Billy felt bad when he heard her sniff and reach for a tissue. Dad had died suddenly several years ago. He had hoped by now she would have at least started socializing with people her own age. Instead, although she did belong to a garden club, she spent a lot of her time with his sister and her Candy Cane friends. Working in her recently planted vegetable garden seemed to be therapeutic, and he and Candy relished her salads of fresh greens. But, both of them hoped she would take up more social hobbies.
Vivian Ashford flipped more bacon and stirred scrambled eggs. “Sorry. I really want you to have a good trip.”
Billy wolfed down his eggs and rose to the beeping horn of the taxi. “Thanks, Mom. I will.” He gave her an extra strong hug, and she started to cry, her body shaking in his arms. “Take care of sis, and” he added, “yourself. Pray for me.” It was an afterthought.
~
Candy heard the commotion in the kitchen and the taxi horn. How had she awakened so late? She rushed to the door to give Billy a hug, but he was gone. She knew if he had a safe trip and got through Customs all right, he would have fun. She counted on it. Mom told her Melanie tapped on the door at five a.m. and put the frozen meats in the bag. Thank goodness someone was organized.
That battered up suitcase would be a lifeline for Cindy and Rob. Had she remembered to tell Billy to slide a big American dollar into a hand of a Costa Rican Customs official?
~
Bill Junior flung a towel handed to him by a pool attendant on the back of a chaise. He wasn’t sure Dad even knew he was there. He’d finished his photo shoot yesterday, succumbed to an hour of informal modeling with women fawning over him, jumped on his bike and headed south. The feeling of breeze blasting his face revived him. He skimmed by the Pacific and its brilliant colors. Orange, pink and faded blue filled the horizon. If he hadn’t been is such a hurry to meet Dad, he would have stopped. Still, the sound of crashing waves assaulted his ears, even through the helmet. It was a sound he had grown up with.
“Dad?”
“Oh, you’re here.” Bill Senior’s voice sounded sad, and lonely.
“I’m here. You okay? What is wrong?” He didn’t want to intimidate Dad, but he sure wanted to know. Dad had told him in that phone conversation that women, or maybe woman, was what was bugging him. Not an easy topic to discuss with your widowed fifty-plus father, but maybe necessary, maybe time. God does give second chances, doesn’t He?
~
Billy passed through Customs in Costa Rica palming a one hundred dollar U.S. bill into a middle-aged gray-haired uniformed man’s hand. The battered brown suitcase had flown down the chute, so different from the luggage carousels in the states. It landed with a loud whoosh, but it didn’t burst open. He hefted it and put it on one of the provided carts. The U.S. currency did the deed.
~
“Gotta go home. Sorry.” Bill Senior grabbed his overnight case, and left his son in the dust. He checked out via the TV, jumped on his bike and headed north. Bill Junior was still sprawled on a chaise by the pool. He had fallen asleep soundly, a result of his long day before. He reached over to pat Dad on his arm and found air. Maybe he had gone to the bathroom, or to the pool bar for a drink. He waited. Twenty minutes was a reasonable time, wasn’t it?
The cutsie girl with the pixie haircut smiled broadly at him. “He checked out.”
What was wrong with Dad? In the three years they had been living together since his mother’s death, they shared everything. He grabbed his Bible and went back to the chaise. Hoping for answers, he opened at random to James 1 and skimmed down to verse five. He texted it to Dad.
~
“What are you doing here?” Candy didn’t mean to sound confrontational, but she was surprised.
“Had to see you. Can I come in?”
Candy opened the door. Why was he in motorcycle gear and clothes? Didn’t he have a proper car?
At her gesture he removed his leather jacket. Threw it on the sofa haphazardly. Striker sniffed it. Approved, and moved away to slump down next to the fireplace, even though it was summer and no fire. Snuggling his legs under him, the dog settled in a position of doggie comfort.
Maybe, Candy thought, she should take a clue from Striker. Just get comfy and wait.
