From Here to Home

by Marie Bostwick

  Mary Dell stepped out from behind the screen, fuming, dressed in the orange blouse and white slacks she’d been wearing earlier that morning, with her hands on her hips.

  “Do you know how mad people in Too Much are going to be when they see that sign?”

  Holly, upset that Mary Dell was so upset, shook her head and found that doing so made it hurt.

  “Very. He’s making them the butt of the joke, too, like we’re nobodies and that nothing interesting ever happened here until you came on the scene.”

  “He’s a jerk,” Holly said. “And you’re right. That was miserable.”

  Mary Dell sat down in front of a small mirror, picked up a brush, and started trying to pull it through the stiff locks of her overly sprayed hair.

  “Not all that miserable for you,” Mary Dell said bitterly. “He’s building you up by tearing me down.”

  “Okay,” Holly admitted, “today was rough. But let’s wait and see. Maybe it won’t be so bad after they finish the editing. You’re nobody’s clown, Mary Dell. Especially once you sit down in front of a sewing machine. Once we get to the actual quilting part, you are going to shine!”

  Holly got up and stood behind Mary Dell so she could see both their faces reflected in the mirror. She placed her hand on Mary Dell’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

  “Remember what you told me, only a week ago and in this very room? They’re going to try and play us against each other, but we weren’t going to fall for it.”

  The angry expression on Mary Dell’s face softened a bit and she exhaled a long, deep breath.

  “You’re right,” she said, and reached up to squeeze Holly’s hand. “You’re right. We’re not going to fall for it.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by piles of blue fabric in every shade of indigo, Mary Dell said, “Now, isn’t this better than sitting around feeling sorry for yourself? Of course it is.”

  This wasn’t the first pep talk Mary Dell had given herself that evening. She did feel a little foolish doing it, but there was no one around to hear, so what difference did it make? Rattling around in the big, empty house was the thing that had set her off to begin with, and filling the silent void with the sound of her own voice helped to distract her from her loneliness. So did playing with fabric.

  The others, including Holly, had gone to the drive-in.

  There was a new animated movie playing, the kind with a spunky but beset singing princess who overcomes evil with good. Linne was dying to see it, and so, a few days before, Cady had suggested a girls’ night to satisfy her daughter’s wishes and celebrate the first day of filming.

  Mary Dell was pleased that Cady seemed to be coming around a little bit. This new friendship with Holly was good for her, and for Rob Lee too. He wasn’t exactly skipping around singing “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah,” but he was getting his work done and spending time helping Stormy adjust to his new surroundings, with Holly helping him. That was a lot better than drinking himself into a stupor every night.

  Holly was a sweet girl, and Mary Dell had to give her credit for lifting Cady’s and Rob Lee’s spirits—something Mary Dell had been unable to do.

  But gratitude aside, Mary Dell had spent enough time with Holly for now. It took a lot to put Mary Dell in a bad mood, but the humiliation that she’d been put through that day was a lot, and so she begged off going to the movie, saying she was tired. They’d protested, urging her to change her mind, but Mary Dell was adamant. Finally, they left, Linne promising to bring her a box of Junior Mints from the drive-in candy counter.

  Her relief at their departure was short-lived.

  Having married at eighteen, going directly from her parental home to her marital home without living on her own for so much as a day, Mary Dell had never mastered the art of being alone.

  Donny’s leaving had been hard to endure, but even then, she still had Howard and, for years, continued to live just a stone’s throw from the family, in the double-wide she and Donny had purchased upon their marriage. Even in the womb, she’d never lacked for company. She wondered if the intense loneliness engulfing her that night was a consequence of being born a twin, so that having never been alone even before she was born made it impossible to enjoy or adjust to that condition after. Maybe.

  Uneasy and unable to settle down, her mind constantly circling back to the degradations she’d been put through that day and how they would be multiplied after the promo spot aired, she puttered around in the kitchen, desperate for something to do.

