Petal to the Metal

by Annabel Chase

  “Yes, but everyone calls me Mia,” I said.

  “Welcome to Newberry, Mia.” She bustled around the corner of the desk to greet me. “I am so, so sorry about your aunt. Hazel was a dear friend and I miss her terribly.”

  I wanted to respond in kind, but I didn’t know my aunt at all, not that I was above a white lie. Or a bald-faced one. Lying was basically a tool in my survival kit and I didn’t hesitate to use it when the situation required it. I’d had a lot of experience as a salesperson.

  No, Mr. Turner. Your ad will definitely be in the most prominent position.

  Yes, Mrs. Blake, you are absolutely paying less than your direct competitors.

  Don’t tell the others, but you’re my favorite client!

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to reply to you, but I only learned about your letter recently,” I said.

  “Your aunt didn’t have a current address for you, so I sent it to your mother and hoped for the best.”

  “I was living with my boyfriend and it’s his apartment…” I trailed off, not wanting to discuss Andrew. At all. Ever again. “This town is cute. I’ve never been here before.”

  “I’ve lived here my whole life,” Stella said. “Can’t imagine being anywhere else, really.”

  “I’ve been in the city most of my adult life, but I moved around a lot,” I said.

  “Philadelphia?” she asked.

  “New York.”

  “Oh. Hazel disliked cities. The energy was too intense for her.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “I’m surprised you didn’t have the same reaction.”

  That was a strange statement. “I’m used to it, I guess.”

  Stella peered at me. “You don’t mind crowds?”

  “They’re not my favorite thing in the world, but I’ve never given it much thought. It’s the city, you know?” I was prone to migraines, but I chalked that up to the city noises and hormones.

  “Well, you must be excited to take a look at your new home.”

  It would do in a pinch, but I wasn’t looking to settle here. Despite Lynette’s threats, I figured she’d forget about me soon enough and I could start the job hunt with money in the bank. It would be a nice change of pace to take my time and not rush into the next role.

  “I’m definitely curious,” I said.

  “Come on, I’ll drive.” Stella grabbed the handle of a shiny black purse and motioned for me to follow her outside. She teetered along the sidewalk in her heels and I worried she’d break her neck on the uneven pavement. Her car was a white Volkswagen Beetle with Stella Realty emblazoned across the side.

  I climbed into the passenger seat and watched as the petite woman settled on top of a pink yoga block so she could see over the steering wheel.

  The drive was not what I would call relaxing. She jerked to a stop at the end of every block, subjecting me to whiplash, and she nearly mowed down a couple crossing the road.

  “Ten points for the one wearing the socks with sandals,” she said with a raspy cackle that threatened to morph into a cough. She revved the engine and for a moment I actually believed she intended to hit the gas. I mean, I agreed with her about the socks and sandals, but I wasn’t sure that a hit-and-run was the answer.

  She continued to drive along a narrow, curvy road and kept removing her hands from the steering wheel to gesture as she talked. Part of me wanted to grab her hands and glue them back to the wheel. By the time she pulled into a pebbled driveway, I thought I might be sick.

  “Welcome to Red Clover,” Stella announced.

  “Wait. The house has a name?” I peered through the windshield for a better view. It wasn’t exactly Downton Abbey, but I had to admit there was a certain charm to the bright yellow house with its black door, black shutters, and overgrown window boxes. It also featured a pitched gabled roof with two dormers and a large chimney.

  “It looks like a fairytale cottage,” I said, “but why is it called Red Clover when the house is yellow?”

  Stella scrunched her nose in a way that suggested I’d asked a stupid question. “That’s not yellow. That’s marigold. And red clover is a type of flower.” She looked at me askance. “Don’t you know anything about flowers?”

  “I know that the cost of roses increases exponentially around Valentine’s Day and poinsettias are poisonous. Does that count?”

  Stella gave me a strange look as she exited the car and I followed her to the front door. The older woman rummaged through her black purse for the key.

