And now, the cards. What went where? Some she knew, like the showy arrangement for the reception. Some . . . crap. She got her clipboard with names and addresses from the front seat. Nothing had changed there. It still gave her only names and addresses. There’d been no need to note who was getting what, not when the cards with the recipients’ names on them were in the arrangements, and the clipboard had the names matched with addresses. Everything had been fine until the merchandise went flying. Boy, that practice had to change.
Blondie was singing again. Bobbi knew she had to answer.
“How’s it going?” asked Hope.
Bobbi got a look at herself in the rearview mirror. Her hair was plastered to her head, her eyes were red from crying, and her eyeliner was running down her face. She looked like an escapee from a horror movie. “Oh, fine,” she said, forcing her voice to sound carefree.
“The customer from the bank called and wants to know when we’re getting there with the flowers. They’re right in the middle of the birthday party.”
“They’re next.” They were now. Bobbi looked at the card envelopes in her hand. One of these belonged on flowers destined for the bank. But which one?
“Okay,” Hope said. “I’ll tell her that Linda will have her lavender roses in what, ten minutes?”
Bobbi sighed inwardly with relief. Good old Linda of the lavender roses. “Absolutely.”
She snapped the cell phone shut and hurried back to the flowers. The little fork that held the card was history, so Bobbi propped the card in among the flowers. That took care of Linda.
Now, what about the two remaining mystery arrangements? Neither one of them were orders that Bobbi had taken. One was a gigantic wicker basket of plants. The other was an arrangement of yellow roses, one of which now lay discarded off on the side of the road. She chewed her lip as she studied the clipboard. Who did we have to choose from here? Millie Baldwin and Altheus Hornby. So, which of these looked like a Millie and which one looked like an Altheus?
And then she remembered. Hope had met Millie at the community garden. So, of course, the plants had to go to Millie the gardener. Whew, that was a close one. She took a deep, calming breath, propped the cards back in the arrangements as best she could and shut the door.
Now, the next challenge was to get the Cruiser safely backed up. She slipped in behind the wheel, restarted the car, and then, holding her breath, backed up very slowly. The wheels started searching for ground to bite.
“Come on!” Bobbi yelled.
The wheels tried harder, and, just when she thought she was going to have a complete nervous breakdown, they grabbed onto dirt. She backed up and stopped as soon as all four wheels were safely on the road again, leaned her head back against the seat, and let out her breath. Okay, she would be fine. Everything would be fine.
At the gas station, she gave the flowers a drink and cleaned up her scary face before she went into the bank. There wasn’t anything she could do about her sopped hair, but oh well.
No one noticed anyway. Everyone was too busy raving over Linda and the flowers. Bobbi slipped out of the bank and fled back to the Cruiser. Before she made any more deliveries, she went by the apartment and exchanged her sopped hoodie and jeans for dry clothes. There. Now everything was right again.
The rest of her deliveries went just fine. Hope would never have to know.
Except then, right as Bobbi was pulling away from the last house, Hope called, and one second after Bobbi said hello she knew that Hope knew.
“I just had a call from Amber. Millie called her to thank her for the plants. But Millie was supposed to get yellow roses. Is there something you need to tell me?”
The jig was up. She was fingered. Like a criminal in one of those ugly rooms at the police station getting grilled by the cops, Bobbi broke down and confessed. “I had an accident. I almost hit a dog.”
“Oh, no.”
“Thank God, I stopped just in time. And the car’s fine,” she added. “Not to worry. I got everything put back together and everything’s fine.” Except Hope was calling, which meant everything wasn’t fine.
“Then how did you wind up delivering Altheus Hornby’s plants to Millie Baldwin?”
Hope’s tone of voice reminded Bobbi of Miss Whangle, her eighth-grade English teacher. Miss Whangle had never liked her. “It was the dog. I had to stop suddenly. The flowers just got a little, um . . .” Crap.
“A little what?” Hope prompted.
“Mixed up.”
Hope expelled a breath. “Oh, no. What did they look like?”
“Don’t worry. I got them all fixed back up, good as new.”
“And delivered two to the wrong place.”
There was that. “I’ll go back and redeliver the mess-ups right now,” Bobbi assured her.
“No. It’s okay. It’s taken care of.”
Hope was trying to sound forgiving, but Bobbi could hear frustration deep down at the bottom of her voice. “You’re mad.”
“No. Well, sort of.”
“I’m sorry,” Bobbi said. She felt like a worm, no a caterpillar; Bobbi the plant-killing, business-wrecking caterpillar. “I should have told you. I was just so afraid you’d be mad at me. I thought I could fix it.” But she hadn’t. She’d only made things worse. “You should fire me now and get it over with.” She thought of their customer from the morning. “You’re going to end up really mad at me, like that sister, the one we did the flowers for.”
“No. We’re there for each other. But Bobs, I really need you to tell me when something is going wrong. Then we can fix it together.”
Bobbi felt her eyes tearing up. “I don’t want us to ever end up like those sisters.”
