She looked confused, so he handed it over. She read it and the blood drained from her face. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it.”
She closed her hand around the paper, crumpling it, and took a step back. “It’s just a poem.”
“A poem you wrote?”
“I was doodling one day.”
“Who’s it about?”
She took another step. “I don’t remember.”
Like hell.
“I’ve got an order to fill and I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work.” Another step. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry for everything. Next time you want to send flowers, it’s on the house.” She whirled around, nearly tripping herself. Then she disappeared behind the velvet curtains, taking the little piece of paper with her.
But the words on it stayed with him. And they invited company, a crowd of memories: Hope sorting through piles of books like they were treasure, Hope falling on him in the bounce house at Slugfest, Hope in her apartment, making oatmeal cookies. Hope in his arms at the street dance.
A heart’s not like a car. You don’t drive it. It drives you.
He rubbed his forehead. Right now, his was driving him crazy.
TWENTY-NINE
ON MONDAY NIGHT, Debra came home from work early and made birthday dinner. And she and Emily baked a chocolate cake. It wasn’t from scratch like Millie would have made it, but she pretended it was wonderful because she was so thrilled that they’d gone to the trouble. She didn’t have to pretend to appreciate the music box Debra gave her or the little pots of marigolds from Emily and Eric. After dinner, they even played a game of Crazy Eights before the children drifted off to do their homework, and that was the best present of all—time spent together.
Then it was just Millie and Debra at the kitchen table. “Thank you for a lovely birthday,” Millie told her.
“I do appreciate you, Mom. I want you to know that. And we’ll spend more time together, I promise.”
Except on Tuesday, as Millie was getting ready to go out with Altheus, Debra called to say she’d be late getting home. Would Mom mind starting dinner?
“Well, I don’t mind making some sandwiches,” said Millie, “but that’s about all I have time for. I’m going out to dinner.”
“You are?” Debra sounded surprised and a little miffed.
“Altheus is taking me out for my birthday.”
“Oh.” This was followed by a moment of silence while Debra digested that information.
“And doesn’t Eric have a Little League game to night?”
A martyr’s sigh drifted over the phone lines. “I’ll find him a ride.”
“Debra, he’d probably love it if you came to the game,” Millie said, trying not to sound too accusative. “These years go so fast and then the children are gone.” And have their own lives and no time for their parents.
“I know, Mom,” Debra said in THAT tone of voice. “I’ll make it back for the last half. I’ve got to go.”
Millie hung up with a sigh. When it came to life lessons, her daughter was a difficult pupil.
Altheus could tell immediately that Millie was bothered. “Trouble on the home front?” he asked as they drove to the restaurant.
“I do worry about Debra,” she confessed. “I’m afraid she’s very . . .” How to phrase it? It was hard to say words like spoiled and self-centered.
“Self-absorbed?” he guessed.
“That’s probably as good a way as any to put it.”
He shook his head. “That’s this younger generation.” He reached a hand across the seat and took hers. “But she’ll sort things out. She’ll hit a few more bumps and get her eyes opened in the process.” He gave Millie’s hand a squeeze. “She’s your daughter, Millie girl. Sooner or later she’ll figure that out and want to be more like you.”
“Oh, Altheus,” Millie said, tears springing to her eyes. “That’s so sweet.”
He gave her hand one last squeeze, then said, “And now we’re going to focus on you, not her. Okay? You still have a life of your own to live. And we’re going to live it up to night!”
He made good on his promise, taking her to the Family Inn where they enjoyed salmon grilled in some exotic sauce and a salad of greens, blueberries, and feta cheese. The waitstaff all sang happy birthday to her and presented her with a little carrot soufflé, compliments of the chef. Embedded in the top, she found a ring with her birthstone, alexandrite, centered among a cluster of diamonds.
She plucked it out and gasped, “Oh, Altheus. I can’t accept this.”
He grinned. “Sure, you can. I’m hoping you’ll wear it on your left hand.”
She stared at him. “Altheus, what is this?”
“I guess you could say it’s a proposal.”
“But we’ve only been seeing each other a short time,” she protested.
“Millie girl, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you from the first day we met,” he said. He reached across the table and took her hand, making her heart flutter. “Didn’t you?”
“Well, I just can’t. I mean really,” she sputtered.
“What’s wrong with two people finding happiness? At our age, don’t you think that’s a good thing?”
He was smiling at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Who would have thought? “Oh, Altheus.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“I’m seven years older than you.” Duncan had been five years her senior. She felt like she was robbing the cradle.
“Well, you don’t look a day over sixty-nine,” he assured her. “Say yes. I’d hate to unbook that cruise.”
“Cruise?” she repeated.
“I’ve booked an Alaskan cruise. For next week.”
“Oh, my.” Millie’s heart began to race. What would Debra say about this? She would surely think her mother had gone insane. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“And a cruise. That’s so much money.”