  “As you can see the outside has gotten a little untidy in the months following Hazel’s death, but I’m sure you can turn that around quickly.”

  I barked a laugh. “If you knew me, you’d understand why that’s funny.”

  “I don’t suppose you had to deal with a large yard, living in the city.” Stella finally produced a key and unlocked the door.

  “I’ve never had to deal with a yard of any size,” I said. The extent of my time outside revolved around outdoor cafes and rooftop parties. “It’s too much responsibility anyway.”

  Stella offered an uneasy smile. “I see.” She entered the house and immediately stepped aside to give me space. “So, first impressions?”

  Wispy spiderwebs clung to the beamed ceiling. Despite the size and spaciousness of the room, I almost failed to spot the wooden floors because they were covered with random pieces of furniture and throw rugs.

  “Well, Aunt Hazel and I have clutter in common,” I remarked.

  “I’ve been coming here to feed Ophelia, taking turns with Gladys and a couple other folks.”

  “Who’s Ophelia?” I asked.

  Stella’s gaze swept the interior of the house. “That’s Ophelia,” she said, pointing to a deep window seat where an overweight black and white cat licked her paws.

  “Hard to miss her. What kind of cat is she?”

  “Tuxedo,” Stella said. “Don’t you know anything about cats?”

  “You can go away and leave them for a weekend without needing to hire a pet sitter,” I said. At least that’s what I’d gleaned from cat-having friends in the city.

  Ophelia seemed to realize that she was the subject of conversation and raised her head to regard us. I took a step toward her and she hissed violently before jumping to the floor with a thud and running away.

  “I’m surprised she didn’t dent the floor when she landed,” I said. Ophelia was surprisingly graceful for a cat that must’ve weighed twenty pounds.

  “She comes with the house, so I hope you’re not allergic,” Stella said.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had a cat.” Or any pet, for that matter. My mother was firmly in the no-pet camp and then I moved to the city as an adult where it was easier to find an apartment without an animal in tow.

  “You’ve got Hazel’s blood. I’m sure you two will get along swimmingly,” Stella said, although the crease in her brow undermined her confident declaration.

  Based on her size, it seemed likely that Ophelia ate anyone she disliked. I made a mental note to research cat treats. My knowledge of a cat’s favorite foods came from Tom and Jerry and I wasn’t sure how reliable the information was.

  We continued the tour of the house and I sneezed a few times from the dust. Would it have killed them to bring a duster along when they came to feed the cat?

  The kitchen had a deep farmhouse sink, white cabinets, and butcher block countertops. Pots and pans hung from a ceiling fixture above our heads. A floral scent lingered in the air, though I couldn’t identify it.

  Stella stared down at the floor. “Oh, the bowls are empty. Oops. I must’ve missed my turn.” She promptly filled the water bowl and placed it back on the floor. “You’ll find the walk-in pantry big enough to store all your supplies.”

  The moment she opened the door, the smell of herbs and spices assaulted my senses. Jars and containers were crammed onto the shelves. I’d like to say that each item was labeled and organized by type or color or something, but the chaos that reigned throughout the hous
e was evident in the pantry as well.

  Stella opened a bag of cat kibble and retreated from the pantry to dump a cupful into the second bowl.

  “Was she a prepper?” I asked.

  Stella laughed. “She wasn’t planning to ride out the apocalypse in her bunker, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why did she keep all this stuff?”

  “She used it,” Stella said.

  “To what? Make potpourri?” There were more dried herbs and flowers in this small space than I’d seen in my lifetime.

  “Why don’t you take a look at the upstairs?” Stella suggested. “I’ll wait for you down here.”

