The Blossom Sisters

Chapter 16


AFTER COURT, JILL JACKSON ENTERED THE BEEZER BUILDING, A scowl on her face. She swept past the security guard with a flash of her ID pass without even looking at him. Normally, she had a smile for the guard, oftentimes inquiring about his grandchildren and his dog, Molly. Not today, though. Today, the young lawyer sprinted forward like she had a life-or-death destination in mind.

When the elevator stopped at her floor, she sailed past the receptionist and walked down the hall to her suite of offices. Her secretary, an early fiftyish woman, held up her hand and said, “Whoa! Whoa there, Jill. Slow down. What? Did someone rain on your parade? Step on your toes? I know you didn’t lose in court, so what’s with the attitude I’m seeing here?” Louise Atkins had been with Jill since her first day at Beezer. Familiarity was an okay thing where the two women were concerned. Not only were they boss and employee, they were personal friends. Had anyone else been within hearing distance, Louise would never have allowed personalities to show, because she was too professional to permit that to happen. She waited to see what Jill would say.

“Court was a waste of time; the judge granted a continuance. I knew that would happen going in. Like I said, a waste of time. No one rained on my parade, and no one stepped on my toes. Were there any calls?”

“Mr. Beezer and Lynus Litton called. Mr. Beezer wants you to call him back. Nothing urgent, he said. Mr. Litton said he needs you to return his call ASAP. So, what happened? Why do you look like a thundercloud? Don’t tell me there is nothing wrong, Jill. I know you too well. Let me help; that’s why I’m here.”

Jill took a moment to stare up at her friend and secretary and only saw concern for her. She struggled with herself as she tried to decide if she wanted to respond. “If I ask you a question and tell you all I want is a yes-or-no response, can you do that?”

“Absolutely. What is it, Jill? I’ve never seen you look like this. Plus, you’re agitated, and you’re always cool as a cucumber, even when you’re losing. Mr. Beezer told me once he’d hate to play poker with you.” Louise had said this before to Jill, and it always garnered a smile of sorts. Not this time.

“Okay.” Jill took a deep breath. “Do I look like a fireplug to you?”

“Yes!” Louise said smartly without missing a beat.

“I do? Are you just trying to rile me up?”

“Why would I do that? You asked me a question, and I answered it. Don’t you tell me time and again that a lawyer should never ask a question he or she doesn’t already know the answer to?”

“I do say that. It’s true, and it’s the first thing you learn in law school.”

“Then why did you ask me if you knew what my answer would be?” Louise drew herself up to her full height, adjusted the trim jacket she was wearing, then went back to her desk. She sat down with a hard thump, but her gaze stayed on Jill, who seemed to be having a hard time with her answer. “I assume someone hurt your feelings at some point this morning, and you’re having a hard time dealing with it.”

Jill crossed her arms against her chest. She nodded, her face miserable.

“Jill, you don’t have to look like a fireplug. All you have to do is change your mode of dress. You wear so many layers, it’s hard to tell there’s even a body under them.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Tell me one thing that’s wrong.”

“Are you sure you want to ask me that? Do you even look in the mirror before you leave the house in the morning?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to hear your answer, and of course I look in the mirror before I leave the house. Well?”

“No one wears brindle or drindle skirts or whatever they’re called anymore. There must be ten yards of material in that skirt. Minis are in, and so is spandex. A blouse, a vest, and a jacket are way too much apparel for a small person like yourself. Put all that on top of ten yards of material, and you look like a walking tent. And let’s not forget those combat boots you wear. And your color choice is drab. All you wear is beige, brown, or gray. It makes you looked washed-out. You don’t even wear makeup. You need color.”

“Well, thank you for your opinion. I think. My shoes are not combat boots, Louise. They are Ferragamo ankle boots.”

“Yeah, well try telling that to the fashionistas. The characters on that old TV show Little House on the Prairie used to wear the kind of shoes you wear.”

