The Blossom Sisters

Chapter 2


GUS HOLLISTER LITERALLY TOOK THE TURN INTO THE DRIVEWAY of the house he had shared with his wife on two wheels. Wife? Ha! His grandmother and the two aunts were absolutely right, and he was totally wrong. Gold digger was Elaine’s new name. It had probably been her name all along, and he had just been too stupid to see it. God, how had this happened? When he’d gotten up this morning to leave for work, Elaine had kissed him with such passion. What a sap he was.

“Well, baby, my eyes are open now, you . . . gold digger!” he snarled as he ran around to the back deck and started to haul his six suitcases down the steps, across the yard, and over to the van. Damn, who knew he had so much stuff? Four trips later, carrying the last duffel bag and dragging Wilson’s pink laundry basket, Gus stopped to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from every pore in his body. Talk about being out of shape. He took a moment to wonder if he was going to have a heart attack. If that happened, the gold digger would get all his insurance money. Screw that! First thing tomorrow, he was going to change his will and the beneficiaries on his insurance. He’d leave everything to Wilson. “Bitch!” he seethed.

How did undying love go to deep hatred in sixteen hours? He needed to read up on the rules of gold digging.

Gus settled himself behind the wheel of the rickety van. Rickety my ass, Gus thought when he turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred like a kitten. He frowned when he realized it sounded better than the engine on his beloved Porsche.

Gus sat for a moment, the soft purr of the engine almost lulling him to sleep. He reached across the seat, but Wilson wasn’t there. He wanted to cry at what was happening to him. All in the name of love.

The roads are quiet tonight, Gus thought as he steered the cumbersome van down the highway. As if by rote, he finally took the turnoff that led to his office. The thought of lugging his suitcases and the duffel bags up the steps to his office almost made him turn around and leave. Damn, I am tired.

An hour later, all his belongings were stacked up in his office. Wilson’s laundry basket remained in the van, to be dropped off at his grandmother’s house. It would have to wait until morning. That’s when it hit him like a bolt of thunder. He hadn’t done his own taxes!

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Gus fired up his computer, tapped furiously, and hit the PRINT button. He filed for an extension. And his gold-digging wife could just file her own damned taxes. No more joint anything where she was concerned.

Gus turned off the computer, ripped off his suit jacket, wadded it into a ball, and lay down on the floor. He was asleep in a nanosecond.





It was dark out when Gus rolled over and groaned. He was disoriented, and then he remembered where he was. He groaned again as he struggled to get up. He peered down at his watch: five-ten. His only option under the circumstances was to head for the Hampton Inn and rent a room. Every muscle in his body screamed as he opened his suitcases and pulled out casual clothes, clothes that were wrinkled and messy. He jammed the clothes and his toiletries into a duffel and left the building. He’d given all his employees the rest of the week off in appreciation of all their hard work during tax season, so he had no worries about his staff seeing the disarray in his office.

As he was making his way down the stairs, Gus made a mental note to call a locksmith to change all the locks on the office building. It was going to be a pain in the butt, but there was no way he wanted his gold-digging wife to have access to the building.

Since it was just the beginning of the early morning rush-hour traffic, Gus made good time to the Hampton Inn. The drive over, registering, and trekking to his room took all of twenty minutes before he was headed for the shower in his new home away from home. He used up another twenty minutes showering, shaving, and dressing before he headed downstairs to order breakfast. He was starving, which surprised him. How can I eat like this with a broken heart? He amazed himself at how he wolfed down three eggs, two rashers of bacon, six pancakes, and a dish of fresh fruit. By the time he ordered his second cup of coffee, he felt almost normal.

Gus’s thoughts were all over the map as he sipped at his coffee. He had shifted mental gears so many times, he was forced to pull a pen out of his jacket pocket along with the little notebook he always carried. More often than not, he never scribbled anything in the little spiral book. But, for some reason, it was comforting to carry it. Within minutes, he had a long list of things he had to do. He scribbled the word immediate in capital letters. First, though, he had to go out to the farm and drop off Wilson’s gear. Then he had to sit down and have a talk with his grandmother and the two aunts. He felt a lump the size of a lemon lodge itself in his throat. He had to make things right with the three of them, no matter what.

Gus called himself every name in the book as he contemplated his list. He loved those old gals more than life itself. Then he turned on himself, and he was back to square one. If they refused to listen to him, to forgive him, he didn’t know what he would do. Dig a hole, crawl in, and wait for his gold-digging wife to toss in the dirt? “Well, that’s not going to happen,” he muttered to himself as he signed the bill the waitress set in front of him.

It was seven minutes past seven when Gus exited the Hampton Inn and crossed the parking lot to where he had parked his grandmother’s van. He climbed in and headed out to the farm.





The Blossom sisters, Rose and the twins—Violet and Iris—stood in the kitchen eating cooked oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar and real cream. The dogs sat at their feet as the women ate, mumbling and muttering among themselves.

