Clean Slate (15 page)

Francine Mooring was a very difficult woman to get along
with. She hadn’t been a joy, exactly, on Monday when Daisy was at home. Now
that the dam had broken and Nikki had revealed the new catalog with an entire
section slated for new soaps with their own branding—
Fresh
by Daisy—she’d been insufferable.

Clara didn’t understand. She would have been thrilled if
Daisy was her daughter and she’d done something brave and stepped out of her
shadow. Although she didn’t know Daisy all that well, she knew the quiet woman
had guts, even if she needed some help showing it.

She watched the woman, standing over a hot pot, stirring
soap ingredients and looking somewhat wilted. Clara was pretty sure the
expression Daisy wore was the same one Clara had worn every time Louis left
Belgium.

What are you so
afraid of, Daisy?

She broke free of her reverie as Francine, yet again,
barked some condescending remark to her daughter. Francine just couldn’t get
over the fact Daisy wanted something of her own—that she had a secret. It
was like she wanted to put a leash on the girl and pull her this way and that
because, apparently, Daisy was doing
it
wrong…whatever “it” was. Life?

Inside, Clara was screaming, “Leave her alone,” but
outside all she could do, really, was watch and wait.

Yes, she could have gone home to Belgium. Jerry and
Trinity wouldn’t be back from their honeymoon for another week and Ben was at
least a week away from returning as well. But, she chose to stay for Daisy,
because if Daisy wasn’t going to fight for Ben—and for their little
family—someone should. Clara would at least try, because she didn’t want
Daisy to be a fifty-something-year-old woman one day who regretted missing out
on something she once had a choice to seize, but hadn’t.

Daisy turned around and leaned her backside against the
edge of the counter. “Momma. Please, drop it. You’re doing the same amount of
work as before. We’re just working on different things now.”

“I don’t understand why you had to have your name on it,”
Francine quipped.

Daisy ground her teeth. “That wasn’t my idea, and you know
it. Nikki devised the branding. I didn’t have a say.”

Francine grunted, pushed her glasses up her nose, and
resumed her work.

Jealousy?
Clara
didn’t understand it, and she was sick of it.

“I think you should…have pride.”

Is that conjugation
right?
she wondered as Francine lifted a brow at her.

“Do what?”

Clara blew out a breath and shook her head. “You are
lucky.” She pointed to Daisy. “That she is your daughter. She is far too
patient with you.”

“Dayum! Francie got burned,” Juan said not-quite-quietly
from the shipping area.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Francine
said.

Clara scoffed. “You don’t know. I know what it is to be
too patient. Too compliant. To give too much and for too long.”

“I did just fine raisin’ her on my own. Don’t need no help
now, thank you very much.”

Daisy looked on with a stunned horror on her face.

Clara wasn’t done yet. “You are right. You need no help
raising her because she’s already grown. I think you have…”

What’s the word?

She closed her eyes and flipped pages of an imaginary
dictionary trying to recall the vocabulary.
Ruined?
No. Not that.
Spoiled?
No, that
wasn’t quite it, either. She gave up.

“She is
gedemoraliseerd
like I was. Foul place to be.”

“This is America, lady. Speak English. Then mind your business,”
Francine said.

Clara rolled her eyes and resumed her treatment of the
soap molds she was preparing for Daisy. “It is my business.”

“And why would that be?”

Clara didn’t answer. When she looked up at Daisy, she saw
her let out a breath and nod before turning back to her pot.

Later, when Francine was packing up to make her usual
hasty five o’clock exit, Clara sidled over to Daisy and wrapped an arm around
her waist. “It’s quiet at the house. Perhaps you would like dinner?”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Daisy said.

Clara shrugged. “It’s no trouble. I don’t like the quiet.”

It was true enough. Getting used to the noises of the
country was taking some doing, and being alone in that big house and not being
familiar with what were house noises versus external ones was somewhat
unsettling. It was almost enough to make her pop pills again, if only to get a
good night’s sleep.

Daisy stole a look at her mother who was already making
strides toward the door without so much a “fare-thee-well.” She nodded.

Daisy drove them both to Jerry and Trinity’s house and
they rode in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, really. Clara had quickly
learned Daisy wasn’t the kind of woman who talked when talking wasn’t needed.
She understood why Ben loved her, even if she did see a lot of herself in the
young woman. She had the same sort of timidity she possessed. She hadn’t been
born with much of a backbone, but now she possessed a platinum one. Clara
envied her for it.

“Are you expecting someone?” Daisy asked as they pulled
into the driveway. A shiny black SUV was parked near the front porch and when
Clara cut her gaze to the left, there was Louis.

He stood, and leaned against the column nearest the steps.

“No. It’s Louis. I wonder what he wants.”

They got out of the car, and Louis descended the stairs to
greet them on the driveway. He waved at Daisy and offered Clara a smile that
seemed some emotion that wasn’t quite platonic.

