The Blossom Sisters

CHAPTER 1

Gus hollister couldn't remember when he'd been sotired as he closed and locked the doors of his CPA firm.Well, yes, actually he could remember. It was last year at exactlythe same time, April 16, the last day of that year's taxseason. Not that it was totally over; he still had tons of stuffto do, extensions to file, but he'd made his deadline, allclients had their records, and he was going home. If only itwere to a home-cooked meal and several glasses of goodwine. Like that was really going to happen. But he was simplytoo tired to care whether he ate or not.

Instead of taking the elevator, Gus trudged down thethree flights of stairs and out to the small parking lot. Exercisethese days was wherever he could find it. He winced atthe lemon yellow Volkswagen Beetle that was his transportationfor the day. His wife had taken his Porsche, and he wasstuck with this tin can. If only he were a contortionist, whichhe wasn't. Gus clicked the remote and opened the door.After tossing his heavy briefcase on the passenger-side seat,he struggled to get his six-foot-four-inch frame into thesmall car. He hated this car. Really hated it. He inserted thekey in the ignition, then lowered the windows and stared outat the dark night, an anxiousness, which had nothing to dowith taxes and the long days and nights he'd been puttingin, settling between his shoulders.

For some reason, he didn't think it would be so dark, butthen he remembered that they had turned the clocks aheada few weeks back. Regardless, it wasn't supposed to be darkat eight-thirty at night, was it? But he couldn't bring himselfto care about that, either.

He was almost too tired to turn the key in the ignition, sohe just sat for a moment, looking out across the small parkinglot to the building his grandmother had helped himbuy. A really good investment, she'd said, and she was right.He rented out the two top floors to other businessmen, andthe rent money he received covered the mortgage and gavehim a few hundred dollars toward his cash flow everymonth. He owed everything he had in life to his feistygrandmother Rose. Everything. And they were estranged atthis point in time because of his wife, Elaine. He wanted tocry at the turn his life had taken in the last year. He bangedthe steering wheel just to vent before he started the Beetle,put it in gear, and roared out of the parking lot at forty milesan hour.

Thirty-five minutes later, Gus untangled himself from theBeetle, a feat requiring extraordinary concentration andagility. Then he danced around, trying to work the kinks outof his body. The Beetle belonged to his wife. She lookedgood in it. He looked stupid and out of place sitting behindthe wheel.

Today, Elaine had been out job hunting, and she wantedto make an impression, so she'd asked him if she could borrowhis Porsche. Every bone and nerve in his body hadscreamed out no, no, no, but in the end, he had handed herthe keys. It was just too hard to say no to Elaine, because heloved her so much. Especially when she kissed him so hardhe was sure she'd suck the tonsils right out of his throat.When that happened, he could deny her nothing, not evenhis beloved Porsche.

Elaine had passed the bar exam six months earlier andwas looking for gainful employment. Or so she said. For sixmonths now, she'd been looking for a job. Citing the economy,she'd told him that all the law firms wanted were slaves,not a qualified lawyer who had graduated at the top of herclass. That was the reason she hadn't been hired. Or so shesaid. She hadn't even been called back for a second interviewby any of the firms. Or so she said.

Sometimes he doubted her and instantly hated himselffor his uncharitable thoughts, thoughts that had been comingmore and more frequently of late. His gut was tellinghim that something was wrong; he just couldn't put his fingeron what that something was.

Gus reached across the seat for his briefcase, then closedand locked the Beetle. God, I'm tired. No one in the wholeworld could or would be happier than he when today, April16, turned into tomorrow, April 17. He was a CPA, adamned good one if he did say so himself, and he had beenworking round the clock since January 1 to meet his clients'needs. He'd made a lot of them happy and a few of them sadwhen he pointed to the bottom line that said, REFUND orPAY THIS AMOUNT!

Gus walked across the driveway, wondering where Elainewas. It was nine fifty-five, and she wasn't home. The jitteryfeeling between his shoulder blades kicked in again whenhe saw no sign of his car. He frowned as he walked towardthe back entrance of his house, the house his grandmotherhad bought for him. It was a beautiful four-thousand-square-footTudor. He shivered when he thought about what shewould say when she found out he'd added Elaine's name tothe deed in one of those tonsil-kissing moments. For months,he'd been trying to find the courage—no, the guts—to tellhis grandmother what he'd done. He knew she'd go ballistic,as would his two aunts. None of them liked Elaine. No,that wasn't right, either. They hated Elaine; they could notstand her. And Elaine hated them right back.

Elaine said his grandmother and the aunts were jealous ofher because she was young and beautiful and had stolen hislove away from them. He'd never quite been able to wrap hismind around that, but back then, if Elaine said it, he tendedto believe it. With very few reservations. His grandmotherand the aunts had been a little more blunt and succinct, sayingstraight out that Elaine was a gold digger. End of discussion.

The strain between him and his beloved zany grandmotherand dippy aunts bothered him. He had hated havingto meet them on the sly, then keeping the meeting secretso he wouldn't have to fight with Elaine and suffer throughweeks of tortured silence with no tonsil kissing and absolutelyno sex. Elaine held a grudge like no one he knew.

