On Hummingbird Wings

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Did you know about this?”

  “Allie, how would I know about it? I got the e-mail the same time you did.” She pulled a chair over by the phone and sat down. This promised to be some conversation. “Why are you crying?”

  “Our mother got married and we weren’t even invited, and you wonder why I am crying?” She sniffed again and blew her nose. “Such a terrible thing to be left out like this.”

  “Allie, get a grip. It’s not a terrible thing. We can always have a reception when they return. They are happy; that’s all that counts. Think about it. Two weeks ago Mother insisted she was dying, and now she is partying on the high seas and is married.” She almost threw in a comment along the lines of at least she didn’t have to get married, but knew that would not go over well.

  “If she loved us, she would have waited until they got home again so we could be with them.” Sobs led to a hiccup. “This just isn’t like Mother at all; she could have called.”

  Gillian heaved a sigh. Allie was sounding like her mother of years ago. If you loved me—what an old tune that hadn’t worked then and wouldn’t fly now. “Of course she loves you. And I adore Enzio. If he were a few years younger…”

  “Gillian Ormsby, what a thing to say.”

  “Well, he’s a sweetheart, and if you’d been here and seen how lovingly he cared for her…Allie, he brought her presents and sat with her while she slept, and all the time she was nasty to him.” Like she was to me.

  “I—I feel so left out.”

  “Allie, this isn’t about you. It’s about them and their happiness. You’d better not try to call them in the state you are in.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Good thing.”

  “I don’t know how to get ahold of them. Cell phones don’t work out at sea.”

  “Don’t tell me you tried.” Gillian closed her eyes. Please, God, no.

  “I did but I didn’t leave a message.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors. When they get on land again, they will most likely call. You didn’t e-mail them, did you?”

  “No.”

  Her sister still sounded like a whiny little girl, pouting because she didn’t get her own way. Is that the way she treats her husband, too? The thought came out of nowhere. Gillian felt like she had run into a glass wall. When had all this started? She didn’t remember Allie acting like this when they were growing up. “Sorry, what’s that you said?”

  “I said you don’t have to act like you’re smarter than I am.”

  Whoa. “Sorry if I sounded—ah, condescending. This was a shock to me, too. After all, I was the one taking care of her. I certainly didn’t plan this.”

  “Seems to me no one did. He saw an online special and just went out and bought the tickets?”

  “And then convinced our mother to go with him. I don’t know how he talked her into it. I really don’t.”

  “But she is so weak.”

  “I said that, and he said he’d get her a wheelchair. Allie, they were already having fun. Mother was smiling. You know she has always dreamed of going on a cruise.”

  “I promised I’d take her.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’ll want to go again.” At least Allie seemed to be calming down. The two of them had to have some time together to work things out. “Did you have a fun weekend?”

  “Well, Sherrilyn’s team lost their game, but we had a good time out at the beach. For the first time I went someplace and didn’t have to be worried about Mother.”

  And has all the worrying done any good, changed anything? Gillian knew this wasn’t fair. After all, she seemed to have missed the family worry gene. “I’m glad you all had fun.”

  “With all that has gone on, I forgot to mention Halloween. Would you like to come out and see all the trick-or-treaters? The little ones are so cute.”

  “Halloween? Good grief, I never thought of that. There might be kids coming here?”

  “Probably, parents usually drop their kids off at safe neighborhoods. Your street would qualify, I’m sure.”

  “Then I better stay here.” All I need is some vandalism because the house is dark. She glanced at a calendar on the wall. “I’ll be there on Saturday for sure. You need to e-mail me the directions. Do you mind if I bring Winnie?”

  “Winnie? Oh, Enzio’s dog. I guess. Sherrilyn will be delighted.”

  “You don’t have a dog anymore?”

  “Nope, we decided not to get another one after Butch died. I better get going. My list for today is long. We’ll talk soon, and I’ll send you directions for Saturday. Same e-mail addy?”

