The Blossom Sisters

Chapter 19


ELAINE HOLLISTER REMOVED THE SMALL JAR OF VINEGAR FROM her bag and looked around to see if anyone was watching her. As far as she could tell, the few people lakeside were packing up their blankets and picnic baskets to go home. She palmed the little jar, drew her arm back, and pitched it with such force that she would have been the envy of an all-star baseball pitcher had one been watching. She chanted under her breath, then took a long, deep breath, holding it for a count of ten before she expelled it. She felt so light-headed, she thought for a moment that she was going to black out, but she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the wave of dizziness to pass.

Elaine smiled as she turned and walked back to the picnic area where she’d parked her car. She looked at her watch. Three minutes to four. She’d made her offering to the depths of the lake right on time. Now all she had to do was wait to see what happened to Isaac Diamond. There was no doubt in her mind that something would happen to the lawyer. She just wasn’t sure what it would be.

Elaine slid into the little yellow car, settled herself, turned over the engine, flipped in a CD, and drove out of a lot that was now almost deserted.

Overhead, dark clouds were gathering. It would rain shortly, she thought. Just another late afternoon April shower. She hoped it wasn’t as ferocious as the one a day or so ago: she’d cowered in the bathroom while Mother Nature had wreaked havoc on the state of Virginia. She hated storms. She didn’t like rain, either, when it came right down to it. Who cared if the grass needed watering? Who cared if the leaves on the trees and bushes were wilted? She had more important things to worry about. Gus used to fret about the water bill and about Wilson when it thundered. She had been thinking too much about Gus over the past several days, and that was not a good thing. Gus was out of her life, and she was moving forward. She did think it a tad strange, though, that he hadn’t come whining and crying about how much he loved her and he hadn’t come to ask her to give him another chance. Why hadn’t he done that? Even though she’d put a restraining order in place, he could have called or sent her a text, but he hadn’t done either of those things.

Maybe she was slipping, and she’d miscalculated his feelings for her. No, she’d had him, as the saying goes, wrapped around her little finger. His lawyer probably told him the same thing hers had told her—no communication.

Elaine rolled down the window to look upward. The clouds were moving faster, and they looked darker than they had just minutes ago. She stopped for a red light and let her eyes wander to the side of the highway. The Jade Pagoda. She could get takeout. And right next to the Jade Pagoda was the Fine Wine and Spirits Shop. She could pick up a few bottles of wine and have a party all by herself to celebrate what she hoped would be the demise of Isaac Diamond. Ooops, she had to stop thinking like that. She didn’t want Isaac Diamond’s demise; she just wanted him out of her life and her retainer paid back and maybe something for that obscene performance she’d had the night before. Blackmail was such a sweet thing when you held all the cards. Maybe the right word should be restitution. Blackmail was an ugly word, but sweet at the same time.

The light changed. Elaine turned on her blinker and made a left turn. She parked in the Jade Pagoda’s parking lot and was not surprised to see it nearly empty. Too late for lunch, too early for the dinner crowd. That had to mean she’d be in and out in record time. She could go next door, pick up the wine she wanted while they prepared her food, and, if she was lucky, she’d be home before the rain came.

The wind was brisk—the temperature had been falling steadily since she’d started out around three-thirty. Fireplace weather. No sense in turning on the heat for just a few hours.

Elaine loved it when things worked in her favor. She did indeed make it home just as the first raindrops fell on the back deck. The drops were big and splattered in all directions, which told her it would be a brief shower at best, but it was more than chilly.

Safely inside with the door locked and bolted, and the alarm set, Elaine first made a fire, then carried a small folding table into the den. She liked to eat watching television and with a fire at the same time. The truth was, she loved her own company and her own thoughts. She only had one rule in her life—not to get attached to anything but money. Money could buy whatever she needed. Attachments were baggage, and, more often than not, she moved on in the middle of the night. It was so much easier to leave with just a bankbook and an overnight bag, which she kept in the trunk of her car, than to carry cumbersome items she wouldn’t need in her new life. A new life meant new things. Always new things, new people, new surroundings, new everything.

Elaine devoured the food until there wasn’t a crumb left. She was on her third glass of wine when she pulled out the four fortune cookies she’d insisted the manager at the restaurant give her. Today, four was her magic number. All compliments of Initial B Enterprises.

She read the first one. You are almost there.

Fortune cookie number two: Success is right around the corner.

Fortune cookie number three: Your lucky number is four.

Elaine danced with excitement when she read the third fortune. She bounced up and off her chair as she twirled and whirled, her fists shooting in the air. She was trembling so much she could barely open the last one.