  The older woman was either too infirm or too unsteady on her heels to walk up the steps. It was fine; I didn’t need an escort to check out the three bedrooms. The master bedroom was surprisingly large but built into the eaves so the walls were slanted. I had no doubt I’d hit my head every morning when I got out of bed. The sliding barn door was a cool feature, though. The master bathroom had a separate shower and a claw-foot tub surrounded by candles. It seemed that Hazel enjoyed a relaxing bubble bath after a long, hard day of making potpourri.

  I returned to the main floor to find Stella waiting by the kitchen door. “The pipes are noisy and the plumbing doesn’t like it when you use too much toilet paper, but you’ll figure out all the little quirks.”

  “Is there a handyman you can recommend?”

  Stella surveyed the space around me. “What? You see something broken?”

  “Not specifically, but a place like this probably has a hundred little jobs that need doing.”

  “I’ll text you a list. I’m sure you’re eager to see outside. There’s so much to appreciate.” She appeared to balance on two popsicle sticks as she made her way out of the house.

  We started on the deck that overlooked the river. Ophelia was stretched out across the boards in a patch of sunlight.

  “How did she get out here?” I asked.

  “She has her own door,” Stella explained. “She spends a lot of time outside.”

  “She doesn’t run away?”

  Stella seemed taken aback by the question. “Why would she do that? This is her home.”

  “The deck is nice,” I said. “I’ve always wanted an outdoor space for entertaining.” Gazing at the peaceful scenery around me, I momentarily forgot my plan to cut and run.

  “You could put heat lamps out here and use it all year round,” Stella suggested. “Hazel didn’t bother. She spent most of her time in the garden anyway.”

  “I’d probably do the opposite,” I said.

  “There’s a shed as well as a small barn on the property,” Stella said. “I can show you both.”

  “Are they scary?” I asked, feeling uneasy. I didn’t even like going to the basement of my apartment building to do laundry. I didn’t want to end up with my head in a dryer and the rest of me in the washing machine.

  Stella took her time descending the two steps of the deck. “Hazel used them for storage.”

  Okay, that didn’t really answer my question.

  I surveyed the yard and saw nothing except overgrown bushes and weeds. It was like an English garden on testosterone.

  “Is everything dead?” I asked.

  Stella pursed her lips. “It was the strangest thing. The garden seemed to stop thriving the moment Hazel passed away, like it knew.”

  “I may not know much about plants, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how they work.”

  We walked along a dirt path that cut straight through two of the gardens. I brushed too close to a bush and my coat got caught on the thorns.

  “Don’t pull too hard,” Stella warned. “These bloom into beautiful roses. You don’t want to ruin them.”

  I extracted myself from the bush, careful not to let the thorns scratch my hand in the process.

  “It’s nice to be so close to the water,” I said. I gazed across the Delaware River to the line of trees. “Is it safe to be this close to New Jersey, though? We don’t need hazmat suits or anything?”

  “You can’t catch an STD from this distance,” Stella said in a tone that suggested she’d tested the theory.

  She guided me to the shed and the small barn that, thankfully, sheltered only objects and no animals. One cat was enough.

  “This must be for clutter overflow,” I said.

  “You could have quite a yard sale when the weather improves.”

  But was any of it worth selling? It seemed like junk, as my mother would say.

  “You can explore more later,” Stella said. “We need to get moving. I made you an appointment with the lawyer to get the paperwork signed.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

  We headed toward the main house. As we passed by the thorny bush again, I edged away so I didn’t get caught. It was then that I spotted a single red rose. How had I missed it before?

  “Isn’t it early for the roses to bloom?” I asked.

  Stella’s stunned expression seemed to answer my question. “That flower wasn’t there before, hon.”

  “I’m sure it was. We probably didn’t notice because we were focused on my coat getting snagged.”

  Stella gave an adamant shake of her head. “No. That rose bloomed in the past twenty minutes. I’d swear to it.”

  “Weird,” I said, not giving it a second thought. I continued toward the house, eager to finish the tour and sign whatever paperwork awaited me.

  “What do you think?” Stella asked, as we approached the house.

