Читать книгу Secrets Of The Tulip Sisters - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 11

5

Kelly left the diner and drove back to work. She passed the acres of tulip farmland long before she reached the main offices. Only a few weeks before, the blooming flowers had been a sea of color. After the harvest, there was nothing left but dark soil and the promise of flowers next spring.

It was a ridiculous waste of land, she thought as she turned into the driveway. Not only was the crop uneatable, the ground lay fallow nearly nine months out of the year. Still, the Murphys had grown tulips for five generations. The flowers were in her blood, so to speak, and she had no interest in doing anything else.

She pulled into the parking lot and saw Griffith’s truck in the spot next to the one she generally used. The man himself leaned against the driver’s door. As she pulled to a stop, he straightened and walked around to greet her.

In the few seconds it took him to make the trip, she found herself feeling oddly flustered and out of breath. Did he expect her to make a decision right that second? She needed time to know what on earth she was going to do.

He pulled open her door and smiled. “Kelly.”

“Griffith.”

“You had an overnight package.” He held out a small box. “It was delivered to me by mistake. I thought it might be important.”

She stared into his brown eyes and found herself oddly unable to speak. What on earth? No. No way. She might be interested in dating Griffith and possibly sleeping with him, but there was no way she was going to fall for him. That would be the complete definition of stupid.

She took the box from him and recognized the mailing label and return address. Her nerves immediately calmed and her throat unconstricted.

“I have no idea how this got to you, but thank you for dropping it by.”

“It’s important?”

She smiled. “It is to me, but I doubt you’d agree.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

He stepped back so she could get out of the truck, then he followed her into the building.

The farm offices were in front of one of the largest greenhouses. They were basic at best, with only a half-dozen offices and a small waiting area. The real work was done elsewhere. At least Kelly’s was. Her dad handled sales and scheduled deliveries, so he spent plenty of time in his office, while she did her best to always be out in one of the greenhouses or in the fields.

They didn’t employ a receptionist, nor did they have a company phone system. If someone needed her, they called her cell phone. The same with her dad. Most of their orders were done online. Only special orders or panicked begging happened on the phone.

She dropped her battered, woven handbag on the counter and reached for a pair of scissors sticking up from a juice can of pencils. She slit the tape on the box and opened it.

Inside lay a half-dozen bulbs. They were on the small side and nestled in cotton. There was nothing special about them, nothing to indicate what they would be. A card had been taped to the inside of the box: 8756-43.

“That’s a letdown,” Griffith told her.

“For you. I’m all aquiver.”

“Seriously? Over bulbs?”

“Not just any bulbs, Griffith. These are special. A hybrid or maybe a new color or shape.”

“You don’t know?”

She showed him the card. “That’s as much information as I have.” She picked up the box and nodded toward the back of the office. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She led him through to the big wooden door in the rear, then out along a gravel path. When they reached the smallest of the greenhouses, the one that was hers alone, they went inside.

The temperature was warmer, the air thicker and more humid. The scent of plants and life and water filled every breath. There were tables lined with square trays and in each tray were rows of bulbs.

“In the main greenhouses, each of these can hold up to a hundred and fifty bulbs,” she said. “We only have a single level of planting here, but there are farms where they have tall buildings with roofs that open and close and machines that raise and lower pallets of plants.”

“Somebody has greenhouse envy.”

“You know it.” She motioned to the various trays. “These are all experimental tulips. Different horticulturists develop them, then send them to me to grow them. I keep track of everything that happens to them—from how much water, to the nutrients used, to the amount of light and ambient temperature. I document the life cycle and report back my findings.”

He pointed to the box she held. “What is that going to be?”

“I have no idea.”

“They don’t tell you?”

“No.” She laughed. “That’s part of the fun. I haven’t got a clue. It’s like unwrapping a present.”

“Only it takes a couple of months to get to the good part.”

“That’s okay.” She touched the bulbs. “They email me basic instructions, letting me know how long they think I should refrigerate the bulb before bringing it out to root, but that’s it.”

“You refrigerate the bulbs?”

“They have to think it’s winter before they can think it’s spring.”

They left the greenhouse and walked into one of the barns. There were huge cooling rooms filled with thousands and thousands of bulbs.

“Holy crap,” he said as he looked around. “You’re going to grow all these?”

“In less than a year. I have a computer inventory program that helps me track when the bulbs are put into cold storage and when they’ll be ready to come out. Depending on the type of bulb, I know how long for them to root and from then, how long until they flower. We work backward to fill our orders. Some of the tulips—the kind you can get at any grocery store or florist year-round—are always in production. We vary the volume based on the season.”

She pointed to labeled boxes of bulbs. “Those are red and white tulips for the holidays.”

“Now you’re messing with me.”

She laughed. “I swear. Come back in five months and I’ll prove it.”