He owed everything to his grandmother. She'd raisedhim, sent him to college, financed his own CPA firm, thenhelped him again by buying him the beautiful house that henow lived in. With Elaine. And no prenup.

His grandmother had never once asked him even to considerpaying her back, even when he'd tried.

He loved her, he really did, and he hated the situation hewas in. Tomorrow or the day after, regardless of how itturned out, he was going to have a come-to-Jesus meetingwith his wife and lay down some new rules. Family was family,and it was time that Elaine realized that.

Gus opened the gate to the yard, and Wilson came runningto him. Wilson was the one thing he'd put his footdown on. Elaine said dogs made her itch and sneeze. Well,too bad; Wilson was his dog, and that was that.

"What are you doing out here, boy?" Gus tussled with theGerman shepherd a moment before walking up the steps tothe deck, which was located off the kitchen. The low-wattageback light was on. He didn't need Wilson's shrill barking toalert him to the pile of suitcases and duffel bags sitting outsidethe kitchen door. His suitcases. Six of them. And twoduffel bags. All lined up like soldiers. Next to the suitcaseswas a pink laundry basket with Wilson's blanket and toys. Heknew even before he put the key in the lock that the doorwouldn't open.

"Son of a bitch!" He looked at the hundred-pound dog,who was barking his head off and dancing around the pinklaundry basket. The jittery feeling between his shoulderblades had grown into a full-blown, mind-bending pain.

The words gold digger flitted through Gus's mind as hetried to peer in through the kitchen window. The only thinghe could see was the faint greenish light coming from thedigital clock on the microwave oven. So much for that glassof wine, never mind a home-cooked meal.

"You shoulda called me, Wilson," Gus snarled at the dog.As though what he said was even possible. The big dogbarked angrily, as if to say, What do you think I'm doing outhere?

"Let's check the front door." Wilson nudged Gus's leg,then slammed himself against the door. The envelope stuckbetween the door and the jamb fell to the floor of the deck.The dog backed up and sat on his haunches. "Aha!" Gussaid dramatically as he ripped at the envelope. He held up asingle sheet of computer paper toward the light.

Gus,

I'm sorry, but this just isn't working for me. I don't want tobe married anymore. I'm going to file for divorce. I packed allyour things, and they're on the deck, along with your dog. Asyou can see, I had the locks changed. I don't want to see youanymore, so don't come here, or I will file a restraining orderagainst you. I'm keeping the Porsche to show you I mean business.

The signature was a scrawled large E.

"Son of a bitch!" Wilson howled at the tone of his master'svoice. "And she's keeping my car! My pride and joy! Next toyou, that is, Wilson," he added hastily. "How the hell am Isupposed to take all my stuff in that tin can she calls a car? Idamned well do not believe this!"

Wilson's shrill barking told Gus that he had damned wellbetter believe it.

Gus sat down on the top step and put his arm around thebig dog. His wife didn't want to be married to him anymore.But she wanted his house and his car. Gold digger! So, hisgrandmother and the aunts had been right all along. Histhoughts were all over the map as he tried to figure out exactlyhow and when it had all gone wrong. There must havebeen signs. Signs that he'd ignored. How far back? The startof tax season? Before? October, maybe?

Elaine had been looking for a job for over six months, sothat would take it back to October. What happened at thattime? He racked his brain. Elaine had wanted to go on acruise, but he'd been too busy to go. She'd pouted for twowhole weeks and only gave up when he bought her a diamondbracelet. November was a disaster, and they'd eatenout at Thanksgiving because all Elaine knew how to cookwas eggs and pasta. He'd wanted to go to his grandmother's,but she had refused, so he hadn't gone, either. A real manwould have gone.

Then came Christmas. Elaine said Christmas trees madeher sneeze and itch the way Wilson did. So, no Christmastree. He'd had a hard time with that as he remembered howhis grandmother and the aunts went all out for the holidays.Elaine had gladly accepted presents, however. Lots and lotsof presents, was what she'd said. And jerk that he was, hehad complied.

He had mentally kicked himself and lost weeks of sleepbecause he'd kowtowed to his wife and not gone to see hisgrandmother and the aunts for Christmas. Now, right thismoment, he felt lower than a snake's belly. If possible, he'dfelt worse on Christmas Day. Here he was, nearly fourmonths later, and he still hadn't so much as spoken to hisgrandmother or his aunts. He really did have a lock on stupidity.His shoulders heaved. Wilson was on top of him in aheartbeat. Man's best friend. Damned straight. Right now,his only best friend.

"I'm thinking I need a lawyer, Wilson," Gus said, gettingup from the steps. He swiped at his eyes. "Real men don'tcry. Bullshit!" he said, swiping at his eyes a second time. Wilsonhowled his misery as he waited to see what Gus would do.