Her pulse sped as she looked down at the hands that’d
become quite dry during the day’s soap making.

“Figured you’d be lonely out here with all the kids gone,”
he said. He crooked his thumb toward his truck. “I was up in Norfolk today and
passed a little Indian place. Picked up some things I remembered you liked. If
you want, I’ll just leave them. Glad to see you’re not here by yourself.”

I was by myself for
a long time.

“Oh!” Daisy said. “I can go home. I need to pack my stuff,
anyway. Gotta find someplace to live, too, so…kinda important.”

Don’t go! Don’t
leave me with him…

“Where are you moving?” Louis asked Daisy.

She shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Up until last week I
assumed I’d just renew my lease again, but I need a fresh start. Clean slate.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and looked off into the
neighboring field. “I was bit homeless myself until this morning, and then that
situation resolved.”

“What happened?” Clara asked in Dutch.

The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he smiled broadly and
looked down at her. She knew that smile too damn well. That was Ben’s smile,
and Jerry’s.

“Divorce resolution. Like you said before, I pretty much
paid her for the house and then some. Got an investigator to track down where
the money went. The lawyer who shifted the funds is in the process of being
censured. Hope it was worth it for him.”

“That’s great news,” she said, really meaning it. Her
family had never really had any property to leave her. She had her little
house, but it wasn’t anything special. Just a place where she slept and stored
her things. Louis’s house, though, it was an heirloom—part of his legacy.
Something the boys should get. Ben had sent her pictures, and she thought it
was stately. “And what about your job? Is that fine?”

He blew a raspberry. “Beyond fine. I was Kate’s father’s
boss for about five years before he retired. I may take early retirement
myself.” He scraped his chin again. “Or maybe go freelance. Work on my own
schedule, you know.”

“Sounds nice.”

Daisy had started creeping away.

Clara pulled her back.

“Louis, have you met Daisy?”

His brows went up. “No, not formally.” He extended a hand,
which Daisy shook.

“She’s Ben’s girlfriend.”

Daisy opened her mouth, probably to make some retort, but
Clara silenced her with a squeeze of her arm. Louis didn’t need to know.

She switched back to Dutch. “I think she’s lonely without
him. Is there enough food for three?”

“Oh, yeah. There’s probably enough for eight.” He
scratched his head. “I probably went a bit overboard.”

“Then let’s have dinner. I have dessert inside. I made a
pie last night.”

He grinned. “I love your pies.”

Her cheeks burned. That he did. She pulled Daisy toward
the side door and switched back to English. “Do you like Indian food, Daisy?”

“As long as it’s not spicy. I don’t think I could keep it
down.”

“Are you sick, Daisy?” Louis asked as he pulled open his
truck door.

Clara answered for her. “Just a little bug.”

Trinity stood beside Daisy at her workstation and jammed
her fists onto her hips, scowling.

“What?” Daisy asked.

“I’m mad at you.”

“That’s…
obvious
.
But what did I do?” The woman had been back at work for fifteen minutes, and
was already cranky. She had a great tan, though. Daisy grunted in appreciation
at it.

“Monday meeting in five minutes!” Nikki hollered from the
office.

Trinity narrowed her eyes.

“
What
?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed someplace to live?”

Daisy cast a glare toward Clara who looked off, whistling.

“Well, I don’t, really. I’ll find someplace. I’ve got a
couple of weeks.”

“Why don’t you take our garage apartment until you find
something?”

“Won’t Ben need it?”

Trinity gave her a long blink in response.

“Ben can live with Louis,” Clara said, obviously not
giving a shit about her eavesdropping. The only reason Momma hadn’t piped up
was because she was on top of a ladder pulling down a box of supplies.

Momma still didn’t know she was pregnant, and Daisy
decided she’d keep it that way for just a bit longer. She wasn’t sure who all
did
know. Liz, certainly. Ben, yes. Ben
told Clara. Trinity, apparently. Jerry, most likely if Trinity knew. Nikki
seemed suspicious. She’d been standing outside the bathroom door the previous
Friday and when Daisy walked out, Nikki had those too-wise green eyes narrowed
at her. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t go into the bathroom. She just
walked back to her office and picked up her phone. She must have heard the
heaving. No one else seemed curious. Daisy did feel awful about keeping it a
secret from the person most women would have told first, but most women didn’t
have mothers like hers.

She knew what Momma would say. “Good job, girl. Way to
pick ’em. You better get on down to the courthouse and file your paperwork for
child support before he disappears. Never trust a man with a passport.”

Daisy didn’t have any plans to file for child support or
anything else. He was a good man and hoped he’d just do the right thing,
whatever that was. It’d be awkward enough working together.

“Fuck, Jerry,” a deep voice called from open barn door.
“You couldn’t pick me up from the airport?”

Jerry rolled back his seat and gave his younger brother a
blasé look down the aisle.

What the hell?

