Moon Dance (33 page)

"Since Alexi went back to Moscow." She nodded grimly.

"There was Sebastian," he reminded her.

"He liked you better than he liked me," she quipped, and they both laughed.

"We need music," she said after a few quiet minutes of stretching and bending.

"I brought something for yo
u," he told her, "wait here…
"

He dashed down the steps and was back up in minutes, holding out a handful of CDs. "Here we have some Chopin—I know he's your favorite—and for when we are done warming up, the music from the second act of
Giselle."

Touched that he had remembered the role that she had so long coveted, then felt compelled to reject when it had been offered to her for all the wrong reasons, she put her arms around him and they held each other, two old friends who loved each other and loved to dance.

"Thank you," she said.

"Well, then, come," he held a
hand out to her. "Let's dance…"

He led her into the first
pas de deux
from the second act, followed by Giselle's solo, then the final duet, during which they both blundered a series of steps. When they had danced to the point of exhaustion, they folded to the floor to drink bottled water and laugh about their shaky performances and gossip about mutual friends.

"Want to see my garden?" she asked as they finally descended the steps.

"Sure."

"It's back behind the barn
," she pointed in the general direction. "Let me just run over to the house to get Spam, and I'll show you."

Spam rolled across the yard behind Georgia like a small hairy tank on tiny legs, greeted Lee with grunts and stayed between them as they walked to the field.

"Nice," Lee nodded his approval when she showed him her little patch of crops.

"I plowed it up myself, and I planted everything
myself," she told him proudly.
"
Matt helped me hook up the water, but I did everything else myself."

"Do you have to be so perfect?" he teased. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Georgia laughed. "I'll have you know I worked very hard out here every single day. I spoke with a couple of the old farmers who hang around Tanner's—that's the general store in town—and they gave me some tips. You know how methodical I am, Lee. I never do anything halfway. If I was going to farm, I was going to farm right. And it's paying off. My little truck patch is thriving."

"Wonderful." He bent to inspect the herbs, rubbing different varieties between his fingers to release their scent. "Beautiful lemon basil. Lots of dill. Oregano. Italian basil. Parsley. Georgia, what were you thinking when you planted all this? You have enough here for about twenty households."

"I do?"

"
Cara,
you can make pesto till the cows come home and you'll never run out of basil. I guess you'll just have to sell some to me for the restaurant."

"I wouldn't sell it to you," she told him. "If you want some, I'll gladly give it to you. And actually, Laura wanted some for the inn, so I planted
lots…"

"You planted lots all right." He leaned over to inspect the yellow flowers on the tomatoes, harbingers of fruit.
"I'l
l bet these will be wonderful when they all come in and ripen. What else did you plant?"

"Zucchini, yellow squash, green beans, eggplant, cantaloupes
…"
she
walked him around her garden, pointing here, then there, at this variety and that.

"Georgia, you will have vegetables coming out
your ears," he laughed. "Let me be a customer. Let me buy your surplus."

"Nah. I'll give you what I don't use and what Laura doesn't need. But you have to come to pick it up yourself. That way I'll get to see you at least once every other week or so."

"Deal. And when the critics stop into Tuscany and rave about the vegetables, I'll tell them where it all came from. By this time next year, you'll have half the restauranteurs in Baltimore banging on your door to buy your produce."

"Who knows where I'll be this time next year? But in any event, I guess I don't need to worry about running out of career options."

"Now show me what you're doing as far as flowers are concerned."

"Oh, back toward the house." She paused and looked around for Spam. She spotted the pig rooting i
n something behind the small barn
and called to her. Reluctantly Spam left whatever prize she'd found and fell in step with Georgia and Lee.

"Hope—the woman who used to own the farm, she was Matt and Laura's aunt—used to have a big flower garden here," Georgia pointed to the area surrounded by the white picket fence, "but I've been using it for Spam when she's outside and I can't be out with her."

"That's a pretty fancy pig pen, Georgia." Lee looked over the fence. "It looks like you have some flowers coming up along the side. Maybe you should find another place for the piggy and plant this area back up again."

"I'll think about it."

"
You'll have some lovely roses there
,"
he pointed to the back of the fence. "And tons of lilac."

"Want some to take back with you?" she asked. "The bushes have been in bloom for a week now, and I know it doesn't last forever. I have it in bowls and vases and tureens all over the house, and there's still tons of it."

"I'd love some. I love the fragrance. I'll put some in the restaurant."

"Then let me get the clippers and I'll cut some big bunches. A trade for the lilies."