  “I’m sure there’s a landscape business that would love to get its hands on this yard.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Stella said. “Hazel didn’t like anyone messing with her garden. She was very particular.”

  “Well, if I’m going to sell it, I’ll need to hire someone to clean it up and show off its potential. No one will want to buy a jungle.”

  Stella rounded on me. “Sell it? Why on earth would you do a thing like that?”

  “Because I don’t live here,” I said slowly.

  “But you can live here now. You have a beautiful property, or at least it will be once you’ve been here long enough to spread some of that Thorne magic.”

  “Oh, I don’t have any gardening skills. I can’t even keep a cactus alive. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  “But you saw what happened to that rose when you touched the bush,” she said. “You have to stay.”

  I laughed. “You think I did that? That rose was probably there the whole time. We just weren’t paying close attention.”

  “Red Clover has been waiting for you,” Stella insisted. “You are its rightful owner.”

  “Aren’t you a realtor? You should want to sell so you can make a commission.”

  “Hazel intended for you to live here,” Stella said firmly.

  “Dead or alive, she can’t make me live here against my will,” I said.

  “You’ll have to discuss it with Mr. Fairfax,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance.

  “Who’s Mr. Fairfax?”

  “Dane Fairfax, Hazel’s lawyer. He has the papers you need to sign.”

  A hissing sound drew my attention to the ground behind me. Ophelia stood there in the classic Halloween cat pose—back arched and jaw unhinged.

  “She seems angry,” I said.

  “Because you’re talking about selling the house,” Stella shot back.

  “I highly doubt the cat wants me to stay here. She looks ready to eviscerate me with her eyes.”

  “She recognizes you as Hazel’s rightful heir.”

  “She recognizes me as dinner, more like. I doubt she cares about anyone as long as she’s getting fed.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Stella gave the cat a meaningful look. “I swear Ophelia has lived here longer than anyone.”

  If anyone would know, it was the vampiric realtor.

  Stella’s phone pinged. “Oops. That’s the alarm. We’d better get moving. Mr. Fairfax will be expecting
you.”

  As we returned to the car, I wondered whether she was sweet on this Mr. Fairfax. Stella wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Maybe she and the lawyer had a little fling going. Good for her.

  “I’ll drop you off and Mr. Fairfax offered to drive you back here afterward.”

  “You’re not staying?”

  “Sorry, I have a showing.” The tires squealed as she backed out of the driveway, spraying pebbles in all directions. “Don’t worry, though. He’s a sweetheart and an excellent lawyer.”

  At this point, I was more concerned with whether he was a better driver so I could return to Red Clover in one piece.

  Chapter Four

  The lawyer’s office was located at the north end of the main street, before the break between the residential and commercial sections. According to the plaque, the historic house was built in 1790 and later converted for professional use. The Law Office of Dane Fairfax took up the main floor and a small engineering firm occupied the second floor. Talk about the most boring building in town.

  There was no sign of an assistant, so I wandered from room to room until I found someone. The wooden floor squeaked with every step. I was glad I didn’t work here; that sound would drive me insane.

  The lawyer stood with his back to the doorway, swearing at a printer. I had to admit, I was impressed with his creative curses.

  I cleared my throat to get his attention. The lawyer swung around, appearing mortified to see a witness to his frustration. Wow. I was not expecting…him. With dark blonde hair and blue eyes that pierced my very soul, he was younger and more attractive than I expected. Scratch that. He was flat-out hot. Like Matthew McConaughey hot but taller and without the Texas twang.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, adjusting his blue tie. “My assistant is out today and the printer has decided to throw a fit.”

  “Seems like the printer’s not the only one,” I said, smiling.

  “Dane Fairfax,” he said, and shook my hand. I was a respectable five-foot-seven yet he towered over me. “Let’s just say I should leave the fixing of the printer to the professionals. Never, ever stick your hand somewhere it doesn’t belong.”