The Blossom Sisters (6 page)

Jill Jackson had laughed. Gus thought it was the most evil sound he'd ever heard in his whole life.

Dammit, why am I thinking about that crazy-ass drill sergeant posing as a lawyer?
Because he didn't want to go back to the papers on the table, that's why.

Gus worked at his temples, trying to lessen the drumroll in his head, which was doing its best to match the thunder outside. He couldn't help but wonder if the storm meant impending doom.

Gus pressed in the digits that would connect him with Barney. His BFF answered on the third ring. “Talk to me. Time is money. Bet you're calling to tell me you love Jill. Don't bother. I knew she would be the perfect choice. She hates your guts, right? You hate her even more, right? She told you to stop drinking and also told you that when she says jump, you will jump and not even presume to ask how high, right? Don't even bother trying to thank me, buddy. What are friends for? Just a word of advice, don't take her to the brink, where she will cut off your balls and shove them you know where. It won't be pretty, and it's damned painful in the bargain. Nice talking to you, buddy. Gotta go and make some money.”

Gus looked at the phone he was holding and cursed in a whole new language. His head continued to pound. A bolt of lightning ripped across the sky. He shivered. Elaine hated storms and always hid out in the bathroom. Bitch!

Gus took a moment to wonder if he was the most hated man in Sycamore Springs. He wished Wilson were with him. On a whim, knowing full well his grandmother would probably hang up on him, he called. When she answered, he asked how she was, then said he was calling to see how Wilson was and did she have enough Pop-Tarts on hand and reminded her to give him only one and just the strawberry.

“Augustus, I have more than enough Pop-Tarts, and I give him two strawberry just the way you do, or he pouts, then Winnie gets upset. Is there anything else?”

“Just that I love you and the aunts and want to tell you again how sorry I am for what happened.”

“You need to tell that to someone who cares,” Gus heard Violet shout in the background. Gus ended the call, reached for a cigarette, and lit up again. If he kept this up, he'd use up all of Barney's stash. He made a mental note to replace the cigarettes and quit smoking after today.

Elaine's dossier beckoned him. He really had to deal with it. Or did he? Now that the fireplug was on the case, let her deal with it all. It was making him crazy, however, that it was another woman who was going to get him out of the mess he was in. His grandmother and the aunts had a saying when he or Barney had gotten into trouble when they were kids: Don't think I'm pulling your chestnuts out of the fire.

Gus swallowed hard. When did he turn into such a loser, such a misfit? He answered himself before he bolted for the bathroom off the kitchen.

When he returned to the table and Elaine's dossier, he felt drained and empty. Maybe now, when he read through the papers, he'd absorb it all again, even though he already had it committed to memory. This time he was going to read it out loud to the empty kitchen so he could hear the words and really, really see what a fool he'd been.

Gus squared his shoulders and tossed the remaining cigarettes into the trash. He didn't need a crutch for this.
This
called for cold-turkey awareness. He took a deep breath, held it as long as he could, then let it out with a loud swoosh as he picked up the first typed piece of paper.
This is your life, Gus Hollister.

Chapter 6

A
wicked streak of lightning zipping across the sky followed by a loud roll of thunder startled Gus to the point where he dropped the papers he was holding. He shivered, knowing that the loud sound was an omen of some kind. He just knew it. He thought his head was going to spiral right off his neck when he bent down to pick up the papers and put them in order. Just another diversion, so he could postpone reading again about his perfidious wife.

Gus settled his reading glasses more firmly on his nose.

Gus rubbed at his eyes. It was all so unbelievable. And he hadn't had a clue. He knew that if his grandmother had handed him this report back then, he would have refused to read it. He felt sick to his stomach. He shuffled the papers in front of him. There was no need to read the rest of them, since they picked up with his meeting Elaine at his health club, where he worked out after work.

For weeks, he had watched her on the equipment. He liked the look of her toned body, her classy workout clothes. He liked that she was serious about her workouts and didn't mess with any of the male members. He liked seeing her leave the gym with her arms full of books and her gym bag. He'd slipped one of the attendants fifty bucks to let him see her application. All he got out of it was that she was single, was going to law school, worked nights as a bartender in a trendy joint in New Town, and drove a bright yellow Beetle. His kind of girl. He'd made it his business to visit the trendy joint two or three times a week, have one beer, then go home. He'd thought at the time that he was being clever, but she told him later that she had his moves down pat. Then she'd laughed at him when he approached her at the health club, saying, “Don't I know you?” The most tired pickup line of all time.

A month later, in June of last year, they were married. But before that happy event, at her insistence, he'd given her a tour of his business, the building he owned—along with the bank—and his paid-off house. They had gone to the farm where his grandmother lived with the two aunts. She didn't like Wilson from the get-go, but she'd given in on the dog when he'd told her he would never ever part with Wilson even if he did make her itch and sneeze. Wilson hated her and stayed out of her way.