  “Yes. Thanks for calling. Bye.” Gillian hung up and headed for the coffeemaker. She needed a restorative cup like she needed air. First thing after the coffee, plant the tall pots. She’d already checked the soil, which was now moist enough. At least the plants wouldn’t shift personalities as fast as her sister did. From baby to breezy in how many seconds?

  She took her coffee to the patio table and resumed yesterday’s task. The hummingbirds buzzed by her a couple of times, no doubt checking to see if her pink shirt was an especially sweet flower. The clouds playing tag with the sun meant shifts from hot to cool. After removing the plants from the plastic nursery containers, she set them in the pottery pots, then moved them around to get the desired arrangement. After filling potting soil in around the stems, she watered them in, added more soil, and wove the branches together like the man at the nursery told her to do. It did indeed make them look like they’d been growing in the pots for some time. She stepped back to view her handiwork.

  “Nice.” Nodding while she reached for her coffee cup, she took a swallow and made a face. Cold. Iced coffee was fine, but this was neither hot nor iced. She tossed the remains into the pots. Fertilizer, that’s what she’d forgotten to add. The article said to sprinkle fertilizer pellets on the dirt before planting. Back to the shed. Fertilizer also came in liquid form. She mixed that as directed and watered all the newly planted pots. Something had been chewing on the pansies.

  A trail of shiny goo over the edge of the pot identified the culprit. A snail or slug. Sure enough there under the rim of the pot she found a granddaddy snail. It crunched satisfactorily when she gave it the bottom of her heel. “Yucky things. What did Mother use to do to kill snails?” She could remember being assigned the job of locating and disposing of snails. Other than bagging them, tying the bag tight, and tossing it in the garbage cans, what did she put out? Good, a reason to call Adam. She heated another cup of coffee and sat down at the patio table with her cell phone.

  She hit the TEXT button.

  Lovely morning. How do you kill snails?

  Sipping her coffee, she stared at the upper side of the property beyond the low rock wall. The upper garden that used to be all vegetables now hosted dead plants and poles with dried-out clinging vines. The weeds were growing just fine without water. If she cleaned it all out, the yard would at least look better. Besides, she might find a few plants still alive.

  Her cell beeped.

  Put out snail bait, around pots or in them. Will attract and kill snails. A.

  Thank you. I’ll look for some.

  I’ll bring a box when I come home.

  Thanks. Good. Adam to the rescue again.

  You want to walk tonight?

  A smile lit her face.

  Good idea.

  She glanced down at the dog snoozing in the sun. At least she wasn’t digging today.

  See you six-ish.

  I could make dinner. She hit SEND before her brain realized what her thumbs had typed.

  Good. Ask Dad?

  I will.

  See you. A.

  So now she had company coming for dinner and no idea what to fix. “What have I done?”

  Winnie looked up as if to ask, “Are you talking to me?”

  “No, go back to sleep. This is my problem.” But when Gillian went back inside, Winnie followed her. A grocery list. She checked the pantry
. Staples but no dinner food. The refrigerator. Plenty of leftovers, but no food for company. She grabbed her paper and started the list. She’d seen fresh pasta and sauces at the grocery store.

  After shopping, she allowed herself two hours out in the garden, digging and pulling out dead plants. The refuse pile grew as foot by foot she reclaimed the soil. A fast shower and she morphed into hostess for her guests.

  That evening the table looked lovely with her mother’s good dishes on a seldom-used tablecloth. Gillian had even found candles in the save-for-some-fancy-day box in the bedroom and cut all the remaining roses to make a centerpiece. She’d put one of her favorite CDs on the player. This was so different from New York, where she’d pick up all the fixings, including flowers and candles, at the market, set it up, and then pretend she entertained often.

  “Mmmm, something smells good,” Adam said as he and his father entered the kitchen.

  Bill handed her a pink cyclamen plant with foil and a bow. “Thought you might like this.”

  “Thank you. So you’re back to work?”