Jill lifted up the hem of her long skirt and looked at her shoes. She liked them; they were comfortable, and she’d paid a lot of money for them. She liked comfortable shoes because she liked to walk back and forth to the courthouse. Taking care of her feet was important.

“So what are you going to do about your mode of dress?”

Jill whirled around. “What makes you think I’m going to do anything about my mode of dress?” Jill looked so shocked at her secretary’s question, Louise had to hide her smile.

“That’s a trick question, right?” Louise sniffed. “There’s also the pickup truck you drive back and forth to work. Ladies, like some lawyers I know, do not drive pickup trucks. At least not the ones I know.”

“Yep. I have a Jaguar. I drive it to church on Sunday. How about some fresh coffee?”

“Coming right up. Be sure to return Barney’s call. Lynus Litton said he really needed to talk to you, so you might want to call him first. Is that the same six-year-old car that has four thousand miles on it?”

“GO!” Jill roared.

Settled in her office, Jill removed her jacket and hung it on the coat tree. She looked at the sleeves of her striped cotton shirt. What was wrong with the beige-and-white-striped shirt? She’d washed it, starched it, then ironed it. She was meticulous when she ironed her shirts. The camel-colored leather vest with the three toggle buttons was a favorite of hers. It was worn, soft, and comfortable. Maybe she didn’t need to wear a vest. She thought about rolling up the sleeves of her blouse, and removing the vest, but if she did that, Louise would be right. Well, maybe she could open the buttons on the vest and roll the sleeves of the blouse to her elbow. She didn’t do either one.

Fireplug. She would never imply to anyone that they looked like a fireplug. Never. Whether or not Jill wanted to admit it, Gus Hollister had hurt her feelings. She thought about her client then and how embarrassed he had been after he’d called her Miss Fireplug. She hated thinking about him and his case. If there were a way to pass him off to someone else, she’d do it in a heartbeat, but Barney would never allow that to happen. Maybe if Gus wasn’t so handsome, she wouldn’t feel like this. She’d been hard on him, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of his beautiful wife. A female thing. She argued with herself then. Gus Hollister was human. His case wasn’t unique. Men did stupid things when they were married and the marriage ended. But, in most cases, at least the ones she’d handled, there hadn’t been a grandmother and elderly aunts involved.

Gus had further confused her when he said he had moved out of Barney’s luxurious house. Most people would love being waited on hand and foot and living in the lap of luxury, and all for free. She had to give him points for that. Maybe there was something there, but she wasn’t seeing it. Barney said Gus Hollister was the salt of the earth. He said Gus was kind, generous, caring, a good friend, and that he loved him more than if he were a flesh-and-blood brother. So, yes, there was something there. Maybe she had preconceived ideas about Gus, and he hadn’t measured up to those preconceived ideas, and she didn’t want to admit that she was wrong about the kind of person he was. Everyone made mistakes. People deserved second chances when they screwed up, providing they admitted the mistakes and corrected them.

Jill was so deep in thought, she didn’t see Louise come in until she set a mug of coffee on the desk. “Thanks,” Jill said.

Jill waited until Louise closed the door behind her before she picked up the phone and dialed Lynus Litton’s personal number. The greetings over, Jill said, “What do you have for me?”

“I just wanted to give you a heads-up. When I hang up, I’m going to upload a bunch of pictures one of my investigators sent me. I think they’re going to surprise you. It appears that Elaine Hollister is into voodoo, witchcraft, casting spells, and performing rituals. I have to admit this is something I am not familiar with. I did an Internet search and found it all very interesting. I have to say, I got a little spooked. And there’s one other thing. Mickey Yee, the investigator who got the pictures, had a bit of an accident while he was in the attic where Hollister does her . . . whatever it is she does. Trying to position some empty boxes and mailers for a photo, he knocked over a vase of flowers on the altar. That means Elaine Hollister is going to know someone was in her attic. Mickey wore gloves, but he was there. He reset the alarm, but if Mrs. Hollister is as smart and crafty as I think she is, she might call the alarm company and they’ll be able to tell her the times the alarm was turned off and on, and she’ll know for certain. But, there is also a possibility she might think a rat or a mouse, possibly even a squirrel, got into the attic and knocked over the vase. I just don’t know, Jill. But you need to know everything I know. If she goes the route of the alarm company, someone might have seen Gus Hollister sitting in the driveway last night. She’ll accuse him in a nanosecond. And he’ll have no comeback.”

