by Cathie Linz
“It is? Why?”
“Because the first two are more intellectual, while Rachmaninoff’s music is passionate and emotional.”
“Yes, well . . .” Emma set her backpack down and removed her laptop. She wasn’t here to analyze her tastes in music. “I want to thank you for agreeing to speak with me this afternoon.”
“No problem. Would you like some iced tea?”
Emma nodded. His deck was in the shade, but the June day was hot and humid enough to make her hair misbehave even though she’d tried to scrape it back into a pony-tail. “Thank you.”
After she took a seat across from him, Bart handed her a glass, the ice cubes clinking. “I love talking about my hometown, and I’m very proud of all the changes and improvements we’ve made over the past year.”
“You were elected mayor two months ago, correct?”
“Yes. The changes in town started before then, however.”
Emma nodded. “With the renovation of the Tivoli Theater.”
“Yes. Since then, we’ve prettied up the downtown area with whiskey barrels filled with flowers in front of most of the businesses. You may have noticed them?”
“I did. The red, white, and purple petunias are very colorful.”
“That was actually your sister Leena’s idea, though she’d never admit it. Ditto for the new Rock Creek Community Park just north of town. Leena started that ball rolling by completing a grant application to a nonprofit organization that sets up parks and playgrounds in a weekend with community involvement. Those sisters of yours are real movers and shakers.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You must all be getting excited about the impending weddings.”
“Mmm,” Emma said absently as she typed info into her laptop.
“Not everyone in town is as excited about the changes in Rock Creek as we are,” Bart said.
“Traditionally, the citizens of Rock Creek have had the mindset of ridgerunners—they tend to be suspicious of flatlanders.”
Emma grinned. “I haven’t heard those terms in a while.”
“Have you forgotten what they mean?”
“Not at all. Ridgerunners are born and bred in the hills of northern and central Pennsylvania.
Basically everyone else is a flatlander.”
“And flatlanders aren’t really to be trusted.”
“That’s not unique to this area,” Emma said. “The distrust of outsiders is a universal human social condition unfortunately. Both the Internet and satellite TV have broadened people’s horizons in some cases, but there is still a sense of ‘us’ versus ‘them’ in many groups.”
“Then you’ve heard that Roy and a bunch of his buddies aren’t real happy with the recent changes?”
Emma already knew that Roy wasn’t real happy with her, but she had no idea of his views on Rock Creek.
“Rumor has it that you and Roy got into a small confrontation at Nick’s Tavern last week,”
Bart continued. “I hear he’s been boycotting the bar ever since and getting his drinks at Buzzy’s Liquor Store up by the interstate. He’s also increased his complaints about the dangerous path this town is taking. He’s not exactly a fan of the arts.”
“Then he must not be happy about the Arts and Crafts Drive that Angel Wright has organized.
I’m seeing her after I finish our interview.”
“Roy and his buddies are not only unhappy, they’ve filled the direction signs for the drive with buckshot or painted over them. Basically they’ve done whatever they can to make trouble.”
“What is the sheriff doing about it?”
“Everyone knows it’s Roy behind the vandalism, but he hasn’t been caught at it yet.
There’s no proof. He was quiet for a while there, but this past week he’s been angrier than I’ve ever seen him.”
“That’s probably my fault,” Emma said, feeling guilty.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Bart said. “I’m a clown. Cheering people up is my specialty.”
“Right. Well, getting back to the town, what plans do you have for continuing improvements?”
“We’d like to fill the few vacancies we have in the commercial space downtown. There has already been a huge improvement in that area in the past year to year and a half. You’ve no doubt seen the new health food store, the Thai restaurant, and the antique mall, among others. We’ve got a specialty tea shop opening soon. Even the Sisters of the Poor Charity Thrift Shop has received a facelift. Your sister Leena does the window display each month, and the shop has a very successful web presence. Speaking of the Internet, I’d like to see our town’s website updated and made more interactive and welcoming. I’d also like to see everyone get involved with the town’s future, with our citizens uniting rather than being divided.”
“Did you plan on becoming the mayor when you returned to Rock Creek after so many years away?”
“No. But I could see the way the town was going downhill fast and I wanted to do something about it. That’s one of the neat things about small towns. One person can make a difference. Not that I’m that one person. As I said, your sister has done plenty as have Skye and her mother Angel. I wasn’t born to be a leader. I was born to be a clown. But I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to participate in this turnaround for my hometown.”
Emma spoke with Bart a bit longer before concluding the interview.
“It’s all about taking risks,” Angel Wright said an hour later. She and Emma were seated in a screened-in side porch of the farmhouse called Nirvana. “Believe me, I know all about taking risks.”
Which got Emma immediately thinking about Jake, the ultimate risk taker. That alone should have been a huge red flag for Emma.
It’s not like I want to marry the guy. I just want to have sex with him.
Right. Like you make a habit of having sex with men for the hell of it.
There’s always a first time.
Only if you’re a risk taker . . . and you’re not.
“Most of the risks I took ended in failure,” Angel was saying. “There was Friendly Franks, a tofu hot dog stand in Fairbanks, Alaska. But there were too many carnivores up there for that endeavor to be a success. And garlic gelato was the downfall of another business that went bust.
