Geo and I decided to secure a grown-ups’ table in time for Thanksgiving, but neither he nor I could hack the trip to the furniture store to pick it out. Delilah and Kathy raised their hands and happily volunteered for the mission.
Before they went, though, we held a “family” discussion among the four of us as to whether we should invest in a Pottery Barn-quality table or an Ikea-quality table. Delilah and Kathy voted for high-end and Geo, who was wavering and would have voted for low-end any day of the week, took one look into the shimmering innocent eyes of Little Miss Kathy Keach and immediately cast his vote for high-end.
That left me the lone outlier and I didn’t like it, not one little bit. I knew I had to put my foot down some time and now was the time. First of all, I reminded them that I was the one who had to mud wrestle in a vat of lotion to earn the money and to have my naked form plastered all over the internet, at least with those little white, fuzzy clouds inserted over my nipples and other private parts, but aired globally, nonetheless. They all nodded vigorously, with smirking looks on their faces, except for Kathy Keach, who had never even learned how to smirk while she was growing up.
Then I went on to say that I was barely mature enough for an Ikea table, much less a Pottery Barn table and, besides, I entreated them, if the table was too fancy the entire remainder of the house would look shabby in comparison. They all wholeheartedly agreed with both aspects of this rationale, that I was barely grown-up and that the house looked shabby—even Snack agreed, who, during the entire discussion, was chewing on his favorite piece of upturned carpet where the living room meets the hallway.
That argument settled it, and the two girls set out that very afternoon for a drive all the way across town to the Ikea store in Chandler. They didn’t return until after seven PM that night, but they were apparently satisfied with their purchase and lugged in bags and bags of table dressings and other matching doodads and accessories looking happy as big clams. Five days later, on the day before Thanksgiving, the Ikea truck pulled up into our driveway with the table and chairs in big flat boxes. Our beautiful gigantic, gorgeous table, had arrived and it lay unassembled on our living room rug. We’d boldly invited the entire family for dinner the next day to celebrate Thanksgiving followed by a dessert spree with my manufacturing buddies from the original Yellow Flower line and we had an unassembled table and twelve, count them, twelve chairs staring up at us in pieces from the living room floor.
We looked at each other in horror and surprise. Who knew? Then we all started laughing followed by a frantic search through the garage and the chockfull kitchen drawers for anything that looked like tools to help assemble a table and chairs. Snack was delighted at the unexpected turn of events and began dancing among the styrofoam blocks and tearing around the room with a long length of flat, plastic cord clenched between his teeth, throwing his head from side to side and growling like a lion.
We unraveled the sheets upon sheets of directions that looked like instructions in Chinese for playing a complex game of mahjong involving pretzels, a myriad assortment of nuts and screws in varying lengths, and unrecognizable chair parts. Luckily, Geo was a genius, even at this, and he gently guided all of us through the maze of construction required to produce the table and chairs. He probably would have guided Delilah and me like a drill sergeant, but Little Miss Kathy Keach brought out the best in him and softened his mood.
We assembled the entire set with only minor squabbles over the interpretation of the instructions, mostly between Geo, Delilah and me. Kathy Keach just beamed at Geo’s brilliance at every step. Bletch!
Pretty soon the monstrosity of a table emerged with all of its leaves and chairs intact. The monster table spread from our little kitchen all the way out into our little living room and even though we’d bought it from Ikea, our entire house still looked shabby and small in comparison to the shiny, new table.
Oh well, we’d upgrade the rest of the house one lucrative case at a time I thought. I couldn’t stand any more upgrading at that point anyway, and, now that we’d solved major cases for two potential benefactors, Sylvester Swane and Gloria Strumheinnie, we were developing a base of clients who were seriously connected and would probably throw more undercover investigative work our way soon.
