The Blossom Sisters (18 page)

Gus could feel his head start to spin at what he was hearing. “Correct me if I'm wrong here, Aunt Iris. Right now, you can meet demand, but it's taking too much time for the amount of money you're making. Is that what you're saying? You need to ask yourself, is the money worth all the aggravation of trying to make more? Don't take this the wrong way, but you guys are not youngsters anymore, and stress and pressure is not good for anyone, especially the elderly. I give all of you kudos for going at it full bore, but there have to be limits to what you all can do. That's why I made up a work schedule and insisted that each of you and your staff learn each other's jobs, so it doesn't come down to a few pulling the whole wagon. Are you following me here, Aunt Iris?”

Gus watched as Iris's shoulders drooped. “I am, Augustus, and I think you need to speak with your grandmother. We all love the fortune cookie operation, especially the fortune part. We stress to our two Asian students who make them up that they be upbeat and positive fortunes.”

“Can you blow that whistle for Granny and Aunt Vi?”

“I can do better than that. They're up in the voodoo and witchcraft room. Seems we have a client who lives in the vicinity and is one of our best customers. Her testimonials will blow off your socks. It's all about cleansing the mind and
believing.
Vi told me about an hour ago that an e-mail came in from that client relaying a more than positive outcome to a special ritual that was performed today. When we get those, we post them. And then we get a real spike in orders.”

All Gus could do was shake his head.
Voodoo and witchcraft! Who knew?

Even though he was a CPA, Gus couldn't compute the numbers in his head.

Chapter 19

E
LAINE HOLLISTER REMOVED THE SMALL JAR OF VINEGAR FROM
her bag and looked around to see if anyone was watching her. As far as she could tell, the few people lakeside were packing up their blankets and picnic baskets to go home. She palmed the little jar, drew her arm back, and pitched it with such force that she would have been the envy of an all-star baseball pitcher had one been watching. She chanted under her breath, then took a long, deep breath, holding it for a count of ten before she expelled it. She felt so light-headed, she thought for a moment that she was going to black out, but she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the wave of dizziness to pass.

Elaine smiled as she turned and walked back to the picnic area where she'd parked her car. She looked at her watch. Three minutes to four. She'd made her offering to the depths of the lake right on time. Now all she had to do was wait to see what happened to Isaac Diamond. There was no doubt in her mind that
something
would happen to the lawyer. She just wasn't sure what it would be.

Elaine slid into the little yellow car, settled herself, turned over the engine, flipped in a CD, and drove out of a lot that was now almost deserted.

Overhead, dark clouds were gathering. It would rain shortly, she thought. Just another late afternoon April shower. She hoped it wasn't as ferocious as the one a day or so ago: she'd cowered in the bathroom while Mother Nature had wreaked havoc on the state of Virginia. She hated storms. She didn't like rain, either, when it came right down to it. Who cared if the grass needed watering? Who cared if the leaves on the trees and bushes were wilted? She had more important things to worry about. Gus used to fret about the water bill and about Wilson when it thundered. She had been thinking too much about Gus over the past several days, and that was not a good thing. Gus was out of her life, and she was moving forward. She did think it a tad strange, though, that he hadn't come whining and crying about how much he loved her and he hadn't come to ask her to give him another chance. Why hadn't he done that? Even though she'd put a restraining order in place, he could have called or sent her a text, but he hadn't done either of those things.

Maybe she was slipping, and she'd miscalculated his feelings for her. No, she'd had him, as the saying goes, wrapped around her little finger. His lawyer probably told him the same thing hers had told her—no communication.

Elaine rolled down the window to look upward. The clouds were moving faster, and they looked darker than they had just minutes ago. She stopped for a red light and let her eyes wander to the side of the highway. The Jade Pagoda. She could get takeout. And right next to the Jade Pagoda was the Fine Wine and Spirits Shop. She could pick up a few bottles of wine and have a party all by herself to celebrate what she hoped would be the demise of Isaac Diamond. Ooops, she had to stop thinking like that. She didn't want Isaac Diamond's demise; she just wanted him out of her life and her retainer paid back and maybe something for that obscene performance she'd had the night before. Blackmail was such a sweet thing when you held all the cards. Maybe the right word should be
restitution
.
Blackmail
was an ugly word, but sweet at the same time.

