Poisoned Petals (6 page)

Peggy loved her store, with its heart-of-pine floors that creaked when she walked on them and wide windows that fronted the courtyard. A new painting, done by a local art student, pictured summer’s promise of red roses and purple clematis twining across the windows.

A new purple awning poked out from the doors to the Potting Shed that faced the courtyard. That and the wrought-iron table and chair set outside her windows were part of her new two-year lease agreement. Signing that agreement was much easier this time, even though the rent
had
gone up since the first lease. At least now she was confident the shop would make money.

Every shop in the courtyard was going to have an awning. It was a gift from the landlord. Cookie’s Travel Agency had a festive red one. The French restaurant had a bright green one. A sunflower-yellow awning was going up over the door to Emil and Sofia Balducci’s Kozy Kettle. As usual, Emil was outside supervising the project.

“Peggy!” He hailed her when she tried to slip by to get her mail without being noticed. “What do you think? The yellow glares, right?”

Emil’s stubborn Sicilian accent delighted the uptown ladies who visited his shop for breads, cakes, and coffee on their lunch hour. His thick, black mustache curled at the ends, and his swarthy features had settled into the downside of middle age. He was a terrible flirt, as long as his wife, Sofia, wasn’t around. When she was, he was careful.

“I think it looks wonderful,” Peggy enthused. “The courtyard looks like a bazaar.”

“Bizarre!” He ruminated over the word. “Exactly! I am going in to call him and tell him that we don’t want bizarre! We want prosperous. We want happy. Not bizarre!”

“Not . . .” She started to explain, then realized it didn’t matter. He just wanted her to agree with him. It was part of Emil’s nature to want everyone to agree with him when he complained. She pitied the rental agent he was going to call. It was difficult to get a word in during a conversation with Emil.

Peggy ducked back into the Potting Shed before he noticed she was leaving. She’d lied to Paul this morning when she told him she was all right. Her head hurt, and she felt like a truck had rolled over her. But she knew it was the aftermath of everything that happened at Darmus’s home. There was nothing really wrong with her, and it simply wasn’t her way to lie down and cry. The sun was still shining in through the wavy glass windows, chasing shadows and making prisms from the glass frog wind chimes that were hanging from the ceiling. Besides, there was too much to do. New plants had arrived last night and were ready to tag. The bright pink Alice du Pont mandevillas were looking a little dry.

She set up the computer and the cash register for the beginning of another day. If the sun was shining a little less brightly because Darmus was gone forever, she refused to notice it. When John died, she thought her soul was gone with him. But when she finally came back to life, she promised she would never let it go again until it was actually her time. She had the rest of her life to mourn her old friend. Right now she had to attend to her store.

Later in the day she was going to see Rosie again, after so many years apart. Well, at least she
hoped
she was going to see Rosie. She could only go and find out if it was the right person. She wished she had gone to Asheville years ago to find her friend. It was strange that Darmus’s death might finally bring them back together. Sad, too. She was sure Darmus would have liked the idea that she and Rosie might meet again.

He’d been amazed when he got back from Zimbabwe and found they weren’t friends anymore. Peggy had threatened to strangle him if he even suggested their friendship had ended because of him.

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me,” he’d said one day in Charlotte when he’d come to see her soon after she was married. “I thought you might not like me so much anymore.”

“Because you and Rosie separated? You’re still my friend, Darmus.”

He’d shrugged, his dark eyes distant. “One never knows how a friend will react to another friend’s agony.”

Peggy always wondered what he’d meant by that, but John had come home from work in his dark blue uniform and wanted to talk to Darmus, too. She’d never remembered to ask him about his strange comment.

Selena Rogers, her full-time assistant, came in around ten, just before the lunch crowd. She was a pretty girl. Her shoulder-length blond hair was clipped up on her head, and her slender, dancer’s body was clad in denim shorts and a white T-shirt that barely reached her bellybutton. She stashed her backpack behind the counter and tied on her green Potting Shed apron. “Why are men are so stupid?”

“All men aren’t stupid.” Peggy finished watering the mandevillas and adjusted a hanging pot of shamrocks. “What’s happened this time?”

