“Be careful around Redman,” Joe warned in a low voice. “I’d hate to see you get hurt, Torrie. Be even more cautious with Ivan the Terrible.”
Torrie looked at him and his face clouded with uneasiness. Or was it despondency?
“He’s going to be headed back to Texas in a month,” Joe added. “I’m doing a few renovations for Marlene Hess, and she asked me if I wanted to do some renovations for Redman. He thinks some updates might help sell Gertie’s house. I heard it’s haunted.”
“Come on, Joe, you don’t believe in ghosts, do you?” Torrie grinned as she straightened the last bills in the register and closed it.
Joe grinned back at her. “Well, it looks like I might find out. He wants to update the living room first.” He tossed the screws in the air and caught them. “I need to run to the hardware store and get some more of these. I left Iris on the monkey bars at the side of the building. Can you handle things here? Finn’s at the far back of the lot rearranging fruit trees.”
“I got it,” Torrie said. “Don’t hurry. Grab yourself a donut and a cup of coffee.”
But she realized she didn’t have it, when she turned the “Open” sign on the door to face the outside and Rich Redman pulled into the nursery at exactly eight a.m. with Estella in tow. Heart thumping, she quickly looked through the side window at the monkey bars, but Iris had disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief. If she wasn’t on the bars, she was tagging after Finn, farther back in the shrub and tree section. Rich would never see Iris or get wind of the fact she was a single mom on a shoestring budget.
Early on, Iris had learned she couldn’t be out of sight of Torrie, Finn, or Joe when she accompanied her mother to work. Torrie worried about strangers when the center was packed with customers and she couldn’t keep track of everyone milling around. But this early in the morning, the only worry she had was Rich Redman. There were no other cars in the lot. Most families were just getting up at this time.
Minutes later, Rich sauntered into the store and looked around the interior from floor to ceiling with a serious, meticulous gaze. Dressed in a windowpane checked shirt rolled up at the sleeves and another pair of designer jeans that emphasized his handsomely toned body, he was one smooth specimen of a man. Definitely sleeker than the polished maple countertop Torrie was leaning on to ogle him. When his gaze finally landed on her, she smiled, and he ambled over.
“Estella wanted to look at the pink flowers at the side of the building, and I think she spied the monkey bars. It’s a nice idea for customers with kids. Do you remember when you challenged your sister and her friends to see who could hang the longest upside down on the bars at your house? The prize was a Snickers candy bar.”
Torrie nodded, grinning. “And you and I were the last ones left hanging.”
“And I almost passed out from so much blood rushing to my brain. What were we thinking?”
What he didn’t say, Torrie noted, was he finally gave up and let her win. And as a consolation prize, she had split half her candy bar with him—because as a silly eleven-year-old girl, she had a mad crush on the good-looking sixteen-year-old who was the only one of Elsa’s male friends who had taken the time to notice her when she was hanging around. Most of the time, they ignored her or treated her like a silly child.
“What brings you here so early this morning?” She picked up a paper towel and wiped the counter down.
“You.” He looked at her with his seductive gray eyes, then cleared his throat and added, “And my daughter. She wants pink petunias to plant in those huge pots sitting on the back porch. Lulu agreed to help her. If I’m not careful, I may have a country kid on my hands. She loves tearing around outside. She even wants a pair of worn-looking bib overalls to wear when she works. She saw them in some gardening magazine Lulu brought over to the house.”
Torrie laughed. It was a familiar good-feeling laugh erupting from the very heart of her. “Bib overalls?”
“Yeah. Know where I can get a pair of those?”
“There’s a consignment shop on Market Street and a Goodwill store around the corner from Henry’s Garage.”
“You can’t get them new?”
“Well, yes…you can.” Torrie felt her face turn red. She’d forgotten money was no object for him. He probably wouldn’t want his daughter in second-hand clothes. “I suppose you can get stone-washed ones if you shop online.”
He leaned across the counter and took her hand in his, caressing it softly. “So tell me, Fraulein Larson, did you decide whether you can be my interpreter and assistant on Wednesdays?”