Rose, the oldest—Gus’s grandmother—waved her spoon in the air. “Augustus will be here shortly, I guarantee it.” She reached for a strip of crisp bacon and broke it into two pieces. She handed one piece to each of the dogs.

Violet, two minutes older than her twin, Iris, said, “We agreed that we weren’t going to let him in. Please tell me you aren’t having second thoughts, Rose.”

“You aren’t, are you, Rose?” Iris hissed.

“No, I am not having second thoughts, but I don’t see why he can’t at least come into the kitchen. We do need to talk to him; at least, I do. If we don’t talk to him, he’s going to keep coming around until we do. Do you all want to live in fear of that happening? We won’t get anything done. Who knows what he’ll see.”

“Rose has a point,” Violet said. Violet liked to think that she was the voice of reason among the three of them. “I say we allow him into the kitchen, tell it like it is, and send him on his way.”

The pessimistic one of the threesome, Iris, looked at her twin and said, “And you think Augustus is going to settle for that? He needs us now. No, that’s not right, he wants us, now that his gold-digger wife put the screws to him. Just remember how we all felt at Thanksgiving and Christmas last year. You play, you pay,” she said heartlessly.

“Well, that’s not very Christian, Iris,” Rose said.

“Do I have to remind you that you were inconsolable during those two holidays?” Iris asked in the same heartless tone.

Rose sighed. Her plump body started to tremble as she remembered how distraught she’d been without even a phone call or a card from her grandson during the holidays. “All right, all right! I am hearing you loud and clear. Let’s just finish our breakfast and get on with the day.”

Violet wasn’t about to let up on her sister, knowing sooner or later she’d waffle one way or the other. “Easy for you to say. Do I need to remind you that your grandson has our van? We need the van, Rose. Read my lips. We-need-the-van! Henry will be here at eight-thirty to take the first load to the post office. He does not like to wait, as we all know.”

Iris slammed her fist on the table. Both dogs reared up at the sound. “The girls will be coming to work at nine o’clock. Lulu took the golf cart with her when they left yesterday. What are we going to say if Augustus is here when they arrive?”

“Just say we’re having an old-lady bingo day,” Rose huffed as she dumped the rest of her oatmeal down the garbage disposal.

Wilson raced to the kitchen door, Winnie hot on his heels. Both dogs barked.

“I think your grandson has arrived.” Violet sniffed as she, too, disposed of her uneaten cereal at the sink. Unlike her sisters, Iris finished her cereal before proceeding to load the dishwasher. “Shall I make another pot of coffee?”

“Don’t bother, Iris. Augustus won’t be here long enough to drink it,” Violet said. “Right, big sister?”

Rose wanted to cry, but she bit down on her lower lip. “Let’s just hear him out. Then we’ll send him on his way. We don’t want to have any regrets later on, do we?”

Gus knocked on the kitchen door. Rose opened it. She had to fight with herself not to reach out to hug her grandson. “Come in, Augustus. We have fifteen minutes to talk, then we’re expecting some friends. Please be quick.”

Gus stepped into the old familiar kitchen. He noticed that it had been upgraded at some point. He should have known that, but he didn’t. Everything was bright and cheery, with spanking-new, state-of-the-art appliances. He marveled at the built-in coffee machine.

“Coffee?”

“No, we don’t drink coffee; we drink herbal tea. It’s supposed to be good for old people’s digestion. With lemon,” Violet said, frost dripping off her words.

“Okay, I’ll take that,” Gus said, sitting down at the table.

“We’re fresh out. Today is grocery-shopping day,” Iris said.

Gus shrugged. He could see the three of them weren’t going to give an inch. “I brought the van back. Here are the keys. Thanks for the loan,” Gus said, sliding the keys across the table to where his grandmother was sitting. “The van sure runs nice.”

“We had it tuned up recently,” Rose said flatly.

Gus stared at the unfriendly faces of the three sisters glaring at him. Once, those same faces had been full of love. For him. Once. He cleared his throat and folded his hands. “I . . . I want to tell you that I love you all. My love has never wavered. I got derailed and . . . and I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I had this plan that I was going to make our situation better this week, regardless of what Elaine said. I just needed to get through yesterday. I know I hurt you, but that was never my intention. I was so . . . so blinded, I just couldn’t see straight. Elaine became my world, twenty-four/seven. She was my siren, and, unlike Odysseus, I didn’t have any protection against hearing her song.

“I can’t unring the bell. I would if I could, you know that. If you want me to get down on my knees, I will. All I can say is I’m sorry. And, I have a confession to make as well, and when I do, I know full well that you are going to boot my ass out of here. But I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t tell us. Maybe you should just leave before we do boot your ass out of here,” Violet snapped.

Before anyone could say anything else, Gus blurted out that he’d put Elaine’s name on the deed to his house.

The three women rose from the table as one and leaned across until their faces were inches from Gus’s.