  Wandering through the living room, she spied the bouquet Hub-Jay had sent on Thursday. She carried it back into the kitchen, then threw away the dead blooms and put those that still looked fresh in with the bouquet that had come the day before.

  The task complete, she picked up the phone, thinking she might call Hub-Jay to thank him for the flowers, but she changed her mind. She’d been avoiding his calls for days. If she called now, he’d get the wrong idea, assume that she’d been thinking about that incredible, magical night they’d spent together, which was exactly what she had been doing.

  Every time another vase filled with flowers arrived on her doorstop, every time she felt discouraged, especially today, every time she was being made to feel obsolete and invisible, she thought about Hub-Jay, the way he had seen her and touched her and whispered her name in the darkness.

  But she shouldn’t.

  Jumping thoughtlessly into a relationship with Hub-Jay was not an antidote to loneliness. Or, if it was, it shouldn’t be.

  She’d done that once before, impulsively accepted a proposal from a man she barely knew because she’d believed, or wanted to believe, that doing so would solve all her problems. Of course it hadn’t. And she had only compounded the situation by allowing herself to fall in love. Had she never opened her heart to Donny, she’d never have felt it break when he left her.

  She wasn’t ready to leave herself vulnerable to that kind of pain, especially not now. She put down the phone, made herself a cup of tea, then picked up the phone again and dialed Howard.

  “Hi, Momma.”

  “Hi, baby! How you doing? How’s school?”

  She could hear voices and laughter and street sounds in the background, as if he might be walking down a city sidewalk. Howard raised his voice and she was able to hear him better.

  “Great. We’re learning about pointillism. That’s those paintings that just look like little dots of color until you step back and can see the picture.”

  “Yes, I’ve seen paintings like that. They’re amazing.”

  “Uh-huh. We’ve been learning all about it. I’m painting one in class, a sailboat on a lake. Professor Eagan says it’s good. I’m going to give it to you for my birthday.”

  Mary Dell pressed her hand to her heart. Lord, but she missed him.

  “I can’t wait to see it, baby. But you’re the one supposed to be getting presents, not me. What do you want for your birthday anyway? Won’t be long now, just six more weeks.”

  “I know! Jenna bought a new dress for the party. She looks pretty in it. Momma? I can’t talk. I’m at the art museum. Professor Eagan brought us to see a special exhibit about pointillism.”

  “Oh. Well. I should let you go then.”

  “Okay . . . Wait, Momma! I almost forgot. How is the show going? Do you like the new director?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “He’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

  He let out a big sigh, obviously relieved by the report.

  “That’s good. Okay. The tour guide is here, Momma. Gotta go. Love you.”

  “Love you too, baby. Call me when you—”

  He was gone before she could finish her sentence, off on his own adventures.

  Pity parties were not Mary Dell’s style—never had been—and so, when a teardrop splashed onto her wrist while she was rinsing out her mug, she gave herself a talking-to.

  “Oh, you big baby! You brought this on yo
urself, you know. You could have gone to the movies but you didn’t. So snap out of it and go find something to do!”

  She felt a little foolish, scolding herself aloud, but it did seem to help. She put her mug back in the cupboard and went back to her bedroom, deciding that she needed a new project—not that she didn’t have plenty to work on already, but those were all for the show. Those were work. She needed to do something just because she wanted to, not because she had to.

  She’d make Howard a quilt for his birthday. That would cheer her up. Of course, he already had dozens. But could a person ever have too many quilts? Of course not. That would be like saying a person could have too much love. It just wasn’t possible. Normally, Mary Dell relied on Howard’s judgment when choosing fabrics for a new quilt. But because she really wanted to surprise him, she decided to go it alone this time, promising to rein in her natural exuberance to create a quilt she was certain Howard would love.

  The only way she could think to do that would be to severely narrow her color palette, and so she set out to do something she’d never done before: make a two-color quilt.

  Technically, it was really a one-color quilt, since white was really a neutral, but her second color was indigo, the color used in blue jeans, and just as there were scores and scores of color variations in jeans—from the palest, most washed-out blue to the darkest, deepest midnight blue—so, too, there were scores and scores of variations of indigo in fabrics.

