No, it wouldn’t do. Her hands were tied. She’d have to let things play out. Besides, Willow was a big girl; she seemed to have her head on straight. Pouring herself a third cup of coffee, a luxury she rarely allowed herself, Edith sat listening to the soothing sound of the shower and gazed out the window at the row of potted plants on her small deck. It really was nice to have someone else in the house again.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 3
“Lookin’ good,” Donny quipped, nodding at his reflection. Freshly shaved, nose and ear hair trimmed, he’d brush his teeth right after breakfast. His California-boy tan set off his sea glass eyes, and he practiced the move that made women pause, and look again: cocked head, crooked grin, half-lidded gaze that drifted from eyes to mouth, then back up again. Never lower than the chin, not that first look.
Willow Goodhope would never know what hit her.
Streamers and paper lanterns on strings of twinkle lights crisscrossed the patio at Space #12, folding tables and chairs leaned against a tree, waiting to be set up, and two good-size grills were placed at the far end of the lot where the smoke wouldn’t get in people’s eyes. Donny recognized the propane grill as Eddie’s, the other had a bag of hickory smoke charcoal briquettes propped against its base. His mouth started to water.
Willow’s front door stood wide open and he made his way up the steps toward it, his pulse quickening at the opportunity to catch her alone. Poking his head inside, his eyes quickly adjusted to the dim interior, and he whistled his appreciation. The draped fabric and bold colors, funky lighting and mismatched furniture, it all made him think of some Middle Eastern harem. Even the air smelled heavy with the aroma of far-off places, something spicy, tangy, intoxicating. He was really starting to like this girl.
“Hello?” He called out, just as she stepped out of the tiny bathroom at the back of the one-room cottage, a damp towel draped around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, her hair pulled away from her face in a ponytail on top of her head, and she wore a pair of low-slung jeans, a black tank top, and flip-flops. When she saw him, her eyes grew wide with surprise, and she hesitated, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Hi, Donny.” She was polite, but her tone was careful, and he felt the familiar challenge rising up in him. Gonna play hard to get, are you?
“Hello, Miss Willow Goodhope. Happy Celebrate Being Single Day.” He spoke slowly, almost a drawl, and took a small, unintimidating step inside the door.
She frowned, not getting the joke. A little slow, this one.
“Independence? Being single?”
“Oh. I see. Yes, happy Independence Day to you, too. Will you be coming to the cookout this afternoon?” She pulled the towel from around her neck and patted her cheeks with it, but didn’t come any closer. Was she trying to dismiss him?
“Actually, that’s why I’m here; to offer my help. Whatever you need, you name it; I’m your man.” He gave her his practiced look, satisfied when she pressed her lips together and blinked. She got the message.
“Well, Eddie’s on his way back with a ladder to help me hang the last of the lanterns out front. And Joe’s prepping the ribs at his place. Doc and Al will be here in about an hour to set up tables, so there’s not much else that needs doing, at least not right now.” She squared her shoulders and took a few steps toward him. “But thank you for offering.”
Not the response he was hoping for. “Eddie’s helping, is he? Doesn’t he have a toilet to fix or something?”
Willow laughed, a sound too loud for the small room, and it grated a little on his nerves. “It’s a holiday, Donny. Eddie should have the day off, too. He deserves it.” She seemed to gain her footing, and she crossed the room to her little kitchenette; just a counter along one wall, an apartment-size refrigerator, and a round bistro table for two in the corner. The window above the sink, topped with a jumble of colorful scarves, looked out over the patio, and she busied herself there, washing up the dishes sitting on the counter. He didn’t miss the fact that there were two coffee cups, two plates, and two bowls.
So Eddie was moving in on the married woman. Just like he’d done with Sheena. He’d have to turn up his game. And play it cool. “Well, then, Miss Willow Goodhope, sounds like you’re good to go. But you give me a holler if you think of anything I can do, all right? I’m a sure hand at the grill, too. I’m happy to man one for you.”
