The Blossom Sisters (13 page)

His thoughts took him to the fireplug and how that was going to play out. Well, the ball was in her court now. He checked his phone to see if he had any texts or messages, since he'd turned the ringer off so as not to interfere with his presentation to his grandmother's new staff. He shoved the phone back in his pocket when he saw his grandmother get up and point to the chair. He was suddenly aware that the seniors were clapping. Obviously, they were happy with whatever his grandmother had said about their contracts.

Gus sat down and looked around. “Do any of you have any questions?”

There was only one question, and Elroy Hitchens was the one who voiced it. “When do we start to work?”

Gus looked at his grandmother, who said, “Tomorrow morning. Breakfast is at seven o'clock. As I explained when you first arrived, we do a shuttle service between here and Shady Pines. So it will be rise and shine early. Sometimes, if business is brisk, we work at least a few hours on the weekends. We'll be posting a schedule, and you'll sign on for weekend duty. Give me a show of hands if you all approve.”

Every hand in the room shot upward.

“This is when you show me your papers with your names and phone numbers and what your strengths and weaknesses are, so that I can draw up a schedule for your assignments and your working hours. On your way out of the room, hand me your papers. My grandmother and aunts will now give you a tour and answer any questions you might have,” Gus said.

Gus worked industriously for the next several hours. He spread all the papers over the massive dining-room table. He hopped from one end to the other, then from side to side as he made notes on each page and input everything into the laptop. Even in the short period he'd been in the new seniors' company, he felt like he had a handle on their respective personalities. He looked at his watch. Time to leave for his appointment with Marsha. He pulled out his cell phone to check for messages or a possible text. Nothing.

In the kitchen, Aggie was paring vegetables. He explained that he had to leave for two hours and would be back in time—he sniffed—for dinner. “And, will you tell my grandmother not to touch anything in the dining room?” he added. Aggie agreed and continued to peel carrots.

“What's for dessert?” Gus asked.

Aggie wiped her hands on her apron and opened the huge double oven doors. He saw four chocolate cakes, the aroma tantalizing. He nodded and looked around for Wilson and Winnie but didn't see them.

“They're with the parade. Actually, Wilson was leading the way.” Aggie laughed.

Gus shrugged and made his way out to his car. He didn't think he'd ever had a day like this one in his entire life. And yet he felt good, really good. So good in fact that he was going to call Barney to brag and to bust his best friend's chops. He grinned at the thought. But no point in making two calls. He'd wait to see how the real-estate deal went down. That way he could tell Barney he was moving out, thank him for his hospitality, and bring him up to speed at the same time.

Chapter 14

G
US TYPED THE ADDRESS OF THE PROPERTY WHERE MARSHA WAS
waiting for him into the GPS. If there was no traffic, he should make the meeting right on time. He felt anxious for some reason. Buying a house could certainly account for the feeling. Then he thought about his day with his family and all the seniors he'd been helping. No sense lying to himself—he couldn't wait to get back to Blossom Farm to finish his scheduling. He was sure it was all going to work out. So sure, he started to whistle softly, something he always did when he felt happy.

After the storm, today had been a perfect spring day. Bright sunshine, and a warm seventy-one degrees. The air was filled with the sound of chain saws, which would have the town back to normal within a few days. Several more days of weather like today, and the ground would dry out. Just a little while ago, he'd heard the weatherman say there was no rain in the forecast for the next few days. Who could ask for anything more?

The monotone voice on the GPS informed Gus that he was less than an eighth of a mile from his destination.

Gus's first thought was that it was a pretty neighborhood, with full-grown trees lining the streets. He noticed that there were sidewalks on which kids could skateboard and roller-skate. He closed his eyes for a second and envisioned himself and Barney when they were ten years old, skating down the sidewalk or riding their bikes. He hoped it was a neighborhood with kids. The houses were all pink brick, with fireplace chimneys jutting upward. Cozy for the cold Virginia winters.

The generic voice on the GPS said he had arrived at his destination. And he had. He pulled his car alongside Marsha's in the two-car driveway. She was waiting for him, leaning against her car, reading a folder in her hands. They hugged each other. “Where's Wilson? Doesn't he get a vote?”

“He's at my grandmother's. Long story. I like this,” Gus said, looking around. “The neighborhood is established, and it looks like everyone takes care of their property. No wooden or chain-link fences, no cracks and weeds in the driveway. Looks freshly painted.”

“Trust me, Gus, this is the house for you. The owner is abroad; he's a freelance journalist. He lived here for almost fifteen years, then he got reassigned and rented it out. Renters do not take care of property even when they leave a security deposit. We put it on the market to sell. No takers. The economy hit, and now he just wants to unload it. He had the agency contract the work out, so the house is in pristine condition—new carpeting, new appliances, freshly painted, inside and out. If I had the money, I'd buy it myself, but I have two kids in college and an ex who is fighting me in court so he doesn't have to help pay for college. Oh, you said you needed a fence in the back. Well, you got two of them. When the owner first moved in, he put up a chain-link in the back because he had two springer spaniels. Then he decided he didn't like the way the fence looked, so he planted a boxwood hedge in front and back so now, over the years, the chain-link monstrosity can't even be seen. Wilson will be perfectly safe in the backyard.”

