Season of the Dragonflies (19 page)

“What if he can't figure it out?” Lucia said. “What if no one can help us?”

Willow moved away from the flowers and placed her hands in the pockets of her linen dress. “My accountant will know the exact hit we'll take. I e-mailed her. Big. Very big. That's not my concern.”

“How's that?” Lucia said. The loss of an entire year's profit had to be more devastating than her mother suggested. It should be her only concern. Ben pulled a shrub out of the soil, the white roots dangling above the ground. He wrapped it in a cloth and cradled it in his arms as he walked out of the field.

Willow watched Ben also, and then she said, “What if they never bloom again?”

“Is that even possible?” Lucia said.

“I don't know; I never thought so, but I never imagined this either.”

“That can't happen.”

Willow frowned. “I think it could.”

All the years Lucia hadn't concerned herself with the family business, she had still depended on the business's being there for her to ignore. But those flowers mattered, and everything Great-Grandmother Serena had worked for mattered—she'd always known that, but it was especially clear now with her mother's retirement looming. Their family was the business, the business their family. If the roots failed, the fields would never grow again and Lenore Incorporated would have no product to sell. They could keep the factory open, probably, but they'd be a middleman business forever, and that's not what Great-Grandmother Serena intended. The profits from that new business model would be significantly lower. Any fool could foresee that.

Ben came out of the field, sweat dripping from his forehead and cheekbones. He held a flower in his hand. “Willow,” he said. “Will you look at this?”

Willow stepped closer to Ben.

“When I went in deeper, I saw this. You see here? These yellowing leaves indicate chlorosis.”

Lucia wanted a better view, but Ben and Willow hunched over the plant like a shield.

“There's something wrong with the chlorophyll?” Willow said.

“There isn't enough, otherwise the leaves would be green. They aren't producing any carbohydrates.”

“Will that spread? Kill the entire crop?”

“I should know something by tomorrow afternoon, Tuesday at the latest.” Ben shook his shaggy brown hair to the side to move the strands out of his eyes.

“And the roots?” Willow said.

“I'll test it all.”

“So then that's it?”

“For now.”

“I think I need to go rest.” Willow turned to go by herself before they could respond. Ben and Lucia walked back to the cabin together in silence, close enough to keep an eye on Willow, and they all stopped at the back of the house.

“I'm not too hungry,” Willow said before stepping into the house. “I hope you two don't mind if I skip dinner.”

“More for me,” Ben said, and rubbed Willow's shoulder.

Willow smiled, and Lucia could have hugged Ben just for that. Her mother had looked so hopeless back there. Willow said, “You used to eat an entire one of my pizzas. Remember that?”

“I do,” he said. “Let's hope Lucia makes a pizza half as good as yours.”

“Suck-up,” Lucia said. He poked her in the ribs, and she wasn't sure what to do about that.

“Let me drop this off in the truck and I'll be in.”

Lucia walked through the back door with her mother, who said, “He's such a sweetheart,” and stared at Lucia with that knowing look, like she should've never let him go in the first place. Willow went to her bedroom, and in the kitchen Lucia turned on the oven to its highest setting and placed the pizza stone inside to warm, then she pulled out the rolling pin to flatten her raised dough.

Ben returned and picked a beer off the counter, then opened one for her.

“Want to help me sauce this?” Lucia said. She pushed her fingertips into the sides to form a crust on the pizza. At least this part was easy.

Ben came around the island to stand next to her. “I've never sauced anything before.”

“Me either.” Lucia laughed and handed him a large spoon to get started. “Just use the back to spread it around, like this,” she said, and then placed his spoon in the glass bowl.

“Got it.”

Lucia gathered all the toppings and the mozzarella cheese from the refrigerator and peered past the door to watch Ben as he worked hard to make sure the sauce was even. No matter the task, he'd always been a meticulous worker, and that look of hooded concentration was one she hadn't forgotten. Jonah had it too, when he painted.

