Love in Bloom Page 5

  “I’m so sorry. Naturally I’ll pay for all repairs. I do have insurance,” Millie assured her.

  “Hey, it could happen to anyone,” the woman assured her back. “And the way my luck’s been running, I’m not even remotely surprised it happened to me,” she muttered, which made Millie feel even worse.

  “I think it would be best if we called the police,” Millie suggested. “I don’t have a cell phone,” she told the clerk. She’d always been so proud of the fact that she didn’t own one, but right now, not owning the gadget only added to Millie’s humiliation.

  The clerk smiled kindly at her. “Not a problem. Jean,” she said to one of the secretaries manning a desk, “can you ask Tom to send someone out here?”

  The secretary nodded and got on the phone.

  “Maybe I’d better look at it,” the young woman decided. She left the office for the parking lot, the little boy holding her hand and skipping along beside her. Not knowing what else to do, Millie followed them out.

  “What happened, Mommy?” the child asked when they reached the cars.

  “Just a little boo-boo, Sethie,” she said. “It can be fixed,” she added, finding a smile for Millie.

  “I feel just terrible,” Millie told her.

  “Don’t,” said the woman. “I can think of worse places to have an accident.”

  “Well, thank you,” Millie said.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry,” said the boy.

  “I’d love to buy you something to eat as soon as we get this mess squared away,” Millie said.

  “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” she said, shaking her head. She was a pretty thing, with long brown hair and big brown eyes. “Like I said, it could happen to anyone.”

  “Only if they were being careless,” Millie said, disgusted with herself all over again. “I was in a big hurry to come in and reserve a garden plot.”

  “Are you a gardener?” The woman’s look turned both speculative and hopeful.

  “I am,” said Millie.

  “I just reserved a plot. We’re going to grow our own food, aren’t we, Seth?”

  The woman said it with such determination Millie had to smile. Ah, the dreams and anticipation that went into planning a garden.

  The little boy broke into a grin and nodded. “We’re gonna grow punkins for Halloween.”

  His hair was a lighter brown than his mother’s, almost blond. He reminded Millie of her son Duncan Jr. when he was little. “That sounds pretty special,” she said to the child.

  “They still have several plots left,” the woman told her. “Would you like to sign up for one while you’re waiting?”

  “All right.” It was, after all, what she’d come here for. If only she hadn’t had that stupid accident and taken the shine off the morning.

  “Are you a good gardener?” the woman asked as they walked back to the office.

  Millie couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t gardened. The sunspots on her hands were like little merit badges. “I certainly have done a lot of it.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not very good,” confessed the woman.

  “Maybe I can give you some gardening tips,” Millie offered.

  The woman nodded. “Thanks. Can you put her next to me?” she asked the clerk as Millie reserved her plot.

  “Sure.”

  “Hello, neighbor,” said Millie, offering her hand. “My name is Millie Baldwin. I’m new to the area.”

  The woman smiled, and this time some of that smile crept into her eyes. “I’m Amber Howell. I’m still new here, too. I work at the bakery.”

  “Ah. Perhaps I could buy you and your son a treat there.”

  “I want a treat,” piped the child, jumping up and down.

  Little boys didn’t like to sit still at bakeries while grown-ups talked. “Perhaps we could buy something there and then visit that little lakefront park,” Millie suggested.

  “I want to go to the park.” Now the boy was really bouncing.

  “I guess that settles it,” said Amber, just as a young man in a blue police uniform walked into the office.

  It was embarrassing having to explain to the officer how she had managed to bang into poor Amber’s car, but he was very respectful. And helpful. He even moved Millie’s car for her, saving both vehicles from further damage.

  As if sensing Millie was still shaken, Amber offered to drive to their picnic. So they left Millie’s car behind, made a stop at the bakery for three bottles of pomegranate juice and half a dozen oatmeal cookies, then went to the park where they enjoyed the sunshine and watched Seth play on the slide.

