The Blossom Sisters (9 page)

He tidied up the kitchen before he headed to Barney's home office, where he sent off text messages, an e-mail, and a fax to Barney, apprising him of what he had learned at Blossom Farm and asking for advice. He was certain Barney would respond to either the text or the e-mail, but he wasn't sure about the fax. The main question, however, was, “Were you aware of any of this?” Right now, though, he needed to think, to come up with a game plan to help his granny and aunts.

Gus trudged back to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, which he carried into the family room. He was not surprised to see both dogs sacked out in their beds. Wilson offered up a feeble wag of his tail and went back to sleep. Winnie was already snoring, her paws wrapped around a ragged doll that might have been a Raggedy Andy at some point in time. He smiled.

He settled down in Barney's favorite recliner to wait for his friend to get in touch. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 10

G
US BOLTED OFF THE RECLINER WHEN HE HEARD THE THREENOTE
cell-phone ring. He shook his head to clear away the muzziness from his interrupted sleep. He answered and mumbled a sleepy greeting.

“Well, hi there, sleepyhead,” Barney said. “What the hell are you doing sleeping at this time of day? Now, me, I should be pounding out some z's considering the time difference, just so you know.”

“I'm stressed, okay? Cut the bullshit, Barney, I'm not in the mood. All I want to know is did you know what my family was doing?”

“No! You spell that, n-o! They came to me and asked my advice about finding someone to construct a Web site for them and I recommended someone. When I asked if they needed any other business services, like a good CPA, they said that they already had an accounting firm. I tried to talk them into switching their business to your firm, but they were adamantly opposed. Said you didn't need to know their business. I had to respect that, and there was no way in hell I was going to go up against the three of them. And, obviously, I could not say anything to you about whatever was going on.

“That is the sum total of my involvement in their activities. I have to say I didn't think anything in this life could surprise me, but you did one hell of a job. Did they really make all that money doing . . . ah . . . what they've been doing?”

“Oh, yeah, and they have the capacity to make twice that much if I can manage to recruit more help for them. I didn't tell you this, but some dude named Oscar, who works with them, wanted to take me out to the barn and kill me. To keep me silent. Did you hear what I just said, Barney? They were actually considering it.”

Barney laughed. “Well, they didn't, that's the important thing. What are you going to do? Do you have a game plan?”

“Not exactly, but I will do what they want me to do if that's the only way they're going to let me back in their lives. I have a list of . . . potential employees. I just have to go visit them and give them my spiel. That means I have to snatch them away from their current digs and get them to Blossom Farm.”

“I'm thinking that might be kidnapping, Gus.” Barney laughed again.

Gus fumed. “You have a better idea? And it's not kidnapping if they come willingly. Oscar, the dude who wanted to kill me, said they have minds of their own and can do whatever they want to do. Wait. Maybe that was Fred. They all look alike to me. And I was worried about my well-being. So that's your advice. You know what, Barney, that wasn't even advice. You just made a comment.”

“I can't believe they didn't want me to invest their money. Goldman Sachs, my ass! That really hurt!” Barney said, all trace of his earlier laughter gone. He sounded wounded to his very core.

“Ha-ha! Guess they didn't trust you, either. Now you know how I feel.
Felt
.”

“Well, if that's all your news, I'm going to shut down and go to bed. I have a full day ahead of me.”

“There is one other thing. Elaine had me served today. She's charging me with everything under the sun.”

“They always do. Just turn it all over to Jill and let her deal with it. You have more pressing things to deal with right now.”

“She hates me. Don't you know any other lawyers? Like a man, for instance.”

“I do, but they won't work for your situation. Trust me, she will give you superior representation. She doesn't have to like you, and you don't have to like her. The end result is all that counts. And she knows
everybody
and uses all her contacts. Suck it up, buddy. Keep me posted on how you're doing. I can't believe they didn't want me to invest their money. I seriously doubt I'll ever be able to sleep again knowing that.”

“Guess they didn't want you knowing their business, either,” Gus jabbed. Instead of a reply or remark, Gus realized he had nothing but dead air on the line. He ended the connection and flopped back into the recliner. Neither dog so much as cracked an eyelid.

Gus sniffed the air as he looked at his watch. He'd slept away the better part of the afternoon. He was smelling the tantalizing aroma of garlic and . . . spaghetti sauce. Maggie was cooking dinner. He could hardly wait to chow down.

