The Morbid and Sultry Tales of Genevieve Clare (14 page)

“You should know, plenty of men in this town would have happily asked for your hand.”

“Right,” I scoffed and rolled my eyes with a grin.

“It’s true. I’m too old for you, but I know Chad Healy had it bad for you for years. Probably still does. But what he and everyone else knows is, they’d always be your second choice.”

I was happy when he steered the subject away from my love life.

“I’ll go to league night. I’ll meet this green-eyed gal.”

Awesome.

By the time we left, I could see that Delilah was “tuckered out,” as she put it. Mrs. Smith helped her into the house. I followed behind them and said I would wait to have afternoon coffee and cake with her if she wanted. Mrs. Smith was going to start on dinner and do some housework while Delilah went for a little nap.

But first, she turned in her chair and said, “Thanks for today, Gen. Why don’t you go and enjoy the river from my garden. The sun is shining, just beautiful this time of day. You take your time, and I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

Mrs. Smith went to get Delilah settled. I stared at the baker’s box, filled with four cupcakes, and wondered if I should listen to my accountant and start claiming my bakery bills on my taxes. I’d spent over forty dollars in baked goods for one day of work.

But it was worth every penny.

The smile on Mr. Oskin’s face. The satisfaction on Cheryl’s. And later, I knew, when Delilah and I had our coffee and cake—probably after dinner if she was planning on a two-hour nap—she, too, would enjoy the baked goodies.

I grabbed my bag, buttoned my coat, and made my way down the back porch steps and into Delilah’s magical garden. I could never imagine caring for something like it; I would most assuredly kill every living thing around me. My dad once commented I could probably murder a geranium by just looking at it funny. He made sure to add that geraniums were one of the heartiest plants around, true survivors, like a cactus. And that’s how my reputation for being a plant-killer began. I was given a cactus by Ahren’s dad as a joke. I watered it every day. No one said a word, not my dad, my mom, or my Gran as I crushed up my chewable vitamins, mixed them with milk and orange juice, and fed them to my cactus.

It lasted a month.

When my parents and Gran died, our home was like a flower shop since everyone knew they would be buried in the cemetery next to the house. But one woman, an older lady from the church, gave me this complicated plant arrangement with care instructions and told me, “To remember them, so year after year, you’ll look at it and know that their memory lives on.”

Worst gift ever.

It also lasted a month.

But I appreciated the beauty around me so much. I could never live anywhere else, except close to the river and the redwoods. This garden had an organized wildness about it, delicate ferns, bushes with tiny blossoms, sturdy looking tropical flowers. I thought it odd for them to bloom in December. I moved along, slowly, taking in every last beautiful plant with admiration and awe, until I came to a narrow trellis-covered pathway. My first thought was being caught in a spider web since the space wasn’t large, but I spied that, in a few more yards, I was going to walk into the showpiece of the garden. I was not disappointed.

The path opened into a gazebo you would never know was there unless you were on the river itself. Hanging from the roof was a large garden swing. It was something right out of Better Homes and Gardens. The seat was deep, so deep, you could get lost for hours simply listening to the water rush by, lost in the inviting mossy-green cushions.

I had a couple of hours; Delilah told me to take my time, so I put my bag on the swing and sat down next to it. A matching storage bench was to the left of the swing, and I thought it probably housed garden tools or something. I decided to have a peek inside and spied two heavy blankets and a pair of rain boots I suspected were Delilah’s from years past when she puttered in the garden herself. I took out a blanket, shaking it in case some little creature decided to call it home, and slipped off my Chuck’s to settle into the cushions. If you’re going to do it, do it right. I pushed my weight forward and set the swing in motion, closing my eyes as it rocked back and forth.

I drifted off, and when I woke, I was relaxed into the solid warmth next to me.

His voice said, “Can’t believe she kept you a secret for as long as she did. Did you know Dad designed her garden?”

“No,” I answered and curled deeper into his arms.

“Friday isn’t your usual day with her,” he stated. “That, old lady. Who woulda thought?”