  “What brought you to Washington?” Amber asked.

  “My daughter lives here. I moved out to help her.”

  “Lucky her,” Amber said wistfully. “I left my mom in northern California.”

  It was always hard for a woman to leave her family. Millie felt a strong tug on her heart. “How did you end up here?” she asked, shading her eyes from the sun.

  “My husband came up for a job. He’s a chef. But the restaurant went belly-up.” Amber shrugged. “We found a little place on the lake to rent. A friend of a friend kind of thing.”

  “Has your husband found a new job?” Millie asked.

  Amber’s face tightened and Millie could feel the anger bouncing off her. “No.”

  “I’m sure he will.”

  “Until he does, we’ve got my part-time job at the bakery, and cheap rent. And growing our own food should save us some money on groceries.”

  Millie thought of all the money she’d spent over the years on her gardens and wisely kept her mouth shut.

  “So, we’ll see you at the garden next month,” Amber said an hour later, as she returned Millie to her car.

  “Sooner than that,” said Millie. “You’ll want to fertilize before you plant, get your soil ready.”

  “Oh.”

  “Chicken manure works well. Just spread it around, get a shovel, and turn it under,” said Millie.

  “Chicken manure,” repeated Amber. “Just spread it around.”

  “And turn it under.” Millie gave her arm a pat. “You’ll be an expert gardener in no time. You’ll see.”

  “Obviously, I need help. With everything,” Amber added, frowning. She forced the corners of her mouth back up. “But, hey, things are already looking up. I’ve got my own garden guru now. I have a feeling my luck is going to change.”

  “Luck is a lot like the weather this time of year,” Millie said, giving Amber an encouraging smile. “It changes often.”

  Amber nodded. “Thanks. I like you.”

  “I like you, too,” Millie said.

  Things had certainly changed for her today, she thought as she drove home. She had started with manure, but out of that had grown hope for new friendship.

  AMBER RETURNED HOME to find her husband, Ty, right where she’d left him, his wiry frame sprawled on a chair in their tiny living room in front of the TV as he watched Judge Judy let some hapless fool in her courtroom have it. Ty’s chin was still thickly stubbled. He hadn’t even bothered to shave yet, and that bothered her even more than the fact that he was parked in front of the TV.

  Seth ran over and climbed in his lap. “We got a garden. We’re gonna grow punkins. And carrots. Mommy said.”

  “All right, bud.” Ty gave his son’s hair a distracted rumpling.

  “And I saw a policeman.”

  That got Ty’s attention. “A policeman?” He looked questioningly at Amber.

  “And Millie took us to the park,” Seth continued.

  “Who’s Millie?” he asked Amber.

  “A woman I met when we went to sign up for our garden plot. She backed into our car.”

  “What next?” muttered Ty. He grabbed his coat and started for the door to inspect the damage.

  “It’s not bad,” Amber said, following him. “You can still drop off applications.”

  “Thanks,” he said cynically, making her wish she’d bit her lip. Nagging d
idn’t help. It only made him defensive.

  Outside, he inspected the back of the car and shook his head in disgust. “Great, just great.”

  “It could have been worse,” Amber offered.

  “Yeah?” His voice was tinged with bitterness.

  “Yeah. Geez, Ty. Seth and I could have been on the road. We could have been hurt. There are worse things than losing your job, you know.”

  He scowled. “Thanks for the reminder.” He took the keys out of his coat pocket and opened the car door.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “To look for a job,” he snapped.

  He started the engine and she stepped away from the car. “Good idea. If anyone is looking for a depressed, grumpy man who needs a shave you’re a shoo-in,” she said as he drove off.

  She doubted he’d go look for job. It seemed these days all he wanted to do was sit around and mourn the fact that they were broke and going nowhere. Getting to this dead end had started as a team effort. She’d gone along with the dream to own a restaurant. She’d signed those loan papers, too. But, when things had started to sour, the team had dissolved. He turned a deaf ear to her pleas that they try to find a buyer and get out before they got completely burned. Instead, he’d put his dream before her fears. He never saw it that way. He kept telling her she was worrying for nothing.

