Jade was referring to Max’s starring role in the school musical, Grease.
Isabella heard where the conversation was headed - something about washboard abs and pectorals, and did he have a personal trainer? She tried to steer the conversation towards the gardening project, “The point is, we’ve got to work together on this project, and we have a history that he doesn’t even remember.” Isabella explained.
“Well, Isabella, you were always hiding behind your glasses and your braids and your plant zones and petunias. We’re in zone six, right?” Jade asked, trying to steer the conversation towards a safer topic, and the climate zone numbers, which serve as guides for what to plant and when, was a safe topic. Isabella didn’t have a good track record with men, mused Jade. She didn’t have much of a record at all. It was more like a blip on the radar. But, she did like her plants!
“Well, I know I didn’t stand out, but I did live on his property. It just proves that he’s a jerk and a clod, and he’s arrogant, too! He thinks he’s an Ivy-League world-class designer, and that I’m just a local hick who likes to play with a trowel every once in a while.”
At this talk, Jade really got her game on and defended her home girl. “Girlfriend, you are Main Line gardening’s finest designer, you’ve got it in your blood. I mean, you’ve been taking care of plants since birth; didn’t your dad give you a toy watering can when you were in the cradle? I mean, come on, who does he think he is?”
Isabella agreed, but she wanted to prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was the best landscape designer on the Main Line, college degree or not. She knew that her associate’s degree was no match for his high-class background, but, she also was much savvier to the real-world demands of her clients. She built long-standing relationships with customers for whom she had executed their designs, and then helped set up a maintenance schedule for the properties through Albero Landscaping. Sure, Max’s designs had more zing. Her work, however, held up to the test of time. In a year or two from now, his type of designs would leave the couple house poor from either outrageous maintenance costs, or the tedious job of replacing the plants that couldn’t survive the oppressive heat or extreme cold of the area.
Jade said, “Maybe you could ask someone to judge your designs for all of these categories, like sustainability or affordable upkeep,” Jade said, “Those Manicleer people would be great judges, since Jimmy’s yard will be paying homage to their pleasure garden and all.” Jade thought that this was getting fun, the idea of a gardening contest even had some entertainment value.
Isabella loved it when Jade got all cinematic and used words like “homage.” Currently using her USC screenwriting degree to work in the Philadelphia film community, Jade really knew her stuff in that regard.
In fact, thought Jade silently, if the home improvement show got wind of this project, the viewers could be the ones to take a vote…she might know a person or two in Hollywood. Besides that, Isabella’s personal life could use some shaking up; she’s getting as cloistered as a hermit.
Isabella left the studio even more miffed than before. Even her best friend wasn’t immune to the Max Ivy mystique.
Isabella decided to try again to get some friendly support for her kind of eco-friendly gardening. She drove over to Valley Forge Mountain using Route 23, a windy but fast road that was a good detour around the King of Prussia mall and its traffic nightmare. Her truck was getting pelted by the pouring rain. Well, I have driven in far worse weather, Isabella mused.
Once she shook off her raincoat and took off her shoes, she was lead to the kitchen in the large suburban home of her newest friend, Marissa. Isabella walked past some large windows with stunning views of the mountain, and was sorry that it was too rainy to take a walk a few miles away at Valley Forge National Park.
“So my dad was trying to protect me from being labeled as “the help” by the Mr. Ivy’s of the world,” she explained to her more plant-oriented, down-to-earth BFF, Marissa.
A few months ago, Marissa started working at the check-in desk at Manicleer, where Isabella met her while touring the grounds. They soon traded phone numbers and became good. Isabella was hoping for a plant-savvy point of view to get her through the project.
Marissa was busy in the kitchen, trying to learn how to cook Indian food so that she could surprise her husband with his childhood favorites. She had secured the recipes from her mother-in-law in Bangalore. The newly renovated, cherry-wood kitchen smelled like curry and other rich spices.
“So, you are saying that Max doesn’t know that you were the live-in help? Well, I mean it was like the 80’s and all, not the 30’s or anything. How do you mean?” Marissa asked. Her blue eyes twinkled when a good story was in the wind.
Now that Marissa was finally expecting, she was trying to take it easy. While not entirely devoting herself to a strict confinement, she didn’t want to tax her body. It had been such a blessing to finally get pregnant after so many years of tests and failed hopes.
“It was Mr. Ivy,” Isabella explained, hoping that she would be offered some of the delicious-smelling Indian cuisine. “He was the type who told the live-in help that their children were not allowed to associate with his children, ride the bus together with them, or be in activities together.”
“Well, for one thing, why did he send Max along to the same public school that y’all were going to, anyway, instead of an elite private school? Secondly, didn’t you say you worked in a play together there?” Marissa asked. She was always wise to inconsistencies.
Isabella explained that in Lower Merion, the public schools were rated so highly that it was desirable for even the crème-de-la-crème to send their Harvard-bound there. She described her role behind the scenes on the stage crew for the musical, Grease, as having little to no contact with the cast. Max, however, had the starring role.
