Authors: Heather Webber
Trouble In Bloom (10 page)
"It's all right," I assured her. "I didn't wait long."
"I was hoping to reschedule our appointment. I'd really
like to get the ball rolling on a spring makeover for my parents."
"This is a good time to start planning. Would you like to make an appointment to come in, throw some ideas around?"
"That would be wonderful."
I clicked open the computerized schedule book. Winter was my main planning time for next season. Most makeovers for spring would be booked in the next few months. There were always exceptions, though, especially where my family was concerned.
Roxie gestured frantically.
"Could you hold on?" I asked Sherry.
"Sure."
I covered the phone with my hand.
In a stage whisper, Roxie said, "Is it possible to set one up this week? So we can film it? It would be great for the show, and some free advertising for you."
Most of my publicity lately had been negative, what with stumbling across dead bodies and such. It would be nice to have a positive spin for once.
I nodded and squinted at the computer screen. "Mrs. Cochran?"
"Sherry."
"How about Friday, Sherry, around one?"
"Actually, Friday's not good for me."
I wondered why and if it had anything to do with Willie's prediction. "Thursday?" I asked. "Ten o'clock?"
"That would be wonderful."
We said our good-byes and hung up. I tapped her name into the computer, clicked Save, and picked up the phone to call home.
Where my mother should have been. I hadn't seen or heard from her, which was odd. I suspected she'd watched the show last night . . . She'd have seen my makeover. What did it mean that she hadn't called?
My home phone rang and rang and finally clicked over to voice mail.
I dialed her cell.
It went straight to voice mail. "I need to talk to you," I said. "Give me a call."
The warm mug soothed me. I held it to my lips.
"Are you ever going to drink that?" Roxie asked.
"I'm thinking about it."
"Why wouldn't you?" Nels asked.
"I don't like coffee."
They looked at each other, then looked at me, eyebrows all squiggled.
"Long story," I said.
Roxie looked over the rim of her blue glasses at me. "Just so long as there's a reason."
"There is."
"Good. I was afraid that hair dye steeped a little too long."
I smiled. Roxie had moxie. I liked that about her.
"You can do it," Nels urged.
I could. The new me definitely could. I took a sip. The coffee burned a bitter path to my stomach. "Uck."
"Well, first," Roxie said, "you probably should have blown on it before taking a big gulp like that. Second, did you add cream? Sugar?"
I shook my head.
Roxie elbowed Nels. "Go grab some. And check to see if there's any cinnamon out there too."
For the first time, I wondered if they were related. They treated each other like beleaguered siblings.
Nels came back and dumped sugar packets, little cream containers, a Kroger brand canister of cinnamon, and a stirrer on my desk.
Roxie stepped up, ripped open two packets of sugar, dumped them into my mug, popped the tops of two creamers and poured those in as well. She stirred, then
sprinkled a little cinnamon on top. "Try that."
This time I blew across the top of the mug before taking a hesitant sip. My eyebrow arched. "Not bad!"
She preened. "I was a barista at Starbucks during college. I can make any coffee taste better. Even the dreck you serve here."
"Dreck?"
"You should really be grinding your own beans."
"Ah."
Strains of "Like a Virgin" filled the office. Nels sang along. I flipped open my cell phone when I recognized Ana's number. "Hey," I said.
"Why's your mother avoiding you?"
"She's avoiding me?" This was news. Usually I avoided her.
"I think so. She called me to find out why you need to talk to her."
If my mother had resorted to calling Ana, then she was really avoiding me. "I'll never figure my mother out."
"Your mother?" Roxie piped in. "She's worried you're mad about the construction being delayed because of the picketers." At my stunned look, she added, "I spoke with her this morning when we couldn't find you."
"Who's that?" Ana asked.
"Roxie," I said.
"What?" Roxie answered.
"Not you," I said to her. "Ana."
"What?" Ana said.
"Stop!" I cried. "I'm getting a headache." Not only that, but I was starting to ache all over from my morning with Duke. And I had it to look forward to again tomorrow morning.
