorway on my own.” She leaned over, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. The next thing Gus knew, she was sprinting up the walkway. It all happened so quick, he didn’t know what to do. He lowered the window and shouted, “Can I call you again?”

  Gus heard her laughter. “If you don’t, I’ll call you!”

  The grin stayed on Gus’s face on the drive around the corner to his house. He let himself in. Wilson raced to him and barked. Gus gave him a good scratch behind the ears. “Did you fold the laundry?”

  Woof.

  “Any calls?”

  Woof, woof, woof.

  “Three calls. Wow! Did you make the bed? I hope you tucked the corners in. I hate it when my bed is wrinkled.”

  Woof, woof, woof, woof.<
br />
  Gus laughed. He loved this game he played with Wilson. He listened to the three messages on his phone. Nothing he had to deal with now. He ran upstairs and checked the bed for Wilson’s benefit. He laughed. “You’re getting better, buddy. You need to work on the other side a little.”

  Back downstairs, he made a pretense of checking the dryer, then said, “Okay, you couldn’t get the door open. Wanna go for a walk?” Wilson ran for his leash and off they went. Down to the corner and around the block, not once but twice, so Wilson could mark his territory. Their evening walk took forty-five minutes, until Wilson tugged on the leash, meaning it was time to head for home and the treat that was always forthcoming after a long evening walk.

  “Okay, buddy, let’s go home, so I can tell you about my evening before I bust. We can sit on the deck and enjoy each other’s company.” As they rounded the corner to their street, Wilson jerked free and raced for home, the leash dragging behind him. Gus gaped at the figure sitting on his front steps, a huge duffel bag at his feet.

  “Barney!”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” He was tussling with Wilson but stopped to hug Gus. “So, how’s it going? How did dinner go?”

  “Come on in, we’ll have a beer on the deck. I was going to sit out there and tell Wilson how it went. This way, I’ll only have to tell it once. You just get in?” Gus said, looking at the huge duffel bag.

  “Yeah, came straight here from the airport. I’m moving in with you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, I’m moving in with you. I like this house. I walked around and peeped in the windows while I waited. I think I can be comfortable here.”

  “What’s wrong with that mausoleum you live in? I only have one bed.”

  “You just said it, it’s a mausoleum. I can sleep on the floor. I’ll buy a bed tomorrow unless you don’t want me moving in.”

  Gus shrugged. “Me casa, you casa.” He uncapped two bottles of beer, reached for a Pop-Tart, and headed out to the deck.

  “Talk to me, buddy,” Barney said.

  Gus talked and talked until his beer was finished. He walked into the house for two more and returned. “So, what do you think? I want to know more about your return and the decision you made to give up making money.”

  The two old friends talked into the wee hours of the morning. A parade of beer bottles lined the table, yet neither man was drunk. “Why didn’t you tell me about the fire and her scars? It doesn’t make a difference, but I wish you had told me. Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t feel like such an ass.”

  “It wasn’t my place to tell you. Just so you know, Jill never even told me. It was in her background check. You need to give some thought, now, to perhaps hiring a new lawyer if you plan on seeing her on a social basis. I’m sure she’s already working on that herself, but it won’t look good, especially if Elaine gets wind of it.” Gus nodded.

  Gus told Barney about Jill’s phone call from the Diamond law firm. “I guess that puts things on hold, at least for the moment. What do you think, Barney?”

  “Big white-shoe firm. Big retainers, all about billing. I think they charge something like five hundred dollars an hour. At least that’s what I heard, but it was awhile back. I guess my question is, where did Elaine get that kind of money to sign on with them?”

  “I don’t know, Barney. Elaine always kept her finances separate from mine. We shared my income, though. Don’t say it. That’s the way marriage is supposed to be, it’s all about sharing. You’re one, so to speak.”

  Barney snorted. “Too bad Elaine didn’t think the same way you did.”

  “Yeah. Come on, let’s go to bed. We need to be at the farm early in the morning.”

  Upstairs in the bedroom, Barney looked at the bed and the covers.

  “Wilson’s job is to make the bed. He’s getting better at it. He thinks he just has to do my side. If you sweet-talk him, he might let you sleep with him in his bed.”

  Barney started to laugh and couldn’t stop. “See, this is why I didn’t want to go back to my house; it’s no fun there.”

  Gus snapped his fingers. Wilson was on the bed in a heartbeat.

  Barney eyed the dog bed. Dog hairs by the boatload. What the hell. “Does Wilson have fleas?”

  Wilson reared up and let loose with a yowl of outrage.

  “Guess that answers your question,” Gus said as he punched his pillow to fluff it up, then turned off the light.

  Gus’s last conscious thought before he fell asleep was that he would dream about Jill Jackson.