He outright laughed at that. “Millie, my dear. I’m no millionaire, but I promise you I can afford a cruise. And I can afford to give you a comfortable life. You’ll have your own garden,” he added, sweetening the deal.
She had a sudden vision of herself as mistress of her own home again. She could see Altheus sitting with her on the porch of that charming house on the lake, could envision the flower beds all weeded and prettied up. “A ring, a cruise—I feel like a gold digger,” she said.
He reached across the table and took her hand. “You feel free to dig in my pockets all you want.” He sobered. “You know, I’ve been so lonely since my Ruthie died. You’ve given me a new lease on life.”
He had done the same for her, but still. Marrying this man was a big step. All those years married to one man. “There’s still so much we don’t know about each other.”
“We know we share the same politics, and we like church services where they sing hymns and not these modern songs. We know we both like to get up early. We know you like to garden and I like to golf. We both like Gin Rummy and an early dinner.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And we like the taste of each other’s lips.”
That made her blush.
“I like to travel. You want to travel. And we both love it here. You can still be near your daughter, but you’ll have your own house.”
“You do make it hard to say no,” she said.
“That’s because I want you to say yes. Put on the ring, Millie girl. Let’s enjoy our golden years together.”
She slipped the ring onto her right hand, over the gold wedding band Duncan had given her so many years ago. When she moved that gold band to her right hand, she had thought she’d be a widow the rest of her life. She’d told herself she was fine with being a woman alone. But now, with a chance to find a friend and partner, she wasn’t sure she was all that fine with keeping the status quo. The rest of her life could be really special with Altheus.
Still, it was a big decision. “Giv
e me a couple of days to think about it,” she said.
“I’ll give you one to get used to the idea,” he said, and raised her hand to his lips, making her heart flutter.
Oh, my!
Debra was in front of the TV, doing something on her laptop computer when Millie finally came home. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good.” Debra continued looking at her computer screen. A bit of punishment for Millie’s lack of cooperation earlier, Millie was sure.
Was this a good time to tell her daughter her news? There probably was no good time. “Altheus gave me a ring.”
Debra looked up from her computer. “A birthstone?”
“It has my birthstone in it.” Millie crossed the room and showed off her new jewelry.
Debra’s eyes got big. “That’s a lot of diamonds. This isn’t just a birthstone, is it?” she asked, her voice laced with suspicion.
“Well, no,” said Millie. “Altheus would like it to be an engagement ring.”
Debra made a disgusted snort. “You’re seventy-seven.”
Of all the things she might have said! Millie frowned at her. “I didn’t know there was an age limit on love.”
“Love! You hardly know this man.”
“I know him well enough to know he’s a wonderful man.”
“What would Daddy say?” Debra protested.
“I hope he’d say he was glad I’d found someone to love.”
Debra’s lips pulled down at the corners. “You have someone. Me.”
“Yes, and your brothers. But I think there’s room in my life for one more person.”
“Mom, you can’t just marry some person you hardly know,” Debra said. “Go out with him, go to the movies, but, Mom, don’t go crazy.”
Now her daughter was patronizing her, talking to her as if she were Emily. “Getting married hardly qualifies as crazy,” Millie said stiffly. “You’re busy. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Where are you going?” Debra demanded. She might as well have added, “Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you,” something Millie had said to her many times during those turbulent teen years.
“I’m going to bed,” snapped Millie.
“I’m calling Duncan,” Debra threatened.
Debra always was a bit of a tattletale. Well, let her tattle to the boys. They’d probably tell her to mind her own business.
Wouldn’t they? What if the boys didn’t want their mother to get married?
She’d tell them the same thing she told Debra: there was no age limit on love. Why did grown children always think their parents shouldn’t have a life? Debra obviously thought that Millie should be content to live out the rest of her life as a shadow, that because her skin had shriveled her soul had shriveled, too. Well, Debra was wrong.
By the time Millie had finished her nighttime routine and gotten into bed, she had indigestion and her head hurt and she just plain didn’t feel well. It was upsetting to have a flare-up with her daughter. How could a woman love her child so much and feel disappointed so often? She remembered Duncan Jr.’s warning when she first decided to move out here. He was certainly right about one thing. Debra enjoyed telling people what to do. If their positions were reversed and Debra had moved out to live with Millie, would Debra still have told her what to do?
It was too late to wonder about that now. It was water under the bridge.
Millie frowned at the new ring, abiding on her right hand. She pulled it off and moved it to her left hand.
THIRTY
IT WAS PROM week and the phone was ringing off the hook at Changing Seasons Floral. Hope loved doing corsages and boutonnieres for dances. She loved seeing the high schoolers come in to pick up their orders. The boys came in alone or by twos, venturing into the shop like nervous explorers checking out a foreign world. The girls always came in groups, giggling and excited, eyes shining with anticipation.
Hope still remembered her prom night. She’d never owned a dress as beautiful before or since. She’d wanted to go with Jonathan Edwards, the great love of her life who didn’t know she was alive—was there a pattern here?—but she’d settled for going with her buddy Joe Green, and she’d had a great time. And Joe had treated her like a princess. Of course, it had been the prom dress. And the night. Prom night was always magical.