But one of my mottos is ‘Fall seven times, stand up eight.’ It’s one of my favorite Chinese proverbs. Or to put it another way: perseverance is failing nineteen times and succeeding on the twentieth. Julie Andrews said that or something very close to it. I’m not the best at quotes. My daughter Julia, the librarian, is great at it.” Angel frowned. “Where were we?”
“You were telling me how you started Angel Designs.”
“And I was talking about taking chances and not fearing failure.”
“My dad is a former Marine so I was raised with the concept that failure is not an option,”
Emma admitted.
“Oh, but that means that you’re afraid of making mistakes and you shouldn’t be. Mistakes can be a wonderful learning tool for you. You shouldn’t be afraid.”
The turn in the conversation left Emma feeling very uneasy. She didn’t want to examine her fears.
There were way too many of them for her to cope with at the moment. “Yes, well . . .
getting back to Angel Designs and how it got started.”
“It started with Ricky and Lucy. My two llamas. And then Nicole Kidman wore one of my crocheted designs and suddenly this was a big deal. My handmade scarves and shawls were really in demand. I expanded my collection and hired help. A while later I bought this farm and called it Nirvana. I got more llamas and some alpaca too. I networked with other llama owners as well as other fabric artists and weavers in the area. I have to say I was surprised at how many of them were located around here. I guess there’s something about mountains that makes artists gravitate toward them. PA actually already has several artisan trails, along Route 6 and Route 15. And now we’ve got a talented and enthusiastic group
starting here in Rock Creek. We’ve got artisans who do everything from photography to watercolor painting, from furniture making and leatherworks to glassblowing. It really is amazing.”
“How many artisans do you have in the area?”
“Between forty and fifty and that’s been in the relatively short period of time of the past year or year and a half. Of course, a number of them are people I know or have interacted with over the years. Gary the glassblower used to visit my gelato store in Seattle. Artisans are often good networkers with each other.”
“A majority of them have agreed to participate in my research study and complete my questionnaire.”
“They’re good people, although you know, artists aren’t into questionnaires,” Angel warned her.
“We don’t do simple yes or no questions that well.”
“I have plenty of space for additional comments.”
“And I’m sure you’ll get plenty. I suppose you’ve heard that not everyone is as enthusiastic about the addition of artisans to this area as you are.”
“Yes, but they’re not the majority.”
“They don’t have to be. They only need to use fear and intimidation to get their way.”
“Have you received any threats?”
“Not directly, no. My significant other, Tyler, would scare off anyone who tried to come here to make trouble. But they don’t have to step foot on Nirvana to create chaos. An organization called Americans for Rock Creek has put flyers on parked cars in town, saying that weirdos aren’t welcome here, that we should all go back where we came from.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, so am I. They are creating bad karma for themselves when they wish ill on others.”
Emma doubted that Roy and his group were worried about their karma.
“That was Mom.” Emma closed her cell phone. They’d made it to Thursday, forty-eight hours before Sue Ellen’s wedding, without any major family meltdowns. “She said she’d be a little late and we should wait for her before we start our spa experience.”
“What can you say about a place called the Ritzee Day Spa?” Leena looked around, wrinkling her nose at the salmon and lime green paisley wallpaper that overpowered the tiny waiting area.
“They have coupons,” Sue Ellen said. “Special discount coupons for their grand opening this week. That’s why Mom picked this spa.”
“Which should have been our first red flag,” Leena said.
Emma defended Maxie. “That’s not fair. Mom is trying to do something nice for us before the wedding.”
Leena shook her head. “There’s always trouble when Mom tries to do something nice. Do you remember the Christmas that she put reindeer antlers on the roof of that green Pinto we used to have?”
“They weren’t real reindeer antlers,” Sue Ellen said. “She sewed them herself. And made the big fuzzy red nose on the hood.”
“And drove us to school in the Christmas-mobile.” Emma shuddered at the memory.
“Have you seen Sue Ellen’s car?” Leena asked Emma. “The pink Batmobile isn’t much better.”
“At least it doesn’t have antlers,” Sue Ellen said, thumbing through an In Style magazine. “I saw on the Internet that there was a big fashion show in China where all the dresses were made out of condoms. Did you hear about that, Leena?”
“No.”
“But that’s your specialty.”
“Condoms?”
“No, fashion.”
Emma inserted herself into the conversation. “Just so you both know, I love you guys, but I am not wearing a condom dress for any of your events.”
Sue Ellen tossed the magazine aside and focused her attention on Emma. “Change of subject.
What were you and Jake doing before we came to your studio apartment last week?”
Emma felt her face go red. “Nothing.”
“Did he kiss you? He did!” Sue Ellen said triumphantly. “I can tell by the look on your face.
Come on, dish. We want all the details. Where did he kiss you? Cheek? Lips? Chaste?
French? Good?
Bad?”
Emma tried not to look as mortified as she felt. “I am not discussing this when our mother could walk in any second.”