Fortune cookie number four: A windfall is about to drop in your lap.

Elaine slumped back in her chair, her thoughts all over the map as she stared blankly at the television screen. This was when she had to be patient. Sit and wait for whatever was going to happen. She stared into the flickering flames as they danced in the fireplace until her eyes closed, and she fell asleep.

The landline on the table next to the sofa rang at seven-thirty, waking her from a sound sleep. She managed a garbled “Yes” to the person on the other end of the line.

“Mrs. Hollister, this is Wendy Manning, from Isaac Diamond’s office. I’m sorry to be calling you at this hour of the day, but the partners asked me to call all of Isaac’s clients to inform them that he suffered a serious accident late this afternoon. I saw in his appointment book that he had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow with you. Nick or Lee can see you, or you can wait till we have more news on Isaac’s condition.”

It wasn’t often that Elaine was at a loss for words, but this time she was, as she tried to figure out what to say. The best she could come up with was, “How terrible. Can you tell me what happened and the time it happened?”

“The time?”

“Well, yes, the time, because, you see, I was speaking with him earlier,” Elaine lied.

“All I know is that Nick said they, and by they I mean EMS, transported him to the hospital at four-thirty this afternoon. They did say it wasn’t life-threatening, but that it was serious. Isaac isn’t a youngster, as you know. I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say any more. What do you want me to tell Nick and Lee?”

Elaine had her wits about her now. She hoped her elation wasn’t showing. “Just tell them I’ll get back to them, and, of course, cancel my appointment for tomorrow. I’d like to send flowers if that’s okay.”

“Let me get back to you on that,” Wendy said.

“That’s fine. Thank you for giving me the courtesy of a call.” Elaine replaced the phone in its cradle and let out a sigh so loud she startled herself. Talk about instant gratification.

Elaine was so giddy with the news she’d just heard, she picked up the wine bottle and brought it to her lips. She gulped until the bottle was empty. In a wild, crazy moment, she threw the bottle at the fireplace and watched it shatter. She fell back into the chair and closed her eyes. Overcome by the wine, she once again fell into a deep sleep.





As Elaine was drifting off to sleep, Gus Hollister was firing up his new grill on the deck. The rain, what there was of it, had come and gone, but it was too cool to eat outdoors. Wilson was panting at the scent of the marinating meat sitting on the counter.

“You’re doing the dishes, Wilson. I’m cooking, so that means you do the cleanup. We really should talk about the division of chores.” Gus had always talked to Wilson like this and hadn’t the slightest reason why. Wilson listened, then ignored him. Maybe it had something to do with living alone, or maybe it had something to do with Wilson’s being his best friend and a stand-in for Barney. He tried to remember if he’d talked to the dog like this when he lived with Elaine. Scratch that thought. He didn’t want to think about Elaine now or ever again.

Gus let his thoughts go to his grandmother and the aunts and the massive project they were involved in. He had to do something, come up with a working plan, before things collapsed on top of them. He was convinced in his own mind that it was just a matter of time before that happened. What was going on now was temporary and could not be sustained for any length of time. His thoughts were coming lightning fast as idea after idea popped into his head, only to be rejected. He wished Barney were here, with his analytical mind.

Gus checked his baking potatoes. Not done yet. Wilson wouldn’t care, but Gus cared; he liked his potatoes mushy and soft. Wilson just scarfed his down, along with the imitation bacon bits Gus sprinkled on his. He set the table and got Wilson’s plate ready. Man and dog. For now, he loved it.

The scent of the sizzling steak on the grill had Wilson dancing in circles. Steak night, his favorite night of the week.

Gus talked to the shepherd nonstop as he poured himself a beer, mixed his salad dressing, and checked the potatoes again. He was always chatty with his dog, but today he rather thought he was going overboard. Wilson must have thought so, too, because he kept looking up at him, wondering what was going on.

Gus knew what was bothering him even if he wouldn’t give voice to his thoughts—and it wasn’t his grandmother, his aunts, or Initial B Enterprises. He had to call Jill Jackson and invite her out to dinner. He had to make amends, and he had to do it as soon as possible, preferably before Barney returned tomorrow night. “It is what it is. You know that, Wilson.” Wilson barked to show he was in the game even though he didn’t understand what game, as he waited for his dinner.

An hour later, the kitchen tidy, Wilson out romping in the wet grass, Gus pulled out all his schedules and got to work at the kitchen table. He was going to get this right or die trying. He pushed all thoughts of Jill Jackson, Mickey Yee, and some scummy bastard spying on the seniors out of his mind as he set to work.

