Sugar And Spice (6 page)

Tillie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out and about at four-thirty in the morning.

What would Sam Moss say when he opened the door to see her standing there? Well, she’d find out soon enough.

She stopped at the first fast-food establishment she came to, a Wendy’s, and ordered two coffees to go.

As Tillie sipped at the hot brew, she thought about the last time she’d gone to see Sam Moss and how it had turned out. Maybe Sam would be in a better mood.

Ten minutes away, Sam Moss was explaining to his son, Gus, that he would join him as soon as he picked up the new blades for the chain saw. “Henry doesn’t open his shop till five o’clock. He told me he has two used saws. I want to take a look at them, and if he gives me a guarantee, I’ll take them. I’ll meet you in the Fraser fir field.”

Gus waved, and a minute later was gone.

Sam sat down at the kitchen table, a second cup of coffee in front of him. He could see the clock on the wall across from the table. He was finishing the last of his coffee when he heard a knock on the kitchen door. He opened the door and then took a step backward. “Kind of early to be visiting, isn’t it, Tillie?”

“Yes, it is early to be visiting. I was thinking about that on the drive out here. I wasn’t sure…what I mean is, you all but ran me off the last time I was out here. I need to talk to you, Sam. Actually, the truth is, I need your help. I thought I could trade on our old friendship. It’s cold out here, can I come in?”

Sam wiggled his nose. “You smell like mothballs, Tillie. Of course you can come in. Would you like some coffee?”

Tillie was glad she had left the coffee from Wendy’s in the car.

“Yes, that would be nice. The smell…well, that’s part of my problem. Do you think you can ignore it?”

Sam turned away, his mind racing. This visit couldn’t be a good thing. He poured coffee into a mug and set it down in front of his old friend. That wasn’t quite true, Tillie had been his wife’s friend more than his. She’d always been nice to him, though. Sara had loved going to the Senior Citizen meetings and helped plan the social calendar with Tillie. He sat down across from her. He should apologize to her for running her off his property the last time she’d been out here to the farm. There was something different about her today, and it wasn’t just the mothball smell.

“I’ve managed to get myself into some trouble, Sam. I know if I tell you, you won’t go spreading my business all over town. That was one of the things I always liked about you—you didn’t gossip like the rest of us. I’m here for advice and if you can see your way clear to helping me, that will be fine, but if not, I’ll settle for the advice. Will you hear me out?”

Sam poured himself some more coffee before he settled down to listen. When Tillie finally wound down it was five-thirty. “All these years, and you never told your daughter about her father? Why, Tillie?”

Tillie shrugged. “She loved him, Sam. When I had my nervous breakdown, I abandoned her. He was all she had. He might have been a lousy husband but he was a good father to Amy. I screwed up. Everything she said about me is true. I don’t know how to undo all those years. For now, I can do everything she wants me to do, but what about afterward? I’m going to cancel the tree order, pay for my mistake, sell my house and get something smaller. I don’t need that big house. I should be okay if I get a job. I need some of your trees, Sam. I need you to sell them to me at cost. It’s the only way I can make this work.

It’s not for me, Sam, it’s for the Seniors.” Tillie’s eyes filled with tears. She swiped them away with the back of her hand. “The young can be so cruel, Sam. What Amy said was all true, it was how she said it that burned to the quick. By the way, how is that son of yours who lives in California? Sara was so proud of him. Did you two make peace?”

It was Sam’s turn to open up. When he finished, Tillie stared at him wide-eyed. “Oh, Sam, how wonderful for you. He came back to help you. That means he’s forgiven you. That’s what it means, isn’t it?”

“Your girl came to help you. Do you think she’s forgiven you?”

Tillie shook her head. “No. She’s doing what she thinks a daughter should do. I guess your son is doing the same thing. How did we get to this place in time, Sam? We should be taking cruises, buying little treasures in gift stores, going to afternoon matinees, going to friends for dinner.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek. “We let it happen, Sam. We can’t blame anyone else but ourselves. It’s almost light out. I have to get back to the house. Will you think about what I asked and get back to me? I don’t have a cell phone any longer. Amy took it away and ran it under the water because she said it was growing out of my ear. Call me at home even if the answer is no.”