It was still mysterious to Marissa, the way that Main Liners seemed to cling to social strata for generations was the same way some people hold on to a good family recipe. Back in New England, where she was from, an oyster was an oyster, no matter what the package. Siddhartha, her husband of 5 years, had transferred here with his job at the green energy telecommunications company. Getting restless in her new town and wanting to meet people, she landed the job at Manicleer several years ago, where she was able to keep her plant roots tended. Plants were easy to understand. People, however, remained a mystery, especially those of the Main Line variety. The reasons behind their behaviors were often secretive.
She saw a need to break the silence, so she decided to parrot back what her friend had said. “So, you are sick of playing second fiddle to this guy, and want to show him that you are the plant mama in town.”
Yes, that was pretty much it, Isabella agreed.
Isabella was pretty darned sick of being second fiddle to people like Mr. Max Ivy! Recalling a time when he won class president and she hadn’t even been voted in as homeroom representative, she saddened. Sure, high school was a long time ago, and she realized she was holding onto her resentments a little too intensely. However, high school was just a taste of the whole Main Line experience. It wasn’t just Max himself, but the type of privileged, and just plain lucky people that got her goat. Besides that, she really missed those ponies at the Ivy estate! To be thrown out of one’s childhood home so abruptly was life altering.
Yes, Isabella was going to bring Max down a peg or two, she just wasn’t quite sure how.
Chapter 8 - What on Earth?
“Annuals are like the costume jewelry of the plant world.”
Real-life plant guru, Jerry Baker
Max returned from the stables exhilarated. It had been a long time since he had ridden Foxy, his amber mare. He had awakened to see the sunrise and to get some fresh air on his favorite path around the estate.
When Max returned to the main house, he was confused at the pile of banana peels deposited on the front step. “What on earth?” he questioned.
Left next to the tropical fruit carca
sses was a tidy note that read, “This is for the planet, landscaper dude.” It was signed, in messy and practically illegible penmanship, by a guy named Pete.
Oh, thought Max, Not another nutcase environmentalist. Whoever dropped this off is truly bananas! He had some contact initiated in Los Angeles by some of the granola eaters, but he had never been treated to banana peels. That was an original. Hopefully, he won’t do it again. It wouldn’t do for anyone to trip on a peel and sue him. Maybe that is what this about, thought Max, perhaps it is a scam.
Max disposed of the peels, but not the note (he would give it to Cyrus for investigation and storage). He entered the house and went directly to the breakfast room, where his mother, Camille, was sipping her tea.
Max’s telephone rang, and he looked at the caller ID. It was his agent.
“Hey Max, I was out all night at a movie premier, it is five in the morning here. I never got any sleep, but I’m totally wired. My client was passing out these shooters that have the caffeine buzz. I’m home now, but had this incredible urge to talk on the phone, and I thought about the time zones. You are the only one I know who is currently on the east coast and who wakes up early. How are things going on your hiatus? Have you looked at the list of PR opportunities I faxed to you?”
“Yes, you do sound really hyper. Maybe you could use a good night’s sleep.” Max responded.
“Stop evading me. I own that maneuver, remember? You can’t outmaneuver me! Now, back to the public relations blitz you are supposed to be doing?” Mindy Smart, his usually considerate agent, asked.
“No can do, this is strictly a vacation. I’m all about rest and relaxation, and I’m not going to stir up the fans any more than they already are.”
“Sounds like you have encountered some loonies out east?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t get people leaving banana peels if you went into a normal line of work,” Camille said evenly, without even looking up from her morning repast.
Chapter 9 - Max Learns the Truth
“Give Me Park Avenue”
Green Acres theme song
Isabella woke up to the sound of the telephone; it was Jimmy. “Please don’t be angry with me for calling so early on your day off,” he said, “Yesterday was not a good day. I lost a lot in the stock market and my honeymoon budget looks like we’re getting a free casino bus tour and complimentary buffet, if I’m lucky. We need to talk.”
“What’s to be angry about, it isn’t my honeymoon,” Isabella replied.
“Yeah, but now the budget for my garden is like nil. You are going to have to give me your other customer’s weeds or something. I don’t know, just make them pretty weeds because I want Lacey to come home from camp and be thrilled. She’ll be there for the time when Char and I are on our honeymoon. Good thing the bride’s side is paying for the rest of the to-do. Julia has hired a really great wedding planner, and things are going well, so I don’t have to worry about any of that.”
And worry he would, because Jimmy was a detail-oriented person on everything except when it came to fashion. He happily worked in the computer department of a major company, herding the other socially impaired, but appropriately attired employees to their fantasy football drafts and other indoor activities.
Truly, Isabella was bewildered when her nebbish-like cousin had caught the attention and won the heart of the fashion savvy and energetic socialite. Charlene was not only 12 years younger than Jimmy, but from a totally different social strata.