“You did WHAT?” the sisters said in unison.

“She . . . she had this . . . this way of kissing me that . . . it was like I had no will of my own. I just did it.”

“This is just too pitiful to listen to,” Iris said. “I cannot believe you turned into such a wuss. I can’t deal with stupid; I’m leaving.”

“I don’t expect you to understand; you’re old,” Gus said.

The Blossom sisters were on him then like fleas on a dog, pummeling Gus as they attempted to yank him from his chair and push him to the door. All three of them were screeching at the top of their lungs about being old, working their fingers to the bone so he could have a good life, and how they knew what sex was all about because they’d had some of the best sex in the universe during their earlier years. It was Rose’s voice that drowned out everyone else’s. “And you gave it away to that . . . that person! Shame on you, Augustus Hollister! Now leave my house!”

“I will not leave this house until . . . until . . . Okay, I’m going.” Tears burning his eyes, Gus got up from the table and headed for the kitchen door. He turned around and said, “Will you at least keep Wilson until I can find a place that will accept dogs?” His eyes were wet and burning so badly, he could barely see.

“Yes,” Rose said. “Did you bring his things?”

“I did. I put them by the back door. I’ll get them. Granny, I’m sorry, really sorry. I don’t know what else to say. If you need me for anything, you can reach me at the office or call me on my cell phone. If you still have the number.”

“Don’t you have that all a little backward, nephew?” Iris said. “Why would we need you? You’re here. That means, as usual, you need us. Does it look to you like we need you? Not from where I’m standing, it doesn’t. Do we need him, girls? Tell us, what’s wrong with this picture?”

Gus struggled to find his voice. Why in the damned hell had he thought his family would welcome him with open arms and make his world right side up again? Why? Because they had always done it before. They were his cushion, his buffer, his safety net. In a million years, he never thought they would turn their backs on him. The realization that they had just kicked him to the curb hit home like a freight train running over him at a hundred miles an hour.

Gus opened the door and picked up the pink laundry basket. He set it inside on the floor near the door. He waited a moment to see if Wilson would attack the basket. He didn’t. The shepherd stayed where he was, with Winnie, on the little rag carpet by the sink. That hurt almost as much as his aunts’ and grandmother’s unbending attitude. “See ya,” he said in a strangled voice as he closed the door.

Rose sat down at the table and buried her face in her arms. The twins rushed to console her. Their voices were soothing as they tried to ease their sister’s anguish. “We have options, Rose, if we want to pursue them,” Iris whispered.

“No, we don’t have options, Iris. It would take us months to relocate. It simply is not feasible. Actually, it’s impossible. We have a system that works. Remember the last time we deviated, and what happened,” Violet said. “It took us almost a year to recover. I, for one, don’t want to go through that again, and I’m sure Rose doesn’t, either. I suppose it’s possible to make some adjustments, but, at this time, I don’t see how we can even do that. There are too many people who count on us and are involved now. Rose, look alive here. We need to talk seriously now.”

Rose lifted her tear-stained face to stare at her sisters. “Did you see his face? It just about broke my heart. He’s just a boy.”

“He’s not a boy, Rose. Augustus is thirty-two years old. He’s a married man. He has to take responsibility for his actions. My conscience is certainly clear. We gave that young man a good life, we raised him properly, we sent him to the best schools, we were there for him every step of the way. We helped him start his own business. You bought and paid for that fancy house he is now going to lose to that gold digger. We did not do anything wrong, so get over whatever guilt you’re feeling,” Violet continued to rant.

“Maybe we could help him without his knowing we’re doing it,” Rose said.

“Get that idea right out of your head this very minute, Rose. We are going to go on with our lives, more alert than we’ve been, and we’ll let this play out however it’s meant to play out,” Iris said softly.

“I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade here, but have either one of you given a thought to the wife? What if she files for divorce, which I’m sure is her intent, and her lawyer starts asking questions on her behalf? She’ll hire a real sleazebag, we all know that. I’m thinking ahead here. We might need to hire some security or shore up this place. Maybe build a security fence, hire someone with guard dogs to patrol at night, things like that. Before you know it, some smart-ass lawyer will be wanting to take our depositions, then they’ll want to see our tax returns. Try explaining those to anyone, Rose,” Violet said.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Violet, will you give it up already? That’s not going to happen.”

“It could happen,” Iris said. “I saw that same scenario on television last week. We need to move our money offshore. Liechtenstein is where they sent their money on the TV show.”

“Stop it right now!” Rose shouted so loud, Wilson barked to show his displeasure. “We are not moving our money to Liechtenstein or anyplace else. Because, we do not know how to do that. We can, however, take it all out of the bank and the brokerage house and bury it in the root cellar if you want.”

“That’s stupid!” Violet said.

“So is Liechtenstein!” Rose snapped back.

“I hear Henry,” Iris said, and ran to the door. Everyone knew that Iris was sweet on Henry. Everyone except Henry, that is.