Four White Roses

by Judy Ann Davis

  She straightened and lifted up on tiptoe to kiss him gently. “Yes. What time will we be back?”

  He encircled her in a hug again, pulling her tight, and spoke into her hair. He knew she could feel his wild beating heart and his arousal. “It might take some time. Do we have to rush back?” There was no mistaking his implied meaning. “Can you pack an overnight bag in case we run late?”

  “On purpose?” Blushing, she took a few steps backward toward the door and gave him a knowing look.

  “Yeah, maybe. Why not? I’ve never seen the many waterfalls up there, have you? I’m told they’re beautiful.” Like you, he wanted to add.

  She smiled. “Just a couple. I’ve been there before, but it was many years ago when I was a teenager. How about I have Denise take over for Lulu after she helps Gus at the landscape center? She’s stayed overnight with Iris before and knows the routine.

  He nodded, not quite believing his good fortune. He would find every way on God’s green earth to drag his feet heading back to Hickory Valley. In fact, he’d book a room in nearby Elmira as soon as possible. Tonight. As soon as Torrie left.

  “I have to go.” She turned to go inside, but first bent down and petted Sheba sitting beside the milk dish and washing her paws. “Before I forget, your cat is putting on a lot of weight and getting quite chubby.”

  “What?” He looked at her confused, then laughed. “Are you saying I have a fat cat?”

  “Yes, that’s one way of describing it.” A sly smile crossed her face as she slipped inside the house.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “My cat is chubby?” Rich wondered aloud as he stood on the back porch after Torrie departed. He scratched his head. “So what?”

  “Phfftt. Think about it,” piped up a voice from the rocker.

  He looked over where the ghost of Grandmother Gertie had taken possession of the rocking chair. “I have. Those darn kids have to stop feeding it so many treats.”

  Gertie snorted. “Talk to Lulu. You have bigger problems to worry about.”

  Rich watched for a while as the rocker started slowly, but eventually gained momentum until it was bobbing along in a steady rhythm. “What kind of problems?” he finally asked.

  “I’m getting these vibes about a king and queen of hearts, Richard Lee. It must relate to your father and your lost half-sister.”

  “Dad was never involved with British royalty, was he?” He stared at the empty rocker with a wrinkled forehead. “At least he never mentioned royalty to me.”

  “No, not that I know of.” The rocker stopped suddenly. “You know what you really need to do? You need to see about getting those girls some bicycles to ride. It would give them freedom and something to do in this wonderful summer weather. Remember when you learned to ride in the circular drive out front? I sure miss those days.”

  “Yeah,” Rich smiled. “I remember my poor grandfather running after the bike to keep me upright. I miss those days, too.”

  Rich leaned against the post at the top of the stairs and shot a penetrating look at the rocker. “Do you think it would help if I called my mother and asked her if she knew anything about a half-sister or the whereabouts of the rubies?” Now I’m going off my rocker. I’m actually having a conversation with a vacant chair.

  “For earth’s sake, no!” Gertie said. “Joyce would be camping out on your doorstep tomorrow, suitcase in hand. She’d be badgering all the townsfolk for information and tearing the house apart looking for the jewels. You know what your mother is like. The woman wrote the definition for the word busybody!”

  “Then Torrie is right. We start in New York and see what we can dig up there.”

  “It’s a good start. Torrie’s a sharp cookie.”

  “Yes, she is.” Rich sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m done in. Kids are exhausting.”

  “Tell me about it,” Gertie cackled. “Have a safe trip, and don’t eat too much ice cream.” And with a puff of air, the conversation ended.

  With a puzzled look, Rich stared into space. Don’t eat too much ice cream? What a strange thing to say.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was late when Torrie climbed into the van and headed home from Rich’s house with the shower of kisses she and Rich had exchanged still lingering on her lips. She couldn’t help thinking how very good looking and virile Rich Redman was and how vulnerable she was to his charms. His energy, power, and sincerity attracted her like a hungry kitten to a pan of milk. She wondered how it was possible for two unlike people to be drawn to each other. He was Mr. Smooth with his sleek, affluent appearance and steady personality. She was practical, predictable, and ordinary—and half the time, she looked like she had rolled in dirt. She didn’t know where their relationship was going or where it would end, but she knew she wanted to enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted, even for a scant month. It felt good to be treated like a lady again. To feel someone cared.