“Sounds good; let's take a look.”

Fifteen minutes later, Gus said, “I love it. I'll take it.”

“I knew you would. Listen, Gus, with what you told me about your impending divorce, I've been thinking about something. Maybe we need to do a little creative, for want of a better word,
accounting
here. I spoke to the owner earlier this afternoon, and he's okay with it as long as you are. When your wife's attorney runs your financials, this house is going to show up as an asset, and she'll want her share. Instead, you rent for now, the monthly rent going toward your mortgage payment when the divorce is final. The owner is willing to wait on the closing, he just wants the mortgage payment and the utility payments off his back. What you pay in rent will alleviate that. You following me here?”

“I am, and I like it. So, I pay out first, current, and last month's rent on the books and this is mine, right?”

“Yes.”

“When can I move in?”

“If you had your toothbrush with you and a sleeping bag, you could move in right now. Give me a check for the rent, and I'll give you the keys, and the place is yours the minute you sign all these papers. We'll hold your check for the down payment at the agency until you tell us it's okay to cash it. You don't want that showing up in your financials, either.”

“This is working out just perfectly, Marsha. I don't know how to thank you. I have to get some furniture. Any ideas?”

“Gus, you saved me a boatload of money on my taxes over the past few years. It's I who should be thanking you. Stonehill's can deliver tomorrow. The store is open till six-thirty today. In this economy, store owners are bending over backwards for customers. By tomorrow night, you and Wilson can be snug as two bugs in your own digs.”

Gus felt embarrassed for some reason. “That was business. It's what I do.”

Marsha laughed. “Well, this is what I do, so we're even. Sign your name, then we can shake hands. I'd like to take you out to dinner the way I always do when I finish up a deal, but I have another appointment, and I don't want to be late.”

Gus handed over two checks and signed his name to the real-estate documents. Instead of a handshake, he hugged the Realtor. And then they went their separate ways.

It was almost six-thirty when Gus walked out of the furniture store in New Town, clutching his bill of sale. Delivery tomorrow would be between eight and nine a.m., the first delivery of the day. He'd spent more than he intended but consoled himself with the fact that he planned to stay in the pink brick house for the long haul. If he was lucky enough to get back his old house after the divorce, he'd sell it and give his grandmother the money. He would have a yard sale and get rid of all the furniture and all the memories of Elaine.

On the drive back to Blossom Farm, Gus thought about what he'd bought. Two deep chocolate–colored chairs, a big, deep wheat-colored sofa, a seventy-six-inch plasma TV on which to watch ball games with Wilson, a complete bedroom set, and a set of stools for the kitchen so he could eat at the counter. He'd furnish the dining room and living room at some point when he had more money. For now, he had the basics. All he needed was a trip to Target for towels, bedding, dishes, pots and pans, and stuff for everyday living. One grocery-shopping trip, and he would indeed be a resident at 11 Bombadile Court. He wondered if his neighbors would bake him a welcome cake or bring over a covered dish. He hoped the neighbors were nice. Maybe they'd invite him to backyard barbecues. Or maybe he could barbecue and invite them. Whatever, he'd make it work.

Gus stopped at the last traffic light before he had to turn down the service road that would take him to Blossom Farm.

The car stopped on the opposite side of the road was a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Not many of those in Sycamore Springs. In fact, he didn't think there was another one, which meant Elaine was sitting at the light. The urge to step on the gas pedal and cross traffic to smash head-on into the little car was so strong, Gus had to clutch the wheel to make sure he didn't do it. If he'd been driving his own car, he thought he might, just might, have done it, but he was driving Barney's Jeep Commander. He sat still—even though the car behind him honked its horn—as Elaine whizzed past him without so much as a glance. In the quick glance he got of her, he saw that his wife was what he called dressed to the nines. She used to do that for him when she wanted something. He moved forward when a second, then a third angry honk of a horn forced him to go.

Now he felt depressed. He pressed buttons on the stereo system and stopped when he heard music that felt soothing to his tortured soul. To further torment himself, Gus drove past the turnoff for his grandmother's house, and instead drove all the way to his old house, where he used to live with Elaine. He stopped at the guardhouse and said hello to Eddie, the guard who had worked there from the day he'd moved in.

“Evening, sir. You just missed your wife. New car?”

“Evening, Eddie. Just a loaner for now. I know, I passed Elaine on the way. I'll be coming right back out. Good to see you. Have a nice evening.”