“I figured you should get used to navigating on your own.
Sorry. Forgot to tell you. You obviously got here okay. Did you rent a car?
What kind?”

Ben mumbled something guttural and foreign.

“Gang’s all here. Meeting time, folks!” Nikki shouted.

Clara giggled.

“You knew he’d be back today?” Daisy asked.

“We all knew, honey,” Trinity said, patting her shoulder.
“Family works that way.”

“No one told me.”

“You mad?”

Hell yeah, she was mad. The guy hadn’t so much as called
the entire time he’d been gone. Not
her
anyway. Obviously he’d been speaking with Clara.

She ground her teeth as he walked past, still arguing with
Jerry up the aisle.

Oh, what do you
care? You sent him away like an unwanted puppy. You told him you didn’t want
anything. Are you a liar now?

She stood and headed toward her usual seat at the
conference table.

The brothers were now laughing and giving each other
playful shoves.

Yeah, I’m a liar.

She sat and turned her notepad to a fresh page. Momma took
the seat at her left side as always. She hoped someone would fill the right
seat soon.

The table filled until the only two chairs remaining were
the one at Nikki’s left hand—the one Jerry always took—and the one
to Daisy’s right.

“You’re lookin’ kind of pale, Daisy,” Momma said as Ben
slipped into the seat beside Daisy and pulled her notepad over to himself.

“I didn’t have my coffee this morning,” she lied.

“All right, folks,” Nikki said, tapping the table. “Glad
you made it back in one piece, Ben. You gonna be over your jet lag in time for
that show tomorrow?”

He rubbed his eyes. “No, but I’ll pretend otherwise. I
think that may have been a record-speed relocation. I sold my car for about a
quarter of its value, and now I’m on the Olympic team’s shit-list.”

“I’ll make it up to you. All right, folks, let’s talk
about this week and…”

Daisy tuned Nikki out as Ben nudged her elbow with the
pad. She looked down at his scrawled script.

How are you feeling?

How to answer that? She could write a goddamned
dissertation. She opted for simplicity:
Blah.

He cringed and said out loud, “You can try, Nikki, but I
don’t think it’ll make a difference.”

What had she asked? She hadn’t been paying a lick of
attention. Nikki droned on and Daisy tried to focus.

Ben bumped her with the pad again.

She looked down.

I need some soap
specifications before tomorrow
.

Oh. She scribbled back,
Okay. I guess the samples I made were for you.
She started to push
the pad toward him, but pulled it back before he thumbed it over.
You smell great, by the way
.

Momma nudged her left arm.

“Huh?”

“Nikki asked you if you had any ideas for Christmas.”

She cast apologetic eyes at Nikki.

Nikki sighed. “Anything?”

“Oh, well, I’ve been thinking about sugarplums. We’d have
to get some custom molds, though…”

Nikki’s black eyebrows darted up. “Ooh. Get with Jerry to
make an order. Are you going to be okay with the peppermint soaps on your own,
Francine? We’re expecting a two hundred percent increase in direct sales this
year.”

“Shit, Nikki,
no
!”
Momma balked. “Without Daisy, I can’t swing it. Even
with
Daisy, I wouldn’t be able to swing it. That’s a lot of soap
combined with the excess for consignment.”

Nikki grimaced and scratched her head at the temple where
of her swath of grey resided. “How many hands do you need?”

Daisy looked down at the pad while Momma talked out her
math.

It’s Sink or Swim.
The gel version. Tube got confiscated by airport security on the way back
through. Make me some more?

He squeezed her right knee beneath the table and she,
somewhat subconsciously, wrapped her fingers around his as a “Yes.” She wanted
to reward him for liking the stuff.

“How many hands do you need this fall, Daisy?” Nikki
asked. “Consider everything. Bars, liquids, shampoos…”

Daisy gawked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Little bird told me you made shampoo.”

She looked at Ben.

He shook his head.

She looked at Momma.

Momma was suddenly very interested in a stain on her
shirt.

Momma?

“How many, Daisy?”

Fuck.
One to replace Clara on soaps…one on
liquids…

“Two temps,” she said.

Nikki made a note. “Gonna need more work space in that
back corner. All right, I know it’s still hot outside, but we need to start
thinking about cold-weather moisturizers…”

Ben squeezed her knee again.

Daisy read his newest scribble on the pad:
Thanks for keeping my mother company.

She shrugged. It was hardly a burden. Clara was easy to be
around, but Daisy understood in a way why Ben was so tough on her. He
had
to be because she was so damned hard
on herself, that eventually, she would have destroyed herself. Maybe not
physically, but definitely spiritually.

Another note:
Dinner
with the Rouses later? I hear there’ll be pie.

That made her giggle, and she quickly covered her mouth so
as not to ignite Nikki’s ire. She freed her hand from his and pulled the pad in
front of her, turning the page.
Maybe. I
usually fall asleep around seven lately.

He nodded and they tuned back in to Nikki.