Читать книгу Sugar And Spice - Shirley Jump - Страница 14

The Rafters was a secluded restaurant perched high on a hill. In the fall and winter when the trees were bare, the nation’s capitol could be seen in the distance. It wasn’t necessarily the kind of eatery where one went to be seen—just the opposite, as it afforded privacy and small rooms where one could dine without worrying about people stopping by to say hello. It was rumored that more than one senator and congressmen had dalliances in the private rooms. The owners of the establishment, the ladies Harriet and Olivia Neeson, were quick to deny all such rumors.

Sam Moss had called ahead for a reservation and was assured by Harriet, who had been a dear friend of his wife, Sara, that she would reserve the best table in the house.

Sam and Tillie were halfway through the meal when Sam realized he was enjoying himself. He liked the witty, sharp-tongued Tillie Baran. He knew he was going to be sorely disappointed if this outing turned out to be solely about Christmas trees.

It had been ages, years actually, since he’d dined out. He always felt like a fish out of water sitting down in a restaurant by himself. When Sara was alive, they ate out every Saturday and Sunday to give her a break from cooking. He’d liked the fact that they both got slicked up. Sara preferred to say they got dressed up. Before his date with Tillie he’d dithered about what to wear and had trouble deciding if he should get dressed up. Finally, he settled on one of his vintage sport jackets. He was glad now that he hadn’t gone the suit-and-tie route, because Tillie was dressed casually. She smelled so good he kept sniffing her over the delectable aromas emanating from the kitchen. Yes sireee, he was enjoying himself.

Tillie looked up from her pecan-crusted salmon she was eating and said, “I can’t help but notice how you keep sniffing, Sam. Do I still smell like mothballs?”

“No, no. I’m trying to decide which smells better, the aromas from the kitchen or your perfume. It’s been a long time since I smelled perfume. The truth is, I haven’t been out with a lady since Sara died.”

Tillie pushed her plate away. “I can top that, Sam. I haven’t been with a man in twenty-eight years. What I mean is, I haven’t…never mind. It must have been very hard on you when Sara passed away. My husband…it was different. I know you and Sara were very happy.”

Sam saw that his dinner companion was becoming agitated. “That was all a long time ago. Life goes on whether we like it or not. Let’s talk about more pleasant things.”

“How about we get down to business and talk about trees?” Tillie said bluntly.

“I can do it, Tillie, but it’s going to pose a big problem for me. Unless we can come up with some way…Look, I’m on shaky ground where my son is concerned. We’re being civil to one another but our relationship is very strained. He hasn’t forgiven me for a lot of things I really don’t want to go into right now. What that means to you is, he is working his half of the farm. He hired people to thin out the trees. He did some irrigating and fertilizing. His half. My half of the fields is in poor shape. If we can find a way to get the trees thinned and cut, I’ll donate as many as you want to the Seniors’ fund-raiser.”

“Sam! Really! You’ll donate as many as we can sell? That’s wonderful. We’ll just have to find people to help us. We have over seventy members to our chapter. The members have sons, nephews, grandchildren. Surely we can convince them to help us.”

Sam toyed with his wineglass. “We have to do it at night, Tillie.”

Tillie reared back in her chair. “At night! Right off, I see that as a problem. Why?”

Sam looked embarrassed. “I don’t want Gus to know. Right now the boy doesn’t have a very high opinion of me. Like I said, we’re on shaky ground. He left his business to come here to help me. I reacted like the old fool I am, said and did a lot of things Sara would deplore, but I did them anyway. He wants to prove to me he can get the farm back on its feet. He just might succeed at the rate he’s going. It’s too late to get my fields in shape, so while I’m donating them to you, you won’t be able to charge much for them. That means they aren’t going to be perfect trees. If I donate them to you, whatever you do sell them for will be all profit. Perhaps less than you planned, but you’ll make something. If you can get the volunteers, I think we can make it work. Maybe you can bill them as Charlie Brown trees.” Sam guffawed at what he thought was his witticism.

“Why are you doing this, Sam?” Tillie asked suspiciously. “When I came out to see you weeks ago you all but ran me off your property.”

“I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t in a good place mentally at the time. Then Gus came home with a major attitude. I had to fall back and regroup. At my age it’s damn hard to admit when you’re wrong, especially to your son. There are things…I don’t know if I can ever make right.”

Tillie reached across the table to take Sam’s hand in her own. “I know all about that, Sam. I really do. Amy and I are in the same position. I think we’re two old fools that stepped off the road and are trying to find it again. My daughter is so…efficient, so smart. She’s detail oriented. She follows through. That’s important, as she pointed out to me. She doesn’t like me, Sam. She as much as said I wasn’t mother material. Do you know how hard that was to hear? Worse, she’s right. She ran my cell phone under water. She said it was growing out of my ear.” This last sentence was said with such outrage, Sam burst out laughing. He squeezed her hand.