~
Bill rubbed his chin. What a fool he was. When she shared the story of her former marriage, he understood. Although, he didn’t like it. Couldn’t she see he was nothing like Dev the Drunk as she called him? He even tried to sway her by explaining how in biblical times the males were usually decades older than the women they either courted or married. He knew she wasn’t convinced, but he’d tried. Maybe he should grow a beard, or at least a goatee. It was the “in thing” right now. Even if it aged him, it would make him look more hip.
They had talked for an hour, until her mother returned from shopping. Vivian Ashford was very courteous, actually gracious. She gave him a pretty smile, offered coffee and presented a plate of homemade cookies. He’d passed. Now, he wondered, had he offended her by refusing? He certainly realized where Candy got her looks. That old song about a pretty woman came to mind. The mom was very attractive. What was he thinking?
Leaning close toward the mirror above his fancy bathroom sink he peered again at his chin. He covered it with his palms trying to imagine what it would look like with a trim beard, although he rather liked the idea of a goatee. Maybe sideburns, too. Then, he closed his eyes and drifted back to his conversation with Candy. What was it she had said about Natalie? He couldn’t remember the exact words. Gosh, was he that old? No, he’d been flustered. Something about Nat being disappointed, but said in a way that indicated she was interested in him. Him, Bill Lord. Senior.
Aw, what had he done?
~
What had she done? Candy couldn’t decide whether to run to Mom for advice, or call Nat and confess, or hug Striker who was sniffing the gloves Bill had left on the sofa. Striker won. She rubbed behind his right ear and he sighed. She picked up the errant gloves, stuffed them in her purse to take to the gym tomorrow and ran to the kitchen for Mom advice.
Vivian Ashford was washing fresh lettuce from her garden. With fury. Her mother shook it so hard water splashed all over the kitchen and on Candy’s face.
“Mom! What are you doing?”
“Just venting in my own way.”
Candy felt her jaw drop and her mouth hang open. She knew what it was about. Bill Senior. Old. Thirty years older than she. She decided to be strong, and realistic. But, when she spoke, her words came out in a warble.
“Mom, I know why you’re worried. It’s not like that.”
“Not what I heard,” Vivian replied. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, but the kitchen is only steps away from the living room.” She sighed. Bitterness crept into her voice. “He is an old man, Candy, who rides a motorcycle. Too much Déjà vu.”
Candy threw on a jacket, grabbed her mom’s keys and ran to her mom’s car. She had shaken the keys, and Mom nodded her head. Turning the key in the ignition, she was conflicted. Should she go to Nat’s, or to Bill’s? Then, she realized she didn’t know where Bill lived.
Vivian ate her salad alone.
~
Natalie was punching the keypad on the gym’s outer door. A new installment Bill had ordered as part of his involvement in her gym. It was much more secure than the old padlock and key version, and made the place look more professional. She had had to request all the original gym members return their keys. She wondered why she had even given those out. Maybe as a way to show she trusted them? Still, it had been naïve and dumb, and definitely not business like.
When she heard the final beep from the keypad, she also heard a soft beep from a car horn.
Candy. In her mother’s car. What?
~
“I screwed up.” Candy hugged Nat who pushed her to arm length and peered into her eyes.
“Why are you shaking? What happened? Share.”
“Bill came to me. Confession time, he said. He was very d
istraught.” Candy looked Natalie square in the face. “Can you accept this?”
Natalie had no clue, but lifted her shoulders, plastered a smile on her face and said, “Yes.”
“I think he has fallen in love with me. Me!”
CHAPTER TEN
“Chips! You packed ten bags of chips.” Billy’s voice boomed through the invisible phone lines.
It was a California area code, so Candy answered. Hoping. Wrong move.
“I spent a small fortune transporting corn chips to Costa Rica? What were you thinking?”
“Calm down, Billy.” Candy sucked in a breath. “How was your flight?” Wasn’t that the first question one asked when hearing from someone who had recently landed? She regretted the question. Billy was in no mood to be polite.