“Thanks, Donny. I’ll keep that in mind. I think we’re covered, between Joe working the rib grill, and Eddie on the burgers, but if either of them needs a break, I’ll let you know.” She glanced over at him and smiled brightly, but kept her hands busy. Yes, she was dismissing him.
“Until two, then.” Donny stepped out on the patio and started to walk away, then paused right outside the window where he was eye-to-eye with her. “Just make sure you send Eddie home to shower. He’s prone to forgetting that stuff, you hear?” Then he winked at her, and walked away, not giving her a chance to respond.
He’d bring flowers. And a bottle of sweet, sparkling wine. Maybe Ma could loan him her car. And maybe her candy dish could loan him a couple more bucks.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 4
The day just got hotter, and by noon, Edith had a headache that wouldn’t subside, even with a double dose of aspirin. If she didn’t lie down and sleep, she wouldn’t be fit for the party today, and she really did not want to miss it. She hadn’t heard from Donny since he left two hours ago, and assuming Willow had put him to work, she made herself a turkey sandwich, then headed to her room. She drew the blinds on her windows, slipped off her shoes, and lay back on top of her bedspread. Just a half an hour would do her wonders, she was certain.
She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard the front door open. Donny’s footsteps were recognizable; he had a shuffling gate that had defied her repeated entreaties to pick up his feet. She could hear him in the small kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing, water in the sink, a cupboard door shutting with a little too much fervor. Was he angry? She sighed; she would not go out there.
The rattling around soon stopped, and Edith relaxed her shoulders. He was probably eating something. Her fatigue was beginning to pull her under, but then a sound just outside her door caught her attention. A footstep, light, careful. Why was he sneaking around?
“Ma?” It was just barely above a whisper, and something told her to stay quiet. “Are you asleep?” She clamped her lips shut and waited.
A few moments later, she heard the telltale jingle of her keys, and wondered, regrettably, why she hadn’t thought to bring her purse and keys into her bedroom with her. The car started up outside, and the sound of the tires backing out over the gravel driveway reminded her of the old days, and Andy, sneaking off to do his dirty work.
Her tears came, but she stayed where she was, stretched out like a sacrifice on the altar of motherhood. Maybe knowing nothing had changed would free her up to sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~
When Edith awoke nearly an hour later, her nose was a little stuffy from crying, but her headache had faded. She sat up slowly, made her way to the window, and peered out between the slats of the blinds. Her car was parked exactly the way she’d left it, and she was certain she’d find her keys in her purse, hanging on the coat rack just inside the door, just the ways she’d left that, too. She would simply pretend nothing happened; she couldn’t handle anything else right now. Donny was a big boy. If he was doing something that would get him in trouble, it was probably better she didn’t know about it.
Besides, it was almost 1:30, and she needed to get her casserole warmed up for the party.
By the time Edith made her way over, a crowd was already milling around Willow’s patio. She put on a brave face, smiled brightly at Myra, who sat like a queen in a chair by the stream, her foot propped up on stool, hovered over by her brother-in-law, Jackson. Doc and Al were parked in a couple of chairs nearby sharing fishing stories. Edith located the hostess who was arranging various potl
uck dishes on a long, tile-top table.
“Welcome, Edith! I’m so glad you’re here!” Willow called out, waving a pale hand at her. The girl looked as fresh as a summer marigold, her red hair in a poof on top of her head, a few tendrils curling around her face and neck. “What delicious dish did you bring today?”
Her effervescence was contagious, and soon Edith found her rhythm, and settled into the camaraderie of the little neighborhood she loved. Joe and his gorgeous wife, Vivian, wore matching aprons, and worked in perfect unison, prepping and slathering and flipping a variety of ribs, chatting with the other residents, and flirting openly with each other. Eddie stood at the other grill, a long-handled spatula in one hand, his head dipped in concentration, not on the burgers, but on the woman who stood beside him, holding a platter of empty hamburger buns. She smiled shyly up at him, and Edith studied her for a moment, her face familiar, but unable to place her.
