Love In a Small Town (11 page)

The blooms were huge, obviously first quality, and every color. Deep yellow roses with rust-edged petals shared space with pink, white and lavender blossoms; others were dark, velvety red, almost black. The myriad of fragrances rivaled the best Bulgarian Rose Oil. "There must be two dozen roses here in every color there is."

"Six," Violet said, delightedly. "I counted. Who are they from?"

Only one time in Lindsay's life had someone given her flowers—the corsage she wore to her high school prom. Pure feminine pleasure swept through her. She felt cherished.
Who could have done this?

"Aren't you going to look for the card?"

"Here it is," a customer volunteered, handing her the white envelope. By now every person in the store had gathered around, curious, because they sensed the drama.

She opened the envelope, glanced at the card, and caught the name at the end of the message. "Oh, for goodness sakes," she said, and dashed to the storeroom in back, where she could read the note in peace.

'Dear Miss Lindsay Keith:

Since my clumsy attempts at apologies have failed dismally, I hope these roses will express the sincerity with which I regret the rudeness I've exhibited on several occasions since first meeting you. I beg your forgiveness and ask one last chance to make amends.

May I escort you to the Chamber of Commerce Dinner Dance a week from tomorrow? Please consider it. I'll call you tonight for your answer.

A hopeful and profoundly contrite,

David Martin.'

A thrill shot through Lynn, turning her insides to mush. He cared this much about how she felt.
Oh, my.

Violet barged into the storeroom. "Okay, you've been holding out on me, boss. Who do you know can send you four hundred bucks worth of roses?"

There was no hope of keeping this private. "You know the night Janine, Caro, Mary, and I went to dinner at the Kensington?"

"When you checked out the new waiter, and you thought he might be interested in you? Ohmigod. The waiter sent you these roses?"

"His name is David Martin. I've met him since at the Soup and Bread Supper and again at the supermarket."

"And he sends you roses for that?"

"No, there's more to it." She laughed, amused that he would make such a grand gesture. There was no denying it. David's flowers impressed her tremendously. Noting the eager expression on Violet's face, and realizing she was not going to be left alone until she had told the whole story, she decided she might as well get it over with.

"They're an apology, of sorts. You know, each time we meet, it gets personal, and we start trading insults."

"This is the guy you told me about, right? The one that thrills your bones?"

"Yes. Let's say that there's some chemistry there—some mutual chemistry—which I don't want, because I don't get involved with our here-today-gone-tomorrow summer workers."

"How do you know that's the case?"

She thought about it. "To be honest, I don't know. I jumped to that conclusion, I guess. He is, after all, a waiter in a seasonal job—not exactly a career move. But on the other hand, I get the feeling that there's a lot more to him than that."

"Somebody whose only job is waiting tables couldn't afford that arrangement. He must have maxed out his credit card, big time. Come on, Lynn. You're being judgmental. If he's rude, he must be reacting to your attitude."

Had she been unfair? Her attraction to him was a given, and he was equally interested. She had no doubt of that. Why else would he be sending her that massive bunch of roses? She was being too hard on him. The flowers were beautiful, and a date could hardly be considered involvement. She could always end it there.

"I didn't tell you the rest of it. He wants to take me to the Chamber of Commerce Dinner Dance next Saturday."

"That's a problem? For crying out loud, go. When's the last time you went to a dance? High school?"

Lynn glanced at Violet, and said, defending herself, "I've dated once-in-a-while. It just never turned out." Actually, the one time she tried had been almost painful, involving long silences with nothing to say. No common interests to discuss. Not enough sparkle there to even consider a goodnight kiss. She winced, inwardly, even as she knew an evening with D.G. would not be like that.

"So?" Violet demanded. "You're going to the dance or not?"

"But it's formal. I'll have to buy a dress."

"Not to worry. Bernice, up at Personal Expressions, will get you all decked out. They have some elegant dresses up there."

"But he'll have to rent a tuxedo."

"Lynn." Her voice grim, obviously out of patience, Violet said, "If the guy can afford these roses, he can afford to rent a tuxedo. You're grown up now. And he isn't some horny teenager breaking open his college-fund piggy bank to take a girl to the prom. It's his idea. Deal with it."