Jill felt like pulling her hair out. “Okay, got it. Anything else?”

“I’ll be sending you the report on Gus Hollister. He’s clean, Jill. He’s who he says he is. He did what hundreds of guys do, got mixed up with the wrong woman, compounded that mistake, and ended up marrying the mistake. Other than that, there’s nothing there where he’s concerned to throw up any red flags. We’re still working on the grandmother and the two aunts.”

“Okay, Lynus. Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” She was just about ready to turn on her computer when Louise opened the door and whistled sharply. “Ta da! Look at this, Jill,” she said, thrusting a vase of white roses forward so Jill could get a better look. “Someone actually sent you flowers! And they smell wonderful. Bet these cost a small fortune.” She carefully set the vase on the corner of Jill’s desk and stepped back. “Well! Aren’t you going to look at the card? It’s not every day a woman gets flowers sent to her workplace. C’mon, Jill, open the card. When was the last time you got flowers, here or at home?”

“Never! No one ever sends me flowers. I got a corsage for my senior prom, but that’s it. Okay, okay, I’m opening it.” Jill’s eyes popped wide. “They’re from Gus Hollister. He signed it with his name and his dog’s name.”

Louise thought her boss looked shocked. “Now, that’s sweet. You need to have more of an open mind where your client is concerned, Jill. They’re just beautiful. Enjoy them,” Louise said, turning to leave.

Jill waited until the door was closed before she leaned over to smell the huge arrangement of roses. Was Hollister sucking up or was he genuinely sorry for his crass remark, and this was his apology? She sniffed the flowers again, and propped the little card up next to the vase. The flowers were almost in her line of vision, and she’d be able to see them all day long as she worked. Her first flowers. How amazing was that? She felt almost giddy at the thought. A man, a client actually, had taken the time to send her flowers. Later, when she wasn’t so busy, she was going to give some serious thought to the white roses. She was glad they weren’t red roses. She hated red roses.

Jill clicked on her computer, brought up Lynus’s e-mail, and looked at the attached pictures. She studied them for close to an hour before she printed them out. Then she reached for a magnifying glass and studied the printouts. Lynus was right. It looked like Elaine Hollister was into voodoo and witchcraft. She cringed when she saw the toppled vase on the altar. But the mailers and boxes were clearly visible. Initial B Enterprises. She frowned as she tried to recall if she’d ever heard of the company. Nothing came to mind. “Hmmmnn.” Jill pressed a button on the console. “Can you come in here, Louise?”

“Yeah, boss. What’s up?” Louise asked from the doorway.

“I want you to go to the main library and get me some books on voodoo and witchcraft. Try to get older books. I want everything you can get on rituals and spells. I could order them from Amazon, but that will take about a week. I’m going to search the Net, but I still want to have some books on hand.”

Louise raised her eyebrows.

“Take a look at these pictures,” Jill said.

Louise picked up the pictures and looked at them one at a time. “Oooh, this is not good. Okay, I’m on my way. Do you want me to bring back some lunch?”

“Sure, a ham and cheese on rye, and don’t forget the pickles.”

Jill was already clicking away even before Louise was out of the room.





While Jill Jackson was surfing the Internet, Gus Hollister was sitting down to a very late breakfast at Blossom Farm. His grandmother sat across from him, watching him eat. She smiled. Augustus had always had such a healthy appetite. She was complimenting him now on how hard he’d worked on creating a schedule for the seniors.