She had filled two large plastic pitchers with bowers of deeply fragrant blooms and still the ancient trees were thick with flowers.

"I think I'll take some to Laura for the inn," she said as she handed the containers to Lee, who took them inside to fill the bottoms with enough water to get them back to Baltimore without wilting.
"How's my tenant doing?" she asked.

"He loves your condo. He'd buy it in a snap. As would I, if you ever wanted to sell it."

"I thought you loved your townhouse."

"I do. But the longer I stay there
…
since David
…"
He didn't have to finish the sentence.

Georgia took his arm as they walked to his car, each of them carrying a container overflowing with lilac. "If I decide not to move back to Baltimore, you'll certainly be the first to know."

"I'd be happy to get an appraisal or two of the property for you. I know several people in the business. And I'm sure the condo is worth much more than you paid for it. Real estate in that part of the city has really sky-rocketed in value."

"Hmmm." She tucked the thought away. "That's good to know. I haven't made any long-term plans as yet, though I am thinking about going back to school this fall."

She told him about her call to the local college.

"Well, it sounds as if everything is falling into place for you. You left Baltimore and found love and happiness at Pumpkin Hill." Lee smiled as they tucked the flowers into the back of the car. "And I couldn't be happier for you. I can see my fears were t
otally unfounded…
"

He paused, and looked as if he was about to bite his tongue.

"What fears?"

"Oh, you know, sometimes when you don't see someone you're clos
e to for a while, you start won
dering if they're okay." He shrugged it off and gave her one last hug and kissed her cheek before getting into the car. He put the key into the ignition and said, "You know what a mother hen I am at times."

"I'm fine. I've never been better." She stepped back from the car as he eased onto the gas. "Thank you for the visit. And for the flowers
…
the music
…
the dance
…
"

"My pleasure,
cara,"
he made a U-turn
in the drive and slowed down as he passed her, tempted to ask her if the farmhouse had smoke alarms, if there was a local fire department that came out as far as Pumpkin Hill. But then he'd have to tell her about the dream that had shaken him and sent him to see with hi
s
own eyes that she was all right, that there had been no fire, no danger, that no dark forces threatened her. Pumpkin Hill was a place of peace and positive
energy. There had been no hint of anything dark or sinister.

He'd simply been mistaken this time, he told himself as he waved and headed for home. This time, perhaps it had just been a bad dream, one that had no deeper meaning, unlike some of the others he'd had over the years, which had, in their time, become reality. His own car accident three years earlier, David's illness and death.

Sure, he told himself, this time there's nothing to worry about. Georgia's fine. She's happy, she's in love. All is well.

Convinced, he slipped a CD into the dash and accelerated, hoping to get the lilac to the restaurant while it was still fresh and fragrant.

twenty

"
S
hoo!" Georgia charged the crows feasting in her new garden, waving her arms about and swatting at the birds with her wide-brimmed straw hat.
"Out
…
of
…
my
…
garden!"

Assisted by Spam, who did more harm than good by gleefully chasing
the intruders through the fledg
ling green beans, Georgia stood with her hands on her hips and contemplated the age-old problem of keeping pests from her garden.

"Starting with you, Spammy," Georgia frowned and gently stood the mangled green bean vines back against the wire frame she was using to train the plants to grow upward, thus saving space. "The marigolds are doing a decent enough job against the bunnies and the ground hogs, but flowers haven't proven much of a defense against your
…
er
…
dainty
feet. And I don't know what to do about the birds."

She repeated her lament later to Laura.

"Aunt Hope used scarecrows. She had wooden
forms that she dragged out every year and dressed. I think she kept them in the ba
rn
." Laura suggested.
"
You might want to take a look."

"What did she put on them?" Georgia asked. "For clothes?"

"Oh, she had a different theme every year. She had the cleverest scarecrows you'd ever want to see. They always appeared to be in costume." Laura laughed. "There are some boxes of old clothes in the attic; she used to take stuff from there. Go on up and take a look. You're welcome to use whatever is there. No one's likely to wear any of those clothes again."

"Maybe I'll do that. It irks me that I worked so hard and spent so much time getting that garden in, only to have the birds come pecking along for the seeds."

"They are pesky. But a good scarecrow might buy your seeds some time. By the way, did you speak with Delia yet today?"

"No. I've been outside all morning, and I haven't checked the answering machine yet. What's up?"

"She's decided that we should have Zoey and Ben's engagement party now, rather than in July, because she thinks that we should do it before India delivers. She's planning a big party for the baby's christening, and doesn't want the two events too close together."

