Natural Thorn Killer

by Kate Dyer-Seeley

  I noticed a look of concern flash across Elin’s face, but she quickly recovered, readjusting the lid on her coffee cup and walking Nora toward the door. “I’ll have wine and cheese ready by five. It’ll be a nice opportunity to officially introduce Britta to everyone.”

  Nora gave us both hugs and promised to be back in time to help set up. Elin seemed distracted as she finished the sherbet centerpiece. We had a dozen more to make before the launch party. They would be placed throughout the shop and cottage, along with matching garlands, which would be strung from the ceiling and draped over the windows and doors. We were constructing a floral archway for guests to enter through and a flower carpet. Elin had opted for a pastel color palette to launch her spring line, complete with succulents, huge boughs of pink dogwoods, passion vines, kumquats, and poppies. The pink, tangerine, and peach tones brought a romantic and fragrant vibe into the shop. I couldn’t wait to see it all come together.

  “Are you worried about Frank?” I asked Elin as I tucked a kumquat into a bouquet.

  “No. Don’t let Nora get you riled up too. I love Nora, but she has a tendency to inflame things, unintentionally perhaps.” She snipped a peony. “Frank isn’t taking up any space in my head.”

  I had the sense from her weighed-down tone and the way she was focusing her complete attention on the single stems waiting to become bouquets that she was holding something back. Was it Frank Jaffe, the mysterious competitor, or something else? The truth was that I wasn’t sure how to get her to open up. Despite our weekly phone calls and email chats, we were forging new ground. When I left I was still growing up—trying to make my way in the world. Things were different now. Elin had done so much for me, from taking me in to raising me and encouraging my passion for nature and design. Flowers were our point of connection, and I could only hope that as we continued to create bouquet after beautiful bouquet that our relationship could shift from niece-to-aunt to friend-to-friend. For the time being I let it go and concentrated on sherbet goodies.

  As promised, Nora returned a little before five with a platter of cookies and biscotti from Demitasse. She was followed in by a tall thin woman wearing a navy blazer, silk blouse, and a short narrow skirt. The skin around her eyes had been subtly smoothed. Probably the work of an expensive plastic surgeon, I thought, wondering if she was older or younger than Elin. She rolled a cart of wine behind her.

  “Serene! I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Did your flight just arrive? How was Italy?” Elin greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks. “Meet my niece, Britta.”

  I extended my hand. Serene placed her flawlessly manicured hand into mine. “Lovely to meet you. I’ve heard all about you from your aunt.” She smiled at Elin and Nora. “What wouldn’t we do for young skin again, right, ladies?” She touched the smooth skin beneath her eyes. “I expected you to be a blonde, what with your Swedish roots, but wow, that skin and your dark hair. Elin, you didn’t tell us that your niece was a beauty.” Serene winked at me but her eyebrows didn’t move.

  “My dad was Argentinian.” I shrugged off the compliment.

  “Ah. Lucky.”

  “Serene is my sommelier,” Elin said, helping Serene with her cart. “She knows more about Northwest wine than anyone around. However as of late she’s been in Italy sampling the best that Tuscany has to offer.”

  “I wouldn’t say that I know more about wine than anyone around, but I do appreciate the growing region and, after last summer’s heat wave, the spring releases are going to be talked about for years to come. And I have to tell you that Tuscany has quite a lot in common with the Willamette and Yakima Valley growing regions. In fact almost every winemaker I spoke with would say things like, ‘Don’t drink our wine. Your wine in the Northwest is much better.’ Can you believe that? Italians telling Americans not to drink their wine!” She laughed and removed a bottle from the cart with a simple black label and the word ERA stamped on the front. “This is one of my favorite local wines,” she said, handing me the bottle. “Do you know much about Northwest wine?”

  “Not really.” I ran my fingers over the label. “I grew up in Portland, but I was too young to appreciate good wine back then. Elin sends me a bottle for my birthday every year, so I’ve sampled a few.”