  Mary Dell knew that, of course, but she never truly appreciated how creative you could be even while sticking to just one color, until she started digging through her stash and discovered just how many different indigo fabrics she had collected through the years. This was turning out to be much easier and a lot more fun than she’d imagined.

  In fact, Mary Dell was having so much fun auditioning fabrics for Howard’s quilt that she didn’t hear the doorbell until the third ring. Living so far from town, they rarely had unexpected visitors, especially at night. Mary Dell figured that Cady had forgotten her house keys. She pushed herself up from the floor, groaning because she’d been sitting there a long time and her legs were stiff. She walked through the darkened house toward the door, calling, “I’m coming! Hang on a minute, will you?” because Cady kept ringing the bell.

  But when she switched on the light and opened the door, it wasn’t Cady; it was Hub-Jay, carrying yet another bouquet of flowers and a suitcase.

  “Oh,” Mary Dell said, and stood looking at him for a long moment before saying anything else. Even then, all she could think of was, “It’s you.”

  He handed her the flowers, long-stemmed white roses and purple lilacs tied with a white satin ribbon.

  “You said I was welcome anytime. Remember?”

  She did remember. And at the time she’d meant it. But that was before the night she was trying so hard not to think about. Even then, she would never have figured on him just showing up on the doorstep unannounced.

  “It’s hard to call ahead and ask if I can come visit when you don’t answer your phone,” Hub-Jay pointed out. “And if you had answered, would you have said, ‘Sure thing. Come on down’? I don’t think so.”

  Of course she wouldn’t have invited him to come down. There were very good reasons for that. Mary Dell was sure he knew exactly what they were but began spelling them out anyway.

  But she didn’t get far, because, just at that moment, a pair of headlights came around the curve of the driveway, shining so bright that she had to shield her eyes. The car parked right near the back porch. Cady, Taffy, and Linne spilled out. Hub-Jay walked over to greet them.

  “Oh, I already know who you are,” Cady said when he introduced himself. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “You have? That’s encouraging.” He glanced over his shoulder to the porch, where Mary Dell was standing, her arms crossed over her chest. “Depending on what kind of things you heard.”

  “All good,” Cady assured him.

  Taffy introduced herself. “We’ve talked on the phone,” she reminded him, pumping his hand. “A few times.

  “Glad you finally decided to come out here and deliver your message in person, seeing as my daughter never finds time to call you back. Though I’ll be danged if I can figure out why. The way she’s been ignoring your calls, I figured you must be bald or a hunchback, or maybe have one big eye in the middle of your forehead. But look at you!” she said, gazing up at him and letting out a sigh. “You’re about as yummy as strawberries picked on the first day of spring.”

  “Momma!” Mary Dell hissed, wishing the earth would just open and up and swallow her or, better yet, her mother.

  Taffy ignored her. “Mary Dell, why won’t you return this man’s phone calls?”

  “I know she’s been awfully busy,” Hub-Jay said magnanimously. “So I thought I’d come down to discuss the details for Howard and Rob Lee’s birthday party and save her a trip to Dallas.”

  “I don’t care if she was as busy as a funeral fan in July; I’d have found time to call you back if I’d been in her shoes. It’s too bad I’m not,” Taffy said, looking him up and down. “Dang.”

  Mary Dell closed her eyes and wondered if it were possible for this day to get any worse.

  “Are you the man who owns all the hotels?” Linne asked. Hub-Jay bobbed his head. “What’s it like? I never stayed in a hotel before.”

  “No? I’ve already reserved a beautiful corner suite for you and your momma when you come to Dallas for the birthday party. The bathtub’s almost as big as a swimming pool,” he said, crouching down so he could look into Linne’s wide eyes. “But we’ve got a real pool, too, so be sure to bring your bathing suit.”