At eleven o’clock, his eyes heavy with grit, Gus called it a night. He let Wilson out one last time before trudging upstairs to his new bed. He was about to slip under the sheets when he looked down at Wilson’s bed. “You better find it now, Wilson, before I get in bed, because I’m not looking for your baby. Go get it! I’ll wait to turn off the light.”

He was, of course, referring to Wilson’s one-eared rabbit, which he’d had since puppyhood and which was the security blanket that he slept with curled under his chin. Wilson was back in a flash, the bedraggled one-eared rabbit clutched in his teeth.

“’Night, Wilson.”

Woof.

Gus grinned as he squirmed and wiggled until he found just the right spot in his brand-new bed. He was asleep within seconds. Not Wilson, who lay quietly in the dark, his ears tuned to any new or strange sound in the house. Ninety minutes later, satisfied that his and his master’s world was safe, he lowered his big head on his beloved rabbit and fell asleep.





Gus woke late the following morning and could hardly believe it was eight o’clock. He didn’t exactly have a fire burning in his belly, but it was close. He stomped his way downstairs, let Wilson out, then made coffee. He removed his cell phone from the charger and, before he could change his mind, dialed Jill Jackson’s personal cell number as opposed to going through the main number to the Beezer building. He sucked in his breath, wishing he’d rehearsed a speech of some sort. She answered in the same flat business tone she always seemed to use when it came to him.

Be witty, be charming, Violet had said. Be yourself, Iris had said. His grandmother had just looked at him with pitying eyes and said, Do your best, Augustus.

“Jill, this is Gus Hollister. I’m calling to invite you to dinner this evening.” He rather thought he’d give up his left hand to see the expression on her face at that moment.

Almost at a loss for words, Jill ran her fingers through her hair at this unexpected turn of events. “You don’t have to invite me to dinner, Gus. If you want to stop by the office later to discuss the case, we can do that.”

“No, no, I don’t want to discuss the case. I just want to take you to dinner. You can pick the restaurant if you like. It can be fancy or it could be that hot dog joint in New Town that everyone raves about. I’m thinking, seven o’clock.”

Jill tried to suck on her tongue to work up some saliva. “You mean, like a date?”

“Well, yeah. I drive up to where you live, once you tell me where that is, I ring your bell, hand you some flowers, you put them in water, then we get in my car. And I hold the door for you, the way my granny taught me, and off we go. Yeah, yeah, a date.”

Jill Jackson laughed. Gus was so startled at the musical sound of her laughter, he felt his face turning beet red. He’d never heard such a pleasing, beautiful laugh. He felt tongue-tied.

“Okay, I accept. I live around the corner from you, on Morningstar Court. I’m the only brick house on the court, you can’t miss it. Seven, you said?”

“I did say seven. Yes, ma’am, seven o’clock. Seven is a good time for dinner. I usually eat at seven.” Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? He was babbling like some lovesick teenager. And she lived around the corner from him. How weird was that?

Jill laughed again, and this time Gus felt goose bumps running up and down his arms. “Where would you like to go?”

“How about Bandoliers in New Town? They serve all kinds of food.”

“Bandoliers it is. Do you really live around the corner from me?”

“I really do.” Jill didn’t laugh this time, but there was laughter in her voice.

“Well, that’s . . . great. I guess. I’m just renting. I could move if you think I shouldn’t live there.” Well, damn, did I just say that?

“New neighbors are nice. I don’t even know mine. We could probably holler to each other across the fence. My backyard backs up to yours.”

Now, how did she know that? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He’d told her the other day that he had moved. She’d probably checked it out or was familiar with his address. “Well, let me know when you’re going to holler, so I’ll know to answer.”

Shit, shit, shit. That didn’t even make sense. Quit while you’re ahead and get the hell off the phone before she thinks you’re certifiable. “I’ll see you at seven, then.”

“Okay.”

Done. I have a date. Well, hot damn!

Jill was all thumbs as she tried to press in the number to Lynus Litton’s office. Jill said when he answered, “I want those four hours you talked to me about. Three and a half would be better, but I’ll take the whole four, and I need them today. Did you hear me, Lynus? Today.”

“Whoa! What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“You said I need four hours. Okay, I’m calling you on it. It has to be today; I have a date tonight. Seven o’clock.”

“You mean a date, where the guy knocks on your door and brings flowers and candy, that kind of date?”