“We won’t,” Hope assured her. “We’ll always be there for each other.”
“And we’ll always tell each other the truth, no matter what,” Bobbi vowed.
“No matter what,” Hope agreed.
HOPE HUNG UP the phone and mentally added, but only if one of us asks. No way was she telling her sister that she wanted her man. Plant mix-ups could be fixed. Wanting your sister’s boyfriend was another matter altogether.
EIGHTEEN
MILLIE BALDWIN SETTLED the basket of plants on the backseat of her car. Hope had been terribly embarrassed when she called to apologize for the delivery mix-up, but Millie assured her that it was not a problem. It was also not a problem for Millie to take the flowers to their rightful recipient and make an exchange. In fact, she insisted.
She didn’t tell Hope, but she wanted to get out. She’d done her morning crossword puzzle, tidied up the kitchen, and finished her book, and then found herself at loose ends. The children wouldn’t be home for another hour, and she had just been wondering what to do next. Now she had something.
It had taken a great deal of persuading to convince Hope to give her an address and some directions and let her play delivery girl, but at last Hope had relented. So, now Millie was climbing into her car and ready to take a little drive.
It was drizzly, and Millie was bound for a side of the lake where she hadn’t gone much yet, so she drove carefully, paying attention to street signs as she went. This house was off North Lake Drive, which meant it was right on the lake. She was to look for Loveland Lane and a big camellia hedge, then, past that, a set of mailboxes. Just beyond those, she would see the driveway.
This is lovely, she thought as she took in the still undeveloped lots, brimming with fir and alder trees. In between the wooded lots, big yards with houses gave her glimpses of the lake, gently pocked with raindrops. Some of the yards hid behind laurel hedges, but many of them simply spread out like a green carpet to the lake, showing off rhododendrons, ceanothuses, and old fruit trees, and, down by the lake, made-over summer cabins or old Victorians tucked in by azaleas and rosebushes. This was what she’d envisioned when her daughter had first told her she’d moved to some place called Heart Lake.
Millie hit another stretch of wooded lots and the lake disappeared from v
iew. Oh, there was Loveland Lane. And the camellias. And there were the mailboxes. She turned down the graveled drive, a jumble of trees, ferns, and brambles rising on each side of her.
And then the road widened and she saw lawn and a pond, and beyond that an old yellow Victorian with a wrap around porch, its trim painted white. Fat azaleas spread across the flowerbeds. In back of it, she caught sight of a dock slipping out into the lake. Oh, and what was this? A little dab of sunlight and a rainbow. She smiled. Whoever owned this house was one lucky woman.
Not the world’s best gardener, though, judging from the weeds popping up amongst the shrubs.
Millie stopped the car and took the plants out of the back. She had just shut the car door when she looked to the house and saw that a man had opened the front door. He was a tall, squarely built man with a thick mane of gray hair and a big, square jaw. Looking at this man managed to stir up flutterings Millie hadn’t felt in years. Oh, my!
She put a hand to her chest to settle her heart, then took a deep breath. At this time of day, she’d expected to find a woman, not a man, and a handsome retired man at that. It’s of no consequence, she told herself. You’re only here to drop off flowers. Even so, she put a hand to her hair for a quick touch-up before starting toward the house.
She didn’t get very many steps before he reached her and took the basket. “Here, let me. You must be Millie. The flower shop called and told me you were on your way. I’d have been happy to come to you.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Millie. “It’s a nice day for a drive.” Well, not really. What nonsense was she talking?
He nodded to the lake. “It is with the rainbow.”
The rainbow was enough to make them both stop.
“There must be a pot of gold somewhere in that lake,” he said, and held out a hand. “Altheus Hornby. I’m new here.”
“So am I,” said Millie as they shook hands. “How do you like it so far?”
“This place is the best-kept secret in Washington,” he said.
“And your wife, is she enjoying it here?” It would be nice to make a friend her own age.
His smile got smaller. “I’m afraid my wife’s no longer alive. I lost her three years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Millie. “It’s hard to lose a mate.”
“I miss her a lot, but I know she’s in a better place.”
Millie nodded. “That is a comfort.”
He motioned her toward the house and they began walking again. “This is a lovely house,” Millie said as they reached the porch.
“I like it,” he said. “I have your flowers inside. Would you like to come in?”
Into a strange man’s house? When was the last time she’d done that? Hmm. Never. She suddenly felt thirteen. Ridiculous. “Oh.” She looked at her watch. She should get home.
“Your husband is probably expecting you back,” he said.
“I’m a widow.”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said, but he looked more than sorry. He looked . . . interested.
She was being silly. She’d been watching too many movies. “I’m living with my daughter. My grandchildren will be home pretty soon.”
He nodded, polite resignation on his face.
She had a few minutes. She didn’t really need to rush off. “But I’d love to see some of the house before I go.”
That made him smile like a boy who had just gotten his first date. “Great. Come on in.”
And so she did.