Willow appeared at Edith’s side, holding out a tray of cheese and crackers and sliced fruit. “Do you know Shelly Little?” she asked, nodding toward the girl with Eddie. “She lives in Space #8, right behind your son. When she asked how she could help today, I told her to make it her job to see that Eddie had everything he needed to make perfect burgers.” Edith looked up at Willow’s shining eyes, and laughed. The girl was playing matchmaker!
“She seems to be doing a fine job, doesn’t she?” Edith quipped, responding to her hostess’ mood. “It’s lovely out here, by the way. What a wonderful thing you’re doing, bringing us all together like this.”
“Thank you. I’m glad so many are coming!” Willow smiled appreciatively, and swept away, off to serve another guest.
Shelly Little. Wow. Who would’ve believed it? Edith hardly recognized the girl. The last time she’d seen Shelly was months ago, and she was pulling out of the driveway in the early morning, her head ducked, almost furtively. She’d looked like a hunched over, little old lady behind the wheel of her big car; nothing like the demure, long-legged creature in her red and white polka-dot dress. The way Eddie was looking at her made Edith think that perhaps he, too, was noticing Shelly for the first time.
But where was Donny?
And then she saw him, crossing the little bridge connecting the front half of the park to the trailers on this side of the stream, and his arms were loaded with a huge bouquet of red, white, and blue flowers, a twenty-four pack of his favorite beer, and a bottle of what appeared to be champagne. Edith doubted it was sparkling cider. He wore a cocky smile and walked in that floppy way of his, making a grand entrance out of his appearance.
“Hey, neighbors!” His voice was loud—too loud—and Edith cringed. Oh Lord, please don’t let him be drunk. “Ma! You made it! I thought maybe you were going to sleep through the whole party, and miss out on all the fireworks.” Then he laughed too loudly, too.
The mood among the guests shifted subtly, and although everyone went back to their conversations, it all sounded a little too bright to Edith’s ears, as if everyone was trying too hard to act normally in the wake of Donny’s intrusion. Edith glanced over at Eddie, and her breath caught at the sparks shooting from her older son’s eyes. Oh Lord, please don’t let him flip out, she silently begged. Was she going to spend the whole party praying?
And who paid for all that stuff Donny carried? She wondered if there was anything left in her candy dish. Taking a deep breath, she waved at Donny, beckoning him to come sit with her; no one else seemed inclined to have him join them.
He made his way over to her, stopping to banter with a few folks on the way, and bent over to kiss the top of her head, but didn’t sit. He crossed to the table of food, and set the patriotic bouquet of dyed carnations and white daisies in a blue vase among the casserole dishes. It did look awfully festive, Edith noted. And it was a nice gesture, bringing flowers to the hostess. She glanced around; no one else had thought to bring any.
Then Willow stepped out of her little place, having refilled her tray of hors d’oeuvres.
~ ~ ~ ~
Chapter 5
Willow’s eyes lit up at the sight of the flowers on her table; he knew how to get to a woman. He stood back and watched smugly as she buried her nose in the bouquet, then lifted her eyes to scan the crowd, obviously looking for the person who’d had brought them. When she saw him, her smile faltered.
What kind of game was she playing? Where was the adoring smile?
“Did you bring the flowers, Donny?” Her eyes were wary as they darted back and forth between him, the flowers, and the alcohol he held in each hand.
“I did. For you, the hostess with the mostest.” He winked at her, gave her the look again, and raised the bottle of sparkling wine. “And this is for you, too. A housewarming gift from me.”
“Thank you, Donny. The flowers are lovely.” Then she turned and called out to be heard above the rise and fall of various conversations, “Folks, look what Donny brought for all of us to enjoy! Aren’t they perfect for our party?” She glanced back at him and waved at the drinks he still held. “The coolers are over by the water. You can put the champagne in there, too. I don’t drink, but it would be a shame to waste that. I’m sure there are many here who would love to share a toast with you this evening.”
