by Dianne Miley
Chad searched his eyes. “Can you use a hammer and nails?”
“Uh, yeah.” This wasn’t going well. “The ad said you’d be willing to train.”
“Ah, that it did.” Chad tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “So what kind of work experience do you have?”
“I’ve worked as a mechanic since I was twelve. My dad owns Mitchell’s Garage on Market Street.”
“Sure, I know Wayne.” Chad nodded and blew on his tea.
“Yeah.” Brett cringed. “Well, it’s a long story, but I’m not working there anymore.” He paused. “I have to be honest with you. I have an engineering degree but haven’t found a job yet. In the meantime, I need income. When I find something in my field, I’ll give as much notice as I can.”
Chad’s eyes were caring and warm. He sipped the tea and set down his mug. “Have you tried the factories in Riverside?”
“Yeah, I looked into it.” Brett shook his head. “But I’m not into manufacturing, and most of them just want a CAD jerk.”
“A what?” Chad scrunched his face.
“Sorry. CAD is a computer program. Most engineering jobs require no design skills whatsoever. No hands on, either. Just hack away at some outdated program. I’d go crazy sitting at a computer all day.”
“Me too!” Chad leaned forward. “What do you want to design?”
Brett smiled. “Race cars.” His elbows balanced on his knees. “But I’ll do anything automotive that gives me a little creative license and a chance to implement my designs.”
“Good luck finding a job like that in Bloomfield County!” Chad sat back in his chair and chuckled.
“No kidding. I’d love to work for NASCAR, but I’ll likely wind up in Detroit.” An old Camaro rumbled out the farmhouse driveway and headed toward town. He remembered Laura’s Chevy key ring. And her violet eyes.
“So you’re planning to relocate?” Chad’s tone held a hint of amusement.
“Uh, yeah.” Relocate. Move away. Strike out on my own. And never get a chance with Laura.
“Nothing on the internet?”
Brett snapped back to reality. “Uh, no, not yet.” Good night, he was on an interview and thinking about Laura! He cleared his throat. “I’ve applied for jobs from Boston to LA. So far, either they want a desk jockey or the jobs have been filled. So I need temporary employment. Your ad sounded perfect.”
“Fair enough.” Chad studied him. “I appreciate your honesty.” He seemed to assess Brett’s work-worn hands. “I’ll do the same for you. This is my second year in business. It’s booming this summer, but it’ll fall off come October.” He looked Brett in the eye.
“Just like you, I need temporary help. I pay competitive wages and I expect you to earn them. I know you come from a hard-working family. That’s not easy to find these days. Believe me, I’ve tried.” He named the hourly rate.
Brett nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
“Okay. Can you start tomorrow?”
“Sure thing.” Working for Laura’s brother, he’d surely run into her again. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
****
On Saturday, May 20th, women from all over Bloomfield County attended The Porcelain Teapot’s Springtime Tea. Seating overflowed the tiny tearoom into the patio along the creek bank.
With gleeful anticipation, Laura and Emily closed Rosebuds early to attend the annual event next door. Rachel and Kate met them at the shop, while John treated his granddaughters to lunch at McDonald’s Play Land.
John James was a wonderful father and grandfather, a faithful husband too. Laura thought of Brett, but she might as well forget him. She’d never find someone like her father. And she refused to settle for less.
One look at Rachel brought her fears back full force. With dark circles under her eyes, Rachel worked two jobs but couldn’t afford to replace that tired dress she’d worn the last two years. Yet Jake owned plenty of crisp silk shirts.
“I love your outdoor display,” Rachel said, pointing out the garden bench filled with flowers, the hanging ferns, and the outrageously expensive bubble machine.
“Thank you,” Laura exuded despite her mother’s scowl. “I’d like to expand our market, grow the business, and eventually hire you back.”
A faint twinkle appeared in her sister’s eyes. “Really?”
“I have lots of ideas. I think we should hold a big event like the Springtime Tea to attract customers county-wide.”
“We do the Rose Festival, in case you forgot,” Emily snapped.
