Bobbi scowled and pulled the ice cream back. She dredged out the last of it and stuffed it in her mouth. “Everybody hates me. Even I hate me,” she decided, looking at the empty ice cream carton.
ALL SATURDAY MORNING, Hope kept watching the door, hoping Jason would come into the shop, maybe want to hear her side of the story. But he never did. She supposed it was just as well since she wasn’t sure she even had a side. She’d started out simply trying to help her sister, and then gotten caught in a sticky web of deceit. So, what was there to tell, really?
She was doing some bookwork in between customers when the phone rang.
“Those flowers are incredible,” gushed her friend Megan Wales.
“You can thank Mr. Boston Legal for them, not me.”
“I already thanked him properly,” Megan said, sounding smug.
Things had been heating up between Megan and the man who had been her business mentor, and Hope was beginning to smell orange blossoms in the air. Every time Megan called she expected to hear she’d be coming in to pick out wedding flowers.
“Anyway, Turner wouldn’t know a tulip from a turnip,” she continued. “I know who’s behind all that gorgeousness. The arrangement really is spectacular.”
“I figured you deserved a special tribute for running a race in the rain.”
“I’ve got to tell you, I never thought I’d see the day when I’d be out doing a Memorial Day Five K in the rain. But it felt so good to cross that finish line.”
“You’ve got a lot to be proud of,” Hope said. “Losing so much weight, starting your own legal firm. And now you’re out running marathons. I could never run that far.”
“Oh, I bet you could,” Megan said. “If I can do this, anybody can. Anyway, I’m glad I did. Next year, I want to run the Boston Marathon.”
“Wow.”
“Sometimes you’ve just got to go for it. In fact, all the time you’ve got to go for it. And speaking of going, I’ve got to run. Turner’s here.”
As she hung up, Hope thought of the mess with Bobbi and Jason. Going for it sometimes landed you in a ditch.
She was barely off the phone with Megan when Amber stopped by the shop. “Don’t forget you’re sneaking out early today for Millie’s birthday.”
Hope had completely forgotten. “I’ll start on her arrangement right away.”
“And I’m bringing the birthday cake. She’s going to love it. It’s a lavender cake from Sweet Somethings and it’s now my all-time favorite. And look what I found.” She opened a pink paper bag from Something You Need, Heart Lake’s favorite gift shop, and pulled out a little plaque proclaiming, “Friends Are Forever.”
“She’ll love it,” said Hope. She reread the words. This was what mattered, her friends. As long as she had them, she’d be fine.
She finished Millie’s bouquet, then left Bobbi in charge of the shop and went to the community garden. Amber had been waiting on the side of the road and now followed her into the park. As usual, Millie was already there, wearing her favorite purple outfit and tending her flowers.
Amber pulled a picnic basket out of the backseat of her car and gave it to Seth, then got out a Tupperware carrier with her cake. “Okay, let’s go make her day.”
“We’re gonna have a party,” Seth informed Hope.
“Yes, we are,” Hope said, smiling with determination.
“What’s this?” Millie said as their little parade approached.
“It’s a garden party,” said Amber, “for your birthday.”
Next to her, grumpy Henry leaned on his hoe and eyed the Tupperware container. “You got cake in there?”
“It wouldn’t be a birthday party if we didn’t.” Amber started singing “Happy Birthday,” and Hope and Seth and even Henry joined in.
“Oh, girls, you shouldn’t have,” Millie protested when they’d finished.
“Of course we should have,” Hope said, presenting her with the birthday bouquet. “We just want you to know we love you.”
Millie put a hand to her chest. “I’m overwhelmed.”
“You better not be too overwhelmed to eat this lavender cake,” said Amber.
“Lavender? Oh, how lovely!”
Amber cut pieces of cake and they sat in Millie’s garden plot among the flowers, eating cake and drinking bottled juice.
“This cake is wonderful,” said Millie.
“It’s okay. Carrot cake is better,” said Henry.
