The Blossom Sisters

Chapter 3


GUS HOLLISTER ACCEPTED THE BOX OF NEW KEYS FOR HIS office building from the locksmith. He promised to call if anything went awry. With the rest of his mental to-do list taken care of, he was about to head out of the office. He had no idea where he was going to go or what he was going to do. He slapped at his forehead. He needed to change the code to the security system on the off chance he might have mentioned it to Elaine at some point. No sense in taking chances at this stage of the game. When he was leaving the building, he would turn over the new keys and the new code to his two tenants. Thank God the doors were self-locking.

His last chore taken care of, Gus turned off the lights, took one last look around, and was about to close the door when the office phone rang. He walked back to the reception area and looked at the caller ID. His fist shot high in the air. Barney! His best friend in the whole wide world. Best friend since the age of four, when they had met in a sandbox at the park. Good old Barney. He blasted out a loud hello and waited.

“Hey! How’s it going, buddy?”

Instead of answering the question, Gus let loose with a volley of his own. “Where are you? When did you get back? How long are you staying? Can you meet me someplace, Barney? I’m just leaving the office now. I really need to talk to you. The long and short of things . . . never mind, I’ll tell you when I see you. Can you make Gilligan’s in, say, fifteen minutes? I’ll wait for you, all day if necessary.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah, that bad, Barney.”

“Make it forty-five minutes, and I’m all yours.”

Gus stood for a few minutes, staring at the phone console after he disconnected the call. His world was suddenly looking a tad brighter, with Barney back in the picture. Barney, he was sure, would have some words of wisdom for him.

Best friends since the sandbox days, they’d gone through school together. Barney was the nerd, and Gus was the jock. He’d lost count of the jerks he’d popped for tormenting his best friend. They’d gone to the same college, graduated, and gone on to get their master’s degrees together, after which Barney took off in the financial world and set it on fire. At age thirty-two, Barney was the youngest hedge-fund manager on Wall Street, and he was worth billions. Not to mention, he had a sterling reputation. No shortcuts for him.

Outside, in the April morning sunshine, Gus looked around. To the east, he saw a bank of dark clouds heading his way. What was it his granny always said? April showers bring May flowers. Yeah, that was it.

His shoulders slumped at the mere thought of his grandmother. Barney was going to have a fit when he found out that Granny Rose wanted nothing to do with Gus. Barney loved Gus’s grandmother and dippy aunts as much as Gus did.

Gus went through his contortionist routine as he struggled to get into the Beetle. Barney was going to laugh his ass off when he saw the Bug. Gus winced in pain. Then again, Barney could be diplomatic at times. He might not say a word. Yeah, right.

Gus peeled out of the parking lot—as much as a Beetle could peel—and headed for the main drag of Sycamore Springs, Virginia. Population: eighty thousand. He loved this town. He’d grown up here. Knew every store, every nook and cranny of the town. He knew all the shortcuts, as did Barney, because they’d ridden their bikes all over when they were kids. He was partial, as was Barney, to the old section of town, where the drugstore still had a soda fountain, where the hardware store still set out its wares on nice days, where you could still get penny candy at the Emporium, only it was a nickel now.

Then there was Eva’s Café, with her homemade everything. The candy shop, the hat shop, and, of course, the filling station that served lunch to anyone in a hurry. All the shops, he still patronized, as did his grandmother and the aunts.

The new part of town was high tech, with Internet cafés, a Starbucks, it seemed, on every corner, and boutiques. There were trendy eateries and a few high-end bistros for the younger crowd like himself, but he rarely patronized them. Barney didn’t frequent them when he was back, either, preferring the comfort of old town. And yet, Barney was as high-tech as they come. Well, that was business. And he was never in town long enough to do much of anything but kick back until it was time to catch a plane to somewhere else. Usually no more than forty-eight hours, barely time to pound a few beers, visit with Granny and the aunts, catch some sleep, and be off again.

Gilligan’s was a ramshackle building by design, at least a hundred years old, a family business with the grandkids waiting tables—and doing their homework at the back tables—while aunts and uncles cooked and saw to the customers. Everything was homemade from scratch, all baked goods the envy of every housewife in Sycamore Springs.

Many a husband had been duped over the years, thinking it was his wife who had baked the delectable pastries she served him while, in truth, they came boxed from Gilligan’s, the boxes ground into bits in the trash compactor so as not to give away the housewife’s little secret.

Gus sighed as he played gymnast again and crawled out of the Beetle. He checked the skies once again. He made a bet with himself that it would be raining in less than an hour. Then the day was going to get even more depressing. He missed Wilson and wondered how the big dog was doing. Probably very well and being spoiled rotten in the bargain. What if his best friend didn’t want to come back to him when he finally found a place that would accept an animal? What would he do then? God alone knew the answer. His thoughts turned to his wife, to Elaine, the gold digger. Where in the hell did I go wrong?

Gus realized he wasn’t going to find answers standing here in Gilligan’s parking lot. Better to go inside and wait for Barney.