"Mother never misses a good excuse for a party." Georgia thought
back to India and Nick's engage
ment party. Hadn't that been the night that Georgia realized that Zoey and Ben had found each other again after so many years? "I guess she'll have her
caterer going crazy again…
"

"Not this time. She's asked if we could have the
party here at the inn. That way, everyone could stay over and go to the beach the next day."

"Great idea. And you'll be catering the party?"

"Jody will be. You know, for one so young—she isn't even thirty yet—Jody's very accomplished in the kitchen. She's already putting together some menus and will be going over her suggestions with Delia later in the week. It should be fun. I'm really looking forward to having a big family gathering here at the inn. I figure it's time." She paus
ed, then added, "I only wish…"

"Wish what?"

"That somehow I could get Matt to come around." Laura frowned, thinking back to Ally's birthday party. "I think we almost had him turned around at Ally's birthday."

"I'll work on him," Georgia tried to suppress a giggle. Obviously Delia hadn't discussed Matt's presence at breakfast the previous weekend.

"I wish someone would," Laura sighed. "I wish he wasn't so hard-headed. I love all of my family. I want you all to love each other."

"Well, maybe he'll surprise you." Georgia bit the inside of her cheek.

"Maybe Spam will learn to fly." Laura grumbled.

"Stranger things have happened."

Grinning, Georgia hung up the phone, thinking what fun it would be when Laura realized that Matt had "come around" in a big way.

Georgia's construction of her scarecrows took most of the afternoon. Having found the wooden forms— six of them—leaning against the wall inside one of the old stalls in the barn, she dragged them outside
and dusted them off before heading to the attic to search for proper attire.

"Wonder who these belonged to?" she muttered as she went through box after box of old clothes. "Laura said Hope always had a theme. Let's see what we can come up with."

Pleased with her final selections, she folded the garments over her arm and turned off the light.

All I need are a few inexpensive straw hats to c
omplete these ensembles, and I'll
have scarecrows to make Hope proud,
Georgia grinned as she stood up the wooden T-shaped forms—one at each end of the garden, two on each of the sides. Over each of the forms, she draped the garments, then stood back to view her handiwork.

All Georgia's scarecrows wore housedresses, the skirts of which billowed in the light breeze. Over the arms she had slipped long sleeved blouses, the cuffs of which dangled and flapped slightly.

"You ladies definitely do need hats," she said aloud as she straightened a shirt collar.

Gathering her purse from the house, and admonishing Spam to keep out of the garden, Georgia drove over to Tanner's and looked at the selection of straw hats. She bought one for each of her scarecrows, along with six pair of neon sunglasses from a barrel near the door.

Once back at Pumpkin Hill, with hammer and nails in hand, she proceeded to the garden, where she distributed the hats and the sunglasses to her crones, as she had begun to think of them.

"
Scarecr
one
s,"
she told the silent forms. "Much more apropos for ladies such as yourselves."

Three nails—one on each of three sides of each pole—held on the sunglasses, and one nail through the top kept the hats from blowing off.

"You are altogether
too
charming, each and every one of you," she announced as she tied the long hot pink scarf that bedecked one of t
he hats. "Stay right there…
I'm going to take your picture."

Georgia ran back to the house, grabbed her camera from the sideboard in the dining room, then dashed back to photograph her crones in all their glory.

"Now, do your job well and maybe I'll have some pretty beads to drape around your necks." She told them as she shot the last frame.

"Lord help me, I'm starting to sound like Zoey." Georgia laughed out loud, recalling how her fanciful sister used to talk aloud to the stuffed animals in the craft shop she had once owned when her stock had been more plentiful than her customers.

The phone in the kitchen was ringing when Georgia reached the house.

"Ah, there you are, sweetie. I'd almost given up on you today. Don't you ever check your answering machine?" Delia admonished.

"Oh, hello, Mother. Actually, I was going to call you tonight."

"And what have we been busy with today?"

"I was making scarecrones to keep the birds out of my garden."

"Scarecrones?" Delia laughed.

"Picture nineteen-forties housedresses and straw hats," Georgia told
her. "With sunglasses and long-
sleeved polyeste
r blouses from the sixties…
"

"Oh, I can just imagine
,"
Delia laughed. "I cannot wait to see them."

"They are fun. And hopefully, they will keep the pests from devouring my garden. I've worked so hard, Mother, trying to get all my plants in. I'm not so generous that I want to share with the wildlife."