The women ignored him. “You saved my marriage,” Amber said to Millie. “I owe you cake for life.”
Millie brushed away her gratitude with a wave of her hand, but she did want to hear more about how things were going on Amber’s home front.
“We just had the most romantic anniversary,” Amber said with a sigh. “Ty came home from the restaurant with chicken curry sandwiches and champagne. That old rowboat behind the house, we took it out on the lake and just went at it like it was our wedding night.”
“Oh, brother,” muttered Henry.
“It was awesome,” Amber said. “At least until the boat leaked,” she added.
“Now, that’s romantic,” Hope teased.
Amber sobered. “I’m falling in love all over again. You saved me, Millie.”
“I’ll have another piece of that cake,” Henry said, ending the emotion-packed moment. “No sense letting it go to waste.”
“What are you doing for your birthday?” Amber asked, cutting Henry’s second serving.
“Well, let’s see. Debra’s coming home from work early Monday and making birthday dinner, and on Tuesday, Altheus is taking me to the Family Inn.”
“I thought he’d take you someplace really nice, like the Two Turtledoves,” said Amber.
“Oh, he offered. But I told him I wanted to go to the Family Inn. I hear they have a wonderful new chef there.”
Amber beamed. “Yes, they do.”
“Let’s open the present,” said Seth, tired of grown-up conversation.
Amber dug their gift out of the picnic basket. “It’s from Hope and me.”
“And me,” piped Seth.
Millie lifted the plaque out of its tissue paper bed, and her eyes filled with tears as she read it. “You girls, you shouldn’t have.”
“We mean it,” said Hope, and Amber nodded.
Just then a butterfly swooped down and landed on one of Millie’s cosmos. “Look, a butterfly!” cried Seth.
Millie smiled. “We always used to say butterflies mean good luck.”
“He must be here for one of you guys,” Amber said. “I’ve already got mine.”
“Then it must be you, Millie,” Hope said. It sure as heck wasn’t her.
BOBBI SAT AT the order desk, leaning on her elbows and looking out the window at the shoppers browsing up and down the sidewalk in the afternoon sunshine. She wished someone would come into the shop. She’d finished her latest issue of People and now she was totally bored. They should start doing deliveries on Saturdays. There was no reason not to with two of them here. She drummed her fingers on the counter. What to do?
The order counter was kind of a mess. She’d tidy up. She went into the workroom and wet a paper towel, then came back out and started to wipe down the counter, moving things around. Spring cleaning. Hope would be so impressed. Bobbi even moved the computer so she could clean behind it.
And what was this? A little piece of paper with Hope’s writing. Hmmm. How long had this been back there? Bobbi picked it up and read it.
I teach the steps. She dances. I wish I could dance. With him.
Even though it didn’t rhyme, Bobbi got that it was a poem, and not a happy one. But who was the she? Hope? And what him? Who was her sister talking about? Okay, Bobbi. You can do this.
She sat at the counter and stared at the poem, but after half an hour she hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring it out than she was when she first started.
The bell over the door jingled and in walked Duke. Bobbi’s heart started doing the happy dance at t
he sight of him. So did other parts of her.
“When do you close?” he asked.
“In about an hour. Why?”
“Because in an hour, you’re getting on my bike and we’re going to this place I know on the lake to celebrate.” He held up two wine coolers.
“Celebrate what?” Like she cared.
“Your freedom. It’s about time,” he added.
She slumped down at the counter, feeling bad all over. “I hurt him.”
“He’ll get over it. Anyway, you guys weren’t a match. Trust me, I know.”
She couldn’t resist asking, “How do you know?”
“ ’Cause you’re right for me.” He leaned over the counter and gave her a kiss that had so much heat, it should have wilted every flower in the place.
“I think you could be right,” she murmured.
“I know I am.”
She sighed. “I still feel bad though. And not just for Jason. Look what I found.”
She held out the paper.
Duke took it, read it, and frowned. “It’s a poem.”