But instead of pouring her heart out to Peggy like she usually did, Selena stared at her boss. “What’s up with that voice? Is this an older woman thing? Does Steve like it?”

Sam Ollson, Peggy’s landscape manager, arrived pushing a cart of grass seed into the shop from the back storage area. He was a big, muscled man who looked more like a life-guard than a student who wanted to be a surgeon. His blond hair was almost as long as Selena’s, and his smooth, tanned skin was mostly exposed in a green Potting Shed tank top. “If you ever watched anything on TV besides
Survivor
, or read the newspaper, you’d know Peggy tried to save Darmus Appleby’s life yesterday. He died when his house caught fire. I’m sorry, Peggy. Should you be here?”

“I’m fine, Sam. Thanks.”

“A fire?” Selena’s blue eyes were wide. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry. Why don’t you come and sit down in the rocking chair?”

“I’m fine,” Peggy said again, almost wishing Sam hadn’t come in at that moment.

“Wow,” Selena whispered. “I know Dr. Appleby was your friend. I wonder who’ll take care of the Community Garden now.”

“That’s part of Feed America,” Sam answered. “Which if you watched the news or—”

“Shut up!” Selena put her hands on her ears. “Do you see what I mean, Peggy? All men are stupid!”

Steve waved to her through the big front window. It was time to go. And just in time. “I’m going to be gone until this evening.”

“Take your time,” Selena told her. “I’ll handle the shop. And this big dork!”

“Don’t worry,” Sam responded, as he always did, “I’ll handle the shop and this pitiful excuse for an assistant.”

“Pitiful?” Selena rounded on him as Peggy opened the door to leave, calling out that she would see both of them later.

She closed the door firmly behind her and smiled at Steve as the breeze blew through his thick, brown hair. “I’m ready to go.”

“How do you ever get anything done with the two of them fighting all the time?”

“They don’t fight
all
the time. They really love each other. It’s just kid stuff. They’re like brother and sister.”

“I’m glad they work for you and not me.” He shook his head. “They’d drive me crazy.”

“You may have to hire an assistant, as busy as you’ve been,” Peggy joked. “Selena has a younger sister looking for a summer job.”

“Troublemaker. Are we taking my Vue or your truck?”

 
PEGGY ALMOST LOST HER NERVE when they finally got to Asheville.

It wasn’t hard to find the reflexology clinic. There were colorful patterns painted everywhere on the building walls. It reminded her of the Volkswagen van Rosie used to drive in college. Then she and Steve followed the signs to the apartment above the clinic, and now Peggy faced the door.

There was a large sign showing the important parts of the foot right next to the green door that led into the apartment. Peggy stared at it like it was fascinating, hoping Steve would think she was too enthralled with it to notice she hadn’t knocked on the door. She continued to look at it while she considered what she would say after almost twenty-five years of neglecting her friend.

Of course, the person behind that door might not be Rosie. Maybe she should have called first. It was a long trip to find a stranger looking back at her.

But she felt sure Rosie would be there. They were so close in college, always finishing each other’s sentences and knowing each other’s thoughts. People joked that they must be psychic. Peggy felt like that now. It was as if she knew Rosie was there from the moment she first saw her name online.

“Cold feet?” Steve guessed accurately from behind her. “No sign can be that fascinating.”

“Yes.” It was amazing how well he knew her after such a short time. Almost scary.

“We’ve come all this way. I think you should at least see her. Maybe it won’t even be her. Of course, if you’d rather, we can just leave and drive back the way we came.”

“I know. But that would be
too
easy. I’m not a coward, but I hate trying to come up with a reason for not calling until I could tell her Darmus was dead.”

“I know you’re not a coward.” He grimaced. “
Too
well. It might be better if you
were
more afraid of some things.”

“What kind of things? How can being a coward
ever
be good?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be standing
here
right now.”

She supposed he was right but didn’t say so. She faced the door, lifted her hand, and knocked. Her heart was beating fast, and her palms were sweaty. The green door slowly opened and the smell of patchouli wafted out. A young man, not much older than Paul, smiled at them. He was wearing a gold and red African robe. “Yes?”