  Several minutes later, she pulled the van into the driveway beside the warehouse, killed the motor, and grabbed her purse off the front passenger seat along with the spray can of green temporary hair color. Above her, the sky was a canopy of stars with a sliver of a new moon laughing at her. The summer air was still balmy even at such a late hour and smelled lightly of honeysuckle. She barely rounded the corner of the warehouse when she saw Ivan Winter’s black sedan parked along the sidewalk below her apartment. He opened his door, and weaving unsteadily on his feet, he circled the front of his car.

  “Well, well, so you didn’t spend the night with Mr. Rich Guy, huh?” he asked with a slight slur to his speech.

  “It’s none of your business what I do or don’t do, Ivan.” She set her chin in a stubborn line.

  There was a flush across Ivan’s cheeks and forehead. He had been drinking. Torrie thumped down the panic rearing up in her chest. “I’m sorry, Ivan, I’m too tired to quibble with you tonight. Do you need something important? I need to get some sleep. I have an early start at work tomorrow.” She heaved an exhausted sigh and turned to leave. She had no desire to tell him she was working for Richard Redman, and they were headed for a nursing home in Elmira, New York.

  He grabbed her by her upper arm and spun her around. “Don’t you walk away from me!” he growled. “You tried to shame me in the restaurant in front of all those people like I was nothing more than a piece of lint on your jacket. I won’t stand for it!”

  “Get. Your. Hand. Off me.” The words came out in a low, staccato, but ominous tone. Torrie pinned him with a gaze capable of freezing sea water.

  “And if I don’t, Miss High and Mighty?”

  She pointed the can of green hair spray at him. “Remove it now, Ivan, unless you want to look like the Incredible Hulk at work tomorrow.” And you’re far from a superhero, you pompous jerk! Her heart thudded wildly in her chest.

  Ivan withdrew his hand, but continued to glare at her. “Listen, Torrie, you’re not fooling anyone. I know you’re chasing after Redman for his money. But I’m warning you, he’s playing you for a fool. He only wants someone to warm his bed for four weeks while he’s hanging around Hickory Valley. As soon as he sells the house, he’s out of here.”

  “You don’t know anything about Rich Redman or his intentions.”

  “No, but I do know if you don’t take my warning seriously, I can make it so difficult you’ll think twice about your intentions.”

  “Just what do you mean?” Torrie felt fury flare all the way down to her toes, and it took every ounce of stamina to remain calm.

  “I’ll call in your loan,” he said with a slur. He moved so close to her that she could smell the alcohol on his breath and see red rimming his eyes. “And the loan for the landscape center.”

  “You have no reason to call in any loans.” She felt a lump form in the pit of her stomach. “Stop acting like a child, Ivan. We’ve known each other since grade school. You can’t go around bullying people to get what you want.” She watched his anger slightly evaporate, and she looked toward the ap
artment trying to gauge how fast she could maneuver the steps and get away.

  “You don’t understand, Torrie. I’ve adored you since grade school. I don’t want anyone to cut into my territory until I have time to prove to you we’re perfect for each other. You just haven’t had time to come to your senses. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you realize I’m serious.” He glared at her and his voice grew louder and more insistent. Finally he ground out, “I won’t take no for an answer!”

  A chilly black silence fell between them and Torrie felt increasingly uneasy under his scrutiny. His face was a glowering mask of rage.

  “Go home, Ivan, and get some sleep,” Torrie said in a calm voice she didn’t feel. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

  Ivan grabbed for her again, just as the porch light to her apartment came on. He jumped back. “Who’s in your apartment?”