The light changed. Elaine turned on her blinker and made a left turn. She parked in the Jade Pagoda's parking lot and was not surprised to see it nearly empty. Too late for lunch, too early for the dinner crowd. That had to mean she'd be in and out in record time. She could go next door, pick up the wine she wanted while they prepared her food, and, if she was lucky, she'd be home before the rain came.

The wind was brisk—the temperature had been falling steadily since she'd started out around three-thirty. Fireplace weather. No sense in turning on the heat for just a few hours.

Elaine loved it when things worked in her favor. She did indeed make it home just as the first raindrops fell on the back deck. The drops were big and splattered in all directions, which told her it would be a brief shower at best, but it was more than chilly.

Safely inside with the door locked and bolted, and the alarm set, Elaine first made a fire, then carried a small folding table into the den. She liked to eat watching television and with a fire at the same time. The truth was, she loved her own company and her own thoughts. She only had one rule in her life—not to get attached to anything but money. Money could buy whatever she needed. Attachments were baggage, and, more often than not, she moved on in the middle of the night. It was so much easier to leave with just a bankbook and an overnight bag, which she kept in the trunk of her car, than to carry cumbersome items she wouldn't need in her new life. A new life meant new things. Always new things, new people, new surroundings, new everything.

Elaine devoured the food until there wasn't a crumb left. She was on her third glass of wine when she pulled out the four fortune cookies she'd insisted the manager at the restaurant give her. Today, four was her magic number. All compliments of Initial B Enterprises.

She read the first one.
You are almost there.

Fortune cookie number two:
Success is right around the corner
.

Fortune cookie number three:
Your lucky number is four.

Elaine danced with excitement when she read the third fortune. She bounced up and off her chair as she twirled and whirled, her fists shooting in the air. She was trembling so much she could barely open the last one.

Fortune cookie number four:
A windfall is about to drop in your lap
.

Elaine slumped back in her chair, her thoughts all over the map as she stared blankly at the television screen. This was when she had to be patient. Sit and wait for whatever was going to happen. She stared into the flickering flames as they danced in the fireplace until her eyes closed, and she fell asleep.

The landline on the table next to the sofa rang at seven-thirty, waking her from a sound sleep. She managed a garbled “Yes” to the person on the other end of the line.

“Mrs. Hollister, this is Wendy Manning, from Isaac Diamond's office. I'm sorry to be calling you at this hour of the day, but the partners asked me to call all of Isaac's clients to inform them that he suffered a serious accident late this afternoon. I saw in his appointment book that he had a meeting scheduled for tomorrow with you. Nick or Lee can see you, or you can wait till we have more news on Isaac's condition.”

It wasn't often that Elaine was at a loss for words, but this time she was, as she tried to figure out what to say. The best she could come up with was, “How terrible. Can you tell me what happened and the time it happened?”

“The time?”

“Well, yes, the time, because, you see, I was speaking with him earlier,” Elaine lied.

“All I know is that Nick said they, and by
they
I mean EMS, transported him to the hospital at four-thirty this afternoon. They did say it wasn't life-threatening, but that it was serious. Isaac isn't a youngster, as you know. I'm sorry, but I'm not at liberty to say any more. What do you want me to tell Nick and Lee?”

Elaine had her wits about her now. She hoped her elation wasn't showing. “Just tell them I'll get back to them, and, of course, cancel my appointment for tomorrow. I'd like to send flowers if that's okay.”

“Let me get back to you on that,” Wendy said.

“That's fine. Thank you for giving me the courtesy of a call.” Elaine replaced the phone in its cradle and let out a sigh so loud she startled herself. Talk about instant gratification.

Elaine was so giddy with the news she'd just heard, she picked up the wine bottle and brought it to her lips. She gulped until the bottle was empty. In a wild, crazy moment, she threw the bottle at the fireplace and watched it shatter. She fell back into the chair and closed her eyes. Overcome by the wine, she once again fell into a deep sleep.

 

As Elaine was drifting off to sleep, Gus Hollister was firing up his new grill on the deck. The rain, what there was of it, had come and gone, but it was too cool to eat outdoors. Wilson was panting at the scent of the marinating meat sitting on the counter.

“You're doing the dishes, Wilson. I'm cooking, so that means you do the cleanup. We really should talk about the division of chores.” Gus had always talked to Wilson like this and hadn't the slightest reason why. Wilson listened, then ignored him. Maybe it had something to do with living alone, or maybe it had something to do with Wilson's being his best friend and a stand-in for Barney. He tried to remember if he'd talked to the dog like this when he lived with Elaine. Scratch that thought. He didn't want to think about Elaine now or ever again.