“Rich, for Pete’s sake, it hasn’t been twelve hours since you asked.” She pulled her hand away just as the front door opened and both Iris and Estella barreled into the store.
Torrie stiffened as fear rippled along her spine.
“Hey, Mommy,” Iris said, racing up to the counter and breathing hard. “This is Estella. She’s eight. She says she knows you. She wants some pink flowers like petunias, and I think she needs some white impatiens or something else to go with them.”
Rich eyed the little girl with white-blonde hair and wearing, of all things, bib overalls. He glanced at Torrie. There was no mistaking their almost identical resemblance right down to the aquamarine eyes.
“Why, why—” Torrie stuttered. “Why don’t—”
Rich interrupted, squatting down to their level. “Hi, I’m Rich. What’s your name?”
“Iris,” the little girl said.
“A beautiful name,” Rich said and brushed away some straw clinging to the sleeve of her white shirt. “Why don’t you take my daughter and show her all the flowers, Iris?” His tone was calm and gentle, and he smiled tenderly at both girls. “I’ll be out in a minute to help. Don’t wander too far.” He stood.
The door hardly banged shut when he looked at Torrie, a shadow of confusion and annoyance crossing his face. Their gazes met and held.
“I can explain,” she said, biting her lip and breaking contact first. She looked out the window before turning back to him. She set her chin in a stubborn line. “She’s my daughter, Iris.”
“Where do you keep her? Under a flower pot?” There was no mistaking the ire in his tone. “And why?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me, Torrie.”
“She’s six. I’m not married,” she said in a staccato voice. “I moved here to be next to family and raise Iris. My sister Elsa babysits her while I work. I see her on Wednesdays and on weekends. My apartment isn’t in the best section of town so I prefer she stays outside town with Elsa and her boys during the rest of the week. Is there anything else you want or need to know?” She came around the counter, brushing past him, and headed for the door. “Now what kind of flowers were you looking for?” Her tone was so cold it could freeze water in a summer birdbath.
****
On Sunday afternoon, Rich sat at the desk in the library with a stack of journals laid out in front of him and rubbed his jaw. It would be a tough job going through all these entries by himself. He looked over to where Marlene was rummaging through cupboards and drawers below a set of library bookcases. She had stopped at the house to see if he needed anything. Estella was out back trying to find the elusive cat. Earlier she had given him a verbal synopsis about the threat of an escalating flea population among felines. They had stopped at a pet shop yesterday and purchased Sheba a collar and a bunch of squeaky toys that Estella was sure the darn cat would fall in love with.
He thought about the incident with Torrie at the landscape center. After they had gone outside and gathered the girls to pick out flats of flowers, Torrie had been more than kind to Estella, showing her all the possible varieties to plant in Gertie’s pots on the back porch. But she was like an icicle toward him, barely speaking, and keeping a distance between them. And every time she addressed him, there was a hint of censure in her tone.
“Why didn’t you or Lulu tell me Torrie had a little girl?” He looked up to see Marlene now ru
nning a finger down the long open rows of books above the drawers and cupboard and checking each title. Today she was wearing lime green heels with jeans. “Not my story to tell.” She turned and looked at him. “I’m sure she’ll tell you her whole life’s story when she’s ready.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why? What did you do now, Richard Lee Junior?” Marlene turned and leveled a cool, disapproving look his way.
The doorbell rang, and the sound of Estella’s flip flops beating their way to the front door echoed through the house. He rose from the desk and headed after her. Torrie stood in the open doorway along with Iris, who was wearing a pink shirt with the ever famous bib overalls. He regarded Torrie quizzically for a moment before he came to his senses and said, “Come in. Come in.” He pulled Estella against him to allow them room to enter.
“We can’t stay, we were just dropping off a package for Estella.” Torrie’s lips parted in a stiff smile. There was a wary look in her eyes.
Estella came to his aid. “Just for a few minutes, pleeeease, Torrie? I want to show Iris my cat.”
“Great Grandmother Gertie’s cat,” Rich corrected her. “Actually, the outdoor cat.”
