Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

“Oh, all right,” the older guy grumbled. “The missus and I have season tickets to the Seahawks. We’re going on a cruise and will miss one of the games. You can have those.”

Seattle was a rabid football town, Olivia thought as she scribbled in her notebook. If she could put together a package with a hotel and dinner at a nice restaurant, she could have a great item.

Several more people offered suggestions. Olivia wrote them all down. Sally called for a vote.

“All in favor of letting Olivia here plan an auction to help pay for the roof, raise your hand.”

Every hand shot up.

“Then that’s what we’re going to do.” Sally looked at Olivia. “I want a comprehensive plan in ten days. Can you do that?”

Olivia felt a flush of pride. “I can.” She hadn’t expected to walk out with a job, but she would take it. As for the no pay part, that was a detail.

“Good.”

They moved on to other business, then the meeting ended. Olivia approached Sally and got her contact info.

“Let me give you my cell, as well,” Olivia said. “I’m hoping word will spread and people will want to call me to donate things.”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea. Brace yourself. There’s going to be junk.”

“There always is.”

“How did your event in Phoenix go?”

A simple enough question. Olivia had gotten involved with the women’s shelter at Marilee’s request. Her mother had wanted to bring attention to the real estate company—helping battered women was simply the delivery device for what she saw as earned media.

While Olivia had started out with the same attitude, she’d quickly found herself enjoying the work. She liked convincing people to give more than they’d planned and had enjoyed the overwhelming details of helping put on a fancy dinner for five hundred people. Unfortunately after two years, Marilee had complained the event was taking too much time and she wasn’t getting enough in return.

“The second year, we increased our donations for the night by thirty percent,” Olivia said proudly. “It was nearly a million dollars.”

“I see. So thirty thousand doesn’t intimidate you.”

“Not at all.”

Olivia walked back to her seat. Griffith rose and pulled Kelly to her feet. “Give your sister your truck keys.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s going to drive herself home. You and I are going out.”

Kelly looked surprised, then flustered. “I can’t. It’s only Olivia’s second night here. I should go home with her.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly fine on my own.” She held out her hand. “I know how to drive a truck. Hand over the keys.” She smiled. “You’re insured, right?”

Kelly flinched. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s a small pickup with automatic transmission, sis. Not an eighteen-wheeler. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I won’t be late.”

Griffith winked. “She’ll be late.”

They walked out together.

Olivia watched them go. While part of her had wanted to spend the rest of the evening with her sister, she’d said what she had because of the Marilee lie. Guilt was a powerful motivator, she thought.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d avoided the truth—something she was confident a psychologist would have a field day with. Was it because her relationship with her mother was so strained these days? Or was she embarrassed by the fact that she’d gone looking for her mother in the first place? Questions that would not be answered tonight, she told herself.

She felt a small twinge of something she was afraid might be envy. Not because she wanted Griffith for herself but because he seemed nice. He wouldn’t have an agenda or a wife waiting at home. He wasn’t interested in arm candy or status. He was just a regular kind of guy who was smitten with her sister. It was the kind of relationship Olivia had never had before. Men looked at her and saw—

To be honest, she had no idea what they saw but it wasn’t anything close to being smitten. Men wanted to sleep with her, to show her off, to claim her, but no one had ever loved her. Especially not Ryan.

So why had she come back for him? What did she think was going to happen?

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered as she walked to her sister’s truck. She was here now. She could figure out what she was capable of without having to worry about what Marilee would do or think. She was free. The auction would be a success or failure completely due to her. This was her chance to prove what she could do. To the world and maybe to herself.





10

Griffith took Kelly’s hand and led her out to the parking lot. She stopped by his truck and stared at their joined hands.

“Technically you never asked,” she told him. “About tonight or any of it. You’re assuming I said yes to your proposition.”

She looked good in the dim light of the parking lot. All big eyes and pouty mouth. He also noticed that while she made her complaint, she didn’t bother pulling her hand away.

“I’m not assuming. You did say yes.”

“When?”

He grinned. “When you asked if I was going to kiss you.”

“That never happened. And if it did, it was the vodka talking.”

“Oh, I know it was the vodka, but it was also you.” He opened the door to his truck. “Get in.”

She climbed onto the passenger seat. “Where are we going?”

“My place.”

“Should I be worried?”

He grinned. “Yes, but not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

He was still chuckling when he climbed in beside her.

He liked how things were going between them. Slow was fine. Slow was better. He was the kind of man who could appreciate anticipation as much as victory.

He liked Kelly—he thought they had a lot of potential. He wanted to see where that went, as long as neither of them wanted to fall in love. Griffith wasn’t a man who failed at much, but he’d failed at his marriage and he wasn’t going there again. He was determined to keep things simple. If a promise wasn’t made, it couldn’t be broken.

It only took a couple of minutes to drive to the older neighborhood where he lived. He pulled into the driveway of the nearly hundred-year-old quasi-Victorian he’d bought seven months ago.

Kelly got out before he could walk around to hold open her door. She stared up at the house.

“Not a tiny home? Are you rejecting the very work that brings you fame and fortune?”

“It brings me neither, and no, I didn’t plan on buying the house. I was living in one of my own designs when this place came on the market. A developer was going to buy it and tear it down. I couldn’t stand to see that happen.”

“You’re softhearted.”

“Don’t sound surprised.”

“I am, a little. Are you going to restore it?”

“Every inch. I figure it will take me about ten years.”

“That’s a long time to live with construction.”

“I don’t mind.”

They went inside.

He’d already started work on the front parlor. He’d taken off the hideous paneling and replaced it with beadboard and a chair rail. Era-appropriate wallpaper was on order and he’d sanded the floors.

She paused to study the room. “What are you going to use this for?”