by Holley Trent
“We should get married.”
She shook her head.
His stomach lurched at her rebuff, but he gripped her hands tighter. “Why not? We should be together under one roof. Maybe we don’t have to be married to do that, but I want to show you I’m committed—that I’ll come back and stay. Not just because you’re pregnant, but because it’s right.”
“I never pegged you as the conservative type.”
“I’m not, liefje, but I’m a swimmer—competitive. Finding opportunities and seizing them is part of who I am. This is an opportunity.” He laughed. “It’s a sign. Can’t you see that?”
She fixed a wary gaze on him and her jaw spasmed. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”
The flatness in her voice broke his heart. Had he been wrong? Did she not feel what he did? “Daisy,” he said, voice soft. “We should be a family. Don’t you want to belong to someone?”
Anger flashed in her eyes and she drew back from him. “I don’t want to belong to anyone. I belong to me. Just me.”
She stomped down the stairs and walked with a renewed purpose up the path to the barn, and he sat there, mouth open, brow furrowed, completely stunned.
What had happened? It was like a switch had been thrown in her. She hadn’t been so cagey before, and now, with something that could potentially bind them together for the rest of their lives, she wanted nothing to do with him.
“Fuck,” he spat, pushing open the screen door and following her at a respectful distance up the path. “Fuck,” he whispered again as he pulled the office’s rear door open. “Fuck.”
Nikki raised that same eyebrow at him as he growled and shut the door.
“I’ll take the job.”
She didn’t say anything. She just pushed a manila folder toward the edge of her desk and stood. She walked to the conference table and shouted, “Let’s go folks, long agenda today.”
He grabbed a pen out of the cup on the desk, signed the employment contract, and penned in his start date. His eyes darted up to the clock on her computer monitor and he tossed the pen down.
His shuttle to the airport should have been outside. He passed the gathering staff at the conference table, paying no special heed to Daisy, and intercepted his mother on the way to his pile of bags near the door.
They embraced and he leaned to whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to do this. You can go home and go back to work. Whether she wants me or not, I’m coming back as soon as I pack up my apartment.”
“What happened?” she asked in Dutch.
He gave her a squeeze. “I’ll call you when I get home.”
She nodded, and he grabbed his duffel, his backpack, and his wheeled suitcase and carried it all to the barn door. He took one last look toward the conference table to find Daisy watching him walk away.
Her expression wasn’t hard and impassive anymore. Now she just looked scared.
Good. That’s better than feeling nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Francine Mooring was a very difficult woman to get along with. She hadn’t been a joy, exactly, on Monday when Daisy was at home. Now that the dam had broken and Nikki had revealed the new catalog with an entire section slated for new soaps with their own branding—Fresh by Daisy—she’d been insufferable.
Clara didn’t understand. She would have been thrilled if Daisy was her daughter and she’d done something brave and stepped out of her shadow. Although she didn’t know Daisy all that well, she knew the quiet woman had guts, even if she needed some help showing it.
She watched the woman, standing over a hot pot, stirring soap ingredients and looking somewhat wilted. Clara was pretty sure the expression Daisy wore was the same one Clara had worn every time Louis left Belgium.
What are you so afraid of, Daisy?
She broke free of her reverie as Francine, yet again, barked some condescending remark to her daughter. Francine just couldn’t get over the fact Daisy wanted something of her own—that she had a secret. It was like she wanted to put a leash on the girl and pull her this way and that because, apparently, Daisy was doing it wrong…whatever “it” was. Life?
Inside, Clara was screaming, “Leave her alone,” but outside all she could do, really, was watch and wait.
Yes, she could have gone home to Belgium. Jerry and Trinity wouldn’t be back from their honeymoon for another week and Ben was at least a week away from returning as well. But, she chose to stay for Daisy, because if Daisy wasn’t going to fight for Ben—and for their little family—someone should. Clara would at least try, because she didn’t want Daisy to be a fifty-something-year-old woman one day who regretted missing out on something she once had a choice to seize, but hadn’t.
Daisy turned around and leaned her backside against the edge of the counter. “Momma. Please, drop it. You’re doing the same amount of work as before. We’re just working on different things now.”
“I don’t understand why you had to have your name on it,” Francine quipped.
Daisy ground her teeth. “That wasn’t my idea, and you know it. Nikki devised the branding. I didn’t have a say.”
Francine grunted, pushed her glasses up her nose, and resumed her work.
Jealousy? Clara didn’t understand it, and she was sick of it.
“I think you should…have pride.”
Is that conjugation right? she wondered as Francine lifted a brow at her.
“Do what?”
Clara blew out a breath and shook her head. “You are lucky.” She pointed to Daisy. “That she is your daughter. She is far too patient with you.”
“Dayum! Francie got burned,” Juan said not-quite-quietly from the shipping area.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Francine said.
Clara scoffed. “You don’t know. I know what it is to be too patient. Too compliant. To give too much and for too long.”
“I did just fine raisin’ her on my own. Don’t need no help now, thank you very much.”
Daisy looked on with a stunned horror on her face.
Clara wasn’t done yet. “You are right. You need no help raising her because she’s already grown. I think you have…”
What’s the word?