She made a face and snatched it out of his hands. “I know that. I just don’t know what it means.”
“It means that whoever wrote this ain’t happy.”
“I figured that much. But who’s the she in it, and who’s the him?”
“Hmmm. Set it down here on the counter,” Duke said, and leaned over to study it. She leaned, too, but this close to that strong jaw and sexy mouth it was hard to concentrate. “Do you know who wrote this?” he asked.
“My sister. It’s her handwriting.”
“Hmmm.”
He studied the poem some more and Bobbi studied him. Boy, was he a hot beefcake. And he could dance. Wearing his black leather jacket, he had bad boy written all over him. But something told her this bad boy was a good man. He’d helped her move when he didn’t even know her. And, now, here he was helping her figure out this poem. Smart, too. What more did a girl need?
He thumped the paper. “You’re the she. Your sister’s jealous of you.”
“What?” Bobbi picked up the paper. “That’s impossible. She doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body.”
He shrugged. “She did when she wrote this.”
“Oh, it’s got to be something else. How could she be jealous when she thought Jason was perfect for me?”
Duke gave a snort. “How well does your sister know you, anyway?”
“No, you don’t understand. I tend to pick losers.”
“Used to pick losers,” Duke corrected her.
Bobbi rewarded him with a smile, then returned to the subject of Hope. “She thinks I blew it and she’s not happy that we’ll never see him again.”
“We?”
“That’s what she said.” Bobbi remembered it clearly. The lightbulb suddenly clicked on and she gasped. “Oh, my gosh. All this time Hope’s been helping me and she’s been in love with Jason.” Bobbi ran around the corner, grabbed Duke’s hand, and started running for the door. “Come on.” Once there, she flipped the sign to Closed and shut and locked the door.
“I thought you had to stay open,” he said.
“Not now,” she said. “We’ve got an emergency.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
THE STICKS AND Balls was a rundown tavern that camped on the outskirts of town like an unwanted relative. The barn-red paint on its old, wood siding had faded to mud. It needed a new roof and the t in the sign had come down, so it read “Sicks and Balls.” The regulars didn’t care. They knew what the place was about. It was man haven, a hangout where guys could have a beer, shoot some pool, and shoot the bull. Once in a while someone brought his woman for a game of pool, but for the most part, it wasn’t really a woman-friendly place. No hip décor, no girly drinks. Ollie, the owner, had been married three times and he was done catering to women, so it was fine with him if most of the women in Heart Lake preferred to hang out at the Last Resort. And anybody who wanted to chase skirts and pay through the nose for their booze was welcome to go there with his blessing. Women were tolerated but not necessarily welcomed. As far as Ollie was concerned, they were trouble.
The one walking in today certainly was. Jason watched warily from the murky corner where he was playing a solitary game of eight ball as Bobbi hurried toward him with his so-called friend right behind her. Duke hadn’t wasted any time moving in on Bobbi. Jason had only told him about the breakup that morning when Duke came by to return his band saw.
Jason tightened his grip on his cue stick. Right now, he’d like nothing more than to bring it down over Duke’s head, even though, deep down he knew none of this was Duke’s fault.
“You need to know something,” Bobbi greeted him.
Her perfume was a strong totem, eating up the room’s comforting smell of beer and male sweat. “I think I know all I want to know.” Jason took aim and launched the cue ball at the two. It hit its target with a resounding clack and the two jumped into the corner pocket.
“About my sister.”
He didn’t want to hear anything about either one of them. Jason lined up his next shot.
“I think she’s in love with you.”
He missed the cue ball entirely and skidded the tip of the cue stick along the felt surface. Damn, now he owed Ollie for a patch job on the table. He straightened and frowned at Bobbi. “That’s nuts.”
“No,” she corrected him, “that’s Hope. She’d never take you for herself if she thought I wanted you. In fact,” Bobbi added sadly, “she’d never take you for herself at all.”