Sam nodded, stood up, then stunned himself by saying, “Would you like to go out to dinner this evening?”

Tillie jammed a fur-lined hat on her head. “Sure, Sam. I’d like that. Is it a date?”

Sam had to think about the question. A date was where you got dressed up, rang the lady’s doorbell.

“Yep,” he said. “Just don’t wear those clothes.”

“Okay,” Tillie said as she opened the kitchen door. “It might be better if I met you wherever it is you want to go for dinner. Amy doesn’t need to know all my business.”

Sam nodded, understanding perfectly. “Do you like the Rafters?”

“I do. I’ll meet you there at seven. Or is that too late?”

“No, that will work for me, Tillie. I’ll have some answers for you tonight.”

Tillie didn’t know why she did what she did at that moment. She stood on her toes and kissed Sam’s cheek. Later she thought it was because she was just so relieved to have finally told someone her problems, someone who had actually listened. “I’ll see you this evening. Have a nice day, Sam.”

Have a nice day, Sam. She’d kissed his cheek. He could still smell her mothballs. Sam Moss laughed then, a belly laugh that was so deep the floor under his feet rumbled.

When he hit the Fraser fir field at seven-thirty, Gus looked at his father suspiciously. “Did something happen, Pop?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“You smell like mothballs.”

Sam burst out laughing as he picked up one of the chain saws and moved off. When had he last heard his father laugh? Never, that was when.

The scents emanating from the kitchen were tantalizing as Amy set the table. She was so tired she could hardly see straight. All that aside, she’d put in a productive day’s work along with her mother who was chirping about this and that, finally winding down with, “I’m sorry, Amy, but I’m going out to dinner. I guess I should have told you sooner but my head is just swimming with all we’ve done today.”

Amy looked at her mother, at the flowered dishes on the table, the lit candle, the wineglasses just waiting for her to pop the cork. She sniffed at the aromas coming from the stove, the mixed salad, and the baby carrots in the warming bowl. That was when she really noticed her mother. She smelled good.

Her hair was pulled back from her face into a bun. She wore no makeup other than a little lipstick. She wore flannel slacks with a bright yellow sweater and low-heeled shoes. She looked like a matron, so unlike Amy’s always-fashionable mother that her daughter could hardly wrap her mind around the new Tillie Baran she was seeing.

What could she say other than, “Okay. I guess we’ll be eating this stuff for the rest of the week. By the way, thanks for going shopping. You certainly were up and out pretty early this morning.”

“Umm, yes. The early bird gets the worm, that kind of thing. You said you wanted me here in the kitchen at eight o’clock, so I had to take care of some business early to be back here on time. We old people don’t sleep much.”

Amy reared back. This was the first time in her memory that she could remember her mother using the word old in reference to herself. Other people were old, not Tillie. Maybe this was where she was supposed to say, “You’re not old, Mom.” She turned away to fiddle with the lid on the pot roast. “Don’t stay out too late.”

Tillie laughed, a delightful sound. Amy realized she’d never actually heard her mother laugh out loud.

How in the world was that possible? She’d seen her smile but that was it. There must be a man lurking somewhere in the picture. “You smell good,” she blurted.

“Do you think so? I have to be going. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about my plans, Amy. Everything looks and smells delicious. I’ll look forward to the leftovers tomorrow.”

Amy poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down to think about her mother and all that had transpired during the day. Her mother had behaved like a trooper to her surprise. She did everything Amy suggested, even more. She followed through on every single detail by making copious notes. The things they’d accomplished in a mere ten hours boggled her mind. They’d opened a business bank account, with both of them depositing sizeable checks to activate it. They’d ordered two large tents that would be set up on the Coleman property over the weekend. The power company promised electric hookup first thing Monday morning. Portable heaters were ordered along with all the Christmas decorations from the Curiosity Barn. The wholesaler she’d contacted had promised delivery of the wreath wires, the lath, the florist wires, the speciality bows, and everything else she needed for assembling the wreaths and grave blankets. Trial and error was the order of the day as she tried to figure out where to get a barrel and the netting for the trees. Several Seniors had come to the rescue, and there was now a huge metal rain drum sitting on her mother’s back porch. The bails of netting would be delivered on Tuesday along with tree trimmers and chain saws.

