The Cottage on Juniper Ridge (15 page)

“This is probably as romantic as it’s going to get for me this
year,” Chita confessed as Charley popped the cork on the champagne. “This is
also about as much romance as I have energy for,” Chita added.

“Romance is overrated,” Cecily said.

Jen wasn’t so sure about that.

“No way.” Stacy held up a glass to be filled. “Not if you have
a man who’s truly romantic.”

“I had a fiancé who was the most romantic guy in L.A.,” Cecily
said.

“So, how did he get to be your ex, then?” Stacy asked.

“I found out he was being romantic with his former girlfriend
whenever I had to work.”

Stacy shook her head. “What a bumsicle.”

Cecily shrugged. “They’re everywhere.”

“Not in Icicle Falls,” Juliet insisted.

“So, who’s the best catch in Icicle Falls?” Jen asked.
Garrett Armstong,
whispered a naughty little voice at
the back of her mind. She told it to shut up.

“Luke Goodman,” Cecily replied, making Charley raise an eyebrow
at her. “Not for me,” she clarified, “but for...someone.”

“You’re the only someone he wants,” Charley pointed out.
“Cecily’s been collecting men since she moved back,” Charley explained to Jen.
“Her production manager at Sweet Dreams is crazy for her. So’s Todd Black. He
owns the Man Cave.”

“He’s gorgeous.” Juliet sighed. “That man should be on the
cover of a romance novel.”

“There’s more to life than gorgeous men,” Cecily muttered, and
the others laughed at her.

“What about Garrett Armstrong?” Jen asked, trying to sound
casual. “Is he with anyone?”

Charley gave a knowing grin. “So, you’ve been bitten by the
Garrett bug.”

“No, just wondering,” Jen lied.

“He’s sort of with Tilda Morrison, the cop,” Charley said.
“They’ve come into Zelda’s for drinks a few times. But I don’t think he’s that
into her. I don’t think he’s into anyone. His ex did such a number on him, the
man is love shy.”

“Is she still around here?” Jen asked.

Charley popped a strawberry in her mouth. “Oh, yeah. That woman
is a piece of work. She’s always in the bar trying to hook up. Bad enough she
broke his heart, but he’s got to put up with her being the mother of his kid on
top of it. A lizard would be a better mother than that woman.”

So, her sexy fireman was nursing a broken heart. That meant he
was hanging out with Tilda because...he thought she was safe? Were they just
friends? Friends with benefits? She couldn’t imagine Tilda
not
wanting to take their relationship beyond that. Would Garrett be
interested, though—with Tilda or anyone?

Charley and Stacy had finished filling the champagne glasses
and were passing them around.

“Here’s to a great Valentine’s Day, however we all choose to
spend it,” said Stacy.

“By myself,” Chita said, “doing something I want to do.” She
grinned. “I took your advice last month,” she told Stacy, “I’m no longer a Girls
of America leader.”

Stacy clinked glasses with her. “Good for you. Hey, maybe now
you’ll have some time for romance.”

“I’ll be happy just to find time to watch
Project Runway
once in a while. And get our monthly book club
selections read.”

“Speaking of books, how are we all doing with making changes in
our lives?” Juliet wanted to know.

Silence descended on the room.

“I’m enjoying my simple life,” Jen ventured. She smiled at
Cass. “And I’m enjoying my new job.” Cass was an easygoing boss and Jen was
finding that she really enjoyed interacting with the townspeople who came in for
a sugar fix.

“It’s great having you there,” Cass said. She took a sip of
champagne. “Once Jen is trained I’ll have more time.”

Jen felt as if she was pretty much trained already. Still, Cass
continued to come into the bakery; she was beginning to suspect that her
employer was a workaholic.

“I’ve delegated some stuff to Neil,” Juliet announced. “He’s in
charge of dinner two nights a week now. And I’m giving myself Saturday
afternoons off. I do some shopping in town or take a book to Bavarian Brews and
read. Last week I finished the new Vanessa Valentine.” She turned to Charley.
“How are you doing?”

