Bittersweet Surrender (13 page)

Carly fought the desire to clamp a clothespin on the end of her stepmother's nose—but decided that would probably throw her off balance.

“All right, Magnolia, I'll empty it.”

“Thank you, dear,” she said, sweet smile back in place. “If I can find a good herb for these allergies, I won't have to pester you about the smells. I'm sorry.”

“No problem,” Carly fibbed, releasing a frustrated sigh. She hauled the foot bath into the bathroom and dumped the water in the tub. Looking longingly at the lotion that was to cap off her spa experience, she placed it on the nightstand next to her bed. Funny that Magnolia could wear all the stuff she wore to bed but couldn't tolerate Carly's perfumes and lotions. Something was wrong somewhere.

When she headed back out to the living room, Carly noticed Magnolia had replaced her romantic comedy with an episode of
Jeopardy
.

I'll take “Ways to murder your stepmom” for five hundred, Alex.

Scott stared at Carly. She slapped papers
around on her desk and ignored him. Applying what she'd learned in her Christian yoga class, she took a deep breath and tried to get a grip on her mood. Her mind scrambled to visualize a cool mountain stream, but all she came up with was a stagnant pond.

Grabbing the mirror from her drawer for one more glance caused her depression to thicken. The circles under her eyes could rival any raccoon's in the county.

“What's the matter with you?” Scott asked.

“Nothing.”

Such a stupid thing to say, because they both knew it wasn't true. Not only that, but it started that whole back-and-forth thing of, “Come on, you know there's something wrong.” She just wasn't up for it.

“Come on, you know there's something wrong.”

Sigh.
“Okay, you're right. I want to murder my stepmother without going to jail. Any ideas?”

“Uh-oh.”

“You got it.” Carly explained what had happened last night with her backyard, the foot spa, and the romantic comedy.

“I see your point. Should we go with poison or would you prefer to take her out with an M60?”

“Shut up. This is serious. What am I going to do? I love her, but she is driving me crazy.”

“Make her move out.”

“I can't do that, Scott, and you know it. She's family.”

“It's not your fault your dad married her.”

“This is your former mother-in-law you're talking—Oh, I see what you're doing.”

“What?”

“Using psychology on me. Trying to get me to see her good points while you point out her bad.”

“That's not what I was doing. Magnolia is a fine lady. A sweet lady. A clumsy lady. And a bad cook.”

Carly groaned. “What am I going to do?” She leaned her jaw on her palm. “Know any eligible men around her age?”

He shook his head. “Everyone I know likes to eat.”

“Ha, ha. Besides, everyone knows by that age they can't taste anything.”

“Ow, that was harsh.”

She sighed. “You're right. I'm just a little stressed. But at the very least they should be able to afford going out to eat.”

He shrugged.

“Thanks for trying.” She obviously wasn't going to get any good ideas from him.

“No problem.”

The intensity on his face as he stared at his computer screen made her ask, “How's the spa doing?”

He turned a distracted expression her way. “Huh? Oh, it's doing fine. Fine. I'm trying to get the numbers to jive.”

“You know, I was thinking about investing more in dark chocolates—”

“Um-hum,” he said, clearly paying no attention to her whatsoever.

“They have that added health benefit and all,” she continued, hoping to catch a little enthusiasm from him.

More clicking of the keys. Scott was totally engrossed in his computer. She could tell by his expression that he didn't even know she was around. Ivy was right. He was good at shutting people out.

After a few minutes of silence, Scott looked up. “Huh? Did you say something?”

She shook her head, feeling guilty she had left him with such a mess to sort out. “I guess it might have helped if I had kept the books balanced over the last year.”

“You think?”

“I'm sorry, Scott. Figures are not my strong suit.”
In more ways than one.

“So I've noticed.”

“We're not in trouble, are we?”

“Nothing I can't handle.”

Carly relaxed. “Well, don't scare me. I'm looking forward to a hefty disbursement check soon.”

“Oh? Big plans for your money?”

She wondered what he would say if she told him it was for breast reconstructive surgery. Okay, she wouldn't tell him that, but it would serve him right for being so nosy. “Wouldn't you like to know?” She wiggled her eyebrows, then took a sip of coffee.

“Big trip?”

The way he studied her made her uncomfortable. Why would he want to know what she was doing with the money?

“Wedding?” he pressed.

That word caused her to spurt coffee on her desk. “Thanks a lot.” She cleaned it off. “I'm not planning to get married anytime soon.”

“But just in case?”

“Speaking of Jake—”

“Is that what we were doing?”

She blinked. “Well, since I'm not dating anyone else, I would assume that's who you were referring to.”

He grinned.

“Cut it out. Anyway, as I was saying”—she glared at him—“Jake called last night, and it looks as though he might come home sooner than expected.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Exactly.”

“What are you going to do?'

“Starve.”

He shook his head. “Won't work. Throws off your metabolism. You need to up your exercise, cut your calories.”

“I didn't eat breakfast, and I walked around the house to check out Magnolia's herb garden.”

“You need a little more than that.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

Leaning her cheek onto her fist, she sighed.

“Don't worry. I'll help you.”

“Oh, that's reassuring.”

“Good morning, y'all.” Melissa Winters's curvaceous self stood in the doorway of the office.

Scott's face brightened. If he were a dog, she'd have to call him Odie. The tongue wasn't exactly hanging out, but it was close. He immediately jumped from his seat and walked over to the woman.