It was his turn to suck in a breath. “Sis, I can’t believe you sent chips. I bribed the Customs guy a hundred smackers to let that suitcase through without opening it. A hundred bucks!”
She should have been prepared, even been expecting this diatribe. Billy had always been this way. In fact, she was puzzled he’d never asked to see what was in the suitcase. She had given him a cursory list so if anything was missing he would know. But, she’d only listed chips, not how many bags of them.
“Did the pickles get through okay?” She held her breath waiting for another barrage of anger.
“Yeh. No leakage. She was, is, very appreciative. Seems she is expecting, so I guess the pickles and chips really are important.” He paused for maybe thirty seconds, then said more calmly, “She and Rob really appreciated the books. They took them out of the case and actually prayed over them. What’re they for, anyway?”
“For their mission, Billy. For to build a church.”
“Oh,” he said. “God work.”
“Billy, what did you think of Dev? Other than his drinking problem?” She had changed the subject abruptly. The questions jumped out of her mouth unbidden. “His age, I mean.”
“He was okay. His age didn’t bother me, made him sort of like a father figure. Except for the drinking. THAT bothered me. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
“You head over heels for another older guy?” He seemed to be waiting for an answer, but didn’t get one. “Sis, what are you up to? Does this guy have a name? Is that who you were attached to on the cycle the night I saw you?”
“N – no. That was his son.”
“So, he has a son your age. Interesting.” He dragged the word out in four syllables. “Why don’t you go for him? Or, isn’t he flush enough?”
“They are both very ‘flush,’ as you put it.” She paused to collect her thoughts, and decided since she had brought the subject up, and for once he was being patient, Billy deserved an explanation.
She explained how Natalie really had her sights set on the father, how the man had invested in her gym to help make it more profitable, also how Logan Lovejoy and Darrell Day had worked with him before and trusted him – at least financially. “He’s almost a Newport legend, I guess.”
“I will ask again, Can. Does this legend have a name?”
“Bill, like you.” She giggled. “Bill Lord. Senior,” she added.
Billy’s whistle almost shattered her eardrum. “Guess you’ve heard of him.” She tried to sound nonchalant. Didn’t work.
“The Bill Lord? The Bill Lord?” he repeated. “Wow, sis, you sure pick them.” She heard him click his tongue. Then, “Do you have any idea who Mr. Lord really is? Any at all?”
“Uh, he’s a very nice man with good manners. He’s considerate, kind, courteous and handsome, and … He says he thinks he’s in love with me.
“Striker likes him.” Her voice sounded weak even to herself. “Dontcha, Strike?” The dog lumbered up to the coffee table where her purse was sitting open. He stuck his long snout in and pulled out one of Bill’s riding gloves and laid it on her knee. “You should see what the Striker just did, Billy.” She explained about Bill accidently leaving his gloves yesterday.
“Was Mom home?” he demanded. His voice was loud.
“Yes, don’t worry. She even offered him coffee and cookies.”
“Humph. Just like her.”
Candy was getting tired of this conversation. It was probably costing someone a fortune. She hoped not Cindy and Rob. But before she could say goodbye, Billy chimed in again.
“Sis, you have a pee-rob-lem.”
She whispered, “So?”
“I heard the man is still in mourning for his late wife, and … his son is a spoiled brat.”
“Says who?” The assessment of the two Bills angered her. “Bill Junior is a very nice man devoted to his father.”
“Swishy?”
“No!” Her turn to shout. “In fact, Mr. Know It All, young Bill is the one I had my eye on, and Nat was, maybe still is, attracted to Bill Senior. So there.” She was tempted to slam down the phone, but Billy had actually carried on a conversation with her; something he seldom did. She hoped the call was on his nickel. Maybe a lot of them.