Charley frowned at her glass of champagne. “I don’t think I’ll
be able to simplify my life until after I’m married. And even though we’ve put
the wedding off until June, I still feel stressed. The other day I was looking
at flowers in Lupine Floral with Dan and I burst into tears. All because I
couldn’t decide between the taupe satin flower bouquet or the blue-and-white
bouquet with white roses and hydrangeas.” She set aside her glass with a frown.
“I’m tired all the time. Dan asked me what I wanted to do for Valentine’s Day
and you know what I said? Sleep. How’s that for sexy?”

“Sounds good to me,” Chita said.

“You guys are too young to feel this old. Heck, we all are,”
Stacy said.

“So, what are
you
going to do?”
Charley asked her as they drifted from the kitchen to the living room.

“I’m making us a romantic dinner using the fondue pot and the
heart-shaped cake tin I found at the Kindness Cupboard yesterday.”

“I thought you were lightening your load. How much stuff have
you bought since we went to Seattle?” Charley asked.

“Not that much,” Stacy said. Just a few things for the
house—plus a coat with a faux-fur collar and some great jeans from a thrift
store in Wenatchee.... She glanced around the living room. “Okay, so maybe I was
a
little
carried away. But I saved a fortune on
everything I got.”

“I love how you rationalize everything,” Cass said with a
smile.

“Heck, everyone rationalizes.” Charley shrugged. “Whether it’s
our overwork or our overstuffed closets.” She sighed and slumped down among the
sofa cushions. “It shouldn’t be that hard to simplify your life. And it
shouldn’t be so exhausting to plan a simple wedding.”

“You know there’s no such thing as a simple wedding,” Chita
told her.

“There’s no such thing as a simple anything,” Charley muttered.
“Even Valentine’s Day is going to be ridiculous. The restaurant is booked solid,
and I’ve almost made myself insane planning our Valentine special. Now Dan’s
arranged some crazy getaway. How am I supposed to leave the restaurant on
Valentine’s Day?”

“You do have a general manager,” Cass reminded her.

“I know. But, well, I like to be there on an important
day.”

“Your love life is important, too,” Cass said gently.

* * *

Cass is right,
Charley told
herself as Dan drove his truck over the mountains toward Seattle. Getting away
was a great idea. She just hoped that wherever they were going, it wouldn’t take
long to get there. And wherever it was, she hoped they had a hot tub. Now, if
only she could wheedle their destination out of him. The back of the cab held
two overnight bags and a garment bag, and he hadn’t let her so much as peek in
any of them.

“Where are we going?” she asked, not for the first time.

“I told you, the airport.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Charley complained. “And how
can I be sure you packed what I need?”

“Trust me, baby. I’ve got what you need.”

“I know that,” she cracked, and smiled at him.

“Anything I forgot you can pick up when we arrive.”

He’d had a hard time convincing her to leave the restaurant on
one of their busiest days of the year, but now she was glad he’d succeeded. She
could already feel the stress falling off her shoulders.

She looked out the window at the snowy landscape slipping by.
It was probably just as well that she’d abandoned the idea of getting married at
the restaurant. They would’ve lost a ton of business. Getting married on
Valentine’s Day was romantic, but it sure wasn’t practical. Darn.

“So I guess that means we’re not going to the ends of the
earth,” she deduced.

He sent her a smile. “You don’t have time to go to the ends of
the earth.”

No, she didn’t. These days she barely had time to go to the
bathroom. So much for simplifying her life.

He’d printed their boarding passes ahead of time and had them
hidden in his bag, and their luggage was carry-on, so she didn’t find out their
destination until they’d gotten to security. “Las Vegas?”

“We’re getting married there. At the Chapel of Love,” he added,
waggling his eyebrows and making the TSA agent smile.

“What?” Was he insane? “We can’t just go to Vegas!”

“Sure you can,” said the agent and stamped her boarding
pass.

“What about my family?” she said once they were through
security and on their way to the gate.

“Your parents and sister are meeting us for drinks tonight at
the Bellagio, along with my folks and my brother. So is Cass.”

“Cass!”