  “As of last Monday.”

  “Good for you. How are you doing?”

  “Can’t see any difference. Other than the medication the doctor put me on takes some getting used to.”

  She nodded and glanced down at Winnie, who was dancing about their feet but not pawing at their pant legs. Enzio had trained her well.

  Bill leaned over and petted the dog, then picked her up. After cleaning his ear and chin, she snuggled into his chest and quieted as he stroked her.

  “You have a friend for sure. She’s so shy.” Gillian motioned to the table. “Dinner is ready, so how about if we eat right away?”

  “Fine with me.” Bill set the dog down and took the back chair. “This sure looks pretty.”

  “Can I help you?” Adam asked.

  “Yes, the salads are in the fridge. If you could put those on the table, I’ll get the bread from the oven.” When they sat down, Bill bowed his head so Gillian did, too. “Would you like to say grace, Bill?”

  One of these days she would have to get comfortable saying grace, she thought. At the amen, she passed the bread. “Who ever would have dreamed that I’d be serving dinner at my mother’s house?”

  “Well, I for one am glad you’re here.” Adam’s smile sent her heart into overdrive. Would he kiss her again tonight? Not that she’d given the first kiss more than a thousand or so thoughts.

  “Thank you.”

  After the salads she served the linguine with prawns in marinara sauce, sprinkling parmesan cheese on top. As they raved about how good everything was, she did not mention she’d been shopping, just accepting their praise with nods and smiles. If that was being deceptive, too bad.

  After dinner, they moved into the living room for coffee and dessert. She curled in the recliner. “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  “If I get any more comfortable, I’ll fall asleep.” Bill stretched his arms over his head. “This getting old is the pits.”

  “So, you don’t have to go back to work. We can manage; you have a good man in Keith. We can make it work.” Adam leaned forward. “And you have plenty to do with propagating your plants.”

  “That’s so true.”

  “At least you have a job to go to that you like to do.” Gillian sipped from her china cup.

  “I know, and I’m grateful for that. The nurseries have been good to us.”

  “How many years have you had them?”

  “Opened the one here in Martinez in the seventies; it was just a small place that we later expanded. Let’s see, we opened the Pittsburg store in 2001. Alice insisted we include fresh flowers and the garden art. She always had a good sense for what would be a profitable next addition. We put in the water feature sections just a couple of years ago.” He caught a yawn.

  “Gillian’s trying to decide what she wants to do with the rest of her life. I think I have an idea, at least for an interim job.” Adam smiled at her. “I need another person on staff. How about coming to work for me?”

  Gillian stared at him. Working in a nursery? “But I don’t have any experience. I mean I don’t even know all the names of the plants.”

  “You can learn. And you have a keen sense for what looks good together. Have you ever run a cash register?”

  “Back in high school, but they are slightly different today.”

  “You could learn that quickly.”

  “I have an idea.” Bill looked from his son to Gillian. “How about you buy Bentley’s Garden Stores?”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Deal with one thing at a time, Gillian reminded herself.

  Winnie whimpered and extricated herself from the blankets when Gillian half rolled on her. She scrambled to her feet and shook her head.

  “Sorry, Winnie. I’m not used to being concerned about a bed partner.” Gillian stroked the dog’s head, but the action failed to derail her mind.

  Adam says come to work for him and Bill says buy the whole company. Her stomach felt like she’d been struck a body blow. Both ideas imploded in her mind, and yet the conversations went on as if nothing had happened. She glanced at the lighted clock on the nightstand. Twelve thirty. She who never had trouble falling asleep had been stewing for an hour. Going to work out in the Pittsburg store was an easy thing to solve. Either do it or don’t or ask for an extension. If Adam thought she could handle the job, she figured she could. After all, she learned new things quickly and she did have some gardening background. Surely much of what she’d learned as a child would come back as needed.