  And nothing was what they wound up with. Ty’s confidence and hard work hadn’t been enough to save them from disaster. They lost the money their parents had invested and they had to sell their house to pay off their SBA loan. Their first home. Maybe their only home.

  Now they were racing toward forty and broke. Failures. At least that was how Ty saw it. And he couldn’t get far enough away from everyone who had witnessed the whole ugly mess. The job in Seattle had provided the perfect escape. But then it dried up, and they moved further north. At the rate they were going they’d end up in blippin’ Alaska. And at the rate their sex life was going, Seth would be an only child.

  At least she had her job at Sweet Somethings, the bakery at the center of town. She hoped someday she’d be baking there, but for now she was just making lattes and ringing up customers. Still, she loved her job. Everyone who came into the place was happy. It felt like a good sign. Even though she was new to Heart Lake, Amber could already tell it was a great community.

  And she loved this run-down summer cabin that they’d found to rent. It had been a steal. Right on the water, it was practically encased in sticker bushes, but it had a little porch to sit on and enjoy the view. Watching that water with its changing moods somehow comforted her, especially on a day like this, with the promising spring sun spreading a bright sheen on the water. Given time, she could be happy here. Maybe that wouldn’t be with Ty, though, not the way things were going between them.

  “Things will work out,” her mother kept assuring her.

  Things needed to start working out pretty soon or she was going to whack a certain chef with her rolling pin.

  MILLIE’S SUNNY MOOD lasted until afternoon when her grand-children came home from school. Like gray clouds on the horizon, they told her it wouldn’t be long before a storm arrived.

  “Gram, someone creamed your car,” Eric informed her as he dropped his backpack on the living room floor.

  Millie looked up from her crossword puzzle. “I know, dear. It’s all taken care of.”

  “They sure did a number on it,” he observed, and headed for the kitchen.

  They sure did.

  “Gram, what happened to your car?” Emily asked when she got home.

  “I had a little accident,” Millie said, and continued calmly peeling carrots.

  “Are you okay? Did you get whiplash or anything?”

  “No. I’m fine.” Exhausted from all the excitement, but at her age that was to be expected.

  “You should sue,” said Emily. She planted a kiss on Millie’s cheek and peered over her shoulder. “What are you making?”

  “Carrot cookies,” said Millie. Debra had loved carrot cookies.

  Emily made a face. “Gross.”

  Before Millie could assure her that carrot cookies were far from gross, Emily’s phone rang, effectively ending their conversation. “No way,” Emily gushed into the phone. “Oh my gosh! Shut up.” And with that she was gone.

  Debra had a little more to say, however. They sat at the table after dinner. The plate of cookies lay untouched between them. “Maybe you shouldn’t be driving.”

  “It could have happened to anyone,” Millie insisted. “In fact, most accidents happen in parking lots.” She was sure she’d read that somewhere. She hoped Debra didn’t ask her where.

  Debra heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Mom. There comes a time . . .”

  “Well, it hasn’t come yet,” Millie, said, cutting her off. “I’m only seventy-six.”

  “Seventy-seven in June,” Debra reminded her.

  “By today’s standards, that’s not old.”

  “Mom, I don’t want you getting hurt. Anyway, I still don’t get why you need a car during the day. There are plenty of things you can do here.”

  Millie frowned. “Is that what you envisioned when you invited me to come stay with you, that I would simply rattle around here alone all day, with no life of my own?”

  “You have a life, with us. And the bus stops right down on the corner. If you want to go somewhere, you can take that. Or I can drive you.”

  “I am perfectly capable of driving a car,” Millie said irritably.

  “Perfectly capable of wrecking a car,” her daughter muttered. “Geez, Mom. Quit while you’re ahead. I’ll put the car up for sale on craigslist.”

