Page 18 of Wildest Dreams


  “I want to go,” Charlie said. “I want to see him race. I want to take a trip. On a plane.”

  “You’ve been on a plane,” she said.

  “Not recently enough for me to remember,” he reminded her. “You can forbid it, I know. You can refuse and even force Winnie to get a nurse who goes along with what she wants, but that would be so stupid because Winnie makes your life easier than anyone ever has.”

  “That’s not why I took the job,” Lin Su said. “The pay is good. She provides benefits we need!”

  “I want to go,” he said again. “It’s safe, it’s convenient, it’s not expensive, and if you find a way to say no to something so totally cool, it will come between us. In a bad way.”

  Lin Su stopped walking. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m going to go places and do things, Mom. I might not be a great athlete but I’m going to do athletic things. I’m going to run and swim and study and travel. I know it’s going to be hard but I can work at it and it will happen. Because I want it.”

  “The sisters I grew up with had everything handed to them and they were incorrigible,” she said.

  “I don’t know very much about them.”

  “Better that way,” she said, walking again. “You can trust me to tell the truth.”

  “At least part of it,” Charlie said. “Just the part that keeps me in line. Why don’t you trust me with all of it? I’m not a bad person. I do everything you want.”

  She stopped again. “Charlie, how can I show you life is not easy? That you have to be strong?”

  “You think I didn’t figure that out already? You should ask Blake sometime about how he learned to run, learned to swim. He makes our life look like we’re trust-fund babies.” He walked a little more. “I want us to go, to see something we don’t see every day, to watch him race. Mom, I want us to go.”

  “Lucky for you, Winnie is stubborn and she won’t stop until she gets her way and we need the job,” she said.

  “Why are you afraid to go?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m not afraid,” she said. Then she sighed. “It’s a thing I have. About my comfort zone. Where I feel most at ease. And secure.”

  “Where you feel most in control,” he argued. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Winnie and Mikhail have traveled the world. Over and over. Even unfriendly places. This is only Hawaii, just another state, just like driving to California. Except it takes a little longer.”

  “Over six hours. Over ocean,” she said.

  “It’s beautiful there, Mom. And my friend Blake is going to kick ass.”

  “Language,” she said. “Language.”

  “Prude,” he said, laughing.

  * * *

  Grace asked Lin Su if she’d mind the flower shop for a couple of hours right after lunch so she could read with her mother and run a couple of errands. Lin Su was more than happy to—there were many things she loved about the flower shop. It was quiet most of the time, there wasn’t much demand on her besides taking calls and, if she was completely bored, she did a little tidying up. And being around fresh flowers was soothing.

  She decided to walk across the beach when a male voice startled her. “Nice day for a walk,” Blake said.

  She stopped and looked at him. He sat on the bottom step to his deck, drenched in sweat.

  “I don’t think you were out for a stroll,” she said.

  “Eighteen miles.”

  “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  “Tonight. So, you’ll be there.”

  “We’ll be there,” she said. “I hope that doesn’t distract you. Winnie insisted we should go.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be focused on the race. When it’s over, when I’ve recovered, maybe then we’ll get together before coming home.” He leaned back, his elbows on the step behind him. “I hear you put up quite a fight.”

  “There are definitely no secrets around here.”

  “Oh, I think there are still a few,” he said. “Slowly, they’re giving way. Kind of like the little Dutch boy and the dam.”

  “We won’t interfere with your race, with your team. We’ll stay back and just cheer. We can congratulate you later. When you’re done celebrating with all your friends.”

  “Okay,” he said doubtfully, smiling at her. “I do think of you, Charlie, Winnie and Mikhail as friends, however. But it won’t be much of a celebration, if one is even in order. I’ll be tired.”

  “Charlie says you’re going to kick ass,” she said.

  “I’ll give it my best. It’s my plan to have my best race this year. Then I’m going to have some downtime—a few months.”

  “No training?”

  “Just maintenance, not endurance training. I stay in shape, keep my times good, relax the OCD a little...”

  “Oh, so there is some OCD,” she said, smiling.

  “You think anyone could do this for a living without it? We’re driven. It’s kind of a survival thing, I think.” He just shook his head at her. “I’m glad you lost the fight. I’m glad you’re coming. It’s an awesome event, the weather is supposed to be great and the islands are so relaxing when you’re done killing yourself in the race.”

  “Will it be relaxing before the race?”

  “A little bit. I’ll train, but the main thing is to get my head in the game. That takes concentration and a good dose of serenity. Hawaii lends itself to that.” He grinned. “It would be all right for even nonracers to relax a little.”

  “I’ll be working, of course.”

  “Maybe if I’m lucky you’ll have a coffee break at some point.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Charlie will completely dominate what little time you have after the race.”

  “He’ll try,” Blake said. “One of these days you and I are going to spend a little time together. You know, just to get to know each other better.”

  “If there’s anything about me you’d like to know, you only have to ask.”