"Of course you're right," Lynn said with a sigh, and then her spirit brightened. "Besides, he is the most gorgeous man I've ever met, and his eyes, when he looks at me, make my knees weak. They're like melted dark chocolate."

"Melted chocolate? I know where I'm having dinner tonight. Come on, we've got a store full of customers. Let's go make some money so you can buy a new dress."

The sun had mellowed into soft, autumn light late that Saturday afternoon, when Sarah walked the last block to her house. She'd had a good day. Knowing Logan changed her. It had given her the courage to be herself.

That morning, when she started dressing for her meet with the TAMs, she chose her smartest outfit. It felt good to be blonde again, with a little makeup and nice clothes. Starting Monday, she'd lose the Emo-Goth look and go normal. She still wanted to be part of the TAMs, but on her own terms.

Her reception at Tiffany's house was sweet justice. Tiffany gushed over her outfit, especially her new Wild Diva floral print boots, and Ashley's eyes had flashed jealousy before she was able to hide her feelings. For sure, she didn't like being second best.

Logan would approve of the change, so the TAMs would live with it, or to heck with them. She smiled, feeling the old Sarah returning, like from a couple of years ago, before Mom got sick.

"Hey, Sarah." It was Logan, calling her.

Looking ahead, she saw him, in his dorky camos and straggly hair, sitting on her front steps. He could be really cute if she could talk him into doing something about that hair, but for now all she wanted was to talk to him, and tell him about her day and how she got the best of Ashley.

"Hey, Logan."

"Hi. You've been gone all day."

"You've been sitting here waiting for me?"

He smiled—still shy with her—and tossed his hair back, out of his eyes. "No. I was out at the Humane Society kennels. I volunteer on Saturdays. They're always short of help."

"How come you do that?"

"It looks good on college applications for scholarships."

"You have a plan for that far ahead?"

"Sure. I have a plan for everything. Otherwise you make mistakes, and your life doesn't turn out the way you wanted."

His eyes met hers, clearly waiting for her to laugh at him. It was a dreary way to look at life, but this was Logan. She rushed on with her news. "I have a secret to tell you, but you must promise not to tell anyone else, or I'll get into trouble if my dad finds out."

"Is it legal?"

"Of course. I didn't break any laws." Well, she had signed the paper swearing she was eighteen. "Not any important laws, anyhow, but no one else can know."

He looked at her doubtfully. "If it involves the TAMs, it could be anything." Eyes alight with mischief, he added, "Yeah, we better be careful. There could be spies, listening devices, parabolic mikes, and all that."

Sarah laughed. "Okay, you made your point. I did something after my dad said I couldn't. So, he can't ever know. Ashley pushed me into it, but I was glad afterward."

"This doesn't sound good, especially if it was Ashley's idea."

She took a breath. "I got a tattoo. The smallest one they had. A little butterfly. My mom liked butterflies. I went first because everybody was scared, so they all had to do it or look bad. It's on my right hip. It's hidden, even when I wear low-rider jeans."

Aghast, he blurted, "That's a pretty dumb thing to do. What if it got infected? What if you don't like it?"

"Well, I think it's neat-looking, but don't worry. It's on my hip and you'll never have to see it. I won't ever show it to you, so there."

She tried again to impress him—to make him understand. "When we got there, I went first and the others had to do it then, even if they didn't want to. They watched, totally scared and ready to back out, but they knew they had to, or else." She waited for his response. "Don't you get it? They couldn't back out."

"I'm beginning to. You're saying that for once, you felt like you were in charge, like maybe you didn't have to listen to them as much as you've been. Right?"

She sighed with relief. "I knew you'd understand, and you know what? From now on, I'm going to wear normal makeup and dress in my real clothes. They'll just to have to put up with it."

"There's only one thing wrong with that."

"Yeah? What?"

"You haven't been here long enough to know what a real bitch Ashley can be. If you get on her wrong side, she can be vicious, and she's not going to like one of her minions rebelling. You became the leader today and made her look bad. She can get you into real trouble before you even know it. Just be careful."