  “I do believe that calls for uncorking a bottle, don’t you think, ladies?” she said twisting her long highlighted curls into a knot. Then she took the bottle and walked back to the wine bar. The sound of her navy pumps tapping on the hardwood floors reverberated through the room. I suddenly felt underdressed in my jeans, rain boots, and gray hoodie. Serene, on the other hand, looked right at home behind the elegant distressed wood bar, against the wall of sparkling wine bottles and crystal stemware. The bar wasn’t particularly long—about eight feet with four barstools carved from reclaimed barn wood. A black iron candelabra hung above it, casting soft halos on the hickory wood.

  We followed and watched her expertly uncork the wine and pour four tasting glasses. “I think you’ll love this.” She motioned for us to take a glass. “There’s so much we can do. My time in Italy was beyond inspiring. I’m thinking a vines and vino class where we pair flowers and wine. The possibilities are endless.”

  Nora reached for a glass and took a quick swig. “Nice, girl. Forget the Italians. Viva America!”

  Serene held her glass under the flickering light and studied it. Then she pointed to the collection of chairs that had been rearranged for the meeting and the platter of cookies. “Am I interrupting something? I thought the launch party wasn’t for a few more days.”

  Elin swirled her wine. “Not at all. We’re having the Riverplace Village business owners’ meeting tonight. You know most everyone who’s coming.” She turned to me. “Serene is highly sought after for her exquisite palate and knowledge of wines.”

  At that moment the door swung open and a guy about my age wearing a suit that was slightly too big burst inside. His ash white hair was slicked back with a slimy gel and he had a cell phone stuck to his ear. He held up his index finger to indicate that we should keep quiet while he finished his call.

  “That’s Kirk Jaffe,” Elin whispered. “Frank Jaffe’s nephew.” She ran her finger along the rim of her wineglass.

  “Ah. I see.” I breathed in the wine. It smelled of oak and cherries.

  “Where is he?” Kirk shouted into his phone. “Not acceptable. I want him over there right now. Otherwise it’ll be your head.” He clicked the phone off and shoved it in his suit pocket. Making eye contact with me, he straightened his tie and sauntered toward the bar.

  “Hey ladies.” He flashed a shockingly white grin. His teeth looked unusually bright and matched his hair. “Who is Snow White, here?” He made a clicking sound out of the side of his mouth.

  Elin stepped between us. “Kirk, this is my niece, Britta.”

  “Britta.” He massaged my hand. “Mind if I call you Snow?”

  I pulled it away. “Uh, Snow?”

  He ran his eyes up and down my body. “Dark hair. Pale skin. Sexy eyes. You look like Snow White.”

  “Thanks, I guess?” I looked to Elin for help.

  She set her wineglass on the bar. “What can we do for you, Kirk?”

  “I’ll take whatever you ladies are drinking, for starters.” He stared at Serene. She shot Elin a look of irritation, but poured him a taste.

  He drank it in one gulp. “Can you top me off?”

  “This wine has been barrel aged. It’s meant to be sipped slowly.” She frowned as she poured the wine into his glass.

  “I thought wine was meant to be drunk.” He chuckled and nudged me.

  Serene carefully poured each of us a full glass of wine. “What do you think?” she asked me.

  “It’s excellent.” I took another sip. “I can really taste berries.”

  “Yes.” She nodded with approval. “It’s a fruit forward wine. The finish is so smooth and nicely balanced. They’re doing some amazing things in Walla Walla, Washington.” She placed the bottle on a c
ocktail napkin on the counter. “It’s one of the best growing regions here. If you like that wine, I’ll come in one day later this week and have you taste some blends from the area.”

  Elin held up her glass in a toast. “Perfect. Britta is going to be managing Blomma, so the more she knows about wine, the better. Skål!”

  “Skål!” Serene and Nora clinked their glasses to mine.

  I swallowed hard, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me. “Skål.”

  Kirk tapped his glass on mine. “What’s skål?”

  “Cheers in Swedish,” I said, taking another hearty sip of the wine.

  The front door opened again. A handsome man in an oversized black jacket with the Riverplace Inn logo embroidered on the front stepped inside. His jacket was splotched with rain. An older man in a cashmere trench coat followed him in. And then a young woman who looked drenched and frazzled raced in after them with a notepad tucked under her arm.