  Chapter 22

  THE SUN WAS JUST STARTING TO CREEP FROM THE HORIZON when the black candle on Elaine Hollister’s altar flickered for the final time. The green candle was just a pool of melted wax in the little dish. She’d been sitting at her altar in her high-priestess robe for twelve hours, chanting, slipping in and out of what she thought of as a trance. She folded her hands into a steeple, bowed her head, and rose to her feet. She uttered one last chant before she ended her night-long vigil. She didn’t move as she waited to see if any thoughts or visions would come to her. She wasn’t sure in her own mind if she should pack up her altar or leave it as it was until she returned from her visit to the hospital to see Isaac Diamond. She needed a sign. She’d come too far and didn’t want to make a rash mistake for lack of patience.

  Elaine stood statue still until the sun’s early morning rays crept through the slats of the plantation shutters covering the dining-room windows, straight across to her altar in thin stripes. Seeing the stripes of sun on the altar was all Elaine needed. She had her answer.

  Slowly and methodically, Elaine packed up everything on her altar. She removed the linen tablecloth, carried it to the washer, and turned the machine on. Later, when the cloth was in the dryer, she would wash her linen gown. She returned to the dining room and replaced the silk flower arrangement that was the centerpiece. Next, she opened all the shutters. The room was instantly flooded with early morning sunshine.

  It was after eight when Elaine entered the kitchen to make coffee. While she waited for it to drip into the pot, she smoked two cigarettes. She wasn’t a smoker by any stretch of the imagination, but she’d found that smoking after an intense ritual calmed her to the point where she thought she was almost having an out-of-body experience. She loved the feeling.

  Two cups of coffee later, Elaine made her way upstairs to get ready for the day.

  Showered, powdered, and perfumed, Elaine took exceptional pains with her makeup, hair, and her outfit. She decided that her makeup was flawless, and she looked dewy and healthy. Her luxurious, honey-colored hair was swirled with stray tendrils curling by her ears. She reached for a can of sparkle and sprayed her hair. Just one quick press of the pressurized button and her hair glistened. The outfit she had chosen was a designer suit that was so severe, one knew it had cost a fortune. And it had. It was the color of oyster shells. The blouse that she chose to go under the suit had a demure string bow at the throat. It was the color of a morning dove. She looked at herself from every angle in the mirror. She was satisfied that there was nothing more to do. In her mind, she looked perfect. Simply because she was perfect . And how could one improve on perfection? One could not, that was her bottom line.

  Elaine slipped her feet into sling-back spike heels that showed off her legs and gave her a regal look. She was a head turner, and she knew it full well. A smile played around the corners of her mouth as she made her way downstairs. It was a shame that she had to drive that shitty little yellow Volkswagen. She belonged in a Mercedes convertible. Soon, she’d be driving one, she was certain of it.

  Elaine had a bad moment when she reached the door. She was about to set the alarm when a thought occurred to her. She quickly rummaged in one of the kitchen drawers for a roll of duct tape. She picked up a pair of shears and a ballpoint pen. Outside, she set the alarm and closed the door behind her. She made a mark on the doorframe and cut off a strip of duct tape and stretched it across the door. She smoothed out the tape so th
ere were no creases or wrinkles. If anyone broke into her house, she’d know it when she returned because the mark she’d made on the doorframe would come off on the sticky side of the duct tape. Plus, no matter how hard you tried to reuse duct tape, you could tell once it had been pulled free of whatever it was sticking to. Gus had told her that, but she couldn’t remember why. On a whim, she scribbled a note on the duct tape: the police are watching this house. She ran around to the front door and did the same thing. There wasn’t anything else she could do, so she left the house and drove to the hospital where Isaac Diamond was a patient.

  Elaine had called precisely at six o’clock last evening when the new shift came on duty, to ask if Isaac could have visitors and was told he could and that no real visiting hours were in effect. The news fit in perfectly with the rituals she had performed all night long. As far as she was concerned, Isaac Diamond was toast. He just didn’t know it yet.

  Gus stopped the car with a wide sweep in front of Barney’s garage. Barney hopped out and opened the garage door. “I’m going inside to fetch some more knock-around clothes, and I’ll meet you at Shady Pines in thirty minutes. Listen, pal. You sure it’s okay for me to bunk in with you? You sure you don’t mind?”

  “If I did, you’d know it. Get your stuff and make it snappy. I told Granny we’d be ready by eleven for our sit-down orientation. The seniors get antsy when things don’t go off on time.”

  “No problem,” Barney said, sprinting through the garage.

  Gus backed up and swung his car around. Ten minutes later, he parked in what was once the Shady Pines assisted-living facility. He reached for his briefcase, which contained all his notes and schedules.

  Inside, Gus headed straight for the industrial kitchen. The kitchen was huge, as was a room that was probably a pantry of sorts, with extra refrigerators and cabinets for staples. Gus eyed the industrial ovens and the two stoves with sixteen burners in total. The two industrial ovens had six shelves each for baking trays. The microwave ovens lining a side wall were huge as well. He closed his eyes as he tried to imagine how many people could be served meals from this kitchen. What he didn’t know was whether the food had been prepared from scratch, or had come from a food-service company and simply been reheated. He made notes on the yellow legal pad in his hand.