Estella shrugged, grabbed Iris by the hand, and pulled her inside. “Her name is Sheba. When my dad calls her the useless, flea-bitten, sorry ex-mouser, he doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t catch mice ’cause we feed her.”
“Here,” Iris said and shoved the package toward Estella.
The little girl’s eyes widened in delight. She took the package and looked at it from all angles before she tore into it, sending paper flying as she pulled out a pair of used bib overalls. Her high-pitched squeal splitting the air made Rich want to cringe. He watched Estella embrace Iris, then scamper over to Torrie and slam into her, hugging her about the waist. “Thank you. They’re exactly what I wanted, Torrie. And you found worn ones!” She pulled away. “Come on, Iris let’s go to my room. I want to put these on and show your mom. Then we’ll look for the cat.” Amid an outburst of shrieks and giggles, the girls raced down the hall and stomped up the stairs.
Rich blew out a breath of air and scratched his head. “Wow. How did you do it? How did you get the right size?” he asked. “How thoughtful of you, Torrie.”
“It’s a girl thing,” she said and smiled.
Behind them Marlene walked to the door with a slip of paper in her hands. She greeted Torrie warmly and turned to Rich. “Okay, I found the family Bible and left it on your desk. I don’t know if it will be any help. Gertie’s husband’s younger brother was called Walt, and according to a newspaper obituary about Matthew’s death, he lived in New York. I’ll try to see if I can track down an address for him, but at his age, he could be in a nursing home or deceased.” She patted Rich on the back. “Remember, the pot roast with vegetables in the refrigerator is ready to put in the oven for dinner. Directions are on the counter. Don’t screw it up or you’ll have Lulu to answer to.”
“Don’t leave because of me,” Torrie said. “We just stopped to drop off the overalls.”
“Trust me, I’m not leaving because of you, sweetie.” Marlene patted Torrie softly on the arm. “I have a big night ahead of me at home. I’m painting my bathroom and a friend is helping me. I’m buying the wine. He’s responsible for the paint and brushes.” She wiggled her eyebrow and grinned. “I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.” She hurried down the front porch steps. Her lime green heels flashed in the sun as she slipped into her Lexus.
Holding the edge of the door, Rich said, “I want to apologize for my rude remark at the landscape center. It wasn’t warranted. I was totally out of line. I have no right to question you about your daughter or your life.”
He reached out to touch her, but she stepped back warily and waved away the apology. “It’s all right. I’m used to it.”
He raised a hand, palm out. “No, it isn’t all right. I’m sorry. Okay? How about a truce? I want to show you the journals I found in the study.” They looked up as the girls clomped down the steps and dashed toward the back door. “Wait,” he yelled at Estella, “aren’t you going to show Torrie how you look?”
Estella and Iris scampered back. The little girl had put a pink shirt under the overalls to match Iris’s. Estella twirled in front of both of them. “See? A perfect fit!” The two girls raced off again toward the back yard. “We have to find Sheba,” Estella shouted over her shoulder. “Lulu said we shouldn’t rehabilitate her to indoor life. I’m not sure what rehabilitate means, but I’m going to try to coax her inside.”
Rich rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and heard Torrie chortle.
“How much do I owe you for the bib overalls?” he asked and motioned Torrie to follow him to the library. He noticed she kept a safe, respectable distance between them.
“Nothing, they were only a couple of bucks. After our dinner last night, I think I owe you.” Torrie laughed again, and Rich could feel the iceberg floating between them start to melt. He breathed a sigh of relief.
From a tall stack, Torrie pulled out one of the journals and started to leaf through it.
“The ring on your hand is striking,” Rich said. He had noticed it when they first met and at the restaurant. The jewels, fashioned into what looked like a flower pattern, shone brilliantly and were obviously top quality.
“Thank you, I designed it myself,” she said and shut the book. “I worked for a jeweler in New York after I finished art school. I’d love to get back into it, but it’s costly to set up a business or even design as a hobby. Gold and silver are at sky high rates, and good quality stones are pricey—a reason why I like flower arranging instead.”