~
She hung her purse on a hook in the hallway with the glove back inside. Striker hadn’t wanted to give it up, but finally did when she threw him a treat. Yuk! Doggie slobber. She wiped the glove off with a paper towel, then wrapped it in a dry one and stuck it in her purse next to its companion. Frustrated after her conversation with Billy she knew she needed exercise to burn off her anger. Pulling on her athletic shoes she decided a walk would feel better than working out at Nat’s Gym. Fresh air always did the trick. She sauntered down San Juaquin Hills Road, knowing it would be a long climb back up when she was exhausted. She would worry about that then. As she approached Rogers Gardens, she could smell the heady scent of flowers. Although she couldn’t power walk in there, it would be a nice diversion. All the colors and floral scents should raise her spirits. She wove her way through the crowded parking lot and because she was looking beyond, almost bumped into a motorcycle. Actually, two. The Bills were here. But, why? Neither of them seemed like gardeners, but who would know? She followed the path past the latest plantings to the Garden Room. That’s where the orchids were that Mom loved so much. She was entering the side door to the covered area when she heard her name.
~
Bill Junior touched her arm. She turned half around as shivers rushed through her body. “Oh, hi!” Did that sound normal? “What are you doing here? You have a garden?” Her questions sounded lame, but since they had already been spoken, she clamped her mouth shut and smiled. She couldn’t take them back.
“No,” he replied. “No garden. Wish we had the space and expertise for one.”
“Then what is the reason for your being here?” Why couldn’t she keep her errant mouth shut? Why, Lord, am I in this uncomfortable situation?
“Mom’s grave,” he said simply. No inflection, just a statement. “Every year this time. The day she died. It’s special to us.”
“Oh, how nice.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say when Natalie appeared.
“What are you doing here?” Another lame question.
“Came with the Bills to support them.” She looked curiously at Candy. “You didn’t know? To put flowers on Marsha’s grave. Wanna come?”
Candy shook her head. She hadn’t been invited. And, she was sure it would be awkward.
Bill Senior held up a plant and waved it in front of her face. “Do you think your mother would like this? To add to her veggie garden?” Candy couldn’t identify it. Seemed like an herb of some kind.
“She probably would, but why?”
“Because I want to, and,” he hesitated as if not sure to go on, “because she was so accepting of my company the other night.”
“How nice. Thanks. I’m sure she would love any plants.”
He started to thrust it into her hands, then pulled it back. “Sorry. I should deliver it myself.”
“Great. Because I am on a walk, so it would be difficult to carry.” She released a giggle, turned and walked away. �
��Enjoy the evening.”
What had just happened there? Candy tilted her head back and looked at the dark sky. Rain was predicted for tonight, but it was only late afternoon. The clouds above Newport seemed to move swiftly – big billowy white ones with dark outlines. Newport’s clouds blew in from the Pacific Ocean due south. Tonight they seemed to be moving faster. Maybe she should get home. She had no raingear, no umbrella. Southern Californians seldom carried them. Go figure.
~
Bill, Bill and Natalie were drenched, caught in a downpour. Natalie had a hoodie on, but the men had left their helmets at their cycles. She wasn’t sure why she was here. Was she so desperate for a boyfriend, for male companionship, that she would even accompany him to a grave? Or, maybe it was ‘them,’ not him. Clinging to each of their arms, she was confused.
It had been weird running into Candy at Roger’s. But, the whole day had been weird. When she’d arrived at five-forty-five to open the gym, Bill Senior was pacing on the curb. He’d followed her in after she punched in the new door code. Gave her a quick hug and marched to a treadmill. She hoped the hug was just friendly now that they were business associates. After he had spent forty-five minutes on the treadmill and Bill Junior had taken her Zumba class, the two of them ganged up on her. Or, it seemed so. Maybe she was a little paranoid.
~
“Why did you agree to go to the cemetery with them?” Candy even questioned her own question, but she needed to know. And, she worried about Nat. After all, having been married, even to Dev the Drunk, she felt like she should look out for Natalie who was more naïve, less worldly than her. Who was she kidding? She remembered her conversation with Billy. She was no expert in men.
“It was sad. And special.” Candy heard heartache in Nat’s voice.
“Tell me.”
“Two grown up men cried, then smiled.”
Candy's Wild Ride (The Candy Cane Girls Book 3) Page 6