“My son doesn’t like me either. He needs to show me up, prove that he can run the farm and make money. He’s trying to show me that even though he hates it, he’s good at it. Does that make sense?” Tillie nodded. “I understand he’s a damn fine architect and makes tons of money out there in California. Gets all kinds of awards. Sara would have been so proud of him. He never forgave me for donating ‘his’ tree to the White House. Sara always said when it got to a proper growth, she was going to donate it to the White House in Gus’s name. She was so proud of that tree. Gus thinks I did it for spite.”

Tillie was aghast. “And you never told him?”

“No, I never told him, just the way you never told your daughter about your husband.”

“Not only are we old fools, Sam, we’re stupid old fools. Why do we always think we know best just because we’re older? Do you think we can pull this off, Sam? Won’t your son hear or notice the activity out in your…your half of the fields?”

“No. What he considers my half is down more in the valley. We can drive in from the back end. He’s busy working his half. He goes to bed at eight o’clock and sleeps so soundly the house could fall down around him and he wouldn’t hear it. How are you going to explain it to your daughter?”

“I’ll think of something. It’s the season of miracles, isn’t it? Every morning when Amy gets to the site she’ll see whatever we put there during the night. She did tell me this was a seat-of-the-pants operation. I think she’s right. A mysterious Good Samaritan delivers trees in the middle of the night. She’ll find a way to run with that. She’s a PR person and will play that up to the public. I think she’s right. Can we really do this, Sam? I’m starting to get excited.”

Sam stared across the table at his dinner partner, saw the sparkle in her eyes, felt her hand squeeze his again. He was starting to get excited himself. “Yes, we can do it. When you go home, start making phone calls. I’ll do the same. We’ll start work tomorrow night. We’ll all meet at the back entrance at eight-thirty and take it from there. Do you care for dessert?”

“No, Sam, I don’t think so. I think we should go home and get to work. I have one small question. If we work all night, when are we going to sleep?”

Sam threw his head back and laughed again. “We might have to pretend we’re sick. Old people get sick all the time. We can say we got our flu shots and like a lot of people, got sick.”

“Oooh, Sam, you’re so devious. I think that might work. I don’t see your son or my daughter fussing over either one of us, do you?”

Sam grinned from ear to ear. “Nope.” He squeezed Tillie’s hand. When she squeezed back, he laughed again. “Okay, partner, let’s hit the road and get to work. I think we should do this again sometime, Tillie.”

“I’d like that, Sam. I really would. It was a lovely dinner. Thank you.”

Amy was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a glass of wine she really didn’t want. Every time she thought about Gus Moss, her cheeks burned. The man was a scrooge. An out-and-out California guy who thought only about money. The arrogance of the man!

Amy was startled out of her reverie when she noticed her mother standing in the doorway. “Did you have a nice time wherever you went, Mother?”

“I suppose so. Dinner is dinner. You eat, you chat, you pay the check. Dinner. Is something wrong? You look angry.”

“I am angry. After you left, I drove out to Moss Farms to talk to Mr. Moss, only he wasn’t there. His know-it-all son was there. Mr. Moneybags Moss. I offered to buy his trees and asked for a discount. The best he could do was 20 percent. We can’t operate and make money at that rate. We had words. I called him a scrooge. I think I might have screamed that. He gave me some pie that was very good. He’s in charge of the farm these days. He was so arrogant, Mom. But boy was he good-looking. I’m really pissed off right now.”

Tillie felt so weak in the knees she had to sit down. Her daughter poured a glass of wine for her, which she drained in one long gulp. “I see.”

Amy bolted off her chair and started pacing the kitchen from one end to the other. “What do you see, Mother?”

“That…that you’re upset. I’m…ah…feeling a little slow today. I got a flu shot the other day and for some reason I always get sick afterward. That happens to a lot of people my age for some reason. I could…ah…be laid up for as long as a week. I’m sorry, Amy. I’ll do what I can, even if I have to do it in bed. It’s not easy getting old. Not that you would understand that.”

“Oh, I understand, Mother. It’s called a cop-out. Good night. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make breakfast if you can see your way to getting out of bed.”

Tillie felt her shoulders stiffen. “I’ll do my best, Amy,” she said cooly.

Tillie poured herself another glass of wine as she contemplated what the coming days would bring. “This is all my fault,” she mumbled to the silent room. “All my fault.”