Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

by Susan Mallery

  “Deep thoughts for a weekday morning,” she murmured as she crossed to the coffeepot.

  The coffee was already brewed—her father would have started it before he left for the diner. She poured a mug and inhaled the delicious scent before taking her first sip. In a matter of minutes caffeine would flow through her veins and her world would slowly right itself.

  She took another swallow before starting her breakfast. While the instant oatmeal heated in the microwave, she made a protein shake with frozen berries. When her cereal was ready, she stirred in a few walnuts and a spoonful of brown sugar and carried everything to the kitchen table. She got her tablet from the shelf by the window and checked her email while she ate.

  By the time she’d finished, she’d scanned the digital headlines, browsed two farm equipment ads, and had chuckled at a kitten playing with a laser dot on a Facebook video.

  She rinsed her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, then poured a second mug of coffee. She had to figure out what she was going to cook on her days this week. She and her father alternated that particular chore.

  They’d come to terms with their unusual living arrangement fairly easily. They each had a wing in the house. He went out for breakfast at Helen’s diner five days a week, they had someone in to clean the house, and they traded off cooking the evening meal. Their schedules were posted on a large wall calendar in the oversize pantry, so each would know when the other wasn’t going to be around for dinner. Every now and then Kelly thought that maybe she should move out and get her own place, but each time she mentioned it, her father told her he liked having her around. As for her, well, she didn’t seem to be in a big hurry to go anywhere.

  The back door opened and Jeff Murphy walked in.

  “Hey, Kitten.”

  “Hi, Dad. How was breakfast?”

  “Delja cooks a mean omelet. If I thought I was man enough, I would marry her in a second.”

  Kelly laughed. “I don’t think she’s your type.”

  “Probably not, but a guy can dream.” He hung his jacket on the hook by the back door and crossed to her for a quick hug. He poured himself coffee, then leaned against the counter.

  “We have two more Christmas orders,” he said. “If this keeps up, we’re going to be shipping half a million tulips in December. Plus you know some idiot’s going to call in November and ask if we have any extras.”

  “I’m ready. We can go as high as six hundred thousand, then we’re out.”

  “I’ll be sure to let our distributors know. Also, that fancy yellow one is selling real well in Los Angeles. Connie wants to know if you can make those in any other colors.”

  “Da-ad. Those yellow ones? Is that really what we’re reduced to these days?”

  “You go ahead and use their fancy names. I’ll stick with yellow.”

  Jeff knew the names better than she did. He’d been growing tulips since he was a teenager. When Kelly had graduated college and joined the farm full-time, they’d talked about how to handle things. Jeff was tired of being responsible for all the growing and Kelly had no interest in dealing with distributors or clients, so they’d split the duties. Like their living arrangements, it was a system that worked for them.

  Sometimes she wondered if he’d ever wanted more than life in a small town. He was a relatively young man—not yet fifty—but he hadn’t remarried after his divorce. As far as everyone was concerned, he’d never even dated. Every few months he disappeared to Seattle for a long weekend. Kelly assumed he met someone for a brief affair, but that was it.

  As for herself, she had no idea what she was going to do about Griffith. Being someone’s girlfriend again sounded nice, but shouldn’t she want more? Shouldn’t she want to fall in love and have babies and live happily ever after?

  She supposed the problem was she didn’t believe in happily ever after anymore. If she ever had.

  4

  Jammin’ Madame Lefeber—named for the tulip, not a person—took up about a third of what had once been a grocery store, long since defunct. The other two-thirds were a bowling alley, with both businesses sharing the ample parking lot. On the upside, neither business cared if the other made noise. On the downside, despite thick layers of insulation and sound-deadening drywall, the crack of bowling balls hitting the pins could still be heard. It was a low and arrhythmic beat and could distract even the most professional of musicians.

  Helen walked into the foyer a couple of minutes early. Pictures of former students covered the walls. Some were classic studio poses while others showed bands playing live at a venue. She smiled when she saw Jeff and herself in the background of many of the band shots.

  JML was a music school that focused more on guitar and drums than the more classical instruments. As part of the services, students could put together a band. An instructor would help them learn a handful of songs, then arrange for a showcase onstage at Petal Pushers or somewhere else. To help the fledgling bandmates get their sound together, near professional-level musicians played along.

  The work didn’t pay much. Helen did it for the fun and to get the chance to play keyboard every now and then. The bands were interesting, although rarely gifted. Still, it was better than playing piano alone in her living room. Adding to the pleasure was the fact that she and Jeff frequently worked as a team. The man played a mean guitar. More than one fourteen-year-old had been left slack-jawed at Jeff’s rendition of “Stairway to Heaven.”

  Thinking about Jeff got her chest to fluttering. She reminded herself of the importance of appearing cool, even if she didn’t feel it, despite the fact that her feelings for the man bordered on a rock-star crush.