She put the new bulbs from the box into a square dish on a shelf by the door. After writing down the date on the card, she tucked it next to the dish. They walked back outside.

“Impressive,” he told her.

“It’s not housing for the homeless, but I like to think my flowers will make someone happy.”

“They will.”

They stood facing each other. There was a confidence about him, as if he knew his place in the world and was happy about it. Sven was plenty confident, too, so that couldn’t be what made Griffith feel different.

“I’m sorry about what happened in high school,” he said quietly.

The words were so at odds with what she’d been thinking that at first she had no idea what he was talking about. When she managed to find context and remembered that horrible day, she flushed and wanted to run away. Instead she forced herself to stay where she was. Her chin came up.

“All right.”

He looked at her. “I panicked. I knew your mom was in her room with Coach and I was pretty sure I knew what they were doing. I didn’t want you to walk in on that.”

Because her mother had been having an affair with the football coach, along with countless other men. Everyone had pretended not to know, all the while being acutely aware of what was happening—Kelly most of all.

As a teacher at the high school, Marilee had had a permanent classroom. One where the door was often locked at lunch. Kelly hadn’t even been thinking as she’d approached. She’d been too distracted by seeing Griffith with his friends.

“I was stupid to say what I did,” he continued. “I know it was a long time ago, and this is late, but I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“You couldn’t just ask me a question about homework? You had to announce you weren’t the least bit interested in me?”

“I totally blanked, which is the truth, not an excuse.”

She liked that he continued to hold her gaze, as if he wanted her to know he meant what he was saying. And the apology was nice, too. Yes, very late, but still.

“I was humiliated,” she admitted. “Then my mom left and everything changed at home and what you’d said didn’t seem that important.”

Her mom hadn’t just left, Kelly thought grimly. They’d fought. She still remembered the anger between them.

“Why can’t you just be like everyone else?” Kelly had demanded of her mother. “Why do you have to be this way? You’re so selfish. You have a family. You’re supposed to take care of us.”

What she’d really meant was that her mother was supposed to take care of her, but she hadn’t been able to say that.

“I’m not like other mothers. Someday you’ll understand.”

“I won’t. I hate you. If you’re so unhappy, why don’t you just leave?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. Go away. You’re horrible. We won’t miss you at all.”

Marilee’s green eyes had darkened with an emotion Kelly couldn’t understand. “Be careful, darling. Wishes like that can be dangerous.”

The fight had ended then. Kelly had cried herself to sleep—an embarrassing truth for a fifteen-year-old. She told herself it was wrong to hate her mother, to wish her gone, but she couldn’t seem to think any other way. The next day, Marilee had left Tulpen Crossing forever.

That was when everything had changed for all of them. Without Marilee, the dynamics had shifted. They’d all been in pain and reacting. Looking back, Kelly wondered if she hadn’t just lost her mother that day—if she had lost her sister, as well.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” Griffith said. “I know it was tough for you and your sister.”

Olivia had suffered far more than Kelly. While Kelly had wrestled with guilt, she’d still had her dad, and the relative peace that had followed. But Olivia had always been their mother’s favorite. With Marilee gone, she was alone. Jeff’s awkward attempts to fill the void had not been enough.

Kelly knew she should have stepped in, should have done more. Why hadn’t she? A question that still had no answer.

“What I said didn’t help,” he added.

“It’s okay,” Kelly told him. “I appreciate the apology.” She managed a slight smile. “I guess based on our previous conversation, I should assume you’re over your distaste.”

His brows rose slightly. “There was never any distaste.”

“You say that now.”

“You’re going to make me pay, aren’t you?”

“I think a little, yes.”

“Okay. I’ve probably earned it. Thank you for the tour,” he added. “I liked seeing where you work.”

“You should come by when we’re harvesting. It’s pretty exciting.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me, too,” she said before she could stop herself.

He smiled and took a step toward her. For a second she thought he was going to kiss her. She had no idea how she felt about that or what it would be like. Anticipation quickened in her belly right before he lightly touched her upper arm, then turned and walked back toward the parking lot.

She stared after him in disbelief. That was it? What had happened to him wanting to sleep with her? Why hadn’t he made his move?

She put her hands on her hips and glared at his retreating back. Men were stupid. All of them, but mostly Griffith.

* * *

Helen finished locking the front door of the diner. The downside of her job was starting so early in the morning. The upside was she was usually out by three in the afternoon—earlier if she could get her food orders in during the mid-morning lull.

She dropped her keys into her bag and turned to find Jeff standing a couple of feet away.

She pressed a hand to her chest. “You startled me.” Which was the truth and also better than her next thought, which was more along the lines of how good he looked. All manly in his plaid shirt and jeans.

“Were we supposed to go to JML or something?” Because while Jeff was a regular at the café, he’d already been by for breakfast. He wasn’t generally an afternoon kind of guy.

