Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

Susan Mallery



1

Kelly Murphy was willing to accept certain injustices in the world. That brownies had more calories than celery. That wearing white pants meant getting her period—regardless of where she was in her cycle. That her car would be low on gas only on days when she was running late. What she did not appreciate or accept was the total unfairness of Griffith Burnett not only returning to Tulpen Crossing, Washington, nearly a year ago, but apparently waking up last month and deciding that stalking her was how he was going to spend his days.

The man was everywhere. Every. Where. He was the aphid swarm in the garden of her life. He was kudzu, he was rain at an outdoor wedding, someone spoiling the end of a movie just as you were getting to the good part, all rolled into one.

“You’re putting a lot of energy into the man,” Helen Sperry pointed out in a let’s-humor-the-crazy-girl tone.

“This isn’t about me,” Kelly told her. “I’m not the one who’s always there. I’m not the one lurking.”

“If you keep seeing him wherever you go, a case could be made that you’re stalking him.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” Kelly muttered as she pulled in front of the craft mall and parked her truck.

“Did you know Griffith back in high school?” Helen asked. “You’re what? Three years younger? You couldn’t have had the same friends.”

“We didn’t. I was a sophomore when he was a senior,” Kelly admitted. “We didn’t have any classes together.”

But not having the same classes in no way meant she hadn’t known who he was. Everyone had known Griffith Burnett. He’d been one of those godlike figures blessed with good looks, a brain and athletic talent. She’d been the slightly weird girl he’d never noticed...until he’d broken her delicate, young girl’s heart.

“I’m sure him being everywhere you are is just one of those things,” Helen said. “I’m sorry to use logic, but we live in a tiny, little town. You and I cross paths with each other all the time. I see you like five hundred times a day.”

Kelly smiled. “But we’re friends and I like seeing you.”

“Back at you.” Helen looked at her. “You okay or is there something going on I don’t know about?”

“Nothing but Griffith,” Kelly told her. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that I can’t take two steps without seeing him.” Words that sounded great but that she didn’t believe for a second.

If she were anyone else, or if he weren’t who he was, she might think he was interested in her...in a boy-girl kind of way. He always spoke to her when he saw her, and smiled. His gaze seemed to linger. But there was no way he wanted anything like that from her. Kelly had proof.

Thirteen years and some odd months ago, she’d turned a corner and had run into Griffith. She’d been on her way to AP English and he’d been...well, she had no idea what he’d been doing. For less than a second, as her books had gone flying, she and Griffith had been plastered together from chest to thigh. She’d never been so close to a boy before. Never been so aware...so everything.

Then he’d stepped back. He’d helped her pick up her books, winked when she’d stuttered an apology, then had lightly, and oh so gently, squeezed her hand before she’d darted off to the safety of her class.

In those magic seconds, when his fingers had touched hers and their eyes had locked together, she’d fallen totally and completely in love with Griffith.

It had been the kind of true love born only of a pure and inexperienced heart. She’d never even been kissed. From that moment on, she dreamed only of Griffith.

Just a week later, she’d walked by him standing with his friends. One of the guys had called out something about her being “doable.” A gross and disgusting comment that had made her cringe, but that had been nothing compared to Griffith’s casually uttered, “I couldn’t be less interested.”

She’d been devastated and had immediately turned and run. She’d been so upset and hurt that she’d needed somewhere to put all that emotion. That evening she’d had a fight with her mother, the kind where things best left unsaid were spoken and lives altered forever. Kelly knew in her head that what had happened with Griffith had nothing to do with her mother walking out on their family less than twelve hours later, but for her, the two incidents were forever linked.

She shook off the memories and grabbed her copy of Eat, Pray, Love. Their book club was discussing it tonight—for the third time—and she vowed that from this second on, she wouldn’t think about Griffith ever again. At least not for the next three hours.

She followed Helen out of the truck and into Petal Pushers—the name du jour for the local craft mall the town hoped would be a tourist draw. There were booths where people could sell everything from handmade crafts to antiques to food. At the far end of the huge space was a big stage and reception area, along with a few community meeting rooms. All that was missing were the tourists. Vacationers loved to come to Tulpen Crossing for the tulip festival every spring, but beyond that, not so much.

Kelly wanted to say that wasn’t her problem, but as a member of the tourism development committee, she did have a vested interest in getting people back to their small slice of heaven.

It was early on Tuesday night and Petal Pushers was closed. The long corridor to the meeting rooms was dimly lit and their footsteps echoed on the worn linoleum—Kelly’s more than Helen’s, actually. Probably because while Helen wore cute flats, Kelly hadn’t bothered to change out of her work boots. Or her jeans. Or her slightly stained T-shirt.

One day, she promised herself. One day, she would care about clothes and buy a push-up bra and be, if not girlie, then at least vaguely feminine. She should let Helen inspire her.

Her friend was tall, with inky black hair that fell past her shoulders, and startlingly blue eyes. She had plenty of curves and always managed to look sexy, no matter what she wore. Helen worried about carrying a few extra pounds, but Kelly didn’t see that at all. Helen was lush while Kelly was...boring. She had brown hair she wore in a ponytail. Brown eyes. No curves, no noticeable features at all. She was plain.

She supposed she could try to be more Helen-like but who had the time? And even if every few months she swore she was going to do something about her appearance—like wear mascara—she quickly got distracted and forgot. Until the next time.

So here she was, clumping along in boots that might or might not have mud on them. At least book club would be fun. There was always good conversation and wine.