  “It’s probably Finn. He was supposed to look at the ice cube maker on my refrigerator and see if it could be fixed. Good night, Ivan.” Heart hammering, Torrie turned away and raced up the steps to her apartment. As she fumbled in her purse for her keys, she glanced back to see Ivan still standing on the walk, annoyance marring his face as he scowled at her.

  But it wasn’t Finn who opened the door before she could find them. It was Joe. His arm shot out, grabbed her by her upper arm, and unceremoniously dragged her through the doorway into the hallway. He slammed the door and threw the lock shut with a sharp click.

  Torrie slumped against the wall and rubbed her bicep. “What is it with you guys and your death grips?”

  “Why did you park on the dark side of the building and walk around to the front?” His usual calm voice was curt. His eyes flashed in anger. “You know this isn’t the greatest area of town.”

  He went to the window in the living room overlooking the steps and parted the curtains, peering out. “You should have parked in front. I could’ve moved the van for you.” He came back and looked at her. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  The motor on Ivan’s car started, and she sighed in relief.

  She motioned Joe into the kitchen and put a kettle of water on to boil before she allowed her shaking legs to collapse onto a stool by the pass-through counter. Joe went to the cabinet and took out two cups and two tea bags and placed them near the stove. He grunted. “You need to stay away from bozo Ivan. He’s bad news. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  Torrie looked at him and wondered if it was a guy thing to warn a female about every person they didn’t like. She threw up her hands. “Does it look like I’m trying to be near him? He shows up wherever I go!” She got up, elbowed him aside, and poured hot water over the tea bags in their cups. She opened a cupboard and took out the honey and sugar. The ordinary motions of moving about in her own kitchen calmed her. “What happened to Finn?”

  “Your mother needed him for something, so I volunteered. I reset the ice maker and it seems to be working.” He took the cup she offered him, crossed to the counter, and set the cup down. Still standing, he paused and cleared his throat. His voice was the old Joe she knew so well. The easy-going, soft-spoken Joe. “Torrie, maybe it’s time you settle down. This is no way for you to be living, in this matchbox apartment on the questionable edge of town. Without others around you. Without seeing your daughter half of the time.”

  She stared at him wordlessly for a minute. Inside her head, a little voice screamed, Don’t say it, Joe Bradley. Please don’t say anything to ruin our friendship!

  When she set her cup down beside his, he covered her hand with his large callused one. He looked at her with clear, gentle eyes. “I have a whole house outside town and lots of rooms to ramble around in and a huge backyard. You know I love Iris like she’s my own.”

  Torrie pulled her hand free. Her eyes were misty when she spoke. “Joe, please. You are my best friend. You were my most devoted ally when I came back to Hickory Valley and had no one to turn to except my family. You are family to Iris and me. Please, please, don’t ruin what we have between us. Marriage, out of a sense of obligation, would never work for either of us and you know it. I’m flattered you want to protect me. But marriage? Come on. We both know that’s not a good idea.” They stood, steam rising from their cups between them as they looked at each other in total silence. She thought a shadow of longing—maybe disappointment—crossed his face. Or was it gentle liberation from a chivalrous offer? And an offer both of them would have regretted in the future.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and smiled—the old familiar smile she was accustomed to. “Well then, did you ever think about carrying a huge flashlight capable of knocking someone to his knees?” he asked. “Or maybe a Taser or some pepper spray?” He gestured to the spray can on the counter. “I don’t think green hair spray will stop an attacker, maybe only make it a little easier for the police to apprehend him.”

  A small bubble of laughter started in her chest and rose upward until she laughed outright.

  When he joined in, she gave him a rib-shattering hug. It was a huge sense of relief, knowing they were on safe, even ground again.

  ****

  It was early morning when Rich tiptoed downstairs with an overnight bag. He went straight to the kitchen where Lulu had coffee already made. She was dressed in bright orange with yellow stripes, and she was filling a picnic basket with a thermos of coffee and some breakfast foods. “You said you wanted to get an early start. I thought you might want to stop along the road a few hours into your trip and have something light to eat. How did you make out with the girls and the sleepover?”