“Yes, dammit. What? You think no one would ever ask me out on a date? Well, someone did, and I need those four hours. Well?”

Lynus turned cagey. “Sounds important. You smitten? You realize when you sign up for those four hours, you turn yourself over to Sam and Mandy, and you have to let them have free rein. You can’t back out. You go with it all the way. The works. If you give them any trouble, I’ll hear about it. I have a reputation to uphold. I never send them clients unless I think both parties can handle it. You still game?”

Jill thought about it. “Yes,” she said curtly.

“Okay, give me ten minutes, and I’ll get back to you. This is going to be pricey. You need to know that going in.”

“Okay, okay. Will I be happy with the results?”

“Knowing you, probably not, but you’ll blow the guy’s socks off. You still game?”

Jill didn’t even think about her response. “Yes, I’m game.”

“Okay, I’ll get back to you.”

“Louise!”

“My God, what?” Jill’s secretary bellowed on the run. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a date tonight! Lynus is . . . well, I have a four-hour—I guess you’d call it overhaul of my person. He’s calling me back.”

“A real date, a knock-on-the-door kind of date?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why does everyone keep saying a knock-on-the-door date? We’re going to Bandoliers. It’s with Gus Hollister.”

“Your client? He’s a stud! I thought you hated him! He actually asked you out on a date when you’ve been so hateful to him? Are lawyers allowed to date their clients?”

Jill squirmed in her chair. “I don’t know if they are or not, and I don’t care. I think it’s up to the individuals. I never dated a client before. I don’t hate Gus Hollister. I hate what he did to his grandmother and his aunts by choosing that person he married over them—and look what that got him. There are different kinds of hate, you know. Besides, you know as well as I do that a lawyer cannot pick and choose clients by the way they look and act. And, yes, it’s a real date. You sound like Lynus. And, no, he’s not a stud. Studs are farm animals. He’s just a good-looking guy who looks buffed. Puffed? Whatever the word is these days.”

Hands on her hips, Louise looked at her boss over the top of her reading glasses. “So, you are finally going to get rid of that gypsy attire you’ve been wearing since the big flood a hundred years ago.”

“Looks that way. Don’t get carried away. It’s just a dinner date. Gus Hollister is trying to make amends to me for hurting my feelings. I accepted his apology, but he is obviously still feeling guilty, so I am just trying to . . . help things along. Anger gets you nowhere, as you point out to me time and again. Now, are you happy?”

Louise leaned up against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well,” she drawled, “if that was all true, why are you going for that four-hour makeover or whatever it’s called? You could go in that same outfit you’re sporting right now. Sounds to me like this is more than a thank-you date. I rest my case.”

“And you find this all so very amusing? I should fire you.”

“Ha-ha!” Louise said as she backed out of the door to return to her desk.

Jill drummed her fingers on her desk as she waited for the phone to ring. She looked at her blunt-cut nails and winced. Everyone wore acrylic nails these days, even Louise. Maintenance. She hated anything she had to keep up with. Although she had thought more than once about getting a French manicure. Thought about it. She thought about a lot of things. Well, now it was time to put up or shut up.

The phone rang. Jill let it ring four times before she picked it up, because she didn’t want Lynus to suspect how anxious she was. Her greeting was casual and bored sounding. At least that’s how she hoped she came across to Lynus.

“How does eleven o’clock sound?”

“Doable, Lynus, doable. Let’s be clear, four hours or three and a half?”

“Might run to five. It’s out of my hands. I’m not the expert. Just go with the flow, Jill, and try to enjoy it all.”

“Five hours! You could clone someone in five hours! Are you putting me on?”

“No, I’m not. When I explained your . . . situation, they said possibly five hours. Don’t shoot the messenger. Let’s face it, Jill, you need a lot of work.”

Jill was near to tears. “My God, do I really look that bad?”

“Honey, we all let ourselves go at some point, and I’m sure you had your reasons. And I do not want to know what those reasons are. It’s going to take some time to . . . to repair all the . . . imperfections you let get out of hand. Just for the record, women kill to get any kind of appointment with Sam and Mandy. That’s how good they are. You have a pen handy?” When Jill said she did, Lynus rattled off the address of the salon where Jill was to go for her makeover.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Jill muttered over and over as she packed up her briefcase. Even though she had hours until her appointment time and what she’d agreed to do, she wanted to go somewhere quiet to think. Her intention was to buy a bagel and some coffee and go to the park and find a quiet bench.

Jill waved to her secretary as she sailed through the office and out the door. She couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like when she walked back through that door the next time.