She closed her eyes and flipped pages of an imaginary dictionary trying to recall the vocabulary. Ruined? No. Not that. Spoiled? No, that wasn’t quite it, either. She gave up.
“She is gedemoraliseerd like I was. Foul place to be.”
“This is America, lady. Speak English. Then mind your business,” Francine said.
Clara rolled her eyes and resumed her treatment of the soap molds she was preparing for Daisy. “It is my business.”
“And why would that be?”
Clara didn’t answer. When she looked up at Daisy, she saw her let out a breath and nod before turning back to her pot.
Later, when Francine was packing up to make her usual hasty five o’clock exit, Clara sidled over to Daisy and wrapped an arm around her waist. “It’s quiet at the house. Perhaps you would like dinner?”
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” Daisy said.
Clara shrugged. “It’s no trouble. I don’t like the quiet.”
It was true enough. Getting used to the noises of the country was taking some doing, and being alone in that big house and not being familiar with what were house noises versus external ones was somewhat unsettling. It was almost enough to make her pop pills again, if only to get a good night’s sleep.
Daisy stole a look at her mother who was already making strides toward the door without so much a “fare-thee-well.” She nodded.
Daisy drove them both to Jerry and Trinity’s house and they rode in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, really. Clara had quickly learned Daisy wasn’t the kind of woman who talked when talking wasn’t needed. She understood why Ben loved her, even if she did see a lot of herself in the young woman. She had the same sort of timidity she possessed. She hadn’t been born with much of a backbone, but n
ow she possessed a platinum one. Clara envied her for it.
“Are you expecting someone?” Daisy asked as they pulled into the driveway. A shiny black SUV was parked near the front porch and when Clara cut her gaze to the left, there was Louis.
He stood, and leaned against the column nearest the steps.
“No. It’s Louis. I wonder what he wants.”
They got out of the car, and Louis descended the stairs to greet them on the driveway. He waved at Daisy and offered Clara a smile that seemed some emotion that wasn’t quite platonic.
Her pulse sped as she looked down at the hands that’d become quite dry during the day’s soap making.
“Figured you’d be lonely out here with all the kids gone,” he said. He crooked his thumb toward his truck. “I was up in Norfolk today and passed a little Indian place. Picked up some things I remembered you liked. If you want, I’ll just leave them. Glad to see you’re not here by yourself.”
I was by myself for a long time.
“Oh!” Daisy said. “I can go home. I need to pack my stuff, anyway. Gotta find someplace to live, too, so…kinda important.”
Don’t go! Don’t leave me with him…
“Where are you moving?” Louis asked Daisy.
She shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Up until last week I assumed I’d just renew my lease again, but I need a fresh start. Clean slate.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and looked off into the neighboring field. “I was bit homeless myself until this morning, and then that situation resolved.”
“What happened?” Clara asked in Dutch.
The corners of his eyes wrinkled as he smiled broadly and looked down at her. She knew that smile too damn well. That was Ben’s smile, and Jerry’s.
“Divorce resolution. Like you said before, I pretty much paid her for the house and then some. Got an investigator to track down where the money went. The lawyer who shifted the funds is in the process of being censured. Hope it was worth it for him.”
“That’s great news,” she said, really meaning it. Her family had never really had any property to leave her. She had her little house, but it wasn’t anything special. Just a place where she slept and stored her things. Louis’s house, though, it was an heirloom—part of his legacy. Something the boys should get. Ben had sent her pictures, and she thought it was stately. “And what about your job? Is that fine?”
He blew a raspberry. “Beyond fine. I was Kate’s father’s boss for about five years before he retired. I may take early retirement myself.” He scraped his chin again. “Or maybe go freelance. Work on my own schedule, you know.”
“Sounds nice.”
Daisy had started creeping away.
Clara pulled her back.
“Louis, have you met Daisy?”
His brows went up. “No, not formally.” He extended a hand, which Daisy shook.
“She’s Ben’s girlfriend.”
Daisy opened her mouth, probably to make some retort, but Clara silenced her with a squeeze of her arm. Louis didn’t need to know.
She switched back to Dutch. “I think she’s lonely without him. Is there enough food for three?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s probably enough for eight.” He scratched his head. “I probably went a bit overboard.”
“Then let’s have dinner. I have dessert inside. I made a pie last night.”
He grinned. “I love your pies.”
Her cheeks burned. That he did. She pulled Daisy toward the side door and switched back to English. “Do you like Indian food, Daisy?”
“As long as it’s not spicy. I don’t think I could keep it down.”
“Are you sick, Daisy?” Louis asked as he pulled open his truck door.
Clara answered for her. “Just a little bug.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Trinity stood beside Daisy at her workstation and jammed her fists onto her hips, scowling.
“What?” Daisy asked.
“I’m mad at you.”
“That’s…obvious. But what did I do?” The woman had been back at work for fifteen minutes, and was already cranky. She had a great tan, though. Daisy grunted in appreciation at it.
“Monday meeting in five minutes!” Nikki hollered from the office.
Trinity narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you needed someplace to live?”