When Gus opened the door, he was greeted like a favorite customer and called by name. Even the grandkids doing homework called him Mr. Gus. He often took the time to help the kids with their math. He smiled and waved and was ushered to his favorite table in the back.

Gilligan’s wasn’t a nautical restaurant by any means. It didn’t have any kind of theme or specialty other than home-cooked food and a place that generation after generation took pride in running. There were no celebrity pictures on the walls, but there were plaques from Little League baseball and Pop Warner football, along with pictures of the various teams that Gilligan’s sponsored. Hanging from the rafters were green plants that the grandkids watered from stepladders when business slowed down. The tables were rough plank but sanded and polished, the scars of years of use evident. The captain’s chairs were oversized, with green-and-white cushions. Gus was thirty-two, and as far as he remembered, the cushions had always been green and white.

There was a counter with stools, where people who popped in for a homemade cinnamon bun and coffee or a slice of pie sat. The tables were for parties of three or more, or two if the restaurant wasn’t busy.

Gus loved the smell of Gilligan’s because it reminded him of his grandmother’s kitchen when he was growing up. It smelled of cinnamon, vanilla, celery, and a touch of garlic. Today there was spaghetti and meatballs, according to the chalkboard, so that accounted for the scent of garlic. The soft garlic twists were every bit as famous as the spaghetti and meatballs. There were never more than two specials on any given day, and today the second special was chicken potpie. He was going to get the spaghetti and meatballs, and he knew that Barney would opt for the potpie. They’d top it off with a big slice of blackberry pie with homemade vanilla ice cream.

One of the grandkids he’d helped with homework carried a large glass of frosty ice tea and set it down in front of him. Gus ordered a second glass for Barney, who came in just as the tea arrived. Gus got up. Manly hugs were followed by ear-to-ear grins, and they were back to the good old days, at least for a few minutes.

“You look like crap, Gus,” Barney said as he settled himself in the chair, which just fit his girth. It was then that Gus realized it had been almost a year, and fifteen pounds, since he had last seen Barney. Make that twenty pounds.

“You look a little heavier, Barney,” Gus retaliated.

“You’re right about that. I have to go on a diet, and I will. Too much rich food. What’s your excuse?”

Gus told him.

Barney blinked, then blinked again. “Now, you see, that’s why I never got married and will never get married.”

“Get off that bullshit, Barney. The reason you won’t get married is you don’t like to share, you’re selfish and materialistic, and no woman will agree to your prenup.”

“That, too,” Barney said cheerfully. “You should have listened to me about the prenup. Oh, no. You said you were in love, and it was forever and ever and into eternity. What’s it been, a little less than a year?” Barney laughed at his own wit. Gus scowled.

“That’s got to hurt that she took your Porsche. I know you loved that car. At least she let you keep the dog; that says a lot.” Barney laughed again.

“The only reason she let me keep the dog is that Wilson makes her sneeze and itch. Granny has him. She’s going to spoil him rotten, and he won’t want to come with me when I finally find a place to light that will take animals. I’m staying at the Hampton Inn right now. Granny won’t even talk to me. Well, that’s not quite true. At first she talked to me through the screen door; then I was allowed into the kitchen. But she won’t let me move in. She has all that room at the farm, but I’m definitely persona non grata right now to my family.”

“You don’t think that extends to me, do you?” Barney asked anxiously. “I was planning on going out to the farm. I brought Granny and the aunts some presents from Paris and wanted to give them to them.”

“Nah, they’ll let you in. They love you. It’s me they hate,” Gus said morosely. “Maybe you can plead my case when you go out there. Give Wilson a hug for me. I’m going to spend the afternoon looking for an apartment I can afford. I have to get a lawyer on board pretty quick. Stop looking at me like that, Barney. I know I screwed up, and I take full responsibility. I sure hope she can’t come after my business. I busted my ass to build it up, and I don’t want her to have any part of it. Damn, I was stupid. Why didn’t you warn me or say something?”

Their food arrived. Gus stared down at his plate and couldn’t remember ordering. He shrugged as he shook out his napkin.

“I did try to warn you, and you told me to mind my own business. If you recall, I tripped you as I handed you the ring, and told you not to do it. Did you listen to me? No, you did not. I rest my case; my conscience is clear. Having said that, now is the time for you to be in the bosom of your family, but since that isn’t going to happen, what are your plans?”

“I’m just glad tax season is over. My head is above water.” As he chewed on the delicious meatballs, Gus explained what he’d done about changing the locks, his will, and the insurance policies.

“None of this is computing for me, Gus. Weren’t there signs? Did you see them and just ignore them? Something must have triggered this. Was it the last three and a half months of tax season? Did you ignore her? Women don’t like to be ignored.”

“I was working eighteen hours a day, so, yeah, I guess I ignored her. She was sleeping when I got home, and when I left at five in the morning, she was still sleeping. One does not ever, as in ever, disturb Elaine when she is sleeping.

“But, come to think of it, yesterday, before I left for the office, she kissed me good-bye. I suppose she only got up because I let her have the Porsche for her so-called job hunting. As for the kiss . . . ?”