Delilah and Kathy seemed to barely notice how monstrous the grown-ups’ table looked in our house they were so anxious to adorn it with all of the doodads and accessories they’d bought. Just as soon as the table and chairs were assembled, they rushed to their respective bedrooms dragging out the multiple bags of goodies they’d brought home on purchasing day and began adorning the table. Geo and I watched in wonder as ribbed fabric place mats in a golden color appeared at each of the twelve chairs followed by actual china dinner plates in white with a delicate flower pattern, also with some matching gold in the pattern. Next a set of candles, ribbons, other shiny doodads, and genuine, matching flatware emerged. Even cloth napkins!
When everything was in place, Delilah and Kathy lit the multitude of candles in the centerpiece just to see what the table would look like. We dimmed the lights with the light dimmers they’d also purchased. Geo had installed the dimmers while they were decorating the table. As the room darkened, the table shone with a soft glow from the candles. We all looked down at our handiwork and then up at each other over the glittering table, smiling, eyes brimming. Life was good. Even for grown-ups.
Chapter Twenty Nine – Dessert
Gloria called with exciting news on Thanksgiving morning. She suspected her mare, Glitter Girl, had indeed become pregnant up on the cliff side that perilous day—courtesy of my wayward mount, Brain Wracker er Rainmaker. It would be a while before the official tests confirmed her suspicions, but my money was on Gloria knowing her mare so well the prediction would hold true. Even more exciting, Gloria planned to name the foal after me, Sammy’s Golden Gift, in honor of that day up on the cliff side, where the dogs and I essentially saved her life. To end the call, Gloria wished Geo and me a marvelous Thanksgiving and proudly announced that Kiva had fully recovered except for a slight limp that would probably afflict her for the rest of her life, but the dog seemed happy and active. Gloria, herself, was fully recovered.
That afternoon, the entire huge, extended Dick family, as I liked to call all of us, descended upon our house, for the first time ever, for Thanksgiving dinner, since we now had a table somewhat big enough to fit everyone. Delilah left to be with her own family, but since Geo and I are cousins, and since Little Miss Kathy Keach has no living relatives of her own, we were all there together, with my brothers’ little ones running around, Snack bringing in slobbery balls for the kids to throw down the hall, and a few extra card tables set up to accommodate all the members of the extended Dick family.
Everyone loved the shimmering, new table, and the food was excellent, courtesy of Kathy Keach and several family members who love to cook. Geo and I had avoided the cooking altogether and, when dinner ended, we even tried to avoid washing the dishes, but my dad roped us in and the three of us did all the clean up together. It was indeed a happy, memorable evening.
The family wandered off for home in the eight PM time range. Geo and I had invited my entire Yellow Flower Team over for dessert. At nine PM, that group began wandering in bearing an assortment of pies, cookies and other delicacies that we arranged on the gorgeous table. The various sized candles were burning low, but would last a few more hours with a replacement here and there as one snuffed out.
Geo and I’d bought some good quality champagne from the big bonus check we’d earned, and he and Hayden popped several bottles open in the backyard, while Snack retrieved the flying corks from the bushes and patio. When they came back in, we poured the sparkling liquid all around as the entire team sat down.
“Here’s to the best, and only, I might add, manufacturing team I’ve ever worked on,” I rang out, lifting my glass in the air. That brought a laugh from the team as I invited others to share in their good fortune for the year.
TMI Trinity was the first to stand and make a toast. In her melodic, confidant voice, she informed us she’d soon be leaving Glory’s Organic Lotions for an on-the-spot reporting job she’d snagged with Channel 5. Cheers broke out from the team and we all drank to her success.
Next Lazy Larry didn’t stand up, but rather pushed back his chair, setting it at a precarious angle on its back legs with one hand gripping the table edge to keep him from falling over backwards and the other hand raised in the air with his half-filled glass of champagne. In his slow drawl he announced he’d been promoted to permanent marketing director, since his inspired and creative YouTube and other marketing decisions were flooding the factory with internet orders faster than the business could spurt lotion into bottles. His words, not mine, but I admired them nonetheless.
