Summer Breeze

by Catherine Palmer

  Reaching the wall, Kim made a U-turn. “Well, I happen to like those curtains,” she went on. “I love them, in fact. And I think they go perfectly well with the leather chairs and the twill couch. I don’t want them hanging in the dining room, because that’s where we have the best lake view. Those windows ought to be left bare, just the way I have them.”

  Another U-turn at the opposite wall. “It’s not like I hire Cody Goss to do anything for us. I do it. I do everything myself, because it’s the best way I know to show you all how much I love you. I want you to eat a good, hot meal and hear that food whispering that your wife loves you. When you put on your uniform, it should let you know that I care about you, and that’s why I take the time to wash it and iron it and fold it so neatly.”

  Derek began to feel like he was watching a tennis match.

  “And I bought those Belgian lace curtains specifically because they were soft and pretty. I keep them washed and bleached and ironed and hung on their rods, because I love my family. Your mother just doesn’t get that. All she can think about is rearranging our home and criticizing my baked potatoes.”

  Derek did his best to concentrate, but he had no idea what she was talking about. All he could see were her long, tanned legs; her graceful neck; that slender waist; and the outlined curves beneath her little blue gown.

  But now she turned all of a sudden, hands on her hips and brown eyes boring into him. Like a turtle frozen in the middle of a highway, he held his breath and tried to think clearly. The last thing he recalled Kim saying was something about potatoes, but he couldn’t remember what.

  “I love your potatoes,” he fumbled out.

  She let out a muffled cry of exasperation. “Don’t you get it? She’s sabotaging me with the kids. Now they think we eat too many carbohydrates! Lydia said that very thing, mimicking her exact words right at me. Derek, you know I’m doing everything I can to feed our family a balanced menu. I make sure Luke counts his carbs.”

  “Of course you do,” Derek affirmed. Was Kim upset about Luke’s diabetes? Or had Brenda Hansen criticized her cooking? That didn’t sound like something Brenda would do.

  “And now she’s volunteering to help Cody look for his relatives,” Kim went on. “Can you believe that? She thinks that because she knows how to trace genealogy, she can find people who’ve been absent from his life for nearly twenty years. People who might not even exist. Ancestors and missing families are not the same! Besides, it’s bound to upset Cody, no matter how it turns out. But she just can’t keep her nose out of things.”

  Derek stood and rubbed his chest. He hadn’t seen Kim this upset in a long time, and he couldn’t imagine why she was. If Brenda Hansen wanted to look for Cody’s relatives, let her. Chances were slim anyone would be found.

  “Honey, why has this got you so worked up?” he asked. “You have your own life. Let this other stuff go. Come here and let me hold you.”

  Kim resumed pacing. “And you know what else? You never tell me anything.”

  “What? Yes, I do. I tell you I love you. I tell you I think you’re beautiful, and I’m crazy about the kids. I love our house, and you’re a great cook, and most of all … you’re beautiful.” He shrugged. “And I think you make the best baked potatoes I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

  She glared at him from across the room. “I mean you don’t talk to me about your work! People are constantly asking me about that drowning, and you never even told me it was a woman. I had to find out from someone else. So what do you know about the case? How old was the woman? What color was her hair? How did she die, and why did the body wash up near Deepwater Cove?”

  “You know I don’t talk about ongoing investigations, Kim.”

  “Why can’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me? I’m your wife, and you ought to trust me.”

  “Why would you even want to know?”

  “Because of Cody. He’s all confused. He thinks the dead woman might be his mother, but this afternoon I couldn’t say, ‘No, she’s not. I can assure you of that because of the information Derek gave me.’ Everyone expected me to know about the body in the cove, but I didn’t. You never say anything to me about your day except that I’m prettier than all the half-naked women in Party Cove.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “Derek, that’s shallow. That’s not even real conversation. When you talk to me, you don’t say anything. You just toss out compliments like candy at a parade. And I’m supposed to think that’s wonderful?”

  Whatever flames of passion Derek had been feeling were growing colder by the minute. How could she dismiss his loving words so easily? Nothing communicated love and approval more than a compliment. Not only did Kim rarely return his sentiments; now she was acting like she didn’t even appreciate all the kind things he made a point of saying to her.