  Squinting at her, Rich poured a cup of coffee at the counter and added a splash of milk. He blew out a breath of air. “Why is it called a sleepover? Those kids didn’t sleep. They were giggling like hyenas all night. Torrie and I put them to bed three times. I finally gave up when my brain and body begged for sleep so badly, I couldn’t see straight. I’m betting they won’t be up before noon.” He shook his head in exasperation. “Where do females get enough fuel to keep a conversation going for an entire night?”

  “You’re a big shot lawyer, and you’re asking me?”

  He sauntered over to the table and slumped down. “I guess I should warn you, they have pink hair and blue nails.” He took a sip of coffee, fell silent, and peered at her, wondering why he was warning someone about pink hair and blue nails when she was decked out in colors that could blind an average person wearing sunglasses.

  “What’s eating at you now?” Lulu asked. She came over and sat down across from him, her bony fingers interlinked while she waited for him to speak.

  “Do you think a person can have a second chance at love?” he finally asked.

  “Ahhh,” she replied. “This sounds like some deep soul-searching question needing the perspective of a clinical psychologist to come up with the correct answer.” She pursed her lips. “From my experience, the answer is plain and simple. Yes.” She rose and went to the bread drawer and took out a lemon muffin and set it in front of him. “Eat! You have a long drive to Elmira.”

  “That’s it? Yes? A simple yes?” He looked at her in disbelief and started to unwrap the paper from the muffin.

  Lulu shrugged. “Let’s do this backward, Sunshine. Do you honestly believe—in this whole universe of over 7.2 billion people—there is only one perfect person for each of us to love and marry?”

  “Well, when you put it so simply, it certainly increases my chances,” he agreed and took a big bite of the muffin.

  Lulu shook her head in exasperation and went to the window.

  “One more thing. I think the girls are feeding the cat too much food.” He mumbled his words through a mouthful of muffin. “She’s getting fat. Even Torrie thinks so.” He paused, chewing. “Fat. Just like I’m getting after eating all this mouthwatering food you make.”

  Lulu snorted. “You big dope. Sheba is going to have a litter. Of course she’s getting chubby.”

  Rich choked on the last
bite sliding down his throat. “Say what? Kittens? How’d that happen?”

  “Goodness gracious, you don’t want me to answer such a ridiculous question, do you?” Lulu bent closer to the window overlooking the backyard and squinted. “Richard Lee Junior, there’s something odd-looking about one of the flowerbeds in the backyard. Maybe more than one. It looks like someone has been cutting Torrie’s roses with a shovel.”

  His chair scraped the floor as he rose, and together they both headed for the back door at the same time.

  Minutes later, with a look of sadness and disgust, he was dialing the police and Torrie Larson.

  ****

  Frowning, Torrie surveyed the damage. She squatted before a row of roses chopped off near the base. The stems and flower buds were tossed about and stomped on. Her heart sank. An entire bed of grafted bushes was lost. She would be lucky if the root bases were hardy enough to regenerate this summer for grafting next year. She thought about the long hours she had spent taking cuttings from the Austrian plants and splicing the bud eyes onto the understock. Then came the long two and a half years of babying the plants, fertilizing, and winterizing them from the northern cold. Two and half years wasted on this bed alone. She looked forlornly at the scattered parts of the bushes. She had been hoping to pot and offer them for sale. She had planned to take cuttings from the others to add to the root roses she was growing in the greenhouse at the landscape center.

  Beside her, Rich and the town police officer searched the ground nearby looking for any evidence or footprints. “I would suspect it was kids starting their summer rebel rousing,” Officer Powers said, flipping the top down on a small notepad where he had jotted down contact information. “I don’t think we’ll find anything to give us a hint of who did this. I’ll try to have a patrol car make a few passes by your house late at night and keep an eye out.” He turned to leave and glanced at both of them. “Maybe you should spend a few minutes searching your memories to determine whether there’s someone who might have issues with either of you?”