“She left on an earlier flight, along with Samantha and Cecily.
Your pal Ella is meeting us for breakfast tomorrow.”

He’d planned all this? “No way.”

For a moment he looked doubtful. “You were serious about
wanting to do this simply, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” She’d done the big church wedding with
Richard. She didn’t want to repeat any of that history. Still...

“When you broke down in the flower shop I got to thinking.”

“That you were marrying a crazy person?”

He chuckled. “That you were going to a lot of trouble for
something I didn’t care that much about. What you said made me think that maybe
you didn’t, either, that you were just doing all this because you thought it was
expected. You said, ‘Why does a simple wedding have to be so much work?’ So I
figured we should go back to what we originally talked about and just have fun
with this. Why spend all that money on something that’s stressing you when you
can have a kick-ass vacation and a no-fuss wedding?”

“You’re right.” She’d complained her way through every aspect
of planning their wedding, from the cake to the dress. But then she’d picked out
a great cake. And she’d found that dress... “I just wish I had my dress,” she
said sadly.

He held up the garment bag. “What do you think this is?”

“You thought of everything.” And she still couldn’t believe it,
couldn’t believe all her plans had vanished with a poof. So had the stress.

“I did, as a matter of fact. Tomorrow afternoon you’re going to
the spa and then shopping. We’re getting married at six and then we’re doing a
progressive dinner, starting with appetizers at Mon Ami Gabi, followed by spicy
crab salad at Alain Ducasse’s Mix at Mandalay Bay. Then we’re hitting Sensi for
our main course and finishing up with Bananas Foster at Bradley Ogden.” He
spread his arms wide. “A simple wedding dinner.”

Charley was rarely speechless. She stood there staring at
him.

Now he looked worried. “Uh, happy Valentine’s Day?”

“Happy everything!” she cried, and threw her arms around
him.

* * *

Stacy was feeling very pleased with both her
thrift-store purchases and herself as she and Dean enjoyed a fondue dinner by
candlelight. “This is amazing, babe,” he said, scooping out the last bit of
fondue with a piece of French bread. He popped it in his mouth. “But we could’ve
gone out, you know.”

“I know. I just thought it would be nice to do something simple
at home for a change.” Not that the raspberry-white chocolate cake had been
simple, but when she’d first bitten into it and her taste buds had an orgasm,
she’d known it had been worth the effort.

“I didn’t realize we even had one of these...what is this
again?”

“A fondue pot. I got it at the Kindness Cupboard.”

“Is it my imagination or have you been bringing home a lot of
stuff from that place lately?” Dean asked.

“It’s your imagination,” she assured him.

After they’d finished eating, Dean left the table. He returned
a moment later with a long, slender jewelry box. “I know you’re trying to get
rid of stuff, but I figure this won’t take up much room.”

She opened it to find a bracelet glittering with diamond chips.
“Oh, Deano, it’s gorgeous.”

“Just like my wife,” he said.

“This must have cost a fortune,” she protested. With two kids
in college they couldn’t afford this kind of Valentine extravagance.

He grinned. “I learned a thing or two from you. I got it on
sale last month.”

“In that case, I’ll keep it,” she said, taking it out of the
box.

“How about modeling it for me?” He fastened the bracelet on her
wrist, and she stretched out her arm, watching the diamonds wink in the
candlelight. “It doesn’t show very well with that sweater on,” Dean said. He
stood behind her and helped her take off the sweater, kissing her neck in the
process.

“Now how does it look?” she asked.

He cocked his head, studying her. “I think you should lose the
blouse.”

The blouse followed the sweater.

“That’s more like it,” he said, “The jeans are kind of a
distraction, though.”

She lost the jeans, too. And the bra and panties.

Dean approved, and led her over to the fireplace for the second
dessert course.

Ah, yes, there was nothing like a simple, romantic Valentine’s
celebration.

They’d just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. Who
on earth would be calling? Her mother! But Mom and Dad were going to
Zelda’s.

Her mother barely gave her time to say hello. “Stacy, your
nana’s had a stroke.”

Chapter Fourteen

Sometimes it’s good to ask yourself, “Do I own my things or do they own me?”