The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, but he ignored it. When you were doing something stupid, you needed to concentrate on the stupid part to make sure you got it right. Sitting in the driveway of the house his grandmother had bought him caused him to choke up. His eyes burned. Once upon a time, he had loved this house. Now he hated it with a passion. Sitting here was worse than stupid. He lost track of time as his memories attacked him, one after the other. Finally, as dusk was settling, Gus backed up the car, turned, and headed back the way he came.

When he came to the guardhouse, he waited until Eddie got around to opening the gate for him to leave. He didn't pay one bit of attention to the Asian man walking a Jack Russell terrier on the other side of the guardhouse.

 

When Gus cut the engine and crawled out of the car, he knew his grandmother and the aunts were going to look at him as undependable, as he had said he'd be back in two hours. It was now about four hours later. Performance be damned. He squared his shoulders and entered the house. For the most part, it was silent, his grandmother sitting alone in the kitchen working at one of her ledgers. She looked tired.

Gus poured himself a glass of sweet tea, perched on the end of a chair, and rattled off what he'd done since he left the house to keep his appointment with Marsha. “I had to take care of things, Granny. I'm all set to go. Did anything happen? Is there anything I need to know before I get started?”

Rose smiled. Her grandson looked more tired than she felt. “Life sometimes has a way of interfering with one's plans. We did okay today. Tomorrow will be better than today, that's for sure. Everyone is tired, the excitement and all. Old people”—she laughed—“can take just so much excitement in one day. Go along and do what you have to do. Did you have dinner?”

“No, but that's okay. I kind of lost my appetite somewhere along the way.” It was a lie, he was starved, but he wanted to get to work; the seniors were depending on him. He could always eat. “Where are Wilson and Winnie?”

“With Vi and Iris in the storage room. They're fine, Augustus. Run along now so I can finish this. There's a plate warming in the oven for you if you get hungry later.”

Gus worked through the evening, stopping just once for a bathroom break and to refill his glass of ice tea. He barely noticed that at some point Wilson had come into the dining room and settled himself at his feet. He felt comforted.

It was five minutes past midnight when Gus carried the work schedule out to the kitchen and laid it on the kitchen table for his grandmother to see first thing in the morning. Every person was accounted for; every shift of work for whatever endeavor they would work on was accounted for. He'd even made suggestions for increasing inventory, and mapped out a more efficient means of storing supplies and product. He knew he'd whittled down hours, possibly days, of futile work for the seniors if they followed his advice. Tomorrow, after his furniture arrived, and he made his trip to Target and the grocery store, he'd come back and pitch in again.

The house was so silent, Gus felt like an intruder. Wilson waited at the door, but there was no sign of Winnie. “Just me and you, huh? Well, let's head for home. I have a lot to tell you. I think we found our niche. Finally.”

Wilson beelined toward the stove and nosed the oven door. “Oh, yeah, dinner. You know what? I'm too tired to eat, Wilson. Let's just go home.” Wilson was having none of it. He growled softly until Gus opened the oven door. When he saw the dinner plate loaded with sliced chicken, stuffing, cranberries, mashed potatoes and gravy, string beans, and a dinner roll, he changed his mind. He sat down on the floor and started to eat, sharing with Wilson. “Kind of like old times, huh, big guy?” Wilson woofed softly.

 

It was eleven o'clock the next morning when Gus unlocked the side door of his new house. The furniture people had delivered on time and even hooked up the new TV for him.

He'd tipped them accordingly. He'd made his run to Target and gotten everything he needed. He'd washed the sheets, and the towels were just waiting to go in the dryer. His new dishes, glasses, silverware, and pots and pans had gone through the dishwasher. The supermarket trip took a little longer than expected, as he picked up just about one of everything, careful to stock up on Pop-Tarts for Wilson.

He was exhausted, but it was still a good feeling. That's when it hit him that he hadn't called Barney. Just as he was about to hit his speed dial, a neighbor about his age walked over and held out his hand. “Jeff Lucas. I live next door. Welcome to the neighborhood. Your Realtor left a short bio of you and your dog in everyone's mailbox yesterday by way of introduction. I'd stay and talk more, but I just came home to check on my sprinkler system; it's out of whack. Don't want my yard to flood. Guess the storm fouled things up. My wife, Sara, said she's going to bake you a cake to welcome you to the neighborhood. See ya,” he said as he headed toward his own house.

Gus grinned. “Hop in, Wilson. Seems like a nice guy. I think this is going to turn out just fine.” Barney would just have to wait till he got to Blossom Farm, because Gus didn't like driving and talking on his cell phone at the same time.

The minute he parked the car at Blossom Farm, Gus pulled out his cell phone and noticed for the first time that there were four messages from the fireplug. He groaned. Instead of listening to them, he hit the speed dial for Barney, who sounded like he was asleep when he answered. “What now?”