  “You will do no such thing,” Millie said. She took her cup and saucer to the dishwasher. “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself just fine. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go read my book.” She marched from the kitchen, enjoying the satisfaction of having gotten in the last word.

  But that satisfaction quickly wore off. Was she that bad a driver? Surely not. She’d never had so much as a ticket.

  She made it to her bedroom with her dignity intact, but dignity was highly overrated. “Really, Millie,” she said to herself, “here you are pouting in your room like a twelve-year-old girl.” It was very immature.

  No, no. Immature was behaving in a way that was completely unjustifiable. Her anger had certainly been justified. Too old to drive. Humph. What would she be too old for next?

  She didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about how a woman’s life became a series of shutting doors as she got older. She leaned on the antique dresser that had once resided in Debra’s room when she was a girl and regarded the wrinkled woman staring back at her. “I’m not too old,” she told the woman in the mirror. That old face was the outside Millie, the casing. The inside Millie was still thirty, and the inside Millie wasn’t ready for a rocking chair yet. She had lots of good years left in her, and she intended to make the most of them. Debra could pretend they had reversed their roles all she wanted, but Millie didn’t need a mother yet. She was going to have her car, her garden, and her new life.

  SIX

  BOBBI ARRIVED AT the Family Inn for her lunch date with Jason dressed to kill. She was wearing her favorite top, the black one that showed a hint of cleavage, her short denim skirt, and her Ugg boots. And she’d accessorized with a red denim hobo purse. She’d drenched herself in Vera Wang Princess, her perfume du jour. Before lunch was over Jason Wells would be madly in love with her.

  She smiled in anticipation. She had finally found her perfect man. He was hunkalicious, he was kind—ordering flowers for his sis, how sweet—and he was in construction, which meant he would know how to fix anything, a skill that would come in handy when she finally had a house. Heck, it would come in handy now considering how long it took the apartment manager to get around to fixing things. All that remained was to find out if Jason liked kids (which she was sure he must since what k
ind of man could be so sweet and not like kids?) and if he liked to dance. She simply couldn’t be with a man who didn’t dance.

  She found him waiting in the reception area, looking at the collection of pictures of various families who had frequented the restaurant over the years. They ranged from black and white—showing men in Ward Cleaver suits and women in hats, their children dressed up in their Sunday best—to glossy color photos of people sporting more casual wear like jeans and polo shirts. The food here was far from five star, but it was okay and the price was right. And that was important. If she’d suggested the Two Turtledoves, he’d have died of sticker shock. She didn’t want to give the impression that she was high-maintenance.

  He turned and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. She had that effect on men. Still, she always seemed to find herself stuck with losers. Not this time though. She knew Jason Wells was a keeper. And she was going to keep him no matter what it took.

  “You look incredible,” he said

  And you are incredible, she thought.

  “Wells?” called the hostess.

  Jason cupped Bobbi’s elbow and stepped them forward.

  The hostess looked at him appreciatively before leading them past a smattering of retired couples and local workers taking a lunch break to a window table with a view of thick shrubs and bushes, and beyond that, a duck pond.

  The best view was sitting right here in front of Bobbi. Jason’s Chaps shirt hung open over a blue T-shirt that draped perfect pecs. Yummy.

  “You know, the guys are still talking about that basket,” he said. “You’re pretty damned clever.”

  She tried to look humble.

  “You’ve got flair. Were you an art major in college?”

  College? Which one? She’d done a quarter at Mount Vista Junior College where she’d flunked Math Skills and Science 101, gotten two marriage proposals, and broke her drama prof’s nose fighting him off one night back in the costume room. After that, she’d decided she’d rather be a drama queen than take drama. She’d managed a semester’s worth of classes at the Northwest Business College where she half mastered typing and flunked her filing test. Who flunked a filing test? Her, of course. She’d always had a fear of testing.