We watched the sun set on the river, then we had Mrs. Smith’s turkey sandwiches. Afterwards, we had cupcakes and coffee, all under the knowing, smiling eyes of Delilah Von Kesteren.

Two weeks had passed since Ahren and I reunited. Although I didn’t celebrate the holidays, I still gave gifts. Some I bought online, but most were bought in town. I gave a little something to the people I saw each and every day.

This was my first time seeing Bryce in two weeks. I arrived at The Elms armed with eggnog, meringue layer cake, and gingerbread cookies to share with his geriatric cohorts. I walked right in, oblivious to anything but the cloud I’d been flitting around on since love came back to grace me with its awesomeness. And that was exactly what it was. Awesome.

Cheryl just about tackled me when she gripped my arm and pulled me into the break room. She wasn’t hurting me, not on purpose anyway. But whatever she had to say was urgent.

“Was it you? It had to be you. It was you, wasn’t it?” I smiled my answer while she explained, “I met this man… Taylor… funny thing, we met at the bowling alley!”

“You don’t say,” I commented in mock-surprise.

“Oh, I do. I do say! And, I don’t know how else to explain this but, we fit together perfectly. And what’s even more interesting, do you know what my very first job was?”

“I could guess,” I kept smiling, “but I want the juicy details.”

“I worked for the county morgue. Can you believe that?” she beamed.

As much as I wanted to hear all the juicy details, I really needed to get going. Christmas Eve, and I had a full day.

I had to buy a tree.

I was supposed to meet Ahren at Delilah’s.

I was freaking out.

“Cheryl, that is great. Think we can talk next time? I hate to rush you, and I totally want to hear everything, and I mean everything, but I…I am a busy bee today.”

“God, of course, of course.” She was so happy, and, as she chatted away and escorted me right to Bryce, she said, “Even if it doesn’t work out, thank you.” She put her arms around me to give me a big squeeze, even though I was bogged down with a big white box of baked goods and a large gift bag…in addition to my normal shoulder bag.

“Merry Christmas, Cheryl.” I said it to convey the warmth I felt at knowing I’d successfully meddled in other people’s love lives. She left me alone with Bryce and still high from, well, everything, I hadn’t noticed he wasn’t greeting me like he usually did.

I took off my big coat to reveal a shirt I’d bought online especially for him. It was Rudolph’s cartoon face. The antlers were on the shoulders. His big eyes stretched right over my D cups, and, written below his bright shiny nose, it said, “Wanna guide my sleigh?” When I’d made myself comfortable and opened the box to a magnificently displayed piece of cake, I moved to lean down in front of him, my boobs right in his face.

“Bryce?” I asked softly.

He looked up at me, his eyes puffy and bloodshot. He lifted a shaking hand with a handkerchief to his eyes and said, “Sorry, Cookie. Shoulda warned ya. I’m no good on holidays.”

I set the cake down so I could hold his hands with mine. “Me neither. My birthday is the worst.”

“We didn’t have kids. Shoulda had kids. Maybe they woulda come to see me. Woulda taken the sting outta losing her.”

He was crying. It was quiet, and it physically hurt to see him in so much pain.

“You and that fella…” he said. “That Finnegan boy, he’s back. I heard you two are back together.”

Jesus, this gossipy town. “Yeah. But we’re not rushing things. We—”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

He wiped his nose. “Why aren’t you rushing things? What’s the hold-up? He married or something?”

I rolled my eyes, because it was just like him to jump to that conclusion. “No.” I giggled. “He’s not married, never has been.”

“Then he should marry you. Tomorrow. Go to Vegas. You can get married any day of the year in Vegas,” he informed me.

“Bryce, I—”

“Cookie, I get it. But you know, I miss Mare somethin’ fierce. Pissed at God for not takin’ me quick after she went, but that’s life. Wish I’d thrown her over my shoulder and dragged her ass to Vegas the day I met her. I was that sure. Woulda had more time, Goddamnit.”