  She knew that he’d played in a rock band in high school, then had quit after he’d gotten married. She wasn’t sure when he’d taken up the guitar again. She’d started working with the students at JML years ago—shortly after her divorce. In fact, that was where she’d first noticed Jeff. She’d fallen for him during an off-key Beatles retrospective—specifically “Hard Day’s Night.”

  Before she could dig up more swoon-worthy memories, Jeff appeared in the foyer. Her throat immediately tightened and speech became impossible. What was it about a man in a plaid shirt? Okay—not any man—just this one. Or maybe it was the worn jeans that hugged his narrow hips and long legs. Or the way he held his guitar case with such confidence.

  Jeff smiled as he approached. “Heard anything about our latest bandmates?”

  “Isaak said they’re fifteen-year-old twins who got guitars for their birthday.”

  Jeff winced. “Why do parents do that?”

  “Someone has to be the next generation of rock music.”

  Isaak, a tall, curly-haired man of mixed heritage, walked into the foyer. “You’re here,” he said, sounding grateful. “Adults. Thank God.”

  “How are the new students?”

  “You honestly don’t want to know. They’re arguing about whether to play Atreyu or Pop Evil.”

  “Are those bands or songs?” Jeff asked.

  “Bands,” Helen told him. “You really have to pay attention to music from this century.”

  “I like Coldplay.”

  “They started in the nineties.”

  “But they have songs out this century.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “Probably.” Jeff turned to Isaak. “Give them the approved music list.”

  “That’s less of a problem than them having trouble grasping what a chord is. Can you give me a few minutes?”

  Jeff looked at Helen who nodded.

  “We’ll wait,” Jeff told him.

  The music director retreated to one of the practice rooms. Jeff and Helen walked to the break room in the back. Jeff pulled several dollar bills out of his pocket and walked to the soda machine.

  “Diet Coke?” he a
sked.

  “Thanks.”

  He got them each a can, then joined her at the round table by the window. One wall thumped from uneven drumming while another vibrated with an overly enthusiastic bass guitar.

  “We should have brought earplugs,” he told her.

  “You always say that. The students get better.”

  “Not today.”

  The table was small, forcing them to sit close enough for their knees to bump. With every casual contact, Helen felt a jolt of awareness zip up her leg. Talk about stupid.

  “I can’t believe you mocked Coldplay,” he said.

  “I didn’t. I simply pointed out you’re not a fan of contemporary music.”

  “No one’s better than the Rolling Stones.”

  “Billy Joel is better.”

  He looked at her over the can. “You have a thing for him so you can’t be impartial.”

  “My thing for Billy is nothing when compared to your slavish devotion to that British band.”

  “Mine doesn’t have a sexual component. That makes it more honest.”

  “Because sex isn’t honest?” she asked with a laugh.

  “You know what I mean. I’m not blinded by lust.”

  “It’s not lust.” Of that she was sure. Her love for Billy Joel was different than her feelings for Jeff. Now if he really wanted to talk lust, she was all in.

  “Next time he’s in Seattle, I should take you to a concert,” he said. “Unless you’re going to throw yourself at the stage. I’m not sure how I’d feel about that.”

  There was so much unexpected information in that brief statement, she didn’t know what to say. Was Jeff asking her out? No, it was a friendly invitation, but still. But there was something... Or was that just wishful thinking on her part?

  She clutched her can of soda for courage and decided to go with it. “Wouldn’t that cramp your style?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your trips to Seattle. When you go to...” She made air quotes. “A Mariners game.”

  He put down his can, then picked it up again. “I do go to games. I like baseball.”

  “Uh-huh. No one is fooled. You go in for a long weekend to see a game, but sometimes the Mariners aren’t even in town. There’s a woman. Or women. I’m not sure.”

  Nor did she want to be talking about this, only it was going to be hard to change the subject now. Plus, she couldn’t help thinking that if they could get into something slightly more personal he might see her as more than just a buddy.

  “What do you mean everybody knows?”

  “It’s understood,” she said. “I don’t talk about it with your daughter, if that’s what you’re asking, but she’s a bright girl.” She met his wary gaze. “It’s not a bad thing, Jeff. You’ve been divorced a long time. It’s nice that you have someone.”

  No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t nice at all. It ate her up inside. It made her want to scream and beg and wish she had the courage to say “What about me?”

  Jeff swore under his breath. “I didn’t think anyone knew.” He swore again. “It’s not like however you’re thinking. It’s just sometimes a man—”

  Had needs? Because she could help with that. But before she could figure out how to offer, Isaak joined them.

  “This is going to take a while. Are you two willing to come back in a couple of hours or do you want to call it a night?”

  Jeff glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six.

  “Buy you a burger?” he asked Helen.

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  Jeff returned his attention to Isaak. “We’ll be across the street.”

  “Great. I’ll come get you there.”

  Jeff locked his guitar in his truck before they headed across the highway to the Tulip Burger restaurant. While Helen didn’t mind that their town was all things tulip, she felt the new owners of Tulip Burger had taken things too far. There were stencils on the wall, a tulip-shaped blackboard with specials and tulip-printed napkins. Cute, but not necessary. Tourists already knew where they were—there was no reason to drill home the point.