She looked at him and gave a resigned shrug, setting the journal aside. “I want to clear the air here, Rich. I’m willing to help you on Wednesdays, but there is something you need to know. I am a single mom, and I’m proud of it. I was planning my wedding to Daniel Forrester when he was asked to assist with the horrific forest fires plaguing the West six summers ago. He was a helicopter pilot trained in firefighting, specifically urban high rise, but also wild land and forest.”
Rich interrupted softly. “Torrie, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
She ignored his warning. “I found out I was pregnant just days after he left. I decided I wouldn’t surprise or burden him with any unsettling information while he was in a dangerous situation, but I’d wait until he came home from what was supposed to be a four-week stint. Two weeks into the action, his helicopter went down and he was killed.”
Rich closed his eyes, feeling utterly miserable. “Torrie. I’m so sorry,” he said in a hushed voice. “It must have been tough on you and tough on his parents. At least Iris brings you all joy like Estella brings to me.”
Torrie shook her head and dropped her lashes to hide her hurt. “His parents wanted nothing to do with the baby. His mother accused me of being a gold digger and sleeping with someone else.” She bit her lip and her eyes teared up. “So, I gathered Iris up and came home to a real family. My family.”
Before he knew what he was doing, Rich reached out and pulled her to him, enveloping her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin and rocking her gently like she was a child. He stroked the back of her head. “It’s okay,” he whispered as she broke out into heart-wrenching sobs. “I know what it feels like to have your heart suddenly ripped out and all your feelings shattered like a piece of fragile glass thrown against stone.”
“But he died never knowing he had a daughter,” she said in a choked, desperate voice against his chest.
Rich tightened his embrace. “It’s all right, Torrie. He knows, he knows. Trust me. Wherever he is, he knows.”
After a few minutes, Torrie pulled away, swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, and composed herself. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. After six years you’d think I’d be over it.”
“I don’t think you ever get over it. You just learn to live with it.”
Biting her lip, she
sniffed and took the tissue he offered her. She gave him a forlorn nod before she said, “So, if you still want a Wednesday assistant, I could use the money.” She looked at him with a tiny spark beginning to glow in her eye—eyes that Rich wished he could drown in. “And I want the triple rate you promised.”
Chapter Nine
Torrie and Iris were long gone by the time Rich wandered out on the porch as a beautiful sunset disappeared and the graying night descended. Estella, ever the manipulator, had joined forces with Iris and together they had begged Rich to convince Torrie to stay for the pot roast supper Lulu had prepared. Torrie had reluctantly agreed, and Rich was careful to give her plenty of space, even when they spent some quiet time with a glass of wine on the back porch as the girls romped in the yard. Rich smiled. He had given Torrie the rocking chair his grandmother always used when she spoke to him out of the clear blue sky or from wherever she was hiding. He refused to sit in it since her first eerie appearance on the porch the day he arrived. The outrageous thought that Torrie might be sitting in his grandmother’s lap gave him a bizarre feeling, even though it was downright laughable, the more he thought about it. He contemplated mentioning Gertie’s ghostly appearances to Torrie, then decided against it. If word got out, people would think he was crazy. Maybe even Torrie would think he went off the deep end.
Later, he and Torrie had gone back to the study to look at some of the journals and papers Marlene had unearthed. Torrie suggested they start at the beginning and look at the very first journals Hilda Redman wrote when she arrived in America and married her husband. They each decided to take one and confer on Wednesday before they started to sift through old papers in the study’s file cabinets. She also suggested they check out the local newspaper articles from the early 1900s.
A feeling of edginess washed over him as he gazed at the rose beds glowing like tiny luminescent bulbs. He needed to discuss the flowerbeds with Torrie. Maybe there was a way she could finish out the summer and fall before uprooting everything.
But Estella was going to be his real problem. Already she was getting attached to the house, her room, the town, and the land. She had even bonded with good-hearted, looney Lulu. Now since she had met Iris, and had a friend her age, it was going to be painful for her to leave.
Four White Roses Page 8