I sat down into the chair again and pulled the huge-ass piece of cake to my lap.

“Cookie? Gonna share that with me?”

“Fuck. Off,” I said with a mouth full of crunchy meringue.

He chuckled next to me. “Cookie?” he said gently as his fingers wrapped around my wrist. I though he was just trying to take my cake, but he said. “Leave the cake and whatever else you brought, and next time you come to see me, you bring that boy. He probably doesn’t remember, but he used to mow my lawn. I worked in Richmond, was never home when he came, but Mare told me all about him. How he used to listen to every word his old man said. Go on, Gen. It’s Christmas, and as much as I’d like to stare at your titties in that shirt, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it even more.”

“I’m scared,” I whispered and put the fork down.

“Yeah, I know ya are. We’re all gonna die, Cookie. Death is the devil you know. The better you live, the more you piss him off, and he just hates that. Right now, you’re lettin’ him get his way.”

I handed him the box, knowing there was no point in staying. I was either going to burst into tears, or Cheryl would be back and likely piss-off Bryce.

“Are you sure you don’t want the company?”

“Loved hearin’ the word ‘fuck’ come out of that mouth of yours. I reckon you just made my day. See ya next year. I’ll share my cake with Cheryl. She’s got herself a man now. She told me he was helpin’ her with that stick she had up her ass.” He grinned.

I let my head fall back as a laugh escaped me. Tears averted.

“Merry Christmas, Bryce.”

“Back atcha, Cookie.”

****

I decided to go visit Rocky. She said she’d be working in her mom’s shop for the day while Guava prepared a Christmas Eve feast. Greer’s Rest was festive every year, and, each year, they had a concert downtown. The kids from the church had a live nativity. Then the Victorian Carolers had a concert. After that was the Wassail Walk, and Guava participated every year. They went from house to house, a kind of walking party. Each home provided finger foods, mulled wine, eggnog, all the normal Christmas boozy cheer. The walk ended with lighting the star atop the tree, then onto midnight carols at the church.

Guava was in it for the nog.

I hadn’t participated since I was twenty-four.

“Hey,” I called out to the empty shop.

Then I heard a fumbling of sorts, a clinky sound that could only be a belt, then up popped Rocky, followed by Cosmo.

I grinned.

She grinned back.

“Hey, how are ya, Frank Zappa?” Cosmo had fashioned his facial hair in a way that could only be described as The Zappa.

“Ya think?” He smiled as he contemplated and stroked his moustache/goatee. “Merry merry, Gen Clarey,” he added.

“Ooo, I like that. Thanks, Cosmo. Here for the cheer?”

“I do like the nog.”

“Yeah, I go for the grog.”

“Jesus, you two, stop it. I’m gonna get jealous,” Rocky teased. Our impromptu rhyme game had only started a week ago when I asked if he wanted to combine forces in the world of professional mourning. There were a few times I’d wished there was another person I could call on as backup.

He had commented, “So, when and if you need a hand, a fellow mourner to also stand?”

“Yes, indeed, I tell you true, another friend to say adieu.”

I had a feeling this was going to be our thing for years to come, because my best friend had found her soul mate and his name was Cosmo. It turned out, he wasn’t a full-time mourner; he was an actor. He was apparently quite good, but also had his real-estate license. I was going to wait until they’d been together for a while, then I would offer them my dad’s office with the apartment upstairs. They’d have to pay utilities, but other than that, it would give them a good start. I just knew, they had what it took to make it work, and both were determined to try.

I walked a little close, but not too close. “A shop full of scented candles and it still smells like sex in here. Seriously, Rock.” I placed the Brewster’s box on the shop counter…one of about fifty I’d started the day with.

Instead of responding to my comment, Rocky asked, “Have you changed your mind about tonight?”

She wanted me to come out with her and Cosmo so much, but it wasn’t time yet.

“Next year, and I mean it. Next year, we’re all yours. Tonight, we promised Delilah. I have a feeling this is her last Christmas. Well, she does anyway, so I want to make it special for her.”