Gus carried his dishes to the sink, topped off his coffee cup, then sat down across from his grandmother. “Listen, Granny, you need to stop with the trips to the post office; it takes too much time and costs too much. Let’s open an account with UPS, and they’ll give us the shipping supplies, they pick up, and you save labor. You guys have been chasing back and forth to three different post offices. That’s a lot of hours that are being wasted. Now, having said that, do you all understand that you need to tell me which . . . I don’t know how you define it . . . but which thing right now is earning you the most money? I’m not talking about the steady bread-and-butter money that keeps you going, like your newsletters.”

“That’s easy. The fascinators. We have so many orders we can’t fill because the feathers are so hard to work with. I’m thinking this is a bit of a fad, so we want to cash in now while they’re so popular. I forgot to tell you yesterday that one of our new staff had a great idea. A freebie. A good-luck charm, a talisman, if you will. A faux-jade four-leaf clover. Sonia even knew where we could order them in bulk. Violet placed the order last night for overnight delivery today. We plan to mail them to all past and current customers. A goodwill gesture you can call it. Personally, I jumped at the idea.”

“There you go again, massive mailing. All the more reason to use UPS, as they will pick up the packages. You also need a postage meter.”

“Okay, I’ll put that on my list,” Rose said. “I’m glad you’re on board, Augustus.”

“Me, too, Granny. Me, too.”

“Okay, then, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty and concentrate our efforts on what we have to do to bring things up to date, where you can make the most money in the shortest period of time. We figure out how to capitalize on our people resources and make it happen. How long does it take to make one of those fascinators—those feather things? One other thing, Granny. Once the members of your staff become familiar with their jobs, I want you to rotate them. Each member of your staff needs to know every other job in case of any kind of setback—and there will be setbacks of one kind or another, you can count on it. If everyone knows everyone else’s job, you won’t lose momentum. Do you agree or not?”

“I totally agree. We can’t keep operating by the seat of our pants. We all know we need structure and discipline of a sort. But to answer your question on the fascinators, it takes a half-hour to make them. Depends on who is working on them. Our fingers are not as nimble as they used to be. It’s not an easy task, to attach the thin wires to the feathers. The wires have to be cut just right, so the feathers aren’t bouncing all over the place. But we precut them, so we conquered that problem. The main problem, Augustus, is the coloring for the feathers. We’ve only had a few orders for white ones. Without a doubt, we could make a lot of money but . . .”

“How is your feather supply?”

“We have enough to fill our current orders. We have a long wait list simply because we didn’t know if we could fill the demand. Like I said, Augustus, it’s coloring the feathers that’s our problem. It’s dye versus spray and where to do it. We need ideal conditions because feathers are virtually weightless. If you so much as breathe on them, they move. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Actually, I do. Pastor Evans still has bingo nights, doesn’t he?” At his grandmother’s nod, Gus continued, “You know that big drum they use to turn the numbers before they call them? Do you think he’d let us use it if we made a donation to the church? I remember when Barney and I were kids, you used to take us with you at night when it was your turn to work bingo. We could use the drum to contain the feathers after we dip them in whatever coloring you decide to use. If the feather hats are a lasting sale item, you might think about ordering a new drum for Pastor Evans because the color is going to come off on the wire mesh of the drum. Fans will blow at slow speed to dry the feathers as they tumble. What do you think, Granny?”

“I think you’re onto something, Augustus. You go over to the church, and I’ll have everyone ready to go to work as soon as you get back. Do you want me to call UPS or will you do that and set up an account for us?”

“I’ll make the call when I get to the church. Huddle together and figure out which will work best—dye in tubs or sprays.”

Rose rummaged in one of the kitchen drawers for a whistle. She gave it three sharp blasts, which meant, meeting in the kitchen ASAP.