  In three years of marriage, he had never seen his wife this worked up. She was actually wringing her hands. Derek could confront a boater in violation of the law, chase down a jet-skier, or handcuff a belligerent drunk. But this was different. This was an agitated wife in a skimpy gown at the end of a long, hard day.

  “Okay,” he said, starting for the bathroom. “You made your point, whatever it was, so I’m going to take my shower and get some sleep. If you want to keep talking about all this, we’ll try it again in the morning.”

  “Derek!”

  He pushed open the bathroom door and turned to her. “Look, Kim, I’m tired.”

  “But what about the curtains? And your mom? And Cody? And why won’t you tell me about your work?”

  “I don’t want to fight, babe. Arguing is not my style. You know that. Now get back in bed and try to rest. Things always look better in the morning.”

  He shut the door behind him and glanced in the mirror. Wow, he’d gotten a lot of sun during the day. His nose was beet red. He would put some lotion on it after his shower.

  As he started running the water, he thought about Kim waiting up for him just so she could stalk back and forth across the bedroom floor. Whatever had upset her surely wasn’t worth that much energy. Curtains? How trivial could you get? He didn’t give a hoot about curtains; that’s for sure.

  And why all this sudden interest in the drowning case? Kim had never pried into his work, and he didn’t ask about hers. They shared highlights once in a while, sure, but he couldn’t fake an interest in dental hygiene any more than she could pretend to care how many boaters he had ticketed on a particular day.

  Derek stepped into the shower and let the warm water run down his tired body. Why had she put on that blue teddy if all she intended was to rant about Cody Goss and Brenda Hansen? No, the longer he weighed the situation, the more certain he felt that Kim had been preparing for some late-night passion. Maybe these other things had crept into her mind while she waited for him to get home. And maybe … just maybe … by the time he got out of the shower, she would have remembered her original goal for the evening. As he lifted his face into the spray of water, Derek smiled.

  A particularly stubborn head of dark brown curls made Patsy late to the meeting of the Tea Lovers’ Club that Wednesday afternoon. The client, a woman from Iowa who had recently bought a house near Camdenton, wanted highlights. Not merely a few gently glowing streaks, either. She insisted on bright gold stripes that Patsy had worried would make her look like she had on a tiger-skin cap.

  Not only did the woman’s curls have a mind of their own, but that brown color did not want to bleach out. Patsy’s first effort wound up auburn, which she thought looked downright pretty. But the new client was newly divorced, and she was out to make a statement. She had on a V-neck top down to here and a miniskirt up to there, and she looked like she was about to spill out everywhere. No matter how much Patsy tried to talk her into a more sensible color combination, the woman was determined that her hair be brown and gold.

  By the time Patsy made it to the table with her cup of tea and a buttermilk scone, she was about fried. Tiger Lady had left the salon, ple
ased at last, but then Patsy’d had to rush through Steve Hansen’s trim and Opal Jones’s toenails in order to get to the meeting before everyone left. Opal wasn’t pleased to be kept waiting either, but she had an appointment that she intended to keep. At ninety-four, she was too stiff to reach her feet and needed Patsy to work on them every once in a while.

  “What color did you paint my nails?” Opal asked loudly as she sat down beside Patsy.

  “Red!” Patsy shouted into her left ear, which worked better than the right one. “Same as always!”

  Opal smiled and took a sip of tea. Patsy knew that no matter how old the widow got, she took great pride in her appearance. She enjoyed wearing high heels to church, and she regularly drove herself to the outlet mall in Osage Beach to shop the sales. Today Opal had on a yellow knit top sprinkled with butterflies and a pair of matching slacks along with her pretty open-toed sandals.

  Letting out a deep breath and trying to relax the muscles in her calves and back, Patsy lifted her cup to her lips. Evidently Esther Moore was putting forth her usual effort to impose an agenda on the club. She was jotting down “new business” in her little notebook. This new business included a plan for a Fourth of July decorating spree in which every home in Deepwater Cove and every shop and restaurant in Tranquility would be transformed by members of the TLC.