The house had a reverse floor plan, with the living room at the back to take advantage of the view of the lake. She took in the furniture, Sheraton style with delicate straight lines and contrasting veneers. The dining set was especially lovely—old and well worn, like it had gone through life with this man and his family. She did notice a new leather recliner chair in one corner, set to face the TV. He’d probably gotten that since he moved.
She stood in front of the window. “My, isn’t this a lovely view!”
Altheus came to stand next to her. “It’s what sold me on the house.”
“And your neighbors, are they nice?” Millie asked.
He gave a half shrug. “Haven’t really gotten to know them yet. They’re both young families, gone working a lot.”
Millie thought of that lone recliner. She looked at the flowerbeds, full of promise and in need of care. “A wonderful place for a gardener,” she mused.
“My wife was the gardener,” said Altheus. “I don’t know what to do with all this.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”
“Maybe you’ll help me,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh.” She was blushing. She could feel it. This was silly.
No, this was fun.
No, this was silly. “You know, I should probably be going,” she said.
“Oh, sure, the grandkids. Well, let me carry your flowers for you.”
“My, they are lovely,” Millie said when she saw them.
“Someone here cares a lot about you,” said Altheus. “I imagine you have lots of admirers.”
He was flirting with her. At her age, a man was flirting with her. She was too old for girlish romance, she tried to tell herself. But the part of her that still loved sunsets and rainbows, English gardens and movies with happy endings simply couldn’t agree.
He escorted her to her car and carefully installed the box containing the vase on the back floor. It looked like he’d actually put the flower box inside a bigger cardboard box and carefully packed it with newspaper to ensure a safe journey home.
“Thank you so much,” she told him.
“No, thank you for driving all the way over here. Say, I was just thinking.”
“Yes?” Did she sound eager? Too encouraging?
“How about letting me really thank you for your trouble? Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?”
“Oh, well.” Why not? It would be nice to have lunch with someone her own age, with someone who had a voice lower than hers. “I’d love to.”
So then, before she knew it, Altheus Hornby had her phone number and address, and they had plans for him to come pick her up at eleven thirty. “I’ll take you to the Two Turtledoves. It has a great view of the lake.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Millie. Lunch with a handsome man—Alice would be green with envy. Millie almost giggled like a schoolgirl at the thought.
As she drove home, she found herself singing Tony Bennett’s “Because of You.” You’re a silly, old woman, Millie, she scolded herself, but it didn’t wipe the smile off her face.
She got home and carefully carried her flowers into the house, settling them on the dining room table. The card she’d put in her scrapbook. Amber had written, “You’ve so been there for me, and I just wanted you to know it.”
You’ve so been there for me. Her own daughter hadn’t even told her that. Millie sighed. Life took the oddest turns.
She had just tucked away Amber’s card when the kids came home, each bringing a friend. Millie shifted gears from Queen for a Day to Grandmother of the Year and got busy making cookies, which they devoured with much gusto and minimal thanks. The large amount of cookie consumption was, in itself, high praise, she reminded herself.
“Who sent flowers?” Debra asked when she got home.
“A friend of mine.”
“Oh.” Debra sounded disappointed.
For a moment, Millie almost wished she’d lied and said they were for Debra. But, no, Debra was going to have to get out and start planting more good things in her life and start seeing the sunshine as well as the rain. Then maybe she, too, would have flowers.
They watched a movie together that night, a romantic comedy that did little to make Debra laugh. Mostly she slumped on the couch with a martyred expression on her face. Millie decided not to share with her daughter about her lunch date.
But it was no fun keeping such delicious news to herself, so the next morning she called Alice.
�
��Are you ready to come home yet?” Alice greeted her.
“Oh, no. I’m having too much fun out here.”
Alice gave a snort. “Since when?”
“Since yesterday. Alice, I met someone.”
“Met someone?” Alice echoed. “You mean, a man?”
“Yes. We have a date for lunch today.”
“Oh, my God. How did you manage to find a single man our age?”
“By accident,” Millie said, and proceeded to explain how she met Altheus Hornby.
“That is simply amazing,” Alice said. “And I’m jealous. Ask him if he’s got a brother. And, Millie.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t play too hard to get. At our age there’s no point wasting time.”
Millie chuckled and rang off, then went to make the all-important decision of what to wear. She settled on her navy blue slacks and a white turtleneck, covered with her favorite thick red blazer, accessorized by the red glass bead necklace Duncan Jr. had given her for Mother’s Day. Her hair wasn’t as easy. She wished she’d had time to go to the beauty salon to get it done. The curl from her last perm was nearly gone. She styled it as best she could, then made up for the fact that her hair was less than perfect by applying some lipstick. There. That would do.
Altheus arrived promptly at eleven thirty. He looked her up and down and grinned, then made her blush by observing, “Millie, you’re quite a dish.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she said, with a little wave of her hand.
“I’ve got to tell you,” he said after he’d helped her into the car, “I’ve been looking forward to this since yesterday. I was beginning to think I’d made a mistake moving up here.” He gunned the motor and squealed them backward out of the driveway and onto the street.
Millie surreptitiously grabbed for the door handle. “What did bring you here?”
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