She was going to have at least fifty volunteers but no real workers. Tomorrow she would go on the hunt for actual employees. Tonight she had to get started on her PR campaign.

Damn, she was tired. Detail tired, not physically tired. Maybe she needed to get dressed and go for a run to clear her thoughts.

Amy looked at the dinner she’d prepared. Just the thought of mashing the potatoes and making gravy left her weak in the knees. She’d do that when she served leftovers. Instead she made herself a sandwich with the meat and ate it, along with a second cup of coffee. The minute she finished eating, she tidied up the kitchen, wrapped everything up, turned on the dishwasher and then stared at the huge chart she’d pasted to the kitchen wall. The bit red X in the middle of the chart glared at her. I can pull this off. I really can. All I need are Christmas trees. The grower her mother had signed on with was not an easy man to deal with even after she threatened him. Finally, in desperation, she’d told him to keep the five-thousand-dollar deposit and cancel the order. He in turn threatened to sue Tillie. That’s when she told him to get in line with all the other people waiting to sue Tillie Baran. He’s squawked and threatened some more, but at the end of the conversation he’d agreed to cancel the order. She’d been light-headed with her victory, but the elation was short-lived. Now she had to find Christmas trees, and the only place that had what she needed was Moss Farms. Maybe Mr. Moss would remember her and agree to sell her some trees. If not, this whole thing was going to go down the drain.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen, not on her watch.

Amy looked at the kitchen clock. It was only 6:45. She could drive out to the farm in fifteen minutes. Mr.

Moss would be done with his dinner and settled in for the evening. Maybe he would be more agreeable to her than he was with her pushy mother. Then again, maybe the cranky old man would run her off his property the way he’d run her mother off. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. If he won’t help, maybe out of the kindness of his heart he’ll steer me in the right direction.

Without stopping to think about it anymore, she reached for her jacket and was out of the house before she could change her mind.

Gus Moss stepped out of the shower, towel dried, and pulled on a pair of beat-up sweatpants and his first Tulane sweatshirt, which was full of holes. He stared at himself in the mirror and burst out laughing.

He’d shaved his beard yesterday and he now looked like himself. He slicked his curly hair back but knew the moment it dried it would be all over the place. Maybe I’ll get a buzz cut over the weekend. If I can find the time.

Cyrus, who dogged him everywhere he went, barked sharply. “Yeah, yeah, I know, Cyrus, we’re running behind schedule, but Pop threw me for a loop when he said he wouldn’t be here for dinner. Did you see him, Cyrus? He looked like a dandy, all duded up and wearing aftershave! I think he’s stepping out on me is what I think. Okay, okay, let’s see what Mrs. Collins left us for dinner.”

Everything, including Cyrus’s dinner, would be in the warming oven. It was the best move his father could have made. With all the different smells, Gus liked coming into the house. He liked the sweet-smelling sheets and clean blankets Mrs. Collins put on his bed. He liked that there was a fire blazing in the kitchen fireplace when he came in from work. He liked the whole gig. Cyrus liked it too. The dog had made friends with Gus’s father. Out of the corner of his eye he’d see Gus’s father scratch Cyrus behind his ears and call him Buster from time to time. He knew at night that the retriever spent part of the night with him and part of the night with his father. He grinned at the thought.

“Here we go, big guy. You get chicken, mashed potatoes, a little gravy, lots of broccoli and even a buttered roll. I get the same thing, but just a little broccoli because I hate it. That berry pie looks pretty good, too.” Cyrus woofed, gobbled down his food and then went to the door. He knew when he got back he’d get his dessert.

Gus filled his plate twice, saving just enough room for a slice of pie. When he finished, he leaned back in the captain’s chair at the head of the table and let his mind go back over the day’s work. Another week of hard work with his crew and he’d be ready to cut the trees to go on sale the day after Thanksgiving.

He felt so proud of himself he decided he would have an extra large slice of pie—as soon as Cyrus pawed at the door to get in. While he waited he added two more logs to the fire. A shower of sparks raced up the chimney.