  “The dollar store has red, white, and blue bunting for sale,” Esther was saying as Patsy nibbled on her scone. “I think we ought to drape some on the front of each golf cart in the neighborhood. Does anyone know where we can find affordable flags?”

  “Our restaurant manager at the country club accidentally ordered too many flags for the tables,” Ashley Hanes spoke up. “They’re fairly small, but I bet he’d let us have the extras for free. We could put one in every yard.”

  Patsy noted that the redhead’s neck was encircled five-deep in strands of handmade beads, which she fiddled with when she talked. Her skinny tank top and tight shorts bore evidence that the young woman wasn’t the least bit pregnant, though Ashley had secretly confided in almost everyone that she and Brad were trying to have a baby. Still starry-eyed about her handsome husband, Ashley took great joy in showing off her engagement ring with its large diamond. It was as though she couldn’t quite believe she had actually married the high school’s most popular athlete.

  Ashley hadn’t had her hair trimmed for a while, Patsy realized. The redhead had never been one to sit quietly in the salon chair, and Patsy knew she would always get a full update on how things were going between the newlyweds. Maybe after the club meeting Patsy could schedule Ashley an appointment for a trim. Her ends were getting a bit straggly.

  “That is a wonderful idea, Ashley,” Esther said, beaming. “If you’ll get us those flags, we’ll be just about set. Does anyone else have an idea for what we might do to celebrate the independence of our great country?”

  “We could put on a fireworks show down at the commons area by the water,” Ashley suggested. “Brad loves fireworks. He’d be happy to organize it if people would chip in a little money.”

  At this, Esther’s lips pinched shut. Everyone knew that shooting off fireworks on the commons was against the Deepwater Cove bylaws, and everyone but Brad Hanes was glad. The young man turned into a kid nearly every holiday, blowing up who knew how much money on bottle rockets, Roman candles, and other pyrotechnics. Patsy herself didn’t mind fireworks, but she felt sure Ashley’s suggestion would be voted down.

  “I appreciate the thought,” Esther said, “but you know my dog is terrified by fireworks or thunder, or any loud noises. Poor Boofer tries to get behind the sofa, but these days he’s too fat. He wedges in as far as he can go, and then he gets stuck. It’s all Charlie and I can do to pull him out.”

  “I’ll have to agree with Esther about fireworks,” Brenda Hansen spoke up. “My cat feels the same way Boofer does about loud noises. I’ll never forget the night lightning struck an electric pole near the house and Ozzie jumped into a pan of pink paint. I thought I’d never get him clean.”

  Ashley shrugged, her face suddenly forlorn. “Well, if that’s how you feel. Most people enjoy watching fireworks on the Fourth. It’s traditional, you know.”

  “How about barbecuing pork steaks on the commons instead?” Patsy put in brightly.

  Pork steaks might as well be added to Missouri’s official seal. As far as Patsy knew, there had never been a gathering of people in the Show-Me State without someone serving pork steaks.

  “Folks could bring their portable grills,” she went on, “and we could have a potluck supper with the steaks, casseroles, and different salads.”

  “Steve will be happy to churn homemade ice cream,” Brenda offered. Her husband had kissed her cheek before departing the salon a few minutes ago when Patsy finished his trim.

  “I have a great seven-layer dip if people want to contribute bags of chips.” Kim Finley hadn’t said much till now. As a rule, she was fairly quiet, but when she did have something on her mind, she expressed it well. “And I’ll bring the fixings for sundaes, too. There’s nothing like hot fudge, pecans, maraschino cherries, and whipped cream on a sundae.”

  “What’s happening on Sunday?” Opal asked, elbowing Patsy.

  “We’re talking about the Fourth of July!” Patsy disliked yelling, but she didn’t have much choice since Opal had left her hearing aids at home. “We plan to barbecue pork steaks on the commons!”

  “I didn’t realize the Fourth was on a Sunday this year,” Opal declared. “I guess I’ll bring a couple of my apple pies.”