“So there was no sex in three and a half months?”

“You got that right.”

“And you didn’t think that was a clue?” Barney gasped.

“I was hoping and dreaming for a spectacular April 17. It was spectacular all right; she booted my ass and my dog out of my house. On top of that, she stole my car!”

Barney wanted to laugh, but he somehow managed not to. “Let’s get serious here. Tell me what you know about Elaine. Not the marriage part, but before. Who is she? Where did she come from? What’s her background? You’re going to need a private detective to get the goods on her in order to have a fighting chance. I know a guy, and when I tell you he is good, he is good. We use him all the time. He can find stuff you would never believe could come to light. I can call him for you and bill it to the firm. No sweat there. And you can use one of our lawyers. I know just the one, too. She is hell on wheels. You need a female lawyer, because she’ll know how your wife thinks. She’s tops. She’s on my payroll, just like the detective, so don’t worry about that, either. You can stay at my place as long as you want. I’m leaving for Hong Kong tomorrow and will be gone six months. And you can bring Wilson with you. Built-in maid service, gardener, and you can drive one of my cars. I’m serious, Gus. I can’t go off and leave you in the mess you’re in. We’re friends, remember? You’d do it for me, so just say yes, and let’s shake on it.”

“Barney . . . I . . . Yeah, okay, thanks. I’ll pay you back, you know that.”

“Hey, who’s the guy who loaned me his last three thousand dollars to start up my own business? I never even paid you back because, jerk that you are, you wouldn’t take it. Just so you know, Mr. Smart-Ass, I started a fund for you with some of that three grand, and someday I’m going to tell you what you are really worth financially. And there’s no way that person you were married to can ever get near it. Whatever happens with that person, your future is secure, my friend.”

Gus’s eyes started to burn. All he could do was nod.

The blackberry pie and ice cream arrived, again, without being ordered. Gus ate while Barney sent text messages that went through at the speed of light. He smacked his hands together before he dug his fork into the pie. “They’re on it, and you are now officially represented, my friend. Let’s finish up here, get all your stuff, and take it out to my house. Then I’m going to go and plead your case with Granny. You okay with that?”

Gus nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. He knew he was in good hands with Barney’s people. It still didn’t make him feel better.

The bill paid, the two friends left the restaurant. It was starting to drizzle, and the day had turned as gray and gloomy as Gus felt. He looked at the yellow Beetle and groaned.

“I have an idea, Gus. Get in that hunk of junk and drive it to the first fireplug you see and park it. Let the cops tow it and have Miss Elaine fight with the town over it. I think—and this is just a suggestion—but I think you should park it as close to the police station as you can. And, when you get out, wipe off all your fingerprints, just to be on the safe side. It is registered in her name, right?” Gus nodded.

“You won’t need it anymore, so that’s one less thing on your list to worry about. My detectives will find where your car is, and they’ll heist it for you. Since the car is in your name, there is nothing she can do about it. Unless you were dumb enough to put that in her name, too. Were you?”

“No, I didn’t put her name on it. But I have to be honest with you, I did think about it; the business, too. She was harping on me about that, last fall, but I just didn’t get around to it.”

Barney laughed as he climbed behind the wheel of a snappy Mercedes-Benz. “I’ll follow you, and, Gus, you’re in good hands now.”

Two hours later, Barney’s car was loaded with all of Gus’s belongings. After a forty-minute drive, they set about unloading the car at Barney’s place. Gus was never sure what to call Barney’s digs. Was it an estate? A minicastle? A palace fit for a king named Barney? Barney said it was just a house to sleep in that happened to have a six-car garage, with a high-end car in each bay. A house that sat on five pristine, manicured acres, which held a tennis court, an Olympic-size swimming pool, a four-bedroom guesthouse, and another building where his live-in housekeeper and gardener resided.

The inside of the palatial house was just as spectacular as the outside, but in a different way. Inside, it was all home and hearth, with comfortable furniture, fireplaces that worked, and a kitchen that would have been any chef’s idea of perfection. It was homey, and it smelled like Granny’s house. Barney had told Gus once that one of his rules was he always wanted his house to smell like something was cooking or baking, and he had succeeded.

Gus looked over at his pudgy friend—at his owlish glasses, his thinning hair, his kind eyes—and got all choked up. “I don’t know what to say, Barney.”

“Then don’t say anything, okay? You know I hate it when you go all mushy on me. I have an idea. Let’s pitch a tent and sleep out tonight. We can make a campfire and roast some weenies and marshmallows. We can tell ghost stories, or you can tell me horror stories of your marriage, whatever pleases you. It will be like old times, but now we’re legal to drink beer. What do you say?”

“I say let’s do it. Barney, did you ever have anyone kiss you until you thought your tonsils were going to pop out?”

“Yep.”

“And you didn’t marry her?”

“Nope.”

“But why?”

“Well, for one thing, I wanted to keep my tonsils. So I won’t get sore throats. You get sore throats once your tonsils are removed. For another thing, when a woman kisses me, I want it to be because she loves me and wants me to be the father of her children.”

“Ah.”