"Okay, my tail is between my legs, so the only game plan Ican see at this point is to pack you up in that tin can, takeyou to my grandmother's, and beg her to let us stay thereuntil I can get my head on straight. If I'm lucky, maybe she'lllend me that farm van of hers so I can come back to get ourstuff. Let's go, boy!"

Wilson ran down the steps and over to the yellow Beetle.He scratched at the door, leaving long gashes in the glossypaint. "Chew the damned tires while you're at it, Wilson!"Gus said as he opened the door. Wilson leaped in and triedto settle himself on the passenger seat, but his legs hung offthe seat and actually touched the floor. He barked andhowled in outrage.

"It's just for five miles, so relax. We'll be there before youknow it."

Wilson threw his head back and let loose with an unholybark that made the fine hairs on the back of Gus's neckstand on end.

Gus clenched his teeth. "Yeah, you're right, Wilson. We'regoing to be damned lucky if my grandmother doesn't kickour asses to the curb, and I wouldn't blame her one bit. I'vebeen a real shit. She really pulled the wool over my eyes, Wilson.Meaning Elaine, of course, not my grandmother. I'meven worse than a shit!"

Wilson whimpered.

Ten minutes later, they were at the turnoff to BlossomFarm, which his grandmother had renamed after his grandfather,Brad Hollister, had died, and her sisters, Iris and Violet,had come to live with her. For the sake of simplicity, hisgrandmother had also taken back her maiden name, Blossom.

"Okay, get ready, Wilson, we're coming to the driveway.Look, this is serious, so pay attention. If it looks like Grannyis going to kick my ass off her property, you have to step inand whine. However she feels about me, she loves you. Youknow what to do, so just do it!"

Wilson whined to show he understood his master's wordsas he tried to untangle himself from the seat. The momentthe car stopped, he was pawing the door to get out.

Inside the old farmhouse, the three residents were gapingout the window. "Rose! It's either that gold digger or Gus!What are they doing here at this time of night? Oh, my God,lock the doors! Is the door locked? Of course it's locked, wealways keep the door locked," Violet, Rose's sister, squealed.

"We need to hide," Iris, the third sister, said. "Rose, youcan't let him in, even if he is your grandson! We can't lethim find out what we're doing."

Rose Blossom peered out into the darkness. It was indeedher grandson and his dog coming up to the front porch. Infull panic mode, she crouched next to her two sisters underthe front bay window. "He knows we're in here. Somethingmust be wrong," she hissed.

"Who cares?" Violet hissed in return. "If you let him in, wego up in smoke. Is that what you want?"

"Good God, no! We could go out on the porch. I'll justtell him ... something will come to me," Rose dithered.

"No, something will not come to you, Rose. I say we justhunker down and wait him out. Unless, in one of your stupidmoments, you gave Gus a key. Did you, Rose?" Violetsnarled.

"He's always had a key, you know that. I don't see himusing it. We are, after all, estranged," Rose reminded her sisters."Anyway, the key won't work because we have a deadboltinside. All he can do is bang on the door. Let's just stayput and see what he does."

"Why is he driving her car?" Iris hissed.

"Maybe she's dead," Violet whispered.

"You wish. Highly unlikely, or we would have seen theobituary," Rose said.

Violet clapped her hands over her ears when she heardthe first bang on the front door. Her sisters did the same.Outside, Wilson howled and barked, the sound loud andshrill enough to set the sisters' teeth on edge.

"My legs are cramping," Iris grumbled.

"Mine, too," Violet added.

"I know you're in there, Granny, so open the door. Wilsonneeds a drink. I'm sorry! I really am. Please, open the door!"

Winifred, the sisters' basset hound, took that moment towaddle up to the door. She barked, a charming ladylikesound that pretty much said, Welcome.

"Damned dog! Now for sure he knows we're in here," Violethissed. "I really have to get up now, or I'm going to faint."

"If you're going to faint, do it quietly," Rose shot back.

More banging and more apologies ensued. The sistersturned a deaf ear.

Winifred turned and started to waddle toward the kitchen."Oh, my God, he's going to the back door. All he has to do issmash the glass, and he can open the door," Iris said, momentarilyforgetting all about the cramps in her legs.

"Gus wouldn't do that," Rose said. But her tone of voiceindicated that she wasn't sure if what she had said was trueor not.

"He's not going to give up," Violet said. "That has to meanthe reason he's here at this hour is important, at least tohim. Maybe you should just open the door and talk to himthrough the screen. Tell him you were just getting ready forbed or something. You and he are estranged, Rose. I don'tthink Gus is here just to make nice. Just open the door andtell him to make an appointment to see you. That way wecan, you know, just let him see what we want him to see."

"That sounds like a plan. For God's sake, do it, Rose," Irissaid.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, not really," her sisters said in unison.

Rose heaved a mighty sigh as she made her way throughthe dark house to the kitchen, her sisters following behind.She didn't even bother to turn on the light when sheopened the door. She tried to make her voice as cold andunfriendly as she could when she said, "Please stop bangingon my door, Augustus Hollister. Why are you here? What doyou want?"

(Continues...)