  No one could deny that Opal Jones made the best apple pie in the county. As everyone clapped, Esther called the meeting to a close, and the women resumed their chatter. Several rose to refill their cups, while others prepared to leave.

  Patsy took delight in the comfortable crowd gathered in her tea area. Since the founding of the TLC, she had come to think of it as a garden—a safe, quiet place set aside for nourishment, growth, and support. As the music of her favorite trio, Color of Mercy, drifted in the air, Patsy studied her patch of blossoms, birds, and butterflies.

  Ashley Hanes, still in the springtime blush of marriage, seemed to be settling down a little now, just as flowers sank their roots into the soil in preparation for summer. Orange-red canna lilies blossomed in Patsy’s mind when she looked at Ashley. With her flame of long hair and her stacks of beaded necklaces, Ashley came across as tropical and exotic.

  Patsy loved canna lilies, and she planted a cluster of them near her mailbox every year. They were tall, showy, and bright all summer, but they didn’t last long once the first frost hit. And that was the trouble with cannas—in winter, their raggedy blooms fell off, and their leaves faded from green to brown to black. In Missouri, cannas died out altogether unless you dug them from the ground and hid them in a warm place until the following spring.

  Chatting with Esther Moore, Ashley projected a confidence and strength as hardy as a canna’s with its thick stem and broad leaves. But Patsy wondered what would happen if winter ever struck the Hanes marriage the way it had Brenda and Steve Hansen’s.

  Thank goodness, these days Brenda was perking right up. She made Patsy think of another lily that was common all over Missouri. Unlike cannas, surprise lilies could survive the harshest freezes and ice storms. As soon as spring arrived, they sent up long green leaves as a sign that they were still alive. But it wasn’t until summer, after the leaves had long since vanished, that these bulbs surprised everyone by bursting out of the ground to show off their prettiest pink ruffles. Leafless, the blossoms danced in the breeze on long stems, nodding as if to welcome everything else in the garden.

  Not only was Brenda showing signs of a lovely summertime outlook, but Esther Moore continued to reflect that season too. Calm, comfortable, and satisfied in her long marriage to Charlie, she was a honeysuckle vine. Hardy green foliage and a sweet perfume announced that the honeysuckle, like Esther, was perfectly happy and showing no signs of fading.


  “What do you think about bananas?” Brenda asked Kim Finley.

  For a second, Patsy feared the others at the table had been reading her mind. Then Brenda finished her thought.

  “Steve is crazy about banana splits. He’d rather eat a banana split than a steak dinner. In fact, that’s why we bought the ice cream maker.”

  “I’ll bring plenty of bananas,” Kim assured her. “Derek likes them too. Lydia won’t touch a banana, but Luke might as well be half monkey.”

  Both Kim and Brenda were seated at the table with Patsy and Opal. While Opal serenely sipped her tea and studied the scene outside the salon, Patsy continued to take account of her tea garden. For some reason Cody hadn’t shown up for the TLC meeting, which wasn’t like him at all. Some of the women were beginning to leave, and Patsy regretted missing most of the fellowship. She hoped Kim and Brenda would linger awhile, even though she knew they had such busy lives.

  “He’s doing better each day,” Kim was telling her friend when Patsy began listening to them again. “Luke is much more conscientious than I had expected. He’s actually pretty good at keeping track of his blood sugar and figuring out his insulin doses.”

  “That’s wonderful. My Justin wouldn’t be that responsible. He’s still in college, but he barely passes each semester. So unlike Jennifer and Jessica.”

  Patsy thought Kim looked a little weary today. In the garden of women Patsy nurtured, Kim had never been a summer girl. Life had taken a toll on her, and these days she seemed a bit faded—beautiful but worn, like a cluster of chrysanthemums at the end of the season. Maybe once they had been golden or purple, but now the flowers were losing their color and the leaves were starting to wilt.

  “Kim, could we talk about your curtains?” Brenda spoke up all of a sudden.

  The way she leaned forward and laid her hand on Kim’s arm startled Patsy from her gardening reverie.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Kim said, her lips forming a halfhearted smile. “You’re probably right about the lace. I’ve been thinking about taking them—”