“That’s a town event, not a Rosebuds event,” Laura continued, undaunted. “We need to advertise in City to Country , hold seasonal sale events to boost our slow periods, offer gardening seminars and flower arranging classes—things to get people coming to buy flowers, bulbs, and supplies.”
“Those things cost money,” her mother scolded.
“I don’t care about money,” Laura argued. “I want to secure our family heritage.”
“If we teach everyone in the county how to grow and arrange their own flowers, they won’t need us at all.”
“But selling supplies would broaden our market,” Rachel chimed in. “And some customers will find it too difficult and be more willing to pay for our services.”
Emily fumed silently.
“Let’s go, I’m starved,” Grandma Kate interrupted.
But Rachel said our . Twice. As though she was still a part of Rosebuds . Of course she always would be. But since she’d left for the secretarial job, discussing the business only seemed to make her sad, reminding her of what she’d lost.
“I’ll lock up the back,” Laura offered as the other three headed for the front. Turning the lock of the windowed back door, she couldn’t help but notice a pickup truck loaded with boxes backed in beside her car. All morning, she’d tried to ignore the sounds of heavy footsteps bumping up the stairs and furniture moving overhead.
Shaken, she stared as a handsome man in jeans retrieved a newborn baby from a car seat and handed the pink bundle to his pretty young wife. Then he pulled out a folded playpen.
Bearing the heavier load, the man opened the door beside Rosebuds . He kissed the smiling woman’s cheek and ushered her up the stairs that led to Laura’s apartment.
Not only was the happy little family moving into her apartment, but chivalry wasn’t dead. That man was no older than her. Envy and pain tore at her heart. Of course she wanted love like that. And more. But all the romantic notions in the world meant nothing when the men who came into her life snatched up her heart, wiped their feet on it and left. Including that blasted Brett Mitchell who refused to get out of her mind.
“Laura, you coming?” Rachel called from the front door.
This was a special day for ladies. She would forget men and the pain they caused. The kind of love she wanted wasn’t going to happen for her. And she refused to end up like her sister.
She scurried to catch up. Ahead on the tearoom sidewalk, shelves displayed teapots, cups and saucers, tins of tea, and other goodies. A young woman stood behind a cash register.
The new help looked like the sister of that infamous tramp Layla who’d run off with Laura’s prom date. “Is that Vanessa Gallagher?” she whispered to Rachel.
“Sure looks like her,” Rachel offered. “I barely recognize her without the overalls.”
“I love her dress,” Laura noted.
“And her long, platinum hair shines like silk.”
Wispy curls framed Vanessa’s pale face, a filigree barrette her hair.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen her hair so clean.”
“Laura! Why would you say such a thing?” Emily asked.
“‘Cause she’s a Gallagher,” came a sharp voice behind them.
Laura winced with shame and outrage. She hadn’t been aware Myrtle Winthrop was following them, let alone eavesdropping.
“She’s been working that back roads bait shop since she was ten. Nothing but white trash.”
“Myrtle!” Emily rebuke
d as she lagged behind Grandma. “She’ll hear you!” She glared at Myrtle, and then glanced at the innocent blond barely twenty feet ahead. Grandma barreled on a few feet before looking around for her daughter-in-law.
“No skin off my nose,” Myrtle’s chin shot skyward as she pushed past them. Her two cohorts followed, snubbing the James women as they strutted toward the tearoom.
“Some skin off that nose might round it down a bit,” Kate rebutted, though she’d clearly missed the conversation.
Laura choked down a laugh.
“Brood of vipers,” her grandmother muttered. The trio shoved their way into the tearoom, ignoring Vanessa’s greeting.
“That witch,” Rachel growled under her breath. Then her scowl turned to a beaming smile as they approached Vanessa.
With a rosy blush, Vanessa’s gaze flitted between browsing customers and the nearing James family as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Laura smiled warmly. Vanessa didn’t look much like Layla, and lacked an air of blatant sexuality. Laura knew what it felt like to be judged by a sister’s choices. The subdued young woman showed a valiant effort to overcome her family’s reputation.