  “Come in, everyone.” Elin waved the new guests toward the bar.

  Serene finished off the bottle of wine and opened a new one while Elin introduced me to everyone. The man in the Riverplace Inn jacket was Mark Sanders, general manager of the hotel and president of the Riverplace Village Business Association. The man in the cashmere coat was Frank Jaffe, the real estate developer who was pressuring Elin to sell Blomma. The wide-eyed girl who looked terrified of him was introduced as his personal assistant, Lawren.

  I cringed as Elin raved about my floral design skills and the new vision that I would be bringing to Blomma. Frank muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Not if I get my hands on this place first.”

  He took a drink of the wine Serene offered and made a gagging sound. “This is swill. What are you serving here, boxed wine?”

  Serene pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest. “That happens to be Wine Magazine ’s wine of the year.”

  Frank pinched Lawren on the waist. “Go get that bottle I brought in the car, honey. We’ll give everyone a taste of real wine.” Frank was old enough to be her father. I cringed at his treatment of her and caught Serene glaring at him too.

  Lawren startled, but followed his order and went back out into the rain.

  Serene gave Frank a piercing look. “I’m going to head out, Elin. I’ll be back tomorrow with your new order and to do a more formal tasting with you, Britta.”

  Elin kissed her on both cheeks.

  Frank grabbed her wrist as she rolled her cart past him. “Don’t you want to stick around and give my wine a taste?” His skin had an orangish hue, as if he had spent too much time in a tanning bed. His hair had a similar look. It wasn’t a natural orange, more like dyed chrysanthemums.

  Serene threw his arm off her and shot him a nasty look.

  Lawren returned breathless. She handed Frank the bottle of his special reserve. He cradled it in his arms for Serene. “This is imported from Tuscany.” They shared a strange look like I couldn’t quite decipher. Was it mutual love for wine or disgust with each other?

  Serene looked at the label and shrugged. “1972? That was a terrible growing year in the Tuscan Valley. It rained all spring.” Without another word she headed straight for the door.

  Frank made a grunting noise and thrust the bottle at Lawren. “Take it back to the car, sweets.”

  No wonder Elin had seemed worried about him when his name came up earlier in the day. He was one of the least pleasant men I’d met in recent history. That was saying a lot considering I’d just discovered that my husband was cheating on me.

  After filling their wineglasses the rest of the business owners, along with Kirk, Frank, and Lawren, gathered around the grouping of chairs we had set up in the front of the shop. Elin and Nora circulated around the space with snacks and wine. Mark started the meeting with a recap of the last meeting’s minutes and announcements about upcoming events in the village. After he finished general business, he cleared his throat. “As most of you know, the reason we’re here is that we’ve had a generous offer from Jaffe and Associates Real Estate. Frank Jaffe has come to speak to us tonight about his plan for development and incentives for a group buyout.”

  Murmurs of discontent sounded from the business owners.

  Mark quieted them down. “I know many of you don’t want to sell, but it’s only fair that we hear what Frank has to say.”

  Kirk jumped to his feet. “I’d like to show you the design plans our architectural firm has drawn up. I think you’re going to be super impressed.” He started to unroll a large poster.

  Frank cut him off. “That can wait, Kirk.”

  Kirk looked like an injured child. He rolled the poster back up and returned to his chair.

  “Lawren.” Frank snapped his fingers. “Pass around the handouts.”

  Lawren nodded and hurried to each table with a stack of papers. Her tailored shirt looked like it was polka-dotted with raindrops. I guessed her to be in her mid-twenties, but due to her skittish nature and tiny stature she could pass for a preteen. She was probably cute, but thanks to multiple trips outside, her hair was stringy and plastered to her head. Shivering with cold, she darted between the business owners and thrust the paperwork in their hands.

  “If you take a look at our offer, I’m confident you’ll make the smart business choice. I know that the vast majority of you aren’t bringing in the kind of cash I’m offering you.”