  But it was just a job, a fill-in job until she could figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. Surely she who could put together plans for multimillion-dollar proposals could learn to run a cash register. And she did need income eventually or she’d be forced to pull from her retirement funds. Or sell her condo in New York. Okay, she put those ideas away.

  But buy the company? Was Bill out of his mind? Whatever had made him bring up an idea like that? She tried looking at it from all sides, but she didn’t know enough about the business to look at it objectively. Number one: She had no idea what Bentley’s Garden Stores were worth. Number two: She had no idea if she wanted to run the business. Number three: What would Adam think? She’d not been looking at his face when his father dropped the bombshell. From the sounds of things, they had discussed selling it before. And number four: Did she want to invest her retirement money in a business?

  She rolled over again, this time the other way so as not to bother the dog. This is not something you have to solve tonight, so put it away and go to sleep. Easier said than done. For even if she weren’t thinking on Bentleys, she did have to come up with some kind of plan for the rest of her life.

  Interesting that she’d always worked toward the same goals, achieved them, and worked harder to make the successes solid. There had never been a Plan B. She flipped to flat on her back and practiced the deep-breathing exercises that made her relax. By the fourth inhale, hold to ten, and exhale, her body began responding, warmth stealing from her toes upward. When she reached the floating feeling, she knew sleep would creep in. Until Adam walked across her mind screen. Yes, there was definitely an attraction there. As they said, chemistry. Yes, he met her long-ago-dreamed-of criteria: honest, dependable, sense of humor, good-​looking, intelligent, successful. But relationships took time, and she’d only known him a couple of weeks, been on a couple of dates. Enjoyed herself immensely.

  But did she want to forget all about New York and instead live on the West Coast? Did she want to live so close to her mother and her sister, both of whom managed to frustrate her beyond measure? If she went back to New York, she could pretend that Allie was the woman she thought she was, not the whiner she’d found her to be lately.

  If she stayed, she could be a real auntie to Sherrilyn and Benson, something she’d regretted at times that she hadn’t been an exemplary aunt. She could get to know her mother again and enj
oy Enzio. Working with dirt and plants and the out of doors would be about as opposite from what she did in New York as possible.

  Winnie snored on.

  Her mother had always said that God had a plan for her life. For everyone’s life. How had she gotten so far away from the teachings of her childhood? Could she find her way back?

  She awoke to the sun in her face. What time could it be? Winnie whimpered. Gillian threw back the covers and charged down the hall to let her fluffy friend out. Good thing she’d let her out late the night before or surely there would have been a puddle somewhere. Eight thirty. She never slept this late, was always up by seven no matter what time she went to bed.

  She stared at the coffeemaker. No fresh coffee aroma. She’d forgotten to set it last night. She’d been too distracted by her reactions to the Bentley men and their ideas. Obviously she’d not be working today, at least not at the nursery. With Winnie back in and fed, the coffee started, she left the door to the bathroom open enough for Winnie and let the shower beat her fully awake. Gillian wondered if she went to work, how would she manage to accomplish all the things she wanted to do around here?

  First on the list, besides sprucing up the backyard, was to tear apart her mother’s bedroom and deep-clean it. She doubted it had been painted in all the years she’d been gone. A nice cream color would be a change from the dingy blue. But even before she considered painting it, it still had to be thoroughly cleaned. It smelled musty. Her mother used to be such a finicky housekeeper. When had that begun to decline? Surely more than a couple of months. If only she could ask Allie without her getting all defensive.

  What would it cost to hire a painter? If she stripped the room, it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours. Sitting in the kitchen to eat her breakfast, she got out the phone book and looked up painters. The list went on for pages. Short of closing her eyes and stabbing at one, how could she find someone who was reputable? No one had been available to fix the broken window. But this was a bigger job. Start with A. Able Painters had a license number, was bonded, and promised both quick and reasonable work. After only one phone call, she knew someone would come that afternoon to give her an estimate. Yes, they worked on Saturdays and no, there wouldn’t be an extra charge for weekend work.