Gus let his thoughts go to his grandmother and the aunts and the massive project they were involved in. He had to do something, come up with a working plan, before things collapsed on top of them. He was convinced in his own mind that it was just a matter of time before that happened. What was going on now was temporary and could not be sustained for any length of time. His thoughts were coming lightning fast as idea after idea popped into his head, only to be rejected. He wished Barney were here, with his analytical mind.

Gus checked his baking potatoes. Not done yet. Wilson wouldn't care, but Gus cared; he liked his potatoes mushy and soft. Wilson just scarfed his down, along with the imitation bacon bits Gus sprinkled on his. He set the table and got Wilson's plate ready. Man and dog. For now, he loved it.

The scent of the sizzling steak on the grill had Wilson dancing in circles. Steak night, his favorite night of the week.

Gus talked to the shepherd nonstop as he poured himself a beer, mixed his salad dressing, and checked the potatoes again. He was always chatty with his dog, but today he rather thought he was going overboard. Wilson must have thought so, too, because he kept looking up at him, wondering what was going on.

Gus knew what was bothering him even if he wouldn't give voice to his thoughts—and it wasn't his grandmother, his aunts, or Initial B Enterprises. He had to call Jill Jackson and invite her out to dinner. He had to make amends, and he had to do it as soon as possible, preferably before Barney returned tomorrow night. “It is what it is. You know that, Wilson.” Wilson barked to show he was in the game even though he didn't understand what game, as he waited for his dinner.

An hour later, the kitchen tidy, Wilson out romping in the wet grass, Gus pulled out all his schedules and got to work at the kitchen table. He was going to get this right or die trying. He pushed all thoughts of Jill Jackson, Mickey Yee, and some scummy bastard spying on the seniors out of his mind as he set to work.

At eleven o'clock, his eyes heavy with grit, Gus called it a night. He let Wilson out one last time before trudging upstairs to his new bed. He was about to slip under the sheets when he looked down at Wilson's bed. “You better find it
now
, Wilson, before I get in bed, because I'm not looking for your baby. Go get it! I'll wait to turn off the light.”

He was, of course, referring to Wilson's one-eared rabbit, which he'd had since puppyhood and which was the security blanket that he slept with curled under his chin. Wilson was back in a flash, the bedraggled one-eared rabbit clutched in his teeth.

“'Night, Wilson.”

Woof
.

Gus grinned as he squirmed and wiggled until he found just the right spot in his brand-new bed. He was asleep within seconds. Not Wilson, who lay quietly in the dark, his ears tuned to any new or strange sound in the house. Ninety minutes later, satisfied that his and his master's world was safe, he lowered his big head on his beloved rabbit and fell asleep.

 

Gus woke late the following morning and could hardly believe it was eight o'clock. He didn't exactly have a fire burning in his belly, but it was close. He stomped his way downstairs, let Wilson out, then made coffee. He removed his cell phone from the charger and, before he could change his mind, dialed Jill Jackson's personal cell number as opposed to going through the main number to the Beezer building. He sucked in his breath, wishing he'd rehearsed a speech of some sort. She answered in the same flat business tone she always seemed to use when it came to him.

Be witty, be charming,
Violet had said.
Be yourself,
Iris had said. His grandmother had just looked at him with pitying eyes and said,
Do your best, Augustus.

“Jill, this is Gus Hollister. I'm calling to invite you to dinner this evening.” He rather thought he'd give up his left hand to see the expression on her face at that moment.

Almost at a loss for words, Jill ran her fingers through her hair at this unexpected turn of events. “You don't have to invite me to dinner, Gus. If you want to stop by the office later to discuss the case, we can do that.”

“No, no, I don't want to discuss the case. I just want to take you to dinner. You can pick the restaurant if you like. It can be fancy or it could be that hot dog joint in New Town that everyone raves about. I'm thinking, seven o'clock.”

Jill tried to suck on her tongue to work up some saliva. “You mean, like a
date
?”

“Well, yeah. I drive up to where you live, once you tell me where that is, I ring your bell, hand you some flowers, you put them in water, then we get in my car. And I hold the door for you, the way my granny taught me, and off we go. Yeah, yeah, a date.”

Jill Jackson laughed. Gus was so startled at the musical sound of her laughter, he felt his face turning beet red. He'd never heard such a pleasing, beautiful laugh. He felt tongue-tied.