"So get a license."
"Yeah. No," Polly said. "We have a winery in town, we don't need a distillery."
"It was just a thought."
"We're going to have enough going on without trying to open a distillery. Sometimes I look at that house and think that I may never get to move in."
"It will be weird here if you're not around all the time."
"Yes it will, but maybe I'll actually come work here during the day if I live off site," Polly said.
"Everybody will miss you. Even the horses miss you when you don't come down very often."
"Now you're just making me feel guilty."
Jason looked up at her and grinned. "So we can quit thinking about me and girls now?"
"You're a rotten kid." Polly laughed and swatted at his shoulder. "You go on and help your buddies."
"I still don't know why I tell you everything that I tell you," Jason said, standing up. "But thanks."
Polly stepped in and gave him a hug. "I still love you so much it makes my heart hurt sometimes," she said. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you and who you’re growing up to be."
She moved away before she made herself cry. "Now go to work. I need to gather my dogs and head back to the house. Good luck with your love life." Polly laughed out loud and then walked toward the gate. "Obiwan, Han. Come on! Let's go inside."
CHAPTER FIVE
Yesterday’s fall had been a little rougher than expected. Polly had managed to sleep through the night, but woke up stiff and sore. It was only a few blocks to the coffee shop and the walk would help stretch her muscles enough to get her through the day.
When she opened the front door of Sweet Beans, the scent of coffee and baking stopped her long enough to breathe in deeply.
"It's that good, isn't it," a woman said, passing Polly in the doorway as she was leaving.
Polly laughed, a little embarrassed. "Yes it is. And it never gets old."
"Good morning, Polly," Camille said. "Your regular?"
"Yes please." She looked around the room and didn't see any of her friends. "Sal been in yet this morning?"
"Not yet," Camille said, shaking her head. "But we should see her any minute now. She's gotten on a pretty regular schedule."
"I think she's trying to get organized for the baby."
Camille put Polly's drink on the counter. "Have you heard that her mother is coming in for the shower?"
Polly put her hand on the cup. "No way. When?"
"Friday afternoon, I think," Camille said. "She called Sal yesterday morning to tell her that the plane ticket had been purchased."
"Poor Sal."
Camille nodded. "It's my fault. At least Sal blames me. I sent the invitation, not even thinking for a minute she'd come to Iowa."
"Where's she staying?" Polly asked.
"Ask Sal yourself."
The front doorbell jangled and Polly turned around. Her best friend strode in the front door, tall and glorious in black slacks with a red blouse that showed off all of Sal's features, including the perfect pregnant belly she carried.
"Did she tell you?" Sal demanded. "Sylvie said you were having a bad day yesterday so I didn't call, but did she tell you?" Sal pointed at Camille. "Did you tell her?"
"I did," Camille said with a laugh. "How are you this morning?"
"No better than I was yesterday morning, that's for sure. Can you believe it? My mother is coming to Iowa. What kind of fresh hell will she bring with her? Decaf today, Camille. We had a rough night and I'm not introducing any caffeine into our system today. Calm and steady, that's the ticket."
"Calm and steady?" Polly asked.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's what Mark said, too. He told me that I'm so freaked out by my mother's arrival that I'm chasing the baby around in its bedroom." She pointed at her belly. "Poor baby. It doesn't even know yet how insane this woman can be. All it is getting is my emotional backlash."
"It sounds strange to hear you call it an it," Polly said. "I can't believe you two don't want to know the baby's gender."
"I have few enough surprises in life." Sal snarled. "Except for my mother. Let me rephrase that. I have few enough fun surprises in my life that Mark and I agreed this would be one of them. I'm looking forward to it." Sal picked up her coffee. "Thanks, Camille. You're a life saver."
She grabbed Polly's hand and drew her over to a table. "Tell me I'm not a horrible daughter."
"You're not a horrible daughter," Polly said. "Why?"
"I don't want her at the house. I called Grey and reserved a room at the hotel."
Polly chuckled. "That makes sense. She would make you crazy if she stayed with you."