“Welcome to the Springtime Tea, ladies.” Her voice cracked. Avoiding eye contact, she clasped her hands behind her back. “You’re welcome to browse. We’ll make an announcement when we’re ready to serve lunch.”
“Thank you.” Emily spoke for all of them as she and Kate headed toward a collection of teas.
“You look beautiful, Vanessa,” Rachel said warmly.
“Why, thank you,” she murmured with surprise.
“I love your dress,” Laura agreed.
Vanessa’s thank you was barely audible. Emily brought a tin of English breakfast tea and handed her a ten. With fingers scrubbed nearly raw, Vanessa took the money. Black stains persisted in every line of her knuckles from years of scooping wiggling worms into Styrofoam cups.
“Thank you, Ma’am.” After handing Emily her change, Vanessa slipped her hands safely out of sight again. “Enjoy your lunch, ladies,” she said with a shy smile. Her pale blue eyes actually sparkled. Laura had never seen her smile before.
“Have a nice day!” Laura smiled back as her grandmother corralled them toward the door.
“I’m starving!” Kate exclaimed as only the elderly, and children, could pull off without being rude. As Kate and Emily fell into conversation with other ladies in line, Laura took in the beauty of lush roses filling window boxes and planters that decorated the storefront. A peek past lace curtains revealed a bouquet of roses in the window.
“You must be in your glory with all these roses,” Laura commented to her sister.
“I just wish I could have helped with the preparations,” Rachel admitted wistfully. “I miss the flower shop.”
“You were born to be a florist,” Laura agreed.
“Yeah. I loved creating combinations of colors and textures to dramatize each flower. I miss that beauty. And the heavenly smell!” She laughed. “Better than stacks of files and a whiff of white-out.”
“But don’t forget the chief’s cigar breath,” Laura joked.
“Yeah, I remember.” Rachel smiled sadly. “But the office job pays enough to support the girls. And Jake’s high risk insurance.” She made a face. “Not to mention bail and court costs.”
“You ought to—” let him rot in jail, Laura wanted to say. “Make him pay his own expenses,” she managed in a rational tone. Anger seethed deep in her gut, but showing it would only upset her sister.
“But he won’t.” Rachel stared at the floor. “And it ruins my credit too.” She looked into Laura’s eyes. “I want to build a house next to Chad’s someday,” she said with a glimmer of hope.
“That’s the spirit.” Laura smiled. “We’ll both build our dream houses on Rose Hill Drive and be neighbors.” Then a horrible thought crossed her mind. Jake would be her neighbor too.
Their elderly hostess and owner, approached with a tea-stained smile. “Dining room or patio?”
Myrtle Winthrop and her cronies occupied a corner of the dining room. “The patio,” Laura answered.
Her teacup centerpieces overflowed with dewy pink roses and sprigs of ivy. Huge bouquets of pink roses decorated each corner of the room.
“There she is,” a voice rose above the crowd. “She brought that scalawag Santos to our town.”
Laura recognized Myrtle’s high-pitched voice among the tittering gossips.
As the hostess led them past that corner, Laura positioned herself between her red-faced sister and the vipers. How dare they? Rachel had looked forward to this for months. They followed the hostess outside.
“You can’t ignore me!” Myrtle rasped.
The flustered hostess seated them at a lace-covered table. A delightful mix of antique china displayed various floral patterns with a teapot, teacup, and frosty crystal goblet of ice water at each place setting. Laura picked up the dainty menu.
“The pecan-chicken salad is excellent,” she said with all the enthusiasm she could muster. “What’s everyone getting?”
“Chicken pot pie.” Kate put down her menu with a flourish.
“Spinach quiche for me,” Emily replied with a gentle glance at Rachel. Unlike her mother-in-law, she’d seen what happened.
Drawn and pale, Rachel shrugged. “The salad, I guess.”
“Even the favors are decorated with rosebuds.” Laura pointed out tulle-wrapped bundles of Jordan almonds.