“How you feeling?”

All this over a measly little ol' allergy? Puh-lease.

Scott called to Carly over his shoulder, “I'll be back.” He and Melissa strutted off side by side.

Carly slapped some more papers around on her desk. If she were wearing a mood ring, it would eat through her finger.

Magnolia appeared in the doorway. She was pinching the bridge of her nose, no doubt due to the spa smells perfuming the air.

“I'm headed to the store.” Her voice sounded like Lily Tomlin's Edith Ann impersonation. “You want anything?”

“Oh no thanks. If I get hungry, I'll just graze in the backyard.”

“What, dear?”

“I'm good.”

“I thought I'd make pumpkin pie with tofu tonight.”

“Oh, I can't eat any sweets right now,” Carly said, truly thankful for her diet at the moment.

“This won't hurt you, dear. And it's delicious. You'll see.”

Just then Amber appeared in the doorway. “Carly, sorry to bother you, but we have an eyebrow wax gone haywire in treatment room two.”

Though it was beyond belief, Carly was pretty sure Amber was holding back a giggle.

In the hallway, before she could get to treatment room two, the guest came out. It seemed the technician had tried to overcompensate with an eyebrow pencil to make the eyebrow mishap work. It hadn't.

Those babies could fly.

Standing behind their guest, the technician's face was splotched red. She raised the used strips that now held the woman's eyebrows. Carly shook her head for her to hide them, burn them, whatever it took.

The tech got her drift.

Looked as though they'd be giving out more complimentary certificates . . .

eight

By the time dinner was over, Carly had
calmed down and was actually feeling a teensy bit amiable toward her stepmother, despite the tofu pumpkin pie. They settled into the living room with peppermint tea and books in hand. Magnolia's was a cookbook. Carly was seeing more tofu in her future.

At least Magnolia finally decided to rent a storage unit and unload some of her furniture. Carly could actually open her recliner now.

Pinkie trotted over to Carly, and she lifted the pooch onto her chair. It seemed Carly's inner thermometer was always running cold, so most days she sat with a blanket over her lap. Pinkie pawed the blanket a couple of times, then burrowed in between Carly and the arm of the chair.

After Pinkie settled in, Carly pulled open her mystery and took out the bookmark.

“I'm curious,” Magnolia piped up. “What made you go into the spa business?”

Closing her book, Carly looked up. “Grandma Emma.”

“Really? How so?”

“Grandma went to a famous spot in southern Indiana, the West Baden Springs Spa. She had stomach ulcers, and she claimed the mineral waters from one of the spas cured her.”

Carly kind of hated to tell Magnolia the story. It would only fuel her passion for health and fitness—and mineral waters.

Just as suspected, Magnolia nodded her head with an I-told-you-so attitude.

Carly took a drink of her peppermint tea. It was a little bitter so she added another packet of sugar substitute.

“Better go easy on that stuff. It's not good for you,” she said.

Carly couldn't win.

“So go on with your story.”

“Grandma's parents had heard of the claims of healing water in this area, so they sent Grandma by train from their home in Chicago to West Baden in hopes to get her well. While there, she not only found healing, but she found love.”

Carly smiled when she saw that she had Magnolia's total attention.

“Grandpa George worked there as a groundskeeper, I think it was.”

“Did her parents mind that? I would assume they had money if they were able to send her to the spa by train and stay for any length of time. And her love interest was a groundskeeper?” Magnolia asked.

“Didn't matter if they did mind. Mom said Grandma had a strong will.”

“Like grandma like granddaughter, huh?”

Carly blinked. “You think I'm strong willed?” She knew she was a tad stubborn, but strong willed?

“To go through what you've been through and still have a smile on your face? I would say so.”

A sense of pride came over her at the thought of sharing Grandma's determination. She would throw her chest out—if she had one. Sometimes she forgot to be thankful she'd made it through the cancer.

“Now,” Magnolia said, as though she didn't want to miss a single beat of the story, “how did your family end up in Vermont?” If she scooted any farther to the edge of her seat, she'd fall off.

“Let's see, Grandma came here around 1922, on vacation. Grandpa was between jobs when Aunt Ruth fell and broke her hip so Grandma wanted to come out to help. Her aunt never regained her strength after that fall. She was a spinster and had no family of her own, so she bequeathed this home to my grandparents for taking such good care of her. Grandma says Aunt Ruth was a hopeless romantic. I guess Aunt Ruth's only love was killed working in a coal mine.”

“Oh, that's sad,” Magnolia said before sipping her tea. “So obviously your grandmother never returned to Chicago or this home would not have stayed in the family.”

“Right. My mother, Helen, married my dad, and they inherited this house, as you know. Those were hard days for my parents. Dad's heart was in building homes, but the Depression brought everything to a standstill, so he did whatever he could to find work.”

“Your dad sure was a hard worker,” Magnolia said with a faraway look. “I miss him.”

“Me too. Mom carried on Grandma's passion. She had an herb garden and made her own beauty products. When I was little, she often told me one of the greatest joys of being a woman was being able to put on perfumes and lotions to make us feel soft and liquidy and smell pretty all at the same time.”

Magnolia smiled.

Carly hesitated, wondering if she should tell Magnolia the next thing. “My mom liked working with herbs too. She created recipes for facials back before it was popular. Every night Mom would make a ritual of putting on her creams and sprays. She even bought some little-girl lotions for me. We went through our nightly routine together.”