—Muriel Sterling, author of
Simplicity

P
lease, God, don’t let Nana die,
Stacy prayed as she and Dean rushed to Mountain Regional Hospital.
At least not until I’ve had a chance to say goodbye.
The thought of losing her sweet grandma made her eyes prickle with tears.

Dean reached across the seat and laid a comforting hand on her leg. “It’ll be all right.”

It probably wouldn’t, but she appreciated him for saying it, anyway.

They got to the hospital to find her family all in a waiting room. Her uncle Jack sat nursing a cup of coffee and talking on his cell phone, alerting family members. Her father was missing, most likely outside, smoking. Her aunt Vivian was the oldest of Nana’s three children, but she normally worked hard to look young, keeping up the illusion that she was still a blonde, maintaining a svelte figure and dressing well. Tonight she wore sweats and she looked as if she’d aged ten years, every wrinkle in her face a deep crevice of pain. She was slumped in a chair, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Stacy’s mother wasn’t in much better shape. She was the youngest of Nana’s children, but tonight she looked old and tired. She hadn’t bothered with makeup, which made the dark circles under her eyes even more prominent than usual. She was pacing the room as if she could somehow walk her way out of this trouble.

She smiled sadly at Stacy and held out an arm, and Stacy hurried over to hug her.

“How is she?”

Mom shook her head. “Not good.”

“Is she going to die?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can we see her?”

“In a little bit. They’re getting her settled in her room.”

How long did it take to get an eighty-eight-year-old woman settled? Stacy hugged everyone, helped her mother pace, got some coffee then paced some more. Finally the nurses opened the curtain in Nana’s room and allowed everyone to enter.

The woman on the bed looked so small, a fragile outline holding up the bedcovers. They all gathered around her and Stacy’s mother took Nana’s hand and squeezed it. “How are you feeling, Mama?”

Nana tried to smile. Only half her mouth cooperated.

Blinking back tears, Stacy stood at one end of the bed.
This is where we all end up, sooner or later,
she thought. “Nana, you have to get better. You’ve still got quilts left in you.”

Again, Nana tried to smile. She said something but her voice was so slurred Stacy had no idea what it was.

Stacy lingered until Nana’s eyes drifted shut. “You may as well go home, honey,” said her mother.

Dean put an arm around her and led her from the room. “I hate this,” she said bitterly as they waited in the hall for the elevator.

He squeezed her. “I know. It’s hard.”

It was just as hard the following day, seeing her grandmother still prone in the bed. “I love you,” Stacy told her, and squeezed her hand.

“Oooh, too,” Nana slurred.

You, too.
It was clearer than the day before, Stacy was sure of it. That had to be a good sign.

“She seems to be getting better,” Stacy said to her mother as they went to the cafeteria.

“I don’t think she’s going to be coming home,” Mom said. “Aunt Vivian and Uncle Jack are looking at Cascade Rehab.”

“A nursing home?”

“It’s a nice one,” Mom assured her, “and each room has a lovely view so she can see the mountains.”

“She could see the mountains fine from her house, too. Why can’t we hire someone to take care of her there?”

Mom didn’t say anything.

“You guys don’t think she’s going to make it, do you?”

“We just don’t know.” Mom sighed. “But we’ll have to put the house on the market.”

“Sell Nana’s house?”

Her grandmother’s Victorian with its small yard in front and large vegetable garden out back was woven into the fabric of Stacy’s childhood. She remembered going over there after school for tea parties with her grandmother. She’d admired the Dresden figurines on the knickknack shelf, played with the button collection her grandmother kept in an old woven basket decorated with tassels, had her first quilting lesson on the antique blue velvet settee in the living room. Selling the house seemed wrong.

“Nursing homes are expensive,” her mother said.

“But doesn’t Nana have money?”

“Not a lot.”

“But if she gets well she’ll need a house to come back to,” Stacy protested.

“If she gets well she’ll come and live with me. We’ve already discussed this with Uncle Jack and Aunt Vivian.”

Pared down from a house to a room. How was that going to work? “What about all her things?” Stacy asked.