Four o'clock! If he hustled, he could make a trip to the Sea Crest facility, where he might be able to recruit someone named Elroy Hitchens. Sea Crest was, at the most, seven or eight miles as the crow flies, from where he was standing. But first he had to fax the papers the process server had handed him to the fireplug.

Gus trudged to Barney's office, ripping papers away from the staple, not caring if the paper ripped at the corner. He caught snatches of the legalese and still couldn't believe what he was reading. The words
brutality
and
physical violence
locked on his eyeballs. No way was he going to read this piece of crap again.

Gus scribbled a note on the cover sheet before he shoved the papers into the fax machine and punched in the numbers that would send them flying to Jill Jackson. He dusted his hands dramatically and left the room. His work here was done.

 

The Sea Crest Adult Living facility was nestled behind a colorful hedge of glossy greenery. Gus parked Barney's Jeep Commander and got out to walk up a flagstone path that would take him to the reception area. A pleasant-looking woman greeted him cheerfully when he said he wanted to visit with Elroy Hitchens.

“Elroy is on the deck. He likes to sit out there and read before dinner. Go down the hall, and the second set of doors on the right will lead you to the deck.”

Gus thanked her, followed the instructions, and found Elroy Hitchens without any problem because he was the only one on the deck. He was reading a copy of
Moby Dick.
Gus introduced himself and sat down. “Fred sent me.”

Elroy Hitchens peered at Gus over the top of his glasses. “Why?” He marked the page he was reading by turning down its corner.

Gus told him.

“How do I know you aren't some kind of slick con artist who preys on old people in assisted-living facilities? All that you just said, it sounds too good to be true. When something sounds too good to be true, most likely it isn't true. You following me here, young fella? How'd that all happen?”

Gus told him everything, even his part in what had been going on. He didn't hold anything back.

“You should never turn your back on your family, young fella. In the end, that's all that's left to us. I should know. So now you think you can step up to the plate and make all that sadness and sorrow go away. Is that what you're telling me?”

“I guess I am.” Gus had the good grace to look ashamed.

“Well, women are more forgiving than men, so I can see that maybe happening in your case. Before I give you my answer, I need to call Fred. Why don't you go into the dayroom and fetch us some coffee while I make my call.”

“Okay. How do you like your coffee?”

“Black, how else?”

That wasn't so hard,
Gus thought as he made his way to a huge coffee urn sitting on a table in the corner of the dayroom. It was a cozy room, with wraparound windows on two sides. A giant seventy-six-inch television was mounted on the wall. The chairs and sofas were colorful and looked comfortable. The carpet was a neutral color and flat, for easy wheelchair mobility, he assumed. He looked around. Two men were playing checkers. Two ladies were watching
Oprah
reruns, and a fat, lazy-looking cat was sitting on the lap of a woman who sat in a wheelchair. She was stroking the cat, her eyes blank. Gus looked away.

Back on the deck, Gus handed over the coffee. He waited.

“Okay, young fella, Fred backed up everything you said and added a bit more. I made a call to another old friend, who is over in Sunrise, who said he knew a few others. It's in the pipeline as we speak. By the time I finish this coffee, I think you'll have enough commitments to make everyone happy. Now, how are you going to get us all out to Blossom Farm? You're going to need a bus, young fella. And we'll be ready to go by ten tomorrow morning, I guarantee it. Give me your phone number, and I'll be calling you sometime this evening. We have things we need to get in order. There is one hitch. We all want a
contract
; otherwise, we ain't buying no pig in a poke.”

Contracts. He hadn't thought of that. “I don't see a problem with that. I'll bring them with me tomorrow if it's a go. What about your families, your bills here?”

“I'm no problem. I don't have any family. I signed myself in here so I can sign myself out. I can do my banking online here. I'll take care of that this evening. As for the others, when it comes to family, while they might be lurking out there, they won't even notice our friends have moved. That's a pretty blanket statement, but ninety-nine percent accurate. All the others have to do is notify their Social Security office and the state that they are no longer responsible for payment to their facility. I can almost guarantee there won't be a problem, but if there is, you can deal with it, young fella. Does that work for you?”