Ben had vowed to move to New York with her if that was what she wanted, but Lucia knew it wasn't the place for him and didn't want him to follow her for no other reason than to be with her. Ben needed trees and flowers and quiet, not traffic and concrete and stacked housing, and by that point nothing was the same between them, not after what happened with Mya. Then she met that first guy, and then another, and the city was so fast and the possibilities endless, or so it seemed, and she sped up and the idea of Ben faded away. It hurt him. He made that known in many handwritten letters. She was young. Maybe he should've come with her. Maybe that's what people did for each other when they were in love, followed and were supportive, even if it seemed like the wrong choice at the time. Jonah had been serious and brooding and everything she thought an artist should be, and perhaps she thought that to be an artist she needed to be in love with one as well.

Ben glanced up like he could feel her stare. “Ready,” he said. Lucia brought over her armload of ingredients and handed Ben a ball of fresh mozzarella cheese to grate. She removed the stone from the oven and placed the dough on it. Together they topped the pizza. Ben made a circle of pepperoni and sausage while Lucia dropped peppers, onions, and black olives from above. His forearm rubbed against hers, and she smiled. Ben carried the warm pizza stone to the oven, and Lucia held open the door. Ben said, “Done.” He high-fived her.

Despite the years apart and the relationship they once had, he still felt like a good friend. Back then he'd been her only close friend. “Another beer?” Lucia asked.

“I'll get it,” he said, and went to the refrigerator.

Lucia sat down at the round kitchen table, and Ben joined her with two beers in hand. “Cheers.”

“To old times.” She clinked his beer's neck with hers.

“You know, we never cooked together.”

“No?” Lucia said. “I guess not.”

He nodded and glanced down the hallway. “Think she's okay?”

Lucia shrugged and said, “Which one?” Mya could retreat for days or weeks at a time and Willow was like a poker player. Though these days she wasn't as impenetrable as Lucia remembered. Mya and Willow always isolated themselves when things went wrong, while Lucia sought company to work through her problems. “There's been a lot going on here lately,” Lucia said.

Ben drank his beer and said, “My mom's ill.”

“Oh,” Lucia said, taken back by his non sequitur.

“Lung cancer.” He said it like he needed her to know.

“Is that why you came back?”

He nodded. “She didn't have anybody.”

“That's sad, Ben,” Lucia said. “I'm sorry.”

“I just got tenured.” He shredded a paper napkin from the holder on the table.

Lucia said, “Not surprising.”

“I couldn't do both,” Ben said. “Worked out okay. They gave me a semester sabbatical for fall and I came back this summer. Spending the summer farming instead of writing papers.”

“Always your first love.”

“One of them,” Ben said with a small smile, not looking up from the table. Lucia blushed and stood up to check on the pizza.

He piled the shreds of napkin and placed his beer on top. “What about you? I heard your voice on Animal Planet one time. It was so strange, like you were in the room.”

“Really?” she said, and returned to the table. “I figured no one heard those announcements, they're so short.”

“I did,” he said. “I wanted to contact you but I didn't know how, and you were married and everything, so I didn't want to bother you, but I wanted to tell you congratulations.”

“That's sweet. The support would've been nice, actually.”

“Better late than never,” he said. “So congratulations.”

“I'll drink to that,” Lucia said, and took another sip. When she finished she added, “But it's all done now, so that feels a little weird.”

“You're not going back?”

Lucia smelled the baked crust. “Hold on,” she said, and stood up and turned on the oven light again. The mozzarella cheese bubbled into small brown mountains. She put on oven mitts and pulled out the pizza.

“Can I help?” Ben said.

“I can handle it, but thanks,” Lucia said, and placed the pizza stone on a wooden board and carried it to the table. She sliced the pizza and they waited a few minutes for it to cool. She said, “I don't know what I'll do next. I just don't think acting will be that next thing, you know? I gave it a good shot.”

“You did,” Ben said, and removed a slice from the stone. “I can't wait, sorry.”

“Go ahead,” Lucia said, and followed him.

Ben took a bite and his eyes rolled back. “It's the best.”

Lucia smiled as she took a bite. “Better than Willow's?”

He took another bite and nodded.