Elaine Sara Ramsey Larsen Mitchell Hintermyer Perry Hollister. He wondered how she fit all those names on her driver's license.

Yessireee, he was one damned lovesick puppy back in those days.

Gus shoved the papers back into the manila folder.
Now what am I supposed to do?
It was still raining, but it wasn't as dark as it had been. The thunder and lightning seemed to have abated, along with his headache. Maybe he should go into the office instead of just sitting around sucking his thumb. If he did that, he could get a jump-start on next week's work. Yeah, yeah, he'd go to the office. The only question was, which one of Barney's cars should he take? Maybe the vintage Jeep Commander.

Leaving from Barney's house meant that the usual ten-minute drive to his office now took forty minutes, then another ten to wade across the parking lot to the back entrance of his building. He let himself in, climbed the back steps to his office, and opened the door with his brand-new office key. After he locked the door behind him, he turned on the lights and headed to the mini-kitchen, where he started a pot of coffee. While he waited for it to drip, he checked his e-mails and the voice mail. Two voice mails from his tenant on the top floor asking him to call. He did, and was told a client had come by earlier and said he would be back around noon. No, he didn't leave a name, and the tenant hadn't asked, saying just that the man had said he was a new client. Gus shrugged. He really didn't need any new clients; it was all he could do to provide the ones he had with first-class service. Still, tax season was over, so it wouldn't hurt to see what kind of help the guy needed. Plus, it would be someone to talk to.

Gus scrolled through his e-mails. A few from friends, some forwarded jokes, some political cartoons some nitwit thought he would enjoy, an invitation to speak at next week's chamber of commerce luncheon. He typed OKAY and sent the e-mail off after he marked it in his day planner and copied his secretary/receptionist.

Gus walked back to the kitchen, poured his coffee, and returned to his office, where he decided to read the morning news online. Normally, he read the real newspaper while he had his coffee because he didn't like reading online, just the same way he didn't like reading a book with a Nook or a Kindle. When he realized he had forgotten his reading glasses, he turned off his computer, propped his feet on the desk, and drank his coffee. His headache was totally gone by now, thank God.

He should have stayed home. He tried to shift his mental gears to pleasant thoughts, happier times, but it didn't work. He thought about Wilson and how he missed him. Did he dare risk his grandmother's wrath again by going to get the dog and forcefully taking him from her? He wondered if he had the guts to threaten his granny with the cops if she didn't hand over his dog. That was a no-brainer if ever there was one.

Before he could change his mind, he pulled the desk phone closer and pressed in the digits that would connect him with Blossom Farm. His grandmother answered. He identified himself politely and said he would be there within the hour to pick up Wilson, and to have him ready.

“In that case, Augustus, you will have to take Winnie, also. Wilson won't leave without her, and Winnie will cry, and I cannot stand an unhappy animal.”

Gus loved Winnie almost as much as he loved Wilson. “Are you sure about the little lard bucket? She never objected before when you kept Wilson, and we left.”

“I'm sure,” Rose said curtly. “And stop calling my dog a lard bucket.”

“Okay, I don't have a problem taking Winnie. But, Granny, she is
fat,
and she waddles.”

“I'll have them both ready in an hour. Good-bye, Augustus.”

Maybe Granny was relenting a tad. She loved Winnie, and for her to let him take her dog had to mean something. Gus felt almost happy as he looked around to see where he'd left his umbrella. He was checking his computer one last time and turning off the lights when the buzzer outside his office sounded. The new client, he supposed. Well, since he didn't have an appointment, he would just have to come back later on or next week. Right now it was more important for him to pick up the dogs. He opened the door, the dripping umbrella in his hand.

The man was a nice-looking guy, a little damp, but he smiled. “Are you Augustus Hollister?”

“I am. Are you the new client? Look, I'm just leaving, and I can't stay right now. Can you come back next week, and we can talk then?”

“I don't think I need to come back as long as you're Augustus Hollister. Here! You have been served, Mr. Hollister.”

Son of a bitch! “That's a lousy way to earn a living!” Gus shouted to the process server's retreating back. He winced at the man's laughter. He'd earned his sixty-five bucks first crack of the bat. “New client, my ass!” Once a fool, always a fool. There should be a law about those guys lying just to make $65. He had to hand it to his wife; she worked at the speed of light. Then again, maybe not, if, as he suspected, she'd been planning this for some period of time. Everything could have been drawn up and just waiting for her to kick him out. Out of his own goddamned house.
Bitch!

Gus folded the summons and shoved it in his hip pocket. He'd read it when he got back to Barney's house.