“It does,” Gus said happily. He could hardly wait to get home to call his grandmother to report in on his progress. He'd come through for her, and he really hadn't had to sweat it out. A piece of cake.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Hitchens. I guess we'll be seeing each other tomorrow. If anything changes, tell me when you call tonight. I'll see about renting a . . . bus or some kind of vehicle to get you all to Blossom Farm. If I can't get a bus, I'll just make several trips. Before I leave, is there anything else you need to know? Any questions?” Gus stood up and offered his hand for a handshake.

“Call me Elroy, everyone else does. There is one thing. What are you going to do about the gold digger? I'm just being nosy here, so that means you don't have to answer me.”

Gus sat back down. “I don't know. I have a lawyer. Nothing my wife said in the complaint was true. This is all about money. I don't think she ever loved me. That's pretty hard for me to swallow and accept. I feel like a fool. I must have been blind, is all I can say in my own defense.”

“What do you feel about her now?”

“What? You planning on writing a book, Mr. Hitchens?”

“I told you I was just being nosy. See! You still have feelings, and you need to let them go. You need to deal with what's going on in your life, and you can't let her drag you down. Put it behind you and move on. Really move on. In the end, actions speak louder than words, and your family will be watching to see how you handle it. Guess you know that, don't cha, young fella?”

“Yes, I do know that, Mr. Hitchens.” Gus was on his feet again, his hand extended for a second time. Elroy offered up a bone-crushing shake. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice evening, Mr. Hitchens.”

“I plan to, young fella. See ya.”

Gus was back in Barney's house by six o'clock. Just in time, according to Maggie, to sit down and enjoy his dinner. “Do you want me to stay and clean up or to come back later?” she asked.

“I can do the cleanup. It smells wonderful. Did you make some extra meatballs without the sauce for the dogs?”

“I did, and they're in the covered bowl on the counter. The garlic bread is in the warming oven. Just cover the leftovers, and I can either freeze them or you can have them for lunch tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Maggie. Have a nice night. Oh, were there any calls?”

“Just one. Well, actually four, but it was the same person. Miss Jackson. She sounded . . . perturbed.”

“I bet she did. Is she going to call back, or did she want me to call her back?”

“She didn't say. Each time she called, all she said was, ‘Is he back yet?'”

“I'll call her after dinner.”

Gus knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy his dinner until he fed the dogs theirs. Winnie was looking at him with adoring wet eyes. Wilson glared at him. “Okay, okay, I'm getting it, Wilson. I forgot to give you guys a Pop-Tart, so you'll get two after you eat your dinner. Cut me some slack here, okay?” Wilson's tail gave a half wag as he sat back on his haunches to wait for his dinner.

Gus mashed up the meatballs, added some wet and dry dog food, and set the bowls down on the floor. The dogs practically inhaled their food and then trotted over to the door to go out. They scratched on the door to be let back in just as Gus sat down to eat. He handed out the two Pop-Tarts, and the dogs scurried back to their beds in the family room.

The phone rang six times as Gus ate his dinner. Knowing it was the fireplug, Gus refused to answer it. Just the sound of the ringing phone was already giving him indigestion. He had a wonderful, tasty dinner in front of him that he should have been enjoying. He knew he wasn't going to be able to enjoy the peach cobbler, either. So he'd save that for later.

The phone continued to ring as Gus finished his dinner, packed up the leftovers, and tidied the kitchen. He turned on the dishwasher and sat back down to enjoy his after-dinner cup of coffee. Just as he brought the cup to his lips, the phone shrilled for the umpteenth time.

“That's it!” He picked up the phone and barked a single one-word greeting. “What?!”

“When I call you, Mr. Hollister, you WILL answer the phone. I can't represent you if we don't communicate. Is that clear?”

Gus grimaced as he pictured the fireplug venting her venom at him. “Tell me how to answer the phone when I'm not here. If you don't want to represent me, then quit. This world is flooded with lawyers. I can take my pick. I faxed you the papers I was served. I included a message saying it was all lies. Do you want me to repeat the message? It
is
all lies. Now it's your turn to do whatever the hell it is Barney pays you to do. Now, here's another message for you. You only need to ring this number once and leave a message, the way normal people do. Now here's my third message. Sit on a pointy stick and twirl around until it comes out that mouth of yours. Good-bye, Miss Jackson, have a nice evening.”