Could it be?
She stared at him, certain he would think she’d lost her mind.
Was it possible?
There was no question about it. The eyes were the same and there was something about the expression on his face. The tiny dimple in his left cheek as he smiled. It was like looking at a ghost from the past. This had to be Darmus’s son.

Then Peggy knew. She knew what Darmus was talking about that day when he’d come to Charlotte to see her all those years ago. She knew why he’d been afraid she might not speak to him. She understood why Rosie disappeared so suddenly and never came back to school.
Stupid! Why didn’t I see it then? The timing was there. Why didn’t I think of Rosie being pregnant?

“I’d like to see Rosie.” She extended her hand, feeling she knew him. She could see so much of Rosie in him, too. “You must be her son.”

He frowned. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of hers.” She put her hand down when he didn’t try to take it. “Peggy Lee.”

“Who is it, Abekeni? Does someone want treatment?”

“Rosie?” Peggy called out, ignoring Abekeni’s defensive stance in the doorway. “It’s me, Peggy.”

A tall, slender woman with skin the color of dark chocolate came to the door. There was gray in her black hair and some wrinkles around her unusual green/gray eyes. But Peggy would have known her anywhere.

“I can’t believe it! Peggy! Is it really you?”

“It’s me, Rosie. It’s been so long.”

Rosie rushed past her son and hugged her old friend. “Oh my God, it’s been so long! How did you find me?”

“I saw your name on the Internet with your business. I probably should have called first, but I decided to take a chance. How have you been?”

“You
knew
, didn’t you? The way we always knew about each other. I’m fine. Wonderful.” She glanced at Steve. “I don’t think this can be John! If it is, I want his secret!”

“No.” Peggy explained briefly what happened to John and introduced Steve. They shook hands, and Rosie invited them into her home.

“Would you like some hibiscus tea?” Rosie asked. “I think the kettle is ready to boil.”

“That would be wonderful. We’d love some.” Peggy accepted for Steve as well. “I feel so bad about not contacting you before this.”

Rosie showed them into her purple and green living room. The look was straight from the 1960s. Colored beads hung from the doorways, and psychedelic paintings hung on the walls. The furniture was all giant bean bag chairs and papasans. Incense burned in a moon-shaped lantern over the fireplace.

“Don’t feel bad at all. I
chose
this way. I didn’t want anyone to know about Abekeni. I didn’t really go home when I found out I was pregnant with him. My parents would
never
have understood. Things were much different back then! I came here to stay with some friends. I planned to give him up and to continue my schooling. Then I saw his sweet face. I knew I’d have to find another way. And I did.”

“He’s a wonderful combination of both of you.” Peggy noticed that Abekeni withdrew from their conversation. He seemed a little old to be so sulky.

“In looks.” Rosie shrugged. “But he’s not like either of us in personality. He plays African music with a tribal band. They’ve even made a CD.”

“That’s wonderful!” Peggy praised him. He stood up and left the room, going behind a purple bead curtain. “And you became a reflexologist.”

“Yes. It’s been very satisfying. Helping people in their pain and sorrow was something I wanted to do as a nurse. But this has been better. It’s made me happy, and I make a good living. I love it here in Asheville. The air is so clean, and the people are very supportive.”

“The Mecca of New Age in the South,” Steve quoted, grimacing after a taste of the hibiscus tea.

“Exactly!” Rosie smiled, not minding the tag the press attached to the city.

Peggy put her cup on the purple tabletop that was embossed with astrological signs. “Did Darmus know you were pregnant? Did he know he was a father?”

“No.” Rosie tossed her head. “Why would I tell him? He was quite clear about
not
wanting to be with me anymore. Zimbabwe was more important to him. The call of the wild. I have my pride. And I’ve raised
my
son without him.”

“That was a hard road.”

“But worth it! Darmus was always so superior anyway. I know the saying is “older and wiser,” but he took advantage of that. He was older than us, Peggy, but not wiser. Just greedier for attention and power.”