“Liar,” she said, but the bite she took was amazing, she couldn't deny it.

He said, “It's not for nothing you know. There's a reason you went; you experienced a lot, right? Did cool things, met cool people.”

“It's true.”

“And there's a reason you're back too.” He used his thumb to wipe pizza sauce from his lips.

Lucia paused and put her pizza down. Ben always did have a penchant for fatalism. She almost told him about her mother's decision to retire. When they had dated, any time she needed to make a decision about a school project, quitting her job at the clothing store in town to take acting classes, or how to handle Mya, she had consulted Ben. He took time to think ideas through and never hurried his decision, but when he did decide, they both knew it was best.

“Think you'd like to check out the farm sometime before you go?” he said, and helped himself to another slice.

“I'd love that.”

“No city wear though. I'll put you to work.”

“Stilettos at least?” She faked a pout.

“Only if you're on composting detail.”

“I might have some old boots in my closet. My room looks exactly the same. It's weird.”

“I don't think I remember.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucia said. She hadn't had sex in more than eight months now, and drinking beer with the guy who took her virginity was a dangerous combination. It would be too easy to invite Ben back to take a look and then sit on the bed and flip through an old photo album, and soon they'd kiss once and then again, deeply and fully, until he leaned her back on the pillows and she wouldn't be able to control herself. Just like teenagers. That is, if he'd even want to. “It's as confining as I remember.”

They finished half the pizza. “Save some for Mya,” Ben said. “And your mom.”

“Good idea,” Lucia said, and stood from the table. She wrapped the rest of the pizza in aluminum foil and put it away in the fridge.

“I wish I could stay longer,” Ben said, his hands in his pockets. “The farm wakes up early.”

“That's fine,” Lucia said, but she couldn't help wondering if that was the real reason he had to go or if he had somebody else waiting for him.

He walked to her with confidence, wrapped her in a big hug, and said, “Let's do this again before you go.”

“Sounds good,” she said, her body folding into his like warm clay.

“Tell your mom I'll call her tomorrow.”

“Will do,” she said, and walked him to the door. They paused in the frame and waited for the dragonflies to part. Lucia wanted him to kiss her, on the cheek even, but he smiled and turned to go. She shut the door and leaned against it with one hand resting over her breastbone; she hadn't experienced desire of this kind in far too long.

W
ILLOW HAD FALLEN
asleep on the sectional sofa in her office, her stomach aching from hunger and aggravated by the smell of baked crust, but she hadn't wanted to interrupt Lucia and Ben. Their voices rose and fell, and laughter punctuated the conversation, reminding Willow of the time when Ben was the only one who could put Lucia in a good mood. He'd been Willow's last hope for keeping Lucia in Quartz Hollow all those years ago, but her daughter had a stubborn streak Willow couldn't blame her for. If anything, she'd inherited it. Willow had underestimated Lucia's desire to get away. Willow admired what a valiant effort she'd made, considering how miserable she had been for much of that time away. Lucia couldn't deny it; Willow knew, the way mothers always do. Last night was the happiest Lucia had sounded since she'd arrived home.

Mya had stayed in the woods and probably spent the night in her lean-to. Willow sat up from the couch and her feet landed on the reading material that had put her to sleep last night. She gathered the accounting report and placed it on her desk. Normally she read the annual report as soon as she received it, but she hadn't been as punctual this time around, figuring it hadn't changed much since last year. In fact this past year the profits were higher, since they'd signed a few new clients, and she'd increased the price on a few of her top clients, Zoe included, a systematic adjustment made when clients experienced significant strides in their careers. Other than equipment replacement, building repair, new hires, insurance hikes, and other day-to-day costs, Willow hardly worried about major losses, not like the loss of an entire crop. She stared at the bottom line on her accounting report and subtracted three-quarters of the seventeen million they'd made last year to project next year's potential loss if the new formula for Zoe didn't work and she blackmailed major clients. Willow worried that was a conservative estimate, but it was a prettier scenario than going into the negative, which would inevitably happen if the crop failed to produce again. How had this become her life, and so suddenly?