  “Let me think about that, then,” he said. “I have a feeling if we ever relax and talk, we’ll find out things about each other that surprise us both.”

  “I can’t imagine what,” she said, completely sincerely. Lin Su thought she knew all she needed to know about Blake Smiley. He was a world-class athlete, a huge success in his world, a legitimate good guy and her son’s idol.

  “I think eventually we’ll find out how much we have in common.”

  Impossible! she thought. But she wouldn’t say so; that would be rude. “That will be interesting,” she said. “I’d better get to the shop. Grace needs a break.”

  “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you in Hawaii,” he said. “Have a good week.”

  All the way across the beach she was thinking, Don’t read anything into that. He’s just charming, that’s all. Polite. Accommodating. Delightful.

  And next she thought, I’d better do a little shopping for island wear.

  * * *

  Grace was looking forward to the weekend with great anticipation. Her mother and Winnie’s support crew would be gone to the great race in Kona and she would be alone with her husband for the first time in months. Troy and Grace hadn’t even managed a honeymoon. She was thinking about locking up the shop. There were no major events on her calendar and she could take phone orders from home. But she really didn’t dare. She was going to have to close the shop in two weeks to attend Ginger’s wedding on the Lacoumette farm up near Portland. And there would be a lot more closings in the next several months.

  She was hard at work on a gorgeous arrangement for the resort in Bandon, one of her best customers. They had ordered four extra-large floral sculptures with large rock bases inside a clear glass oval bowl, calla lilies, orchids, birds-of-paradise, curly willow and a fine green fern that was almo
st like moss. They had a very big weekend coming up at the club. A large fall wedding was taking over one of the restaurants and they wanted to put two arrangements in their reception area and similar arrangements in the restaurant where the bride and groom would host over a hundred guests for a seven-course dinner.

  A far cry from the way Grace had married Troy, on the beach with their neighbors present, as well as people from town who just felt like crashing the party. Most of the guests were barefoot within an hour.

  The bell on the front door jingled and she stood, pasted a friendly smile on her face to greet her customer, then froze. “Mr. Germain,” she said, not feeling at all welcoming,

  “Mrs. Headly,” he said, giving his head a nod. “Do you have a moment?”

  “I sent you an email in response to your interview, Mr. Germain...”

  “It was received,” he said.

  There was no posturing or sniffing this time. Of course she had declined to hire him. His attitude just wouldn’t cut it here.

  “You were very polite, thank you,” he said. “I wonder if you have time to talk?”

  “The job is no longer available,” she said.

  “Still...”

  “Come back to the workroom,” she said, questioning her own judgment in this. She did not want to endure a lot of time with him. Plain and simple, he was a snooty pain in the ass. “Have a seat while I finish up. What’s on your mind?”

  “Well, I wasn’t myself the day I came to interview with you and I’d like to apologize for that. I think I was...” He lifted his chin. “I was superior. I’ve been accused of that before.”

  She tilted her head. “Oh, have you?”

  “Once or twice,” he said. “Look, I’m an excellent florist. My shop was in demand. I had a great business.”

  “But what did you tell me? The economy had you upside down?”

  “The economy didn’t help but that wasn’t what went wrong. It was a number of issues that converged like...” He took a breath. “The perfect storm.”

  She listened but he had stopped talking. “Apology accepted. Of course.”

  “There I go, being vague again. I had a breakup. My partner was also my partner in the store. She’d been pilfering for some time, I learned. I guess in the big leagues we call it embezzling, but I couldn’t prove anything since she was doing the bookkeeping. It looked like we were losing money for the first time when in fact she was skimming. Taking money, cheating on me, the store, everything. She didn’t pay taxes that were due and left me a pot of bills that should’ve been paid.” He rubbed his shiny forehead. “And I had other things distracting me or I might’ve caught it. My mother was sick, my sister was in need, my profits had become low when they’d always been excellent. I really am a good florist. Then there were some medical bills in addition to taxes due...”

  She? Grace thought. She’d taken him for gay. Apparently not. He was about forty, a little too old to be delusional or closeted. Straight, she decided. With some affectations?

  “And the partner?”

  “Gone. I looked into a forensic audit, an attorney, a detective, that sort of thing, but in the end I’d be throwing good money after bad. She got away with about a hundred thousand dollars that I’ll never get back and I had to let the store go. You obviously didn’t do a background check or you’d know—I lost it. That simple. I filed bankruptcy.”

  She had looked at him, for as much as internet research could do. She’d noted the bankruptcy. After meeting him, nothing more seemed necessary. “Would you like a cup of tea, Mr. Germain?” she asked, surprising herself.

  “That would be so welcome,” he said, sighing with relief.

  “Let me put the water on,” she said. She didn’t have to go far; she had a little electric kettle on her desk. She rinsed it, refilled it and turned it on before going back to him. “I have chamomile, Earl Grey, peppermint and green tea.”

  “Peppermint would be great,” he said. Then he raised a brow and glanced at her round middle. “Stomach issues?” he asked.