After the cheers died down for Larry, Hayden stood up, almost at attention. I’d noticed his arm had been slung across the shoulders of Tattooed Tanya. Seemed like a good match for him, especially since they both smoked, neither would know the other tasted like an ashtray, and they both danced really well together on tabletops with their shirts off. High compatibility factors for sure.
As Hayden spoke, he nodded his head toward Mountain, who’d also arrived for dessert and had his arm slung protectively around my shoulders. Hayden proudly informed us that Mountain had agreed to mentor him to become a police officer. I hadn’t even known. I looked at Mountain with surprise and pleasure. The two must have bonded during the closing of the case.
Hayden concluded by introducing Tanya, the last to speak. Tanya wore a flowing chiffon blouse in tie-died greys, blues and deep reds. The blouse left the arms bare showing off some of her tattoos. Tanya rose slowly, and in her low, resonant, tough-edged voice described how, under the marketing expertise of Lazy Larry, the new black orchid-based lotion, Witching Hour, had become an all-time top seller among the younger set, even surpassing Yellow Flower. At the urging of Larry, Gloria had approved both a YouTube and a full page Vogue ad featuring Tanya’s tattooed back and Hayden’s hands rubbing Witching Hour along the graffitied curvature of Tanya’s beautiful body. The YouTube had already aired and the Vogue piece was scheduled for early next year. Following the video shoot, sales had once again, shot through the roof. In fact, sales were so high, Gloria was considering buying the abandoned dog food factory down the road from her own facility and outfitting it to produce more lotion. Tanya told us the pay for the Vogue ad was more than she makes in a half-year in manufacturing and calls were already flooding in for her modelling services after the YouTube airing. She was still debating what she’d do next.
I lifted my glass, “I hope I won’t embarrass you Tanya, but I toast to your success.”
Everyone clapped. I continued as soon as I could be heard. “I probably wouldn’t even be here tonight, if you hadn’t jumped into that god-awful vat, Tanya, and saved my life.”
Cheers filled the room again, but I quieted them to add, “But most of all, I remember how you described to me at Hayden’s BYOE Hump Day Party just one of the many sordid stories, as you call them, that are scrawled in ink all over your skin and tell the story of your life. Wouldn’t it be something if your sordid stories were not only the worst that’s ever happened to you, but also part of the best?”
Tears sprang to Tanya’s eyes, while she dipped her head in acknowledgement, and the room cheered and clapped louder than it had already.
“I hope so, Parker or Sammy or whoever you are.” Everyone hooted and laughed at her misstep. “And on that note, Hayden and I have one last announcement to make.”
Hayden rose to his feet once again. They stood side-by-side and Tanya extended her hand out to expose a glittering ring. Tanya smiled at everyone, slowly making eye contact around the table, her eyes brimming over into a few tears by now. “Regardless of what career decision I decide upon, Hayden and I are engaged to be married in the spring—and every last one of you had better come to our wedding!” she admonished us all gruffly. Hayden raised her hand up high to show off the engagement ring. It was so big, I figured he was now in debt for the rest of his life. Neither one looked like they cared. The loudest cheers of all, some tears, stomping and wild clapping ensued.
When the cheers finally died down, Mountain squeezed my left-hand ring finger gently, but with obvious meaning under the table. I just sat there—a stone-cold statue—a hundred conflicting thoughts flying around in my head like witches on broomsticks. Finally, I returned his squeeze just the slightest little bit and emptied the remainder of my nearly full champagne glass in one, swift gulp.
Author’s Note
If you enjoyed this book, I hope you’ll enjoy the first in the series: Baby Brother Blues, also starring Sammy Dick and her genius cousin, Geo. To check out that book, click here. I’m already working on the third book in the series.
To find out more about the Sammy Dick series and other books by Trudi Baldwin, please visit my website or check out my Facebook page. I’d love to hear from you via email, so drop me a line, if so moved. Thank you so much for reading!
Trudi Baldwin - Sammy Dick, PI 02 - Acid Test for Yellow Flower Page 22