  They took a seat at a booth in the back. Helen knew better than to read too much into the dinner invitation. New band disagreements were frequent, which meant she and Jeff often had time to kill between sessions. What she didn’t know was whether or not she wanted to return to the previous topic. While it might help get her closer to her goal of being his love slave, there was also the risk of him saying something like, “I will only ever see you as my friend.”

  Helen stared at the menu. They had a really nice grilled chicken salad. If she asked for dressing on the side, she would have made it nearly twelve hours on her new low-carb, low-fat diet and wouldn’t that be special.

  “Want to split the bacon cheeseburger?” Jeff asked.

  Because while the decorations might be tacky, the food was amazing and the bacon cheeseburgers were huge and delicious and, well, damn.

  Helen’s stomach grumbled, which she took as a vote of “yes, please.” Oh, why did she have to be weak? Or fat?

  “Sure,” she murmured, then waited for the wave of guilt.

  Their server came over. Jeff ordered for them, asking for extra fries and suggesting a chocolate milk shake. In deference to the now broken diet, she said she would just have water.

  “We’re getting Christmas orders,” Jeff said when their server had left. “It’s June. What are they thinking, waiting so long? We have to grow the tulips from bulbs, which we have to order. It’s not like we can put on an extra shift in the factory.”

  “Maybe if you put up inspirational posters they’d grow faster.”

  “Are you sassing me?”

  “Actually I believe I was sassing the tulips.” She sipped her water. “I get that you’re growing flowers, but it’s still strange to me that flower distributors have to order flowers so far in advance. The most I have to do is make sure my food orders are done two weeks out. What if the bulbs don’t work?”

  “They’ll be fine.”

  “Still, it seems risky. You put a bulb in the ground and expect there to be a flower. You even know exactly which one it is. That’s a lot of trust.”

  “It’s farming, Helen. Don’t make it into magic.”

  “I think there’s an element of magic. I mean, come on. Eggplants. Who saw that coming?”

  * * *

  A burger and more fries than Weight Watchers would approve of later, Helen pushed her plate away. The chef had tossed a little avocado on their burger, taking it from delicious to heavenly. She would, she swore, start her diet tomorrow. Again.

  Jeff moved his glass of iced tea in a circle on the table. He looked at her, down at his drink, then back at her.

  “Before you were asking me about the women I sleep with.”

  Had Helen been drinking, she would have choked. As it was, she tried not to flinch and still had to clear her throat before speaking.

  “That’s one way of putting it,” she murmured. “I was just wondering about, you know...”

  “Not really.”

  She tried desperately to think up something to say. If she wasn’t desperately in love with him, what would she want to know?

  “How do you do it?” she asked, then held up a hand. “The logistics of finding someone. I know how to have sex.”

  He smiled. “I would hope so.”

  “It’s the other stuff.”

  “Why are you asking?”

  Because I want you desperately and I’m hoping you’ll make the jump from friends to more than friends, pull me close and ravish me with a fiery passion. She glanced around the diner. Okay, maybe you’ll just suggest we go back to my place.

  “Helen? Why are you asking?”

&nb
sp; “I’ve been divorced for years and I need to do something.”

  “You don’t want to date anyone in town?”

  “Um, well, that’s hard to say. There aren’t a lot of single guys. Sven is Kelly’s ex, so that would never work. Griffith is into Kelly, so again, a problem. Now that I think about it, your daughter is creating trouble in my personal life.”

  “You want to date Sven and Griffith?”

  “No, but blaming Kelly means it’s not my fault.”

  “I respect that. There’s Ryan.”

  Helen wrinkled her nose. “Thanks, but no. He’s flaky and not my type.”

  “Plus he’s too young for you.”

  She glared at him. “Excuse me? He’s what, five years younger than me? That’s a perfectly acceptable age gap.” Jeez, if Jeff didn’t think five years was okay, what was he going to say about their sixteen-year difference?

  “You’re an old soul. Ryan isn’t.”

  “That’s amazingly similar to calling me old.”

  “You know I didn’t mean that. You’re on a tear tonight.”

  “Not really. Just sassing you.”

  “You said it was the tulips.”

  She grinned. “I lied.”

  “You don’t have to sound so cheerful about it.”

  “Why not? I’m a cheerful person. Now about your women... How does it happen? Do you go to bars? Is there a website? And why haven’t you ever brought someone home? Don’t you want to get married again? I know things with Marilee weren’t great, but it’s been forever. You’re still a relatively young man. Don’t you ever want more? Someone to care about you and be a part of your life?”

  His steady gaze warned her that she might have gone too far with that last bit, but she figured Jeff would chalk it up to enthusiasm rather than a plea for attention.

  “Helen,” he began, then stopped. His tense expression relaxed.

  She turned and saw Isaak walking toward them.

  “Timing bites,” she muttered.

  “Depends on how you look at it.”