He shook his head and turned his attention back to the balls. All these mind games. He preferred pool. At least you saw everything that was on the table.
“I know I messed up,” Bobbi said. “But I didn’t mean to. I was so sure you were perfect for me. That’s how everything started with Hope. She’s the smart one, and I thought if I got her to help me, then I could really impress you.”
Jason focused on his next shot. Maybe if he ignored her long enough, Bobbi would give up and leave. She could take Duke with her.
A small hand slipped within his field of vision, setting a piece of paper on the green felt. “I just found this. Hope wrote it.”
Jason brushed it away. “I’ve read enough of your sister’s writing.”
The paper came insistently back. “You need to see it. She’s been in love with you all along.”
“Right. That’s why she’s putting words in your mouth.” Jason sent another ball tumbling into a corner pocket. “How about you two beat it and leave me alone?”
Duke scowled and took Bobbi’s arm. “Come on. You tried.”
“Please, just read it,” Bobbi begged as Duke led her away.
Jason turned his back on them and sat on the edge of the pool table, chalking the tip of his cue stick.
After he was sure they were gone, he turned back around to continue his game. Now it was just him and Ollie in here manning the place, him playing pool, Ollie hunkered down at the far end of the bar, doing paperwork—two guys with nobody in their lives, two guys with some paper in front of them. What did that little slip Bobbi brought in say?
Like he cared. He lined up another shot. Out of the corner of his eye the paper lay there and taunted him. Wouldn’t you like to know? Pick me up? What’s the matter? Chicken?
He snatched it, perched his butt on the side of the pool table, and read the hastily scrawled words. This was bullshit. He tossed the paper aside.
Then he picked it up and reread it. Bullshit. This was all bullshit.
He folded the piece of paper and stuffed it in the pocket of his denim shirt, where it rode around for the rest of the afternoon. It kept him company through two more pool games, then accompanied him to the Safeway for beer, and it kept him company that evening while he worked on a wood carving and wondered what Bobbi and Duke were up to. Probably mud wrestling. They weren’t reading, that was for sure.
Hope Walker obviously had a brain, a damned Machiavellian one. Som
eone read all those books in the apartment. Hope, of course. If he wasn’t such a dumb shit he would have realized it when she was talking about how she shelved her books. And all those books on gardens and flowers—Hope’s of course.
He cut deeper into the wood than he’d intended and swore. Now the cowboy he was trying to bring to life would have a deformed arm. He gave up on his wood carving, went inside, and flipped the TV on to the fight, then sprawled on the couch and glared at the boxers.
He didn’t care how smart Hope Walker was. She was a sneak, just like her sister. Duke could have ’em both. Jason wasn’t going to give either one another thought.
So then, why, on Monday, did he find himself wandering into the damned flower shop?
Hope was standing at the counter, taking an order over the phone. She saw him and her face suddenly looked like she’d gotten a three-alarm sunburn. “We’ll get that out today,” she said weakly. “No problem. Thanks for calling.” Then she hung up and stood there, looking at him like he was a giant Venus flytrap about to swallow her whole. She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out with you and Bobbi.”
“Did you think they would? Everything about her was a facade, and you built it.”
Hope got busy straightening the counter. “Bobbi isn’t good with words. She wanted to impress you. It got out of hand.”
Jason gave a disgusted snort. “Do ya think?”
“Nobody meant to hurt you. And you can hardly blame my sister for realizing you two weren’t a fit and stopping it before it went any farther. She felt like a fake.”
“She also felt like taking up with my best friend.”
Hope sighed. “There is that.” She looked at him with regret in her eyes. “I can’t help that my sister started falling for someone else. A heart’s not like a car. You don’t drive it. It drives you.”
“Nicely put,” he conceded sourly.
She has a way with words, whispered the little paper in his pocket. Maybe you should ask her about me. And ask nicely. Can’t you see she’s upset?
“Look,” Jason said, softening his voice. “I just want some clarification.” He pulled out the paper. “Did you write this?”
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