"And I'm telling her that she can't come back to Iowa until I've been home with the baby for a couple of weeks. Is that awful?"
"Will you get away with it?"
"I don't know. But Mark said he didn't want us to try to figure out how to take care of a baby and deal with her shenanigans all at the same time. His mother said she wasn't coming down until Bellingwood Days. She'll stay with Dylan and Lisa."
Dylan and Lisa Foster had moved down from the Ogden's home in Minnesota long before Mark moved into town. Dylan owned Pizzazz, the pizza place across the street from Sweet Beans and Lisa owned a dance studio in town.
"She's not coming for the shower this weekend?"
"Oh yeah," Sal said, nodding vigorously, then she rolled her eyes. "That ought to be a trip. His mother epitomizes class and my mother is a snob. Want to have dinner with us Saturday night and help me avoid the awkwardness of it all?"
"No thank you," Polly said. "I want no part of that. You should see if your dad wants to come this weekend, too."
"I asked. He wanted to know if it was important to me. Which, in essence, meant that he wanted a weekend of quiet. He's a rat, but I can hardly blame him. He has to put up with Mom every day."
"Well, I look forward to meeting Mrs. Ogden. And it will be..." she hesitated. "It will be good to see your mother again."
"Liar."
"Hey, she likes me."
Sal nodded. "Yes she does. Lucky you." She took a drink of the coffee and put it down with a grimace. "Horrible decaf stuff. I can't even convince myself any longer that its placebo effect works. Camille?" She waved and waited for Camille to smile. "I tried. Can I have some tea with no caffeine? I give up."
"Chamomile?" Camille asked.
"That's not funny. How about some of that lemon ginger you made for me last week." Sal turned back to Polly. "Do you see what I've been reduced to?"
"But you still feel good."
"Of course I do," Sal said. "Stupid body seems to like being well cared for. When I'm finished having children, I'll teach it, though. We'll go straight out to black coffee and whiskey, steaks, french fries and chocolate shakes."
Polly sat back. "Finished having children? There are going to be more?"
Sal leaned toward her, then stopped and put her hand on her belly. "Don't tell anyone, but I like this. A lot. And I refuse to make my poor child be alone in the family like I was. Mark and I think that three or four kids would be fun."
"I'm sorry, what?" Polly sputtered with laughter. "Three or four kids. You?"
"You don't think I can?" Sal asked.
"No!" Polly exclaimed. "That's not it at all. You'll be a fabulous mom."
"Then what?"
"I don't know. It's just that you were always so career oriented, I assumed you'd be strutting around in suits and high heels, kicking up a storm with all of the businessmen and women you encountered. Babies never seemed like they'd be a part of that."
"I see no reason to get rid of the suits and high heels and as for being career oriented, babies don't need to change that," Sal said.
"You're right, you're right. I don't know what I'm thinking."
"Honestly, Polly, I don't think there's any better place than Bellingwood to raise kids and have a career that suits me. I've been picking up more and more clients all the time and it's work I ca
n do from here. There will be times I have to fly out of town for meetings, but I do most of it over video conferences, and heck, since a lot of the clients are all over the world, that works best for everyone."
"I always pictured you in a big office building, rushing here and there, taking cabs to meetings on the other side of the city, meeting clients in coffee shops around town. I just have to change my vision of who you are."
"Polly, honey, I've lived in Bellingwood for a long time now. I'll never be in that kind of corporate America."
"You're right. I told you, it's my own problem."
"So what are we going to do about my mom coming to town?"
"We?" Polly asked. "What we?"
"Will you show her around Sycamore House and take us over to the Bell House? I want her to see what you've been doing."
"Of course. How long is she staying?"
"Just until Monday morning. She has all of her meetings, you know. She can sacrifice a weekend for her daughter, but not much longer."
Polly laughed. "I thought you didn't even want her here."
"Don't contradict the pregnant lady," Sal said. She stood up. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."