“Pink roses, my favorites.” Rachel blinked away tears. “Anything but red.” Jake’s red roses were an insult.
Then Laura saw red when Myrtle stomped toward them.
“Katherine James, you should be ashamed!”
“What the devil are you yammering about?” Kate shot to her feet, ready to pounce.
“Your granddaughters are a disgrace to this town, and their mother does nothing about it.”
Before Myrtle could flinch, Kate slapped her across the face. A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Then the patio fell silent as all eyes and ears focused in.
Toe to toe, Kate stood a foot shorter than Myrtle. “No one insults my family.”
One hand on her cheek, the gossip blinked. “How dare you!”
“It’s been a long time coming,” Kate assured her. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since we left England.”
Myrtle gasped. “That’s not fair! You didn’t lose your true love on the shores of Normandy!”
Kate’s expression softened. “Being vicious isn’t going to bring him back,” she said gently.
Myrtle bristled, nose in the air. “I’ll get you, Miss Pretty, and your granddaughters too!” She narrowed her eyes at Laura. “That one’s just like you!”
Lilacs For Laura
Lilacs For Laura
Chapter 6—Lavender Toenails
On the second Saturday in June, Crystal Falls celebrated the annual Rose Festival. Planning to spend the day with his mother, Brett opened his old Corvette’s groaning passenger door. Angelina climbed in and straightened the rose print blouse that she wore to the parade every year. She smoothed her hair into a rosy pink ponytail thing.
Along the way, she oohed and aahed over rose displays in front yards. In town, the parade lined up on Oak Street behind the GM dealership and his dad’s garage.
“How adorable!” Angelina squealed, pointing out a John Deere tractor pulling a float full of kids. “Those children are dressed as seed packets.”
“Yeah.” Brett smiled and cleared his throat. “But they’re blocking Dad’s back drive.”
“Aaw.” She waved it off. “He uses Market Street anyway.”
“Maybe so, but I’ll bet he’s ticked.” Brett grinned.
“Since he fired you, he’s been even crankier than usual.”
“Hey, I quit, remember?”
Laughter lit up her pretty face. “And I don’t blame you a bit. I love your father, but he’s a hard one to live with.”
Glancing into her sparkling eyes, he refrained from commenting on that understatement. To look at Angelina, you’d never guess what she’d been through. No wrinkles marred her creamy skin, and only a few strands of gray showed in her thick, black hair.
Brett faced the road again and turned down Market Street. He parked at the far end of his father’s front lot and they walked past the open garage door. His back to them, Wayne banged away under an old Dodge, grumbling loudly to himself.
“Stinkin’ festival.” Wayne threw down a wrench and glared at the float full of kids. “People crawling all over the place.”
“Should we stop and say hello?” Angelina asked.
“Nah, he’s busy—and grouchy. Better leave well enough alone.”
“Maybe you’re right.” She watched her husband as they walked by, but he never looked in their direction.
Brett and his mother crossed the street, took a shortcut behind Hamilton Drug, and slipped through the packed bank parking lot.
“It’s good to be out of there,” Brett admitted.
“So you like the new job?” his mother asked.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m still looking for an engineering job. I found out I hate carpentry.”
She furrowed her brows.
“But Chad treats me fairly and we get along.”
She nodded. “That’s the important thing.”
Not to mention the relation to Laura. Would Brett ever see her again? Getting to know her brother made him feel more in tune with her. The James were good people. Even Rachel, in her wild high school days, was never one to start trouble. She pushed the rules a bit, but really just liked to have fun.
Angelina interrupted his thoughts. “And your new boss gave you Saturday off for the Rose Festival.”
“That’s right.” He glanced back at the garage, touching her elbow as they crossed Main Street.
Every parking space on the square was taken, just as he’d expected. They made their way to the south end of the park, and she gasped. “Oh, Brett, look at the gazebo.”
Arbors of climbing roses decked all four pathways leading to the building, and rose garlands draped the railings.
“That topiary is magnificent!” she cried.