“Oh, and I totally forgot the reason I am calling you in the first place, Isabella. Charlene is begging me to ask your help with selecting the flowers at ‘Hydrangeas and Tulips’ this afternoon. She said she’ll spring for dinner at your favorite restaurant if you help out,” Jimmy said. “I told her you like simple meals, and not to go too fancy, by the way.”
“See you at three o’clock,” she sighed, “but don’t worry about the landscaping budget. We get discounts on plant materials because we’re in the trade, and my labor will be free. We’ll use the free township compost. You’ll see, it will all work out.” Isabella reassured her cousin.
Charlene’s uncle, Max, was also asked to meet at “Hydrangeas and Tulips” for the final floral consultation. The minute she saw him there, Isabella groaned. It was going to be so much harder to make intelligent bud selections. However, looking at the floral arrangements went better than Isabella expected. Well, she thought, there really isn’t much to disagree on when it comes to a fall foliage theme. Months ago, Isabella had encouraged Charlene and Jimmy to try a sustainable pick-your-own flower garden in a rural area. Instead, Charlene had chosen this classy, but expensive, local florist. Despite this, they were able to choose a nice selection of locally grown flowers in all sorts of fall tones to offset the moss green-colored bridesmaid’s gowns. The mothers of the bride and the flower girl, Lacey, were going to wear mint green. All in all, it was a very nice color palette, and also very simple. Thank goodness that they didn’t want exotic, imported flowers; that would not be eco-friendly, she thought.
Isabella was relieved that the sleeveless bridesmaids’ dress included a wrap. She knew she would feel self-conscious if she was really exposed. It was just she, Ruth Abrams, and an Ivy cousin in the bridal party, other than Charlene, of course. This was a nice, simple, and elegant way to keep things manageable, thought Isabella, who recalled a wedding of a second cousin, which included eight bridesmaids. That was on the Italian side of the family. She didn’t have much contact with the Polish side, other than with Jimmy and his dad. So, it would be great to represent the Albero family at Jimmy’s wedding. The flowers would also help her to hide a bit up there in front of all those people. She was looking forward to helping Jimmy and Charlene usher in their new life together and happy she could help in many little and big ways.
While Charlene certainly knew how to keep things simple, she also liked to go all-out when it came to fine dining. Leaving their own vehicles at the florist, they piled into Charlene’s Lexus SUV to go to dinner. Max, Isabella, Jimmy, Charlene, Ruth, and Cyrus were on their way to a luxurious, five-star restaurant on the Main Line. Isabella thought that it was silly that they didn’t just walk to the restaurant from the flower shop; it was only two blocks away. She did, however, enjoy all the extra legroom that the SUV had to offer, and she had a lot of leg to stretch out. That was one of her nicest attributes, and it was great that the bridesmaid’s dress was going to cover much of her legs because it was tea-length. She was relieved that it wasn’t too short, and was looking forward to the final fitting in a few weeks.
A premier world-renown chef named Françoise had extended his culinary expertise to the suburbs, and escorted their party personally to their table. Isabella, who realized that he was a local celebrity, was all smiles until they sat down to look at the menu. There was nothing on the menu that she pronounce, let alone wanted to eat. The only French food she liked was a croissant. The rest is icky snail food, or so she thought.
“Is everything okay?” Max whispered in her ear, as he noticed her face turning green.
Speaking in a soft voice directed at Max, she explained her situation. “French food really isn’t my thing. The idea of heavy cream and snails, or anything French, sort of makes my stomach do cartwheels. Jimmy knew that it was the one cuisine that really repulsed me, but, he conveniently forgot when making these arrangements. Love does that to people; it gives them tunnel vision. Look at him, he’s totally smitten.”
Looking at the happy engaged couple, it was clear that Jimmy would go along with whatever Charlene wanted, anyway. Jimmy’s complete attention was fixed on Charlene’s happy glow, knowing that the florist was all wrapped up and ready. Charlene was relieved that she could enjoy her summer. If she ate in moderation and ran 15 miles a week, she could have her final fitting and still look stunning in her vintage Dior dress.
As Isabella frowned over the menu, Max leaned over, his strong thighs accidentally rubbing up against her. “I would suggest this salad
here if you like tuna,” Max said as he pointed to the item on the menu in her hands. “Perhaps you may want to consider some of these chicken dishes over here.” He selected foods for her that were quite delectable, and Isabella started to see the lure of French cuisine.
The evening had really gone much better than Isabella expected, but it would clearly be impossible to get out of a second “double date” if she didn’t come up with a plan.
After the surprisingly delicious dinner, Charlene, Jimmy, Isabella, Max, and a lurking Cyrus walked to downtown Wayne for dessert. While walking to the far end of town to check out the new coffee and ice cream bar, Isabella blurted out, “I’ve decided to join a convent.” Gathering up courage, she said a bit louder, “I will probably go with the Grey Nuns. I really like what the Sisters of Charity do, but I really can’t abide by their strict interpretation of the vow of poverty; it is too hard core for me. However, being in an order founded by the Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta is really enticing.”
Prune, Plant, or Plunder? Page 4