"Ana, Roxie says Mom's avoiding me because of the construction guys not being able to work."
"Oh! I forgot about Roxie and Nels. Tell them I said hi!"
I rolled my eyes. "Ana says hi."
"She's nice," Roxie said, pulling out a Sudoko puzzle book.
"Is she single?" Nels asked.
"No," I lied. There was no way I was going there.
"Ana, just tell my mom that I need to talk to her about Tam."
"Is Tam okay?"
I looked at the camera perched on Nels's shoulder. I'd yet to determine how he decided what to film. "She's good. Any word from, um . . . " The camera whirred. "You know."
"No. We still have plans for tonight, though. I've got a late court case, so I'll meet you down there."
"Do you really? Or do you just want your own car so you can leave separately?"
She laughed—but didn't answer.
"Oh, your mother is in love with your new look," she said. "I told her all about Perry, and I think she wants you to marry him."
"Did you tell her about Mario?"
"She didn't care. Oh! Look at the time. I've got to get to court—'bye!"
As soon as I hung up, Roxie leaned forward on her seat. "I've noticed Bobby never calls. Is that normal? Don't you two talk during the day? Actually, he hasn't been around either. How do you maintain a relationship?"
I looked into the camera, then glanced down into the murky coffee mug and focused on the flecks of cinnamon stuck to the ceramic. "We, ah, have a special relationship."
"True love that doesn't need to be validated every two seconds?" Roxie asked.
Forcing a smile, the coffee churning in my upset stomach, I said, "Exactly."
Nine
"Where are we? Oz?" Roxie asked.
I'd taken 63 east off 75 north. After the correctional facility, farmland bordered the road on both sides. Looked like most everything had been harvested already, the soil freshly turned, dark and rich.
"Don't get up here much, huh?"
She shook her head.
"You're missing out."
"On what? Life?" she muttered.
I smiled. If she grew up in the city, then this would seem like another world to her. Rolling meadows, dairy farms, houses set miles apart.
If we continued straight, we'd hit civilization again in downtown Lebanon, famous for its old-fashioned charm, but I turned left onto a gravel driveway and drove it for a good mile.
Ash trees in golden glory lined the main drive, and Lowther House finally came into view.
"Wow," Roxie said.
I agreed.
It was stunning. A two story Georgian-style colonial mansion complete with pillars out front, Lowther House was a residential facility for the retired set. Almost innlike, it offered its residents amenities other facilities could only dream of. A concierge, for one. In-house doctors. Private chefs. It was the best of the best, as the quarter-million
per
year
price tag suggested.
per
year
price tag suggested.
From the front the house didn't seem so elaborate, but I knew from an earlier tour that four additions had been added to the main house. The lower level's fl oor plan looked like the Pentagon's, complete with a courtyard in the center of it all.
We parked near the elaborate fountain, a bronze fl eur de lis, and passed under beautiful stone columns as we walked up the front steps of the main entrance. I'd called ahead to inform Pippi about the cameras, and she'd been thrilled. She was a closet reality TV junkie and a huge fan of
Hitched or Ditched
.
Hitched or Ditched
.
Though I knew the code for the front door, I spoke into an intercom and was buzzed in.
Pippi met us in the grand foyer. Such a quaint term, foyer. This foyer was two stories of square white panels. Beautiful impressionist artwork splashed the walls with color, breaking the monotony of the white. A wide walnut staircase rose up and branched left and right, curving up to the second floor. It was nothing short of spectacular and looked like something out of
Gone with the Wind
.
Gone with the Wind
.
I half expected to see Scarlet come running down, dressed in velvet drapes. The evil part of me had always wanted to see her fall down those stairs. I never could stand that Scarlet O'Hara.
Pippi kissed my cheeks. A little thing, she stood about five feet tall. She had a slender build, most of her weight probably coming from her hair, which was gray and pulled into a full bun atop her head.
She looked like a doppelganger for the grandma from the Tweety Bird cartoons, only a tad bit younger.