Sal was gone long enough that Polly took out her phone. A text message had come in from an unfamiliar number and when she opened the app, she read, "We're fine. Don't try to find us."
It had to be from Stephanie. Polly replied. "We're worried. We can help. Please don't run away from us."
She hoped for an immediate response, but in a few more moments, Sal returned, carrying her cup of tea.
"What are you looking at?" Sal asked.
"Nothing. Just hoping for a response to a text."
"New boyfriend?"
Polly chuckled. "No. It's enough dealing with the fifteen I'm managing right now."
"No kidding. But what's up? You look really concerned."
"I think I just got a message from Stephanie."
"Your Stephanie? Is something wrong over at Sycamore House?"
"I can't believe you haven't heard. She and Kayla are gone. Stephanie got a strange phone call, we think it's from her father who was in prison for killing their mother and molesting Stephanie for years. He escaped. She packed up everything and left town. Nobody knows where they’re going."
Sal's eyes got huge. "Those poor girls. Do you think he's on his way here?"
"My luck, of course he is," Polly said. "It’s not that I want them to feel threatened, but I also don't want them to leave forever. Jeff feels like he lost his right arm and Rebecca is a wreck." She shook her head. "I sound really selfish, but Stephanie and Kayla are important to us and I'm furious that they have to go on the run because their father is a murdering psychopath."
"And you haven't heard back?" Sal pointed at Polly's phone.
"Nothing."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Polly shook her head. "Not really. It is what it is. If she'll give me a chance to help, then I'll do everything I can."
"I know you will," Sal said. "So how are things at your new house?"
"Other than the hole I fell into? The ground dropped out from under me and I tumbled in on top of some very old bones and a whiskey still."
"On top of them?"
"No, just into the room with them. I can't do anything over there now until Henry finds someone to check the back yard for any more rooms or tunnels."
"Polly, I swear you get into the craziest things. Everything was calm and quiet when we had pizza Sunday night." Sal looked around. "Isn't this just Tuesday?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever."
Sal took another sip of her tea and grimaced. "This is awful, too. I give up. What are you doing this morning?"
"I don't know."
"Mr. Gardner has some things at his shop for me to look at. Do you want to go with me? He said he might have something adorable for the nursery. Mr. Specek is going to refinish anything I find to match the crib." She smiled at Polly. "I can't believe you did that for me. I feel like I'm getting an heirloom, not just a crib."
"If you're going to have three or four babies, at least it will get lots of use. And I know Bill was happy to do it. He and Marie never complain about not having grandbabies, but at some level, they were kind of looking forward to doing baby things." She sighed. "At least they have Jessie and Molly. That little girl gets knitted caps and scarves, blankets and all sorts of cute things."
"Does Marie knit for Rebecca and Heath?"
Polly laughed. "Oh my gosh, yes. Neither of them will ever have to buy blankets."
"I was thinking that someday I might want to learn how to sew. Do you think the ladies next door would teach me?" Sal asked.
"Shhh," Polly said. "I want to learn, too. Maybe we should all do a class together. Learn how to sew, make some quilts."
"Quilts? That's a lot! But if I could learn how to sew clothes for my kids…" Sal shook her head. "I think it's the nesting hormones talking. I'd be awful at sewing."
"No you wouldn't."
"Yes, Polly, I would. I'd get mad at it and fling the sewing machine out the front door into a snowbank or maybe an oncoming car. And that would be just trying to sew a straight line. But do you really want to learn?"
Polly nodded. "I really do. Have you ever looked at some of the fabric they have in there?"
"Yeah?"
"And touched it and thought about how it could go together?"
"No?" Sal was laughing by now. "But it sounds like you have."
"I don't even have a sewing machine. It never seemed like something I needed."
"Your mother didn't have one? My mom did and she never ever touched it."
"I don't think so. I’ve never seen it, but there are still a ton of boxes from Dad’s house in the garage. I wouldn't have to spend a ton of money to get started. If I learned, I could make curtains for the windows at the house and placemats for the table and quilts and..." She looked at Sal. "Stop laughing at me."
