Adam’s patience ran out. "I don’t have time to play games with you. If you won't do what I ask, I'll find someone who will."
Silence screamed through the phone.
"Look, Lillian, I don’t want to come visit you in that house. Those things don't mean anything to me. I don't want them, and I need the money."
Her voice softened. “I realize you’re uncomfortable here. I’ll bring them to you, and we’ll go through them together. There might be something you want to keep. Something irreplaceable, for your children.”
“Nothing is irreplaceable, Lillian, especially children. My grandfather taught me that.”
-#-
Okay, Adam obviously wasn't overly sentimental about family memories, so Lillian changed tactics. "I think I can get more money from vintage clothing dealers. I'll see about getting several brokers out here tomorrow and get some bids. You can look them over and decide which bid you want to take."
"Talk to a broker if you want, but I can’t wait long."
"But you can put them on consignment. It will take a month or so, but you will get so much more,” she said, trying one more time to get control of the situation and prove he needed her.
"I need them now, Lillian. Rose and I will take care of selling them ourselves."
That was the last thing Lillian wanted. She couldn’t have that little mouse anywhere near this scenario. "I'll get on it right now, Adam. I'll send everything over as soon as I can get them boxed." She’d barely gotten the words out of her mouth when she heard the click as he hung up.
Lillian ran the conversation through her mind as she sipped her latte. She knew she'd pushed him too far. She was going to have to learn not to argue with him. From now on, whatever Adam wanted, Adam got. She’d gotten the maid to box Simon’s clothing the day after he’d died. A courier service could deliver them first thing in the morning.
For years, whenever Simon had discarded an article of clothing, she scooped it up and got what cash she could. She knew exactly who to call. Adam would have his bids by tomorrow. That ought to impress him. Let's see his little Rose do that.
-#-
“How’d it go with the suits?” She meant how did it go with Lillian, but she didn’t need to say it.
"I know she means well, but she's like pushing water up hill.” He stood and headed out the doors toward Miss Cool.
"You seem to keep forgetting. If you fail she gets everything,” Rose said after they’d settled inside.
"I told her I'd give her the house if we succeed.”
Rose gave him her you’re-an-idiot look. "So given the choice of the house or millions and the house, she’s going to choose the house? Right.” She sighed and turned to gaze out the side window.
“You don’t understand. She wants me to keep everything of my grandfather’s. She says they’re family keepsakes.”
“I understand perfectly.”
The way the conversation was going, it could only end in an argument. Rose had serious doubts about Lillian. She wished she could figure out if Lillian was the snake she appeared or if she was reading the woman wrong. Maybe I’m just jealous.
She felt like a little toad whenever she and Lillian were in the same room together. Tall, beautiful, soft spoken and efficient, Lillian was everyman’s dream. Rose was short, skinny and had a mouth that always seemed to be open when it should be shut. They were at the opposite ends of the spectrum.
Rose had been shy in college, and the wolves had ripped her to pieces. Now she stuck up for herself to the extreme. If she tended to stick her foot in her mouth more often than not, well, at least, nobody took advantage of her. That was why she got along with Irwin so well. He wasn’t much for small talk so she didn't have much chance to mess up.
Rose and Adam spent the drive to and from the station for the last few days discussing how far they could stretch five thousand dollars, if they could even come up with that much. It sounded like a lot but didn't go far when remodeling a restaurant.
They needed new carpet in the dining room and linoleum in the kitchen. Adam had already contracted with a professional painter to refurbish the exterior.
Mara and the servers had done a great job on the kitchen. They’d spent three days scrubbing everything in sight. With the old carpet pulled out, the smell of grease was finally gone. The stove, ovens and cooler were in remarkably good shape after they were cleaned and didn’t need to be replaced immediately.
Adam had used the last of his savings buying paint and the waiters, with some help from Rose, could paint the inside of the Steakhouse themselves. The remodel was coming together better than they’d expected, and with a bit of luck, they might come up with enough money to finish the steakhouse.
Chapter Nine
Sonja opened the door to the cooler and placed the vase filled with red tulips and white daisies inside. Four more red and white heart themed bouquets packed the interior, and chocolate filled boxes were stacked on the near-by table.
“Valentine’s Day gifts for someone special, I think,” she said with a nod. Sonja was a big believer in romance in all its forms.
She walked to the door and stood looking through the beveled glass window at the street in front of her shop. The weak winter sunshine worked its way through the morning haze, and a smile crept across Sonja’s face as she caught sight of the small red car pulling up to the curb.
Visiting the flower shop every few days had become a habit for Rose. Sonja relished the time spent with her new friend, and when Rose wanted to learn to arrange flowers, Sonja agreed. She loved passing on her passion.
“My fingers are all thumbs,” Rose complained. “I’m beginning to think this is a skill that depends a lot on natural talent.”
“It takes time. You are doing veldig fin, very fine.” Sonja had gotten into the habit of saying some words in Norwegian and repeating it in English so Rose could learn the language. She took one stalk and then another of baby’s breath, working them into Rose’s arrangement. “Baby’s breath makes everything better.”