  “From time to time,” she said. “And your mother?”

  “She passed a little over a year ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. And your sister?”

  “Melanie is a special-needs adult and my mother took responsibility for her. We’ve had a little bit of a struggle since my mother died.”

  “I see. You’re right—the perfect storm.”

  She went back to her desk and fixed him up a cup of tea. She put it in front of him and took her seat again.

  “This is lovely,” he said, admiring the arrangement that took up a great deal of her worktable.

  “Thanks. Listen, Mr. Germain,” she began.

  “Ronaldo, please.”

  “Ronaldo, I appreciate your courtesy in coming back, apologizing, explaining, but...”

  “I know. You don’t need me now. Well, the thing is, whoever you hired might not work out and you’ll be looking again. If that should happen, I’ll probably still be available. My shop wasn’t the biggest or most important shop in the business, but we did well. And I loved working with flowers.”

  “How are things going for you now?” she asked.

  He took a sip of his tea. “Getting by pretty well actually. I had to sell my house but I’m living in my mother’s house. My sister is in a group home right now and she wants to come home so much. My hours at the coffee shop are crazy and she needs some supervision. She’s very functional, but she can’t live on her own. She will never live on her own. She needs routine, however, and I can’t keep her with me, change her schedule every week and expect her to adjust. And she calls me,” he said, adding a laugh. “And calls me and calls me and calls me.”

  “Tell me about your shop,” she said.

  And he did, from the day he bought it until the day he closed it. He talked about his biggest jobs, some of his regular customers, pictures of his work that had been published, whether purposely or because they happened to be in the photograph of a grand opening or wedding or other major event. When he’d been up and running for a couple of years his sister began to work for him. She was a wonderful organizer and helped him keep the shop clean. His customers loved her.

  His sister had been the victim of a near-drowning accident when she was a young child, been without oxygen for too long and suffered serious brain damage. He was clearly devoted to her, if he was to be believed. Finding a good job in a flower shop didn’t materialize, but when he saw the ad for a manager, he thought he might be able to get back to flowers.

  “I miss it,” he said. “I miss designing, unruffling the hysterical brides, placating the matrons whose parties I provided flowers for, the churches that came to me first, even the funerals that hoped for something special. I delivered and staged my own flowers...”

  “So do I!” she said.

  “I’m not letting anyone else set up my flowers, deliver my bouquets to events,” he returned enthusiastically. “Staging is half of it. A third, anyway.”

  “Tell me something, Ronaldo—why don’t you move? Go to a bigger city? Portland would be good. San Francisco would be better. Somewhere a good florist can make real money.”

  “There’s the magic word—money. Relocating like that can get expensive. But it’s emotional also. I’ve lived in Grants Pass my whole life and I’m not sure Melanie can cope with a move. Like it or not, even with a group home, I’m going to make sure Melanie has what she needs.”

  “That’s a good brother,” she said.

  “Have you lived in this little town a long time?” he asked.

  “I came here to buy the store. I’d been looking for one. I worked in a shop in Portland, with good friends who trained me.” She rubbed her tummy. “Lifelong friends, really. I have to visit them before the baby comes.”

  “And after. What
brought you to the flower business, besides good friends?”

  “A very difficult but in the end rewarding journey,” she said. And then she told him everything, beginning with once being a champion figure skater, an Olympian. He was thrilled by this; he loved to watch the skating. She explained about her exit from the stress, her flight to Thunder Point, falling in love with the hottest teacher at the high school, reconciliation with her mother who was here now. “A rich dowager who lives with us, or we with her, and this little shop is my haven. I love it. It means so much to me.”

  She was completely oblivious to the time as they compared mothers, flower shops, friends, favorite work projects. And then the back door opened and Justin stepped inside. He grinned his lovely boyish grin. “You have my deliveries ready?” he asked.

  “Justin!” She looked at her watch. “Oh, my God, I lost all track of time. Yes, yes—just about. There are five in the cooler and this one is nearly finished. I need five minutes.” She stood up. “Ronaldo, I enjoyed the conversation.”

  “So did I,” he said. “If anything materializes for a florist...”

  “Absolutely,” she said. Justin was taking the arrangements for delivery out the back door.

  “There’s something I should probably explain...”

  She laughed at him. “If either one of us explains any more, I’ll miss my deadline.”

  “I’ll be quick. You should know, on the off chance your new hire doesn’t work out... That partner. It was not a woman.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  “If that’s a problem in a fishing village full of old-fashioned folks...”

  “This is one of the nicest towns I’ve ever encountered,” she said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not in your best interest to hide your real self. Besides, it’s like dousing your natural flame.” She laughed. “No pun intended.”

  He smirked and shook his head. “Too bad I screwed up the interview. I have a feeling we’d have fun working together. And that business about no babies in the workplace? I actually like babies. And they like me.”

  “I have no doubt,” she said. She put out her hand. “Now go! I have things to do—I’ve played long enough!”