She responded, irritated. "I'm not as smart as you, but I'm not dumb. They all wanted to do it, but they were afraid it would hurt. They were OK with me going first. They all went along with it after me."

Logan sighed. "All I'm saying, Sarah, is that you have to think ahead when you do something to what the consequences might be. It's different in a regular school. You have to learn to watch out."

They sat quietly; with nothing more to say, but Sarah wasn't ready to go inside.

"I think my dad is interested in a woman he met. It worries me."

"Why? Don't you like her?"

"Do you know Lynn Keith, the owner of the perfume shop downtown?"

"I don't get downtown much."

"She's nice. I like her a lot. She's going to teach me to make perfume, but I wonder what will happen if her and David hook up. I mean, will I still have a place here?"

"That is really dumb. I don't know your dad well, but I can tell he's not like that. What do you mean 'make perfume'?"

"It's not hard. You can go with me and help, but she says I have to know what kind of fragrance I want to do before we can begin."

"Shakespeare. I know a lot about him and he liked flowers. He mentions them all the time in his plays. Use the flowers he talks about in the perfume."

"That is so cool. I love it. I'll look it up on the Internet."

"He wrote a sonnet about perfume. I'll bring it to school. You can read it."

Logan stood and held out his hand. Regret in his voice, he said, "I have to go. Goodbye, Sarah."

Solemnly she shook his hand; glad she had found a friend.

David relaxed at his usual morning spot, on the porch, enjoying the quiet from his favorite chair, feeling enormously pleased with himself. In three more days he'd see Lynn. She'd agreed to go to the dance with him this Saturday.

Yeah. It felt good, no, better than he'd felt in a long while. It was time to bring some stability to his life, define himself. Sarah's blessing was the deciding factor for him—permission to move on.

Where was his tuxedo? He hadn't seen it since they'd moved into the house. Sarah would know. She kept track of these things.

He could hear her in the kitchen, finding some breakfast before leaving for school.

"Hey, Dad." She came through the door, carrying a glass of orange juice.

His eyes widened with pleasure. She'd taken great care dressing for the day. Last week she announced she was giving up the rags for something more normal. He gave thanks every day for the change. Today, she wore her best jeans, which fit her slim body like a second skin, and a tan T-shirt with an ad for Pears' Soap from the 1920s printed on the front. T-shirts with vintage advertising art had been all the rage when she left Chicago. The real kicker in the outfit was the wide belt with her big Harley-Davidson buckle. She'd be hard to ignore.

He whistled appreciatively. "Wow, that's quite an outfit. You look beautiful, kiddo. Does this mean we've seen the last of that ratty green sweater you've been wearing?"

"Logan and I had a talk. He said I should be true to myself."

"Oh?" Disgruntled, he regarded her. Hadn't he said that not long ago? "You really like Logan, don't you?"

"He's pretty much my best friend. I know he didn't like the way I looked, so I changed back to my normal clothes."

Her face was a study in anxiety. "Dad, when I first met Logan, I was mean. I did something terrible."

"What terrible thing? I can see it really bothers you, whatever it was."

"I was in the cafeteria, heading for Ashley's table for lunch, and Logan and his friends were at their table. He said 'hello' and I wouldn't look at him. I pretended I didn't hear him. Daddy, he was so hurt."

"Why would you do a thing like that?"

"My friends think he's a nerd and I knew if they saw me talking to him, they'd make fun of me, and I was afraid."

Remembering the many rejections he suffered as a youth, he cast his sympathies with Logan.

"Sarah, I'm surprised at you. He's a nice kid who has offered you his friendship. He doesn't deserve that, especially from you, since you know what it's like to be shunned."

"I know, I know. After school I hunted all over for him. He wouldn't even look at me, but I went up to him and apologized. I begged him not to be mad and promised never to do anything like that to anyone ever again."

"And what did he do?"

"Well, he thought about it, then he smiled and said he'd forgive me." She sighed, remembering. "When Logan smiles, it's so beautiful. He has these three friends. They do things like volunteering at the animal shelter and helping at the senior citizens center."