Daisy cast a glare toward Clara who looked off, whistling.
“Well, I don’t, really. I’ll find someplace. I’ve got a couple of weeks.”
“Why don’t you take our garage apartment until you find something?”
“Won’t Ben need it?”
Trinity gave her a long blink in response.
“Ben can live with Louis,” Clara said, obviously not giving a shit about her eavesdropping. The only reason Momma hadn’t piped up was because she was on top of a ladder pulling down a box of supplies.
Momma still didn’t know she was pregnant, and Daisy decided she’d keep it that way for just a bit longer. She wasn’t sure who all did know. Liz, certainly. Ben, yes. Ben told Clara. Trinity, apparently. Jerry, most likely if Trinity knew. Nikki seemed suspicious. She’d been standing outside the bathroom door the previous Friday and when Daisy walked out, Nikki had those too-wise green eyes narrowed at her. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t go into the bathroom. She just walked back to her office and picked up her phone. She must have heard the heaving. No one else seemed curious. Daisy did feel awful about keeping it a secret from the person most women would have told first, but most women didn’t have mothers like hers.
She knew what Momma would say. “Good job, girl. Way to pick ’em. You better get on down to the courthouse and file your paperwork for child support before he disappears. Never trust a man with a passport.”
Daisy didn’t have any plans to file for child support or anything else. He was a good man and hoped he’d just do the right thing, whatever that was. It’d be awkward enough working together.
“Fuck, Jerry,” a deep voice called from open barn door. “You couldn’t pick me up from the airport?”
Jerry rolled back his seat and gave his younger brother a blasé look down the aisle.
What the hell?
“I figured you should get used to navigating on your own. Sorry. Forgot to tell you. You obviously got here okay. Did you rent a car? What kind?”
Ben mumbled something guttural and foreign.
“Gang’s all here. Meeting time, folks!” Nikki shouted.
Clara giggled.
“You knew he’d be back today?” Daisy asked.
“We all knew, honey,” Trinity said, patting her shoulder. “Family works that way.”
“No one told me.”
“You mad?”
Hell yeah, she was mad. The guy hadn’t so much as called the entire time he’d been gone. Not her anyway. Obviously he’d been speaking with Clara.
She ground her teeth as he walked past, still arguing with Jerry up the aisle.
Oh, what do you care? You sent him away like an unwanted puppy. You told him you didn’t want anything. Are you a liar now?
She stood and headed toward her usual seat at the conference table.
The brothers were now laughing and giving each other playful shoves.
Yeah, I’m a liar.
She sat and turned her notepad to a fresh page. Momma took the seat at her left side as always. She hoped someone would fill the right seat soon.
The table filled until the only two chairs remaining were the one at Nikki’s left hand—the one Jerry always took—and the one to Daisy’s right.
“You’re lookin’ kind of pale, Daisy,” Momma said as Ben slipped into the seat beside Daisy and pulled her notepad over to himself.
“I didn’t have my coffee this morning,” she lied.
“All right, folks,” Nikki said, tapping the table. “Glad you made it back in one piece, Ben. You gonna be over your jet lag in time for that show tomorrow?
”
He rubbed his eyes. “No, but I’ll pretend otherwise. I think that may have been a record-speed relocation. I sold my car for about a quarter of its value, and now I’m on the Olympic team’s shit-list.”
“I’ll make it up to you. All right, folks, let’s talk about this week and…”
Daisy tuned Nikki out as Ben nudged her elbow with the pad. She looked down at his scrawled script.
How are you feeling?
How to answer that? She could write a goddamned dissertation. She opted for simplicity: Blah.
He cringed and said out loud, “You can try, Nikki, but I don’t think it’ll make a difference.”
What had she asked? She hadn’t been paying a lick of attention. Nikki droned on and Daisy tried to focus.
Ben bumped her with the pad again.
She looked down.
I need some soap specifications before tomorrow.
Oh. She scribbled back, Okay. I guess the samples I made were for you. She started to push the pad toward him, but pulled it back before he thumbed it over. You smell great, by the way.
Momma nudged her left arm.
“Huh?”
“Nikki asked you if you had any ideas for Christmas.”
She cast apologetic eyes at Nikki.
Nikki sighed. “Anything?”
“Oh, well, I’ve been thinking about sugarplums. We’d have to get some custom molds, though…”
Nikki’s black eyebrows darted up. “Ooh. Get with Jerry to make an order. Are you going to be okay with the peppermint soaps on your own, Francine? We’re expecting a two hundred percent increase in direct sales this year.”
“Shit, Nikki, no!” Momma balked. “Without Daisy, I can’t swing it. Even with Daisy, I wouldn’t be able to swing it. That’s a lot of soap combined with the excess for consignment.”
Nikki grimaced and scratched her head at the temple where of her swath of grey resided. “How many hands do you need?”
Daisy looked down at the pad while Momma talked out her math.
It’s Sink or Swim. The gel version. Tube got confiscated by airport security on the way back through. Make me some more?
He squeezed her right knee beneath the table and she, somewhat subconsciously, wrapped her fingers around his as a “Yes.” She wanted to reward him for liking the stuff.