  Nora spoke up. She looked like a rocker grandma in her leather jacket. “Riverplace Village isn’t just about making money, Frank. We’re family. We love working here. You can’t write a check and replace everything we’ve built here.”

  “Everything you’ve built? What sort of business mentality is that? You’re not going to get an offer as generous as mine, and I want to be clear, this is a one-shot deal. I’m putting this offer on the table tonight. You have twenty-four hours to make your decision. I promise you you’re not going to see a better offer than this.”

  Kirk stood and held up the plans. “Is this a good time to show them, Uncle Frank?”

  Frank made a slicing motion across his throat. “No. They’ve got the information they need in front of them. Let’s go.”

  Lawren gathered the extra papers and left with Frank. Kirk looked confused. Frank paused at the front door and glared at him. “I told you, let’s go.”

  Kirk stuffed the poster under his arm and trudged after his uncle.

  Tension hung in the air. Business owners nibbled on cookies and spoke in low tones among themselves.

  Nora finally broke the silence. She jumped to her feet. “Anyone ready to vote?” She raised her hand. “I vote no!”

  Mark cleared his throat. “Hold on, Nora.”

  They locked eyes on one another. For a moment the room was eerily still. The only sound that could be heard was the rain hitting the roof. I thought Nora and Mark might stay deadlocked in their gaze, but he gave her an almost pleading look, which, to my surprise, made her give the floor to him and return to her seat.

  Mark’s demeanor was calm yet firm as he addressed his fellow business owners. “As you know, the Riverplace Inn has a deep commitment to Riverplace Village’s future. I’ve watched development along the Willamette for the last two decades. And while I don’t want to see our way of life change, I also understand that Portland is changing. This could be an opportunity to be part of something great. Jaffe and Associates has a long history of projects like this, especially on the east side of the river, that have really revitalized the business community. I suggest that everyone take their offers to review independently. We can meet at Demitasse first thing in the morning, if that’s all right with you, Nora?” he asked.

  Nora shrugged. “That’s fine, but my answer isn’t go to change.”

  Mark gave her a warning look which again made hard-rocking Nora back off. “I want to encourage you to give Frank’s offer some serious thought tonight,” he said to the crowd. “In Jaffe and Associates’ proposal you’ll find that each of us will have first
right of refusal in the new build. That could mean an upgrade of space for some of us, which I think is worth considering.”

  Was Mark on Frank Jaffe’s side? The Riverplace Inn was one of Portland’s most prestigious hotels. I couldn’t imagine what his motivation for selling could be. Apparently nether could anyone else. Nora whispered something to Mark and then huffed away without saying good-bye. The other business owners milled around chatting in small groups for a while before finally agreeing to reconvene in the morning.

  After everyone dispersed I helped Elin clean up. It had been a long and eventful day. I felt like I’d been in Portland for months, not days. The business owners in Riverplace Village had made me feel so welcome and part of something special. I hoped that none of them would be swayed by Frank Jaffe’s offer. I didn’t want to see my new home crumble before I’d even had a chance to settle in.

  Chapter Four

  I woke to the sound of rain on Elin’s roof the next morning. My feet were actually warm under the covers. That never happened in Minnesota. I used to go through a ritual every morning before getting out of bed that involved layering with three pairs of wool socks and racing to the hallway to crank up the heat. Chad insisted that he couldn’t sleep unless our bedroom was like an icebox. That wasn’t hard during Midwest winters when wind-chills would drop to fifty below zero.

  Elin’s guest room reflected her style. It was outfitted with birch furniture from IKEA. There was a small desk next to the window with a plush chair and comfy bright yellow and orange pillows, a reading lamp, and a delicate perennial paperwhite. The walls were painted in a pebble stone gray with glossy white trim. Elin had emptied the dresser and stocked the closet with hangers for me. I’d been so exhausted every night since I had arrived in Portland that I hadn’t even bothered to unpack. It was oddly refreshing to fall asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. For the first time in many years my creative juices were flowing and bringing me restful sleep. I hadn’t realized the impact the distance between Chad and me had had on my sleep.