“We’ll have to go through them, decide what to keep, what to get rid of.”

Aunt Vivian was a take-charge kind of woman who, on more than one occasion, had said how much she hated clutter. Someone needed to be present to provide some balance. “I’ll help,” Stacy said.

“It’s going to be a big job,” her mother warned.

“That’s okay. I want to help.”
And save as much as possible.

So the next day Stacy showed up at her grandmother’s house, ready to roll up her sleeves. She found her mother and Aunt Vivian in the kitchen with clipboards, taking inventory.

“There’s so much,” Aunt Vivian said, and her tone implied that this was a bad thing.

“The everyday dishes and good china can go to Christie and Cheron, so that takes care of a lot right there,” Mom said. She smiled at Stacy. “I assume you’d like her quilting supplies.”

Stacy nodded. But when she went into the spare bedroom she was almost overwhelmed by the bags and bags of material and all the paraphernalia. There was so much. Had it been breeding in here when no one was looking?

Stacy already had every quilting tool ever made, and she sure didn’t need Nana’s old sewing machine when hers was state-of-the-art. For now, she’d save it in case Nana got better. Same with the iron and ironing board and the pins and notions. She could always take them to the Kindness Cupboard later if...

She bit her lip to keep from crying and turned her attention to the old brass bed. Every square inch of it was covered with dolls and stuffed animals. More of Nana’s doll collection occupied a glass-encased cabinet in one corner of the room, as well as the top of the dresser. Who was going to want her doll collection? Nobody collected dolls anymore. At least, nobody Stacy knew.

She wasn’t sure anyone collected decorative plates, either, and those marched along the walls in this room. They also occupied space in the kitchen and the little dining room. And Stacy knew her grandmother had more boxes of plates stored in the attic. That was a lot of plates.

Then there were all the Beanie Babies piled up in the closet. Nana had thought they were so cute. For a couple of years everyone in the family had given her Beanie Babies for Christmas, her birthday, Mother’s Day.

She could hear her aunt’s voice from down the hall. “It’s going to take weeks to sort through all this stuff, Lila. We should call an auction house.”

Strangers coming in and valuing (or devaluing) Nana’s possessions? Ugh, what a sad thought!

“I don’t think we could convince even an auction house to take all these plates. No one wants them anymore,” her mother said.

“No one wants any of this,” said Aunt Vivian. “But we’re stuck with it.”

“Maybe the teacups...” Mom suggested.

“They’re gorgeous. But who uses these old-fashioned teacups? I wish our mother hadn’t been such a packrat.”

This was the sum of her grandmother’s life? Everything she’d treasured was now a nuisance to be gotten rid of? That just wasn’t right.

But as Stacy spent the day with her mother and aunt, sorting and saving, she began to feel her sentimental attachment fading. Who cared about American Blue the bear or Allie the alligator? And who needed a Scarlett O’Hara collectible plate.
Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.

“I say we rent a Dumpster and toss all this and be done with it,” Aunt Vivian said.

Someone gasped in shock and Stacy realized it was her. What would Nana say?

“Why don’t we have a garage sale?” her mother proposed.

“Who do you think is going to buy this?” Aunt Vivian gestured to the boxes of items piled around the living room. “No one will take it even for free. We’ve tried giving things to everyone in the family. No one wants decorative plates or Beanie Babies. We’re lucky someone wants the china.”

“I’ll take anything you don’t want,” Stacy heard herself say. Where the heck would she store all this stuff?

“More power to you if you can,” said her aunt. “You
might
be able to sell some of those Beanie Babies online, but I’ll be surprised if you can.”

“Nana wanted the grandkids to have her Beanie Babies,” Stacy said sadly.

Vivian shook her head. “No one wants them. Unless you...”

Stacy had never been interested in Beanie Babies. “I’ll try to sell them.” At least that would provide some extra money for Nana.

“You can probably get something for that Depression glass,” her mother said. “And the carnival glass.”

“It’s so sad to be getting rid of all the things she valued,” Stacy murmured. If Nana found out it would put her in her grave for sure.