"Perhaps a well-stocked bird feeder will keep the birds out of the garden. And perhaps you should think about a fence to keep the deer from eating the plants as they get a little bigger."

"I've been wondering about that. I did plant marigolds
…
"

"They'll do as long as there's other plants for the animals to eat. But I wouldn't depend on them."

"I'll ask Matt this weekend. Maybe he'll have some ideas."

"Oh? Will Matt be there again this weekend?" Delia asked nonchalantly.

"Yes. He's helping me to
…"
Georgia tried to remember what it was that Mat
t was helping her to do. "…
to adjust to farm life."

Delia bit her lip and tried her best not to laugh.
"I see," she said.

"Yes." Georgia cleared her throat. "You probably do."

"Well, perhaps in return you can help Matt adjust to life with the Enrights," Delia said. "I'm planning on having a party for Zoey and Ben in three weeks."

"Laura mentioned it. She said you wanted to have it at the inn."

"I thought it would be nice to ask Laura to host it. She's missed out on so many important events with us through the years."

"That was a nice touch on your part, Mother."

"Well, it would be especially nice if Matt attended."

"And who all else will be there?"

"Just family this time, sweetie—immediate and extended. Ben's grandfather and his lady friend,
of
course, and August
…
and certainly her friend Pete, which is convenient since his
son is working with Gordon…
"

"And of course, Gordon will be there."

"Well, he
is
staying at the inn, Georgia." Delia said casually. "We certainly wouldn't want to exclude him."

"Oh, of course not," Georgia agreed. "We couldn't do
that.
How is Gordon, anyway?"

"He's fine, dear, and if you're thinking to pry, don't waste your time."

"Mother, I have never known you to be coy."

"Yes, well, there's a first time for everything. And I don't consider myself
coy
… I hate that whole con
cept. I prefer
discreet."

"Ah, I see, so if I were to ask
you…
"

"Which you wouldn't do," Delia laughed, cutting off her daughter, "because you were raised with much better manners. Now, not to cut you short, sweetie, but
I have plans for the evening…"

Plans for the evening,
Georgia mused as she hung up the phone.
My mother has plans for the evening.

And I couldn't be happier. It
'
s about time Mother had some fun and found someone who appreciated her for the extraordinary woman she is. Mother's worked so hard over the years and spent so much of her time and energy keeping up with her children, she deserves a little romance
…

Georgia searched the tool drawer in the kitchen, where, she had found, Hope had stashed wrenches of various sizes, nails, a screwdriver or two and other assorted things with
which Georgia wasn't well ac
quainted. Finding the clippers she was looking for, she went back outside and began to clip away at the suckers that had sprouted along the bases of the apple and peach trees.

"It's probably late in the season to be doing this," she said aloud to Spam as she inspected the thin clippings, some of which had already sprouted leaves as well as small flowers. "But it's better than not doing it at all, and I've made up my mind that every day I will do just a little. Before we know it, Spam, all of the fruit trees will be tidied up. Just think of all the apples that will just drop right off the trees and into your waiting mouth come September and October."

Would she still be here to see the apples ripen and fall?

Matt had said she could stay in the house, but what of her dancing school? She couldn't give up her plans to have a dancing school, not now, when she had students clamoring to attend and she had so newly discovered the joy of teaching, of sharing her love for the dance.

Perhaps she should find the classified section from last Sunday's paper and see what kind of space might be available to rent out. If there was nothing suitable, what would she do? Maybe someplace closer to Bishop's Cove, if the
re is nothing here around O'Hearn
.

I guess I should call the realtor whose name is on the sign on that store front in town. There's no point in waiting
until the trucks pull in the drive and Matt starts to unload his equipment.

Gathering the pruned-off apple suckers she'd dropped to the ground, she carried them to the side of the house where the trash cans sat and dumped them in a pile. Later she'd come back out with a ball of string and she'd tie them up into a neat bundle. Right now, she had a few phone calls to make.

L
ate Friday afternoon, as Georgia turned toward the farmhouse with the armful of iris she had just finished picking, the black pickup pulled into the drive. She'd tried to pretend all day that she wasn't waiting for him, wasn't watching for him, didn't jump every time a car slowed down, but her efforts to convince herself were futile. Matt had called the night before to remind her that he'd be making dinner for her on Friday, and it was Friday, and just about time for him to show up. And there he was, cool and handsome getting out of the truck, his dark hair tumbling down across his forehead just ever so slightly as he leaned over to get something from the floor of the cab.