Um, no. He’d just spent his mother’s hard-earned cash on a twenty dollar bottle of champagne in order to get in good with Willow. He wasn’t about to waste it on all the losers sitting around the patio. The beer? Sure. He knew others were contributing, too, so he could afford to share. Smiling nonchalantly, not letting on that he was even aware of the cold shoulder she sent him, he made his way over to the row of coolers and popped the lid open on first one, then another, then another. Not a single can of Bud, not a bottle of Corona, not even a foo-foo wine cooler in sight. What kind of party was this?
Donny glanced around. Surely Doc wouldn’t be hanging out here without his whiskey. And Al? That man didn’t leave his house without a six-pack dangling from his fingertips. But there they sat, over by Joe, trying to make his fancy woman blush, both touting sodas. Sodas!
Myra had to be sipping on her Sangria—but no, she had a tall glass of raspberry lemonade from one of the party drink dispensers on the food table.
Fine. He’d keep his beers to himself, then. Just because no one else felt like drinking, didn’t mean he was going to waste a holiday. Popping open the first can out of the box, he took a deep swig of the cold brew. Then he turned back to Willow.
“Hey, Ms. Willow Goodhope. Seems I didn’t get the memo, and I’m the only one who brought the suds. Can I put these in your refrigerator so they’re not a problem?” Her door stood open, a large, hand-painted sign hanging from a hook at eyelevel read, “Restroom this way!” He’d have to fake making regular visits to the little boy’s room, but if no one else was sharing, he shouldn’t feel obligated.
“Sure,” she smiled brightly, clearly falling for his ruse. She would never know that the box he carried wasn’t going to be full when he left at the end of the party. “Thanks. We have a few folks here today who are trying to cut back, so we opted for a Land of the Alcohol-Free party today.” She guffawed in that loud, obnoxious way she had, and Donny almost grimaced. He’d have to make sure he didn’t get her laughing in the middle of any romantic moments. What a mood-killer that quacking was!
A few hours later, fed and watered, and marinating in more than half-a-dozen beers, Donny was feeling very relaxed. This party wasn’t so bad after all. Vivien was a hoot; one classy broad in her red leggings and navy blue and white striped shirt. How women managed to get around all day long in those shoes they wore was beyond him, but he liked watching her walk in her red heels. Al had slipped away several times, once or twice with Doc in tow, and Donny was pretty sure they weren’t off looking for croquet balls.
Kathy from across the drive, and Shelly with the goo-goo eyes for Eddie, Patti Davis, and Ma had a rousing lawn game going, and they’d lost one of the wooden balls in the brush by the stream. He and Myra and Jackson,
her dead husband’s brother who had the hots for her, cheered the two teams on, and the younger couple—he forgot their names—from the upstairs apartment of the main Coach House building sat with Richard Davis, and his son, Ivan, deep in conversation.
Ivan intimidated Donny a little, although he’d never admit it. He was gay, for one thing, and Donny didn’t want Ivan getting any ideas, but he also seemed to be really close to his dad, and for some reason, it bugged Donny to see their two heads turned comfortably toward each other.
Willow continued to flit around the party making certain everyone had everything they needed, and Eddie was busy scrubbing the grill he’d used. Donny knew he was being watched, but he didn’t think his big brother had caught on to his secret nipping either. Besides, what was he going to do about it? Kick him out of the party?
Donny watched Shelly for a few minutes, curious about her story. According to Myra, she was the token cat lady in the park, but she didn’t seem whacked out. She held herself upright, she looked clean, she didn’t dress weird, and she spoke clearly, sometimes using words he didn’t recognize as English. And that dress she was wearing, even though it was red, reminded him of Julia Roberts polka dot dress in that chick-flick Sheena loved so much; the one about the prostitute who got her sugar daddy, Richard Gere, to fall in love with her. He glanced over his shoulder at Eddie, wondering if he was interested, wondering why he’d heard nothing about this girl up until today. She wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t a bombshell, either, but Eddie could do a lot worse. Eddie had done a lot worse. But Eddie was watching Willow, and Donny’s eyes turned to follow his brother’s gaze.
Elderberry Croft: Volume 3 Page 2