Pippi pinched Nels's cheeks, told Roxie she loved her glasses. "Please, please tell me Thad Cochran is just as adorable in real life as he is on TV." Her voice was whiskey rough with a hint of southern charm.
"You sound like my mother," I said.
Pippi looped her arm through mine. "Obviously a woman of impeccable taste."
Though Pippi looked grandmotherly, she reeked of cigarette smoke. I also spotted a tiny heart tattoo at the nape of her neck, peeking out from under a lace collar.
I couldn't help but like her.
"So, Thad?" she asked.
"He's cute."
"And married," Roxie piped in.
Like that mattered, I thought. I wondered if Sherry knew about his behind-the-scenes action with Genevieve Hidalgo Sala. Or if Willie knew, for that matter. Could that have been what propelled Willie and Sherry into each other's arms?
"I'm so sorry to hear about your resident who passed on," I said.
"Yes, me too. Poor Gaye Goldwin passed away after a long battle with colon cancer. Awful, awful disease."
"I'm sorry," I said again, though I'd never met Mrs. Goldwin.
"The doctors here at Lowther House made her last days as comfortable as possible. She was at peace. But enough of the drear and gloom. I'm very excited for the makeover. This place needs a little perking up. Come, let's go upstairs to the atrium."
She led us up the stairs, down a lushly carpeted hallway, and into a large gathering room flanked on one end by a large stone fireplace. The other end held floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the courtyard below. Above our heads, a glass dome showered light down upon us.
"Wow," I heard Roxie say.
Three seating areas split the room into different groupings. Leather sofas, chunky wooden coffee tables, and Oriental rugs helped to define each space. No expense was spared.
"I've closed off this area," Pippi said, "until work is done. I really want everyone to be surprised. They think the room is being painted." She laughed. "I can't wait to see their faces."
"You're doing the makeover in here?" Nels asked. "Inside?"
"An indoor sanctuary." Pippi's bun wobbled as she turned to face Nels. "With a waterfall and lush tropical plants, bromeliads, palms, and even a tree! A little bit of outdoors inside."
"How?" Roxie asked.
I pointed upward, to the atrium. "There will more than enough light for the plants to thrive. I brought the final plans, Pippi."
She motioned to a heavy oak table nearby, and I set out my design board.
Pippi studied it a good three minutes, even though she'd seen it before. "It's lovely, Nina. Just lovely. Everyone's going to adore it."
"Then we're all set. We'll be arriving here tomorrow at eight."
"That will be wonderful. I've planned a day trip to Columbus for everyone, so they'll be out of the house. I'll be in and out all day. I've many interviews set up this week to fill our vacancy." Her light blue eyes filled with tears. "It's always hard to bring in someone new."
"So soon?" Roxie asked.
Pippi folded her hands. "It seems harsh, doesn't it?"
Roxie nodded.
"There's a waiting list three pages long. The sooner I do interviews, the sooner another deserving soul can move in, and start living an enriched life—it's what I strive for here at Lowther House."
"Interviews, though?" Roxie asked.
"Absolutely, dear." She pulled a hankie from her sleeve, dabbed her eyes. "It's not just about money here. You have to fit in." To me, she said, "For you, Nina, I did make an exception to interview someone not on the waiting list."
Confused, I asked, "Me?"
"Yes." Her brows knit. "A gentleman called this morning inquiring about the vacancy. He gave you as a reference. He'll be along in a little bit."
"What's his name?"
"Oh my. I can't recall. I have it in my office. Did you not recommend him?"
"I don't remember telling anyone . . . "
"I'll be sure to clear the matter up before allowing him a tour."
Recommended by me? Odd.
"About tomorrow," Pippi continued. "Except for the east and north wings, you may have free reign of the place."
Roxie adjusted her glasses. "What's in the east and north wings?"
"Bedroom suites," Pippi said. "They're off-limits to respect our residents' privacy."
She led us out of the atrium, back toward the stairs. At the top of the stairs, laughter floated down the hallway. Pippi smiled. "Oh, do come meet Mr. William Umberry and his lovely wife Monique. I believe they're ensconced in a heated game of poker."
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