As they worked, Sonja told Rose the story of Gudbrand on the Hillside.
“There was a man whose name was Gudbrand. He had a farm that lay far, far away, upon a hillside, and so they called him Gudbrand on the hillside. Now, you must know this man and his good wife lived so happily together, and understood one another so well, that all the husband did the wife thought so well done, there was nothing like it in the world, and she was always glad whatever he turned his hand to.”
This particular folktale was long, and in the manner of a good storyteller, Sonja took her time and wove the spell. When she looked up, she saw that Rose had stopped working on her arrangement and sat listening with her chin on her hand.
“So Gudbrand and his wife came out fine after all.” Rose placed her palms on the table and stood, a wide smile on her face. “Sonja, what would you think about having a story hour here for children?”
“Me, talking to the children? They wouldn’t want to listen to an old lady.” Sonja shook her head slowly. “No, no.”
“They’d love to listen to you, just like I do. You have a way of telling your folktales that brings the stories to life. Please say you’ll do this.”
“Vente, wait,” Sonja said, holding up one finger to quiet Rose. She hurried to her room, pulled a box from the back of the closet and took it back to Rose. When she opened it, memories flashed by one after the other, Norway, her wedding and Elvin young and strong. “This is my Bunad, our traditional Norwegian dress. The women of my village made this just for me.”
Rose reached out a finger and traced the design on the skirt. “The embroidery is beautiful.”
Sonja spread the skirt across the table and smoothed it with her hand. Then she pulled out the other pieces of the costume. The blouse was still snowy white, and the vest had handmade silver buttons and silver jewelry. “This was all for my wedding, given to me by my friends all those years ago.” Tears filled her eyes and emotion burned her throat. “It seem
s like yesterday.”
“Oh, Sonja, please put it on. I’ll take a picture and make up flyers for your story hour.”
“I haven’t worn it in many years,” Sonja said. “We’ll see if it fits.”
The skirt was a little tight in the waist, nothing that a little sewing wouldn’t fix. Sonja left the button undone, slipped into the vest and walked out to Rose.
“Oh.” The word left Rose’s lips on a sigh.
Sonja smiled. “My Elvin had the same reaction. We’d only known each other a few months when we got married. The way he looked at me, well . . .”
“I can see why. You’re beautiful,” Rose said.
“Adam has the same look in his eyes when he watches you.” Sonja brushed her hands down the skirt, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. “Just the same.”
“Adam? No. We’re just friends.” Rose busied herself brushing flower parts from the table. “Just friends.”
Sonja watched the young woman, shaking her head at the denial. “Young people today worry too much about things that don’t count.”
“I’m not looking . . . uh . . . we’re just friends.”
As she watched, Rose’s face flushed so she turned away to give her friend a moment to gather herself. Keeping her back to Rose, she assembled the flowers for the next bouquet. “When you find a good man, hold on to him with all you have. And you’ve found a good man, Rose.”
-#-
Over the next week, Rose and Sonja cleared out one corner of the mural room. Rose looked up from dusting the bookshelf when she heard the bell over the door ring.
Mickie’s back was to her as she and Stevie wedged an overstuffed chair into the room. “What do you think?” The twins had identical wide smiles as they pointed to the rocking recliner.
“This is great. Where’d you get it?” Rose asked, stroking her hand over the upholstery. The soft reds and pinks of the English Rose pattern were the perfect complement for the room they were designing.
“The second hand store down the street.” Stevie’s wide smile echoed the pride in her voice. “And we’ve got another one just like it in the back of the truck.”
“We got them for a song. They’re our donation to Sonja’s reading room.” Mickie muscled the chair across the room to the corner. “Here?”
Rose and Stevie stood back, looking at the placement. “That’s not bad,” Stevie said. “Come on. Let’s bring the other one in.”
“I found a kid-sized table and some chairs sitting on the curb a few days ago,” Rose said. “They’ll be great in front of these.”
The twins went about arranging the furniture while Rose tackled the plants. “Sonja, how do you want me to display these?”
“Any way you want, min venn.” Sonja stood in the middle of the chaos and beamed at the girls. “I am so lucky to have many granddaughters.”
By the time the young women finished, the room looked like a forest glade. Elves and trolls peeked from behind the plants placed in front of the mural on the wall. Ivy and philodendrons and a huge spider plant hung overhead.
“I’ve set up advertising at the station, and Adam and I put up fliers at the library and grocery stores; anywhere moms with children might see them.” Flopping into one of the chairs, she sighed. “We might pull this off.”
“We will,” Sonja said as she brought out a plate piled with cookies and put them on the table. “These are Krumkakers, and these, Sandkakes.” Then she pointed to the fancy brown wafers with a floral design baked into the top. “These are called Goro. I make them with a special griddle my mother gave to me.”
Picking up a cookie, Rose nibbled on it as she paced back and forth across the room. People should start showing up soon, if any showed up at all. “If this doesn’t work, I don’t have a back-up plan,” she said to herself.
“Of course it will work,” Sonja said.
“I don’t want you to be disappointed.”