“Why not?” Maxie demanded as she joined them. “Do you think I don’t know about kissing and sex? Your father and I—”
Sue Ellen and Leena put their fingers over their ears and started saying, “La, la, la.”
Emma couldn’t help herself. She joined them. “La, la, la.”
“What a bunch of prudes.” Maxie shook her head. “Come on, let’s get this spa stuff going.”
Fifteen minutes later the four of them were seated in chairs getting their manicures done.
“Emma, I bet Leena you’d get a French manicure,” Sue Ellen said. “No bright colors for you.”
“The bridesmaid’s dress is bright enough,” Emma said.
“And that florescent flamingo polish I showed you would have matched just fine,” Sue Ellen said.
Emma scrunched her face in disapproval. “I don’t want my nails to glow in the dark.”
“Emma likes French stuff,” Sue Ellen said. “French wine, French chocolates, French kisses.”
“I hope you’re not giving away the milk for free, Emma,” Maxie said. “You’re never going to catch a man that way.”
“I’m not trying to catch a man,” Emma said.
“Well, that’s obvious by the way you dress. And your hair.” Maxie did an eye roll. “If you’d just let me help you.”
“With friends like you who needs enemies?” Emma muttered.
Maxie frowned. “What, hon? I can’t understand you when you mumble like that. It’s not attractive.”
“I’ll tell you what’s not attractive,” Emma said. “Those Pepto-Bismol bridesmaids’ dresses.
I’m going to look ridiculous.”
“You’re exaggerating. Tell her she’s exaggerating,” Maxie instructed her manicurist, who ignored them and focused on her job.
“I dreamt last night that someone stole the dress,” Emma said.
“Who’d want it?” Leena said.
“Hey, at least it’s not made out of condoms. Change of subject,” Sue Ellen declared with a wave of her hand. “Oops, sorry about that,” she told her manicurist as her nail polish smeared. “New topic. Did I tell you that Dad is going to walk me down the aisle? I need a strong arm to hang on to in case I feel faint or something. I faint a lot,” Sue Ellen told the manicurist, who was looking more panicked by the second. “Not right here, not right now.
Probably. Anyway, Dad seemed okay with the idea.”
“Okay? He was thrilled, I tell you. Absolutely thrilled,” Maxie claimed.
Sue Ellen wasn’t buying that. “Yeah, right. I could tell that by the way he said okay and then went right back to watching his ball game.”
Maxie defended him. “You know how your father is about expressing his emotions.”
“Yeah, I know. He doesn’t express them at all.”
“He’s not into all this girlie stuff like weddings and emotions,” Maxie said.
“Maybe we should have invited Dad along to get his nails buffed.” After making the suggestion, Sue Ellen giggled so hard she snorted, which got them all laughing so hard tears came to their eyes.
And they couldn’t wipe them away, because of their just completed manicures.
Emma loved moments like this. It had been a long time since they’d had a group gigglefest.
She missed having her entire family close by.
True, they could and often did drive her nuts, but they shared a special bond that couldn’t be duplicated. This was why she was willing to wear the nightmare pink dress for Sue Ellen.
Because she was her sister.
Emma tried to remind herself of those reasons two days later on Sue Ellen’s wedding day as she stared into the full-length mirror at her reflection. “I hate you,” she told Leena, who stood
behind her. “How can you look good in something this awful?”
“It takes years of training,” Leena said. “Trust me, I’ve modeled in worse.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Emma muttered. “Maybe if I took the stupid sleeves off . . .
and removed the butt bow . . .”
“There’s no time. We have to get Sue Ellen out of the bathroom and into her wedding dress.”
“Maybe she should have put the dress on first.”
“She was afraid she’d throw up on it.”
“I thought the morning sickness was doing better.”
“It is. She also had to pee, for the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes. Do you know how hard it is to pee wearing a wedding dress?”
“No, and I’m not real eager to find out,” Emma said. This was her first time as a bridesmaid, and it was turning out to be more complicated by the second.
Their mother joined them to wail, “I look like I’ve got the measles!”
“You look fine.” Emma patted her mom on the back, careful not to dislodge any of the colorful silk butterflies Maxie had strewn in her upswept hair.
Leena showed no sympathy. “I told you not to try a facial with new products right before the wedding.”
“Where’s your sister?” Maxie demanded. “Where’s the bride? She’s not leaving Donny at the altar, is she? You girls are going to be the death of me yet!”
Sue Ellen stepped out of the bathroom. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“You need a dress unless you plan on getting married in your slip,” Emma said.
“Right.”
“Don’t mess up her hair,” Maxie warned them. “It took me two hours to get those silk birds placed in those curls just right.”
Somehow, someway they were able to get Sue Ellen put together. She looked lovely in the elegant white satin princess-style dress with the full bustle skirt.
Leena consulted her list. “Something old? Mom’s pearls. Something new? Pearl earrings from Donny. Something borrowed? Gold bracelet from Donny’s mom. Something blue?
The garter belt from me. Check, check, check. Okay, I say we’re ready to go.”
“Wait.” Emma handed Sue Ellen her bouquet of pink and white roses. “Now we’re ready.”
Chapter ine