“I tried to tell her over the years that nobody wants this stuff, but she wouldn’t listen,” Aunt Vivian said irritably. “And now, here we are dealing with all this...crap on top of everything else.” Her voice quavered and Stacy’s mom drew her into a hug. Her aunt let out a little sob and Stacy’s eyes began to tear up, too.

Her aunt got herself under control quickly enough, but her eyes were red when she pulled away. “We should get back to work. I’ve only got today and tomorrow and then I have to get back to the office.”

“We need to go to the hospital to see Mama later,” Stacy’s mother said.

“Then let’s get cracking,” said her aunt.

They went back to sorting and boxing and Aunt Vivian muttered, “By God, I’m going through my place this summer and getting rid of stuff. I don’t want to do this to my kids.”

It
was
a daunting job, Stacy had to admit. And not at all fun. As she sorted through another herd of Beanie Babies, trying to cull the salable ones from the trash, she couldn’t help thinking of all the things she’d been bringing home lately. What would be her equivalent of Beanie Babies?

She’d gotten rid of so much, but ever since discovering the joy of thrift shops she’d brought home a new wave of items to occupy space in her cupboards and closets. Just because something was pretty or a great bargain did she need it? Really?

She was exhausted by the time she got home but she didn’t let that stop her from touring her house with a critical eye, a trash bag and a cardboard box. Both were filled within half an hour.

The next day found her at the Kindness Cupboard with donations from both her grandmother’s house and hers. Janice Lind pointed at the Old Country Roses china clock perched on one of the boxes and raised an eyebrow. “This looks familiar.”

“It should. I bought it last time I was in here.”

“And you’re tired of it already?”

“I just don’t need it,” Stacy said. “I don’t need any of this. I’m lightening my load,” she added. “Again.”

Janice nodded.

She’d enjoyed finding the treasures but she didn’t need to turn her home into Treasure Island. So, no more thrift stores, no more bargain-hunting. That made her sad and she said as much to Janice as they priced the various things.

“Well, dear, have you ever thought of combining business with pleasure?” Janice asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, perhaps you could start a business selling secondhand items, maybe open an antique store here in town or have a store on eBay. That way you could still treasure hunt to your heart’s content, but you’d be matching those special things with people who really want them. Rather like what we do here.”

“Gosh, I don’t know anything about running a business,” Stacy said.

“You’re a smart young woman. You could learn. I think an antique store would do well in Icicle Falls. We get a lot of tourists. And tourists like to shop.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“You could begin by talking with Ed York. He’s trying to rent out the space next to his wine shop. Not a bad location. Tina’s lace and china shop is on the other side. You’d get loads of traffic. You could sell what you found and sell other people’s things on consignment.”

Stacy thought of Nana’s Depression and carnival glass, of the goodies she’d seen when she’d been on her jacket hunt in Seattle. Surely it wouldn’t be difficult to stock a small shop. And she had to agree with Dean. She needed to do something. She didn’t want to just drift through her empty-nest years.

That night as they worked together in the kitchen, Dean chopping vegetables for a stir-fry and Stacy putting rice on to cook, she mentioned the idea.

“A shop, huh?” he said thoughtfully.

“It’s probably a dumb idea. I mean, I really don’t have any business experience.”

“You worked in retail when we were first married,” Dean reminded her.

“Selling china in a department store doesn’t qualify me for running a shop.”

He shrugged. “It’s a beginning. I could help you get started. Between the two of us, we should be able to figure out how to do it. And it’s not like there’s no one in Icicle Falls to give us pointers.”

Dean was right. With all the people in town who owned shops, they wouldn’t lack for expert advice. Still, the idea was scary. “I’ll think about it,” she decided.

But the more she thought about it, the more nervous she became. Shops didn’t spring up out of nothing. She’d need money for inventory; she’d have to pay rent. She and Dean had some money in savings but she wasn’t willing to risk any of it on a business venture that might be a complete failure.

She said as much to him the following morning.

“It’s up to you,” he said. “But I think you can do anything you set your mind to, and I’m willing to risk some of our savings to prove it.”