As Sonja crossed the room, Rose focused on her for the first time today. Outfitted in her wedding dress from Norway, her silver hair in braids that wound about her head, she was beautiful.
Sonja gave Rose a hug. “What would I have to be disappointed about? I have found many good friends. I am a lucky old woman. I am no longer alone.” She patted Rose on the shoulder then crossed to the chair the twins had found for her and sat down. “Relax, my Rose.”
Even with Sonja’s encouragement, Rose couldn’t sit still. She reorganized the shelf of children’s books and rearranged the numerous tiny gnome figurines hidden among the plants.
All too soon she’d finished the busy work. With nothing else pressing to do, she marched from Sonja’s sitting room to stand before the front door, staring out at the empty street, her shoulders tight and her stomach twisting. I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up. If this doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas for . . . What had Sonja called her store? Oh, yeah, her butikken.
The crunch of gravel brought Rose out of her contemplations. Through the glass panel in the old door she saw a red minivan pull into the lot. A woman stepped out and began unbuckling seatbelts, releasing several small children into a flurry of activity. As she gathered them and started for the entrance, two more cars pulled into the lot.
“Holy cats, Sonja. We have customers.” Rose took her first deep breath in hours and hurried to the sitting room to bring out refreshments.
A total of six children, three mothers and one dad arrived for the story hour. “Not at all bad for a first day,” Rose whispered to Sonja as she poured punch for the kids. When everyone was settled down, Sonja began the tale of The Seven Foals. The room hushed, and, every person, including Rose, was soon mesmerized by the folktale.
“We’re going to have another story hour at the same time next week. I hope you all can come,” Rose said as she handed out flyers she’d printed. “And bring friends.”
“We’ll be here for sure,” one mother said.
“We will, too,” said another, “and I’ll tell my next door neighbor. Her kids would love this.”
As the last customer walked out the door, Sonja took Rose’s hands in hers then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “This is like having many barnebarn, I mean grandchildren. Thank you, Rosa. You are a good girl.”
“I was afraid we’d be here all by ourselves. I love your cookies, but it would take weeks for the two of us to eat all you’ve baked.” Rose laughed as exhilaration skittered over her stomach. “People actually showed up, and two of the women purchased plants.”
Sonja lowered herself into one of the overstuffed rockers and propped her feet on the table. “This was fun, but I’ve had enough for one day.” She laid her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
“We need to figure out how to get more people here for the next one,” Rose said, but the only answer she got was a soft snore. Sonja had given out, but not Rose. If she hadn’t been afraid of waking her friend, she would have grabbed a gnome for a partner and boogied around the little store. She flipped the lock then tiptoed out the front door. Sonja had earned her nap.
When she got home that afternoon, excitement still held on to every nerve. Exhilaration shimmied up her arms and down her spine. She was energized, and it felt great. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been really excited about anything. Well, except for Adam. He’d been exciting her whenever he’d been within touching distance.
As she stood in the middle of the living room, her feet tapping out the beat and her hips swaying to the music in her head, Adam came in the door.
She whirled around when she heard the door open, meeting his gaze. A smile spread across her face. "What a great day. I have an idea that’s going to help us out.”
At the sight of her dancing in the center of the room, Adam’s eyes darkened and a slow smile spread across his handsome face. “What’s this great idea? Did you find a way to print money?”
“No,” she said. She paused for effect. “I think we should make Sonja a star."
Adam looked confused.
"What kind of star? She sells flowers.”
"At the station. She can give advice on plants and gardening. That’s one idea, but what I want to do is have a story hour featuring Sonja. You won't believe her fairytales. She remembers all the old stories from when she was a child in Norway, and they’re spellbinding. They’ve got elves and imps and devils and the old ways. Some are scary, and some are sweet. You can have a story show or a garden show or both." She stood there smiling at him, waiting for his reaction.
She got a reaction, but it wasn’t what she expected.
"Well, I can see the gardening show. Lots of people garden, but I don't know about the story telling,” he said. “Who wants to listen to an old woman rattle on about her childhood?”
Her smile disappeared, and she flopped onto the couch. "You’re not paying attention, sparky. These are Norwegian fairy tales, and the way she tells them brings them to life.” Rose popped back up and put her hands in his. “Come listen to them before you make up your mind. Trust me on this.” She practically skipped into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of water for each of them. “Now, we need to make plans.”
-#-
As Rose dug through the small desk by the door, Adam stared at his shoes. Rose wanted him to trust her, but that was a hard one for him. He didn’t trust anyone. Simon had beaten that out of him before he’d reached ten.
She pulled out a spiral pad and pencil. “We need a plan to make this happen. Are you with me?” She stopped writing and looked at him.
“Okay, I’ll listen when we have time.” The tension he felt came through in his voice. “But not now. We need to meet Mara’s grandmother at the steakhouse.”
Rose laid the notebook on the desk and looked at him for a moment. With a shrug she retrieved her coat from the closet. Without a word, she climbed into Miss Cool and sat quietly as Adam started the car then drove toward the restaurant.
By the time they were half way there, Adam realized Rose was no longer jumping with excitement. “What?” he asked. “You’re not talking.”
Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1) Page 14