“No. I wanted to talk to you.”

For a second she allowed herself to hope that he’d finally come to his senses, realized he was madly in love with her and was here to declare himself. Or at least try to get in her pants, but she was okay with that, too.

“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about before,” he began. “About the women I see in Seattle.”

Yes? Yes? She did her best to look completely normal when on the inside she was doing a competition-worthy cheer routine. Oh, please, oh, please let him want sex with her. Wild, crazy, hot monkey sex.

“You caught me off guard with your questions. I didn’t know what to say.” He raised one shoulder. “I guess I was embarrassed.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know. People talking.”

“No one’s talking. I observed.” Although she did think other people had noticed, she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“My point is, you’re right. We’re friends. Good friends. So ask me what you want to know and I’ll do my best to answer your questions.”

The hot, glowing sex bubble inside of her burst with an audible pop. “That would be great. Probably not right here.”

He looked around at the empty café parking lot. “Probably not.”

They walked the quarter block to her small house, the one she’d bought after her aunt and uncle had moved away. It was just over fourteen hundred square feet, with nice light and an updated kitchen. But what had sold her on the place was the oversize living room with the perfect space for her piano. The small upright was one of the few things she had from her parents. The piano had to be on an interior wall, away from drafts, vents and the sun.

She unlocked the front door. Jeff followed her inside. They gravitated to the kitchen, as people always did, and settled on the bar stools in front of the main counter.

Unsure of the protocol for a conversation like this, she asked, “Do you want something to drink?”

“I’m fine.”

They were sitting about two feet apart, angled toward each other. Helen set her purse on the counter, then didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“I have a couple of bars I go to,” he began. “I’ve also used a dating website or two.”

She told herself that whatever he said, she was going to keep her mouth firmly shut. And act natural. No snorts, no gasps, no blushing, although the latter would be hard to control.

“I make it clear I’m not looking for anything long-term or involved. No serious commitments.”

“Why not?” she blurted before she could stop herself. “See, I don’t get that. I know you and you’re a commitment kind of guy. You love your routine and the rhythm of the seasons. Why would it be different with a woman? Why wouldn’t you want to be with someone long-term?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not. Kelly wouldn’t care. She worries about you being alone. One day she’s going to move out and then you’ll be in that big house all by yourself. You can’t sell it—it’s been in the family too long. I guess you could move out and Kelly could...” She cleared her throat. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

He gave her a brief smile. “Want to bet on that?”

She grinned. “No. Anyway, you were saying it’s complicated.”

“Maybe that’s not the right word. With my past...”

He meant Marilee, the bitchy, unfaithful ex-wife. “You know what she did wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t about you, it was about her. Something inside of her.” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. There was something in her.” He shifted on the bar stool. “When we first started dating, I knew she wasn’t long for this town. That as soon as she graduated from high school, she was gone. Then she got pregnant. I was shocked when she told me and even more surprised that she wanted to have the baby. We got married and Kelly was born and Marilee went to college and got her degree and started teaching. For a while things were okay between us. Then they weren’t.”

He looked at her, then away. “I never knew how to make her happy enough.”

Happy enough that she wouldn’t cheat, Helen thought. She’d had a similar thought herself. With Troy. She’d kept thinking that if only she were prettier or thinner or more adventurous in bed, he wouldn’t cheat on her.

“Like I said before, it’s not about you. It was never anything you did. It was always her.”

“You telling me or yourself?” he asked gently. Because, of course, Jeff knew about her past. Everyone in Tulpen Crossing did.

“Both.”

“I agree with you, at least in theory. My head tells the story, my gut is less likely to believe.”

“And because of that, you won’t get involved?”

“That’s part of the reason.”

“What’s the rest of it?” That he was secretly in love with her? If only life were that convenient.

He leaned toward her. “This conversation is supposed to be about you. Here’s my advice. Make sure you like the guy. Keep yourself safe. Listen to your gut and make him wear a condom. Don’t take any crap about how it doesn’t feel good with a condom. It feels just fine. You deserve someone who looks out for you.”

Like he was doing now, she thought dreamily. Only he wasn’t talking about himself. He was giving her advice on how to sleep with someone else. Not exactly the act of a man secretly in love with her.

Another dream dashed. It appeared she was never going to have her way with Jeff—not if she couldn’t get him to be the tiniest bit jealous.

“I appreciate the advice,” she told him.

“Good.” He stood. “I need to get back to the office.”

She rose and walked him to the front door. He turned and smiled at her. Before she could catch her breath or react, he pulled her close. Like in a hug. Not that they hadn’t hugged a billion times before, but maybe this was different. Maybe he was finally going to—

He leaned in and kissed her. On. The. Top. Of. Her. Head. WTF?

Helen forced herself to smile tightly as he drew back.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

What she said was, “Absolutely.” What she meant was, “Not if I see you first.”