  “Momma!” Linne squealed and threw her arms around Cady’s waist. “Did you hear? A swimming pool! And sweets!”

  Cady laughed and smoothed her daughter’s hair with her hand. “I think he was talking about a different kind of suite.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got both kinds. The housekeepers leave chocolate truffles in every room when they come to turn down the beds.” Hub-Jay lifted himself to his full height and addressed Taffy. “Mrs. Templeton, I hope you’re coming to the party. I’ve reserved a suite for you as well.”

  Taffy’s beady eyes lit up. “Does it have one of those beds with the magic fingers?”

  “No,” Hub-Jay said slowly, “but would it be all right if I booked you into the spa for a massage?”

  Taffy grinned. “Oh, I think I could be persuaded.”

  She turned toward her daughter. “Mary Dell, where have you been keeping this man all these years? And why haven’t you invited him inside and offered him something to eat?” She clucked her tongue and frowned. “He’s going to think I didn’t raise you right. How long are you staying with us, Mr. Hollander?”

  He glanced at Mary Dell. “Well, I was hoping—”

  She interrupted him. “Hub-Jay just happened to be passing through town and stopped to say hello, Momma. He can’t stay. He’s very busy, running all those hotels. And, anyway, we don’t have any empty bedrooms now that I’m home.”

  “What are you talking about? Nobody ever just passes through Too Much.” Taffy swatted away her daughter’s explanation. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Hollander. You can take Linne’s room and she can bunk in with me. Linne, honey, take Mr. Hollander’s suitcase inside.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t like the idea of putting anyone out of their room,” Hub-Jay said.

  Linne grabbed Hub-Jay’s overnight bag, clutching the handle with both hands so it banged against her legs when she walked.

  “I don’t mind. How big is the pool at your hotel?”

  “Huge,” Hub-Jay replied, then climbed the porch steps, brushing past Mary Dell so he could open the door. “And it has a hot tub.”

  “A hot tub!”

  With Hub-Jay holding the door for them, the women filed into the house. Taffy came right on Linne’s heels, grumbling about Mary Dell’s lack of hospitality and that it was a good thing
she’d made that buttermilk pie the day before. Cady was next, saying she’d set the table and make some tea. Mary Dell followed her, but stopped at the doorway to talk to Hub-Jay.

  “Quit charming my family!” she said, her voice somewhere between a whisper and a hiss.

  Hub-Jay shrugged helplessly. “I’m a charming man. Ask anyone. And anyway, you’re the one I drove out here to charm. Winning over your relatives is just a bonus.” He chuckled. “I sure like your momma. She’s a pistol.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Mary Dell mumbled. “And she’s got more gunpowder in her barrel every year.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Originally, Hub-Jay had planned to stay at the F-Bar-T for three days, but he settled for two, deciding it would be unwise to push Mary Dell too hard or too quickly. Also because he realized that she was under a great deal of pressure. Now was not the time for a hard sell. And that wasn’t his style anyway.

  Sure, turning up for an overnight visit at Mary Dell’s home without her prior knowledge or consent wasn’t exactly subtle, but what choice did he have? He couldn’t win her if he couldn’t spend time with her. But now that he was here, he’d exercise more restraint.

  The reason Hub-Jay and, in turn, his hotels were successful was because he had mastered the arts of discretion and observation. The way to win and keep the loyalty of your guests was to pay such careful attention that you knew what they needed and wanted almost before they did, made sure those wants and needs were fulfilled even before they asked, and did so without even a hint of obsequiousness.

  If a guest looked at Hub-Jay or his staff as fawning or servile, then they came to see the services rendered unto them as merely something to which they were entitled by virtue of having paid for them. But if that same guest saw the staff as equals, then those same services were viewed as acts of consideration, the kindness of one peer to another, for which no payment was expected or accepted.

  People who said that the success of the Hollander hotels lay in their outstanding customer service didn’t understand that what Hub-Jay and his staff were doing was not providing a service, but building a relationship. Hub-Jay Hollander genuinely wanted to make his guests happy.