So, now, to help with the magic, Hope made each prom offering with special care and slipped a small Andes mint into the plastic container, along with a tiny slip of paper with “Dance with all your heart” printed in italics.
“I love that saying,” Bobbi sighed as they worked side by side. “What a great way to live.”
“Yep,” Hope agreed.
“For both of us,” Bobbi added, subtle as a boulder.
Hope leveled a scolding look at her. “I’m living just fine, don’t worry. So, don’t even think about helping me again or your life is going to be considerably shortened.”
Bobbi’s face reddened. “I just wanted you to be happy.”
“Well, you completely mortified me by taking that poem to Jason. That was private.” If ever two people needed to stop helping each other, it was them.
“Maybe he needed to know who’s really right for him,” said Bobbi, who was still having a hard time admitting she’d done something wrong.
“Now he thinks I’m like some dopey thirteen-year-old with a crush, so thanks a lot. I was so humiliated. I thought I’d die.”
Bobbi kept her focus firmly on the carnations she was wiring together. “I made a mess of everything. I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted him in the first place? I’d have backed off.”
“He already wanted you, so what was the point?”
“He just thought he wanted me. But what he was getting wasn’t really me, anyway. It was you.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore anyway,” Hope said with a shrug. “Doesn’t it?”
Her sister’s all-knowing stare made Hope squirm. The bell over the shop door jingled. “I’ll get it,” she said, glad to get away.
But then she emerged from behind the theater curtain and saw Jason Wells walking toward her and wanted to turn tail and run into the back room. Looking at him made her think of some labor negotiator coming to the table reluctantly. Why was he here? Her heart went into overdrive.
She smoothed her sweaty palms on the back of her pants and forced herself to look calm and polite. “Can I help you?”
He nodded. “I want to order some flowers.”
Okay. He was taking advantage of her peace offering. Good. She nodded. “Who are they for?”
“My grandmother. It’s her birthday tomorrow.”
She opened up an order document on her computer. “What would you like to send?”
“She likes chrysanthemums. What do those stand for?”
Hope felt her face flaming. “Truth.” She looked up to see him cocking an eyebrow at her and hurried on, “It’s still just a little early for those. How about a pot with herbs—sage for wisdom, rosemary for long life, thyme for strength and courage.”
He nodded, satisfied. “That’ll do. Where’d you learn all this, anyway?”
“I found a book at a garage sale years ago.”
“All those books I made the bookcase for were yours.” He didn’t necessarily say it accusingly—more like a discovery he wanted to share.
But Hope felt the weight of her deception. She bit her lip and nodded.
“Well, I’m glad it’s getting used.” He stood there for a moment, looking almost as awkward as she felt. Then he cleared his throat and said, “My grandmother’s in Oregon. You can see she gets that by tomorrow, right?”
“Of course.”
He pulled out his wallet. “Put it on my MasterCard.”
“No. This one’s on the house. Remember?”
“You can’t stay in business that way,” he said, pushing his charge card at her.
Hope kept her hands firmly on the computer keyboard. “My business is fin
e.” It’s my life that’s a mess.
He set the charge card on the counter. “I insist.”
“Take your card when you go. You don’t want someone stealing it,” she said as she walked into her back room.
She practically trampled Bobbi, who was jumping away from the curtain as fast as she could. “Were you spying on me?” she hissed.
“Spying is a strong word,” Bobbi answered.
They’d gotten into this mess because Bobbi had insisted Hope take an interest in her love life. They weren’t going to repeat that pattern in reverse. “Now, look,” Hope began sternly.
The phone rang and Bobbi snagged the workroom extension. Saved by the bell. “It’s for you.”
“Were you with a customer?” asked Millie.
“No. This is a perfect time, especially for my sister. You just saved her from strangulation.”
“Well, I’m glad I could be of ser vice to your sister. I’m calling to ask a little favor.”
“Sure. Name it.”
“I’m hoping you’ll keep an eye on my garden. I’ll be gone for a few days.”
“Oh? Where are you going?”
“On a cruise.” Millie’s voice trembled with excitement.
“A cruise? With who?” And then Hope knew. “Altheus, the boy toy.”
“Not exactly,” Millie corrected her. “Altheus the husband.”
“You’re getting married? Oh, my gosh. That’s fabulous!”
“Who’s getting married?” asked Bobbi.
“Millie, from the garden.”
“Millie? That’s the one who just turned seventy-five, isn’t it?”
“Seventy-seven,” Hope corrected her.
“Wow. Go, Millie.”
“Does your daughter know?” Hope asked.
“No. We’re eloping.”
Eloping at seventy-seven. Hope couldn’t help grinning. “It sounds really romantic.”
“It is. He is. I’m so happy. I feel like a girl again.”
“And I’m happy for you. When did this all happen?”
“Tuesday night. He gave me a ring for my birthday.”
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