"I love you, sweetie, but are you kidding me with this?"
Polly frowned at her. "I don't have anything that I do. Rebecca sketches. Henry and Heath love working on cars. Andrew writes stories. You have a baby to plan for. Marie tried to teach me how to knit and I nearly poked her eye out with a knitting needle. I need something else."
"Because the new house isn't enough? Polly, you are going all the time. It's okay if you are idle for an hour in the evening. Come on. Let's go over to the antique shop and look around. Maybe you'll find something you absolutely need for your house." Sal picked up her two cups and carried them back to the sink behind the counter and dumped them out, then tossed them in the trash. "Sorry, Camille. My taste buds and I are having a disagreement this morning and they're winning."
Camille smiled. "Did I hear you say you're going over to the antique shop?"
"Yeah, are you looking for something?"
"I have a space about twenty-four inches wide that needs a small table or pedestal. If you see anything fun, text me a picture, would you?"
Sal glanced sideways at Polly. "Dang, I have to shop. This might kill me!"
They walked down the street to the antique shop. The bell tinkled as they walked in and Simon Gardner came out from behind a display of dolls.
"Good morning, ladies."
"Hello, Mr. Gardner," Sal replied. "Did you have any luck?"
"It's right back here. Follow me." He led them into the depths of the store and stopped in front of a beautiful old rocker. Beside it sat a short dresser and a side table. "What do you think?"
Sal turned to Polly. "What do you think?"
"Beautiful. I love the rocker."
"I've always wanted one. My friend, Judy, had a rocker in her house, but Mom said they were a waste of space."
"Why would she say that?"
Sal shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't like them. But I thought they were peaceful. And if I'm going to have a baby, I want one so I can sit and rock it back to sleep at night. How about lamps. Did you find any?"<
br />
"Not yet," he said. "But I'm not about to give up. Not when I have such a great customer."
"I want all of these pieces," Sal said. "They look pretty good right now. I wonder if they'll need much work. The finish I chose with Mr. Sturtz was a pretty walnut."
Simon Gardner patted the rocker. "That's what these are."
Sal sat down in the rocking chair and leaned back, then started it moving. "Oh my goodness, this is wonderful. I feel calmer already." She waved Polly off. "You wander around and browse. I'm going to stay right here and rest."
"Aren't you supposed to be looking for a table for Camille?" Polly asked with a laugh.
"You go look. I want to rock."
"What kind of a table?" Simon asked.
"She said she has a small space on a wall; about twenty-four inches," Polly said. "Or a pedestal."
"I don't know how much she wants to spend, but I just brought in a beautiful glove chest. It's eighteen inches wide and about thirty-six inches tall. It's quite delightful."
"Let's see it," Polly said. "I'll send her a picture." She looked back at Sal as they walked away. "She really likes the rocking chair."
"I brought that in especially for her," he said. "She's become quite a good customer and understands the worth of beautiful pieces." He stopped and put his hand on a small cherry chest of drawers.
"This is a glove chest?" Polly asked. "I've never seen anything like it."
"It is meant to be placed near your front door to hold gloves and scarves. Many homes had a beautiful mirror hanging on the wall above it so you could ensure you were prepared before you left the house."
Polly sighed. "If she doesn't want it, I do."
He chuckled. "You have one already. It's in the attic of your home. It needs a little work, but would be a very pretty piece once it's restored."
Simon Gardner had spent several weekends digging around in the Bell House this last spring, cataloging the furniture and other items. Polly still hadn't managed to pull everything out that needed to be restored. The garage was filled with furniture she needed to make decisions about and that was just from the rooms on the main floor. Bill Sturtz and Len Specek had taken apart the bedsteads on the second floor, stripped them down and were refinishing them. The dressers and chests of drawers, vanities and other bedroom furniture were in a storage unit waiting to be cleaned up. It was all so overwhelming, Polly usually just ignored it.
Reflecting Love's Charms (Bellingwood Book 14) Page 5
