Wonderful You (29 page)

“Really?” Zoey frowned, wondering what that might mean for Delia. “Is she going to come?”

“Laura is very concerned that I would have to spend Nick and India’s wedding day making explanations about who she is.”

“Well, she may be right, Mom. Her presence is certain to cause talk.”

“Which it will, whenever the truth becomes known, and it will have to be dealt with.”

“True. But I think the question is, do you want to deal with it at Nicky’s wedding?”

“I don’t want my past to overshadow their day. Nick and India deserve this special day, and I have told them so. Nick, however, feels very strongly that Laura should be there.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“It would mean the world to me to have all of my children there, Zoey, and damn what anyone would have to say about it.”

“Then we should do whatever we have to do to see that Laura is there, Mom.”

“The lemon poppyseed cake is warm. Jody just took it out of the oven a few minutes ago.” Laura stepped onto the porch with a tray holding a carafe of coffee and a small cake sprinkled with powdered sugar. She set the tray down on a small table and said, “And you want to see that Laura is where?”

“At Nick and India’s wedding.” Zoey leaned over to nab a slice of warm, fragrant cake.

“I don’t think that’s
a good idea.” Laura shook her
head.

“Sit, darling”—Delia patted the seat next to her on
t
he small settee—“and let’s think this through. Nick and India would both like you to be there. And frankly,
nothing would please me more.”

“Delia, people will be talking.”

With a wave of her hand, Delia swept away Laura’s protests. “Regardless of when they find out. I don’t really give a damn. My first concern was Nick, and he is adamant that you be there.”

“You don’t know how Georgia will feel.” Laura poured coffee with hands that trembled just a little.

“I will see Georgia on Thursday. I would be very surprised if she didn’t show up on your doorstep, much as Zoey has, to ask her own questions and make her own connection with you.”

“Zoey, how do you fee
l? Will you be embarrassed by
my presence?”

“No. Mom and Nick are right. Family is family. I know you have your own family, and I think you need to decide if you can integrate us all, one into the other. But if it’s up to the Enrights, we’d like you to be at the wedding.”

“Thanks, Zoey. I’ll think about it.”

“And of course, that includes Ally. I’d like to get to know my niece, too.”

“Now, about
Matt
…”
Delia
sampled a small piece
of cake.

“Matt is
…
having some problems with this, Delia,” Laura said in a soft voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Who is Matt?” Zoey asked.

“Matt is my brother. My mother and father adopted him when I was about twelve. Matt was four at the time and a positive holy terror.”

“Matt is disturbed by my presence here, Zoey. He
wishes I’d go away and stay away.”

“That’s a bit more bluntly than I would have phrased it, but accurate. I think Matt feels threatened somehow
by al
l of this, that somehow I’
m betraying our parents.” Laura looked pained. “And nothing could be further from the truth.”

“I understand that, darling, and I think that, over time. Matt will come to understand as well. Give him time, Laura. Maybe he’s afraid of losing you into a family where he feels he has no place. Though God knows there’s room for him too, if he chooses.”

Zoey laughed. “Mom, you should have had about twenty children.”

“If things had worked out differently, I might have. As it was
…”
She
spread her hands out in front of her, a gesture meant to imply that the choice had been taken from her. “And that’s another issue we need to deal with, Zoey. Your father.”

“Not today, Mom,” Zoey told her. “Today is not a day to talk about absent fathers or brothers with a chip on their shoulders. Today is a day for the three of us.”

“That’s a lovely thought, sweetie.” Delia kissed Zoey’s cheek and turned to Laura, and asked, “Darling, you didn’t by any chance see that box of Godiva chocolate I had last night?”

“I think you left it in the front hallway. Would you like me to get it?”

“If you don’t mind. Then perhaps we’ll just settle in for a
cha
t…
just us three.”

22

“
H
i, Wally.” Zoey cupped her hands to call across the lawn from the mailbox where she set about pulling out the morning’s mail from the mailbox. “Don’t you just love Saturday mornings?”

“Why, yes, I do.” He nodded and puffed on his pipe. “But seeing as this is Wednesday
…
”

“To most people it’s Wednesday. To people like me, who are off two days in the middle of the week and work on the weekend, today is my Saturday.” She sorted absently through the mail as she walked toward him across the grass.

“I see.” Wally puffed a little more. “And what have you planned for this ‘weekend’ of yours?”

“Not sure. Mr. Conley and his crew will probably finish working on the bathroom early this morning—can you believe it?—so unless I want to spend the day coughing up plaster dust and wheezing, I guess I’ll have to find something to do out here. Maybe I’ll prune or something.”

“Might be a good day to dean out those flowerbeds and get yourself over to the nursery to buy your plants.”

“Have you been talking to my mother?” she asked accusingly, her hands on her hips as she directed a suspicious glare at Wally.

He held his hands up in a gesture proclaiming innocence and laughed.

“Well, it just so happens that I thought about putting in a few things.” Zoey flipped nonchalantly through the catalog featuring discounted linens that sat on top of the mail pile.

“Really? Well, then, you’ll let me know if you need a hand.”

“Sure. Thanks. But I think I’ve got it covered. I appreciate the offer.”

“Well, I’ll be spending much of the day over at my son’s house. Promised the daughter-in-law that I’d help her rototill her vegetable garden this afternoon. Then, later this afternoon, I’ll be watching my grandson play baseball. Little League, you know. But if you need me, you can give me a call.”

“Thanks, Wally. I’ll keep that in mind. You have a good time today with your family.”

Actually, Zoey looked forward to a day spent alone— inside or out didn’t really matter to her. As long as the carpenters and the plumbers were still working their magic on the second floor, she’d be content to work in the yard. It was a glorious June day, a day of china blue sky dotted with big fluffy clouds, a day of sweet outdoor smells and soft bird songs. After the emotional turmoil of the past week, such a day was to be treasured.

She had called Ben from her car on her way back from Bishop’s Cove, only to find out that he had, at Delaney’s request, gone to New York on business. She left a message on his answering machine: “You were right about everything. How’d you get so smart? All is well now, Ben—better than well. Give me a call when you get back.”

She stood in the enclosed section of the yard—that section that lay within the arbor, the fence, and the wall running across the back. It was like a room—sort of.

Maybe she should get a few chairs—those big Adirondack chairs would fit nicely over in that one co
rn
er.
And over there, in that far corn
er, maybe one of those wooden gliders that she saw out in front of one of the Amish farms where they made such things to sell. She pictured herself curled up on the glider, one foot on the ground to control the gentle back-and-forth sway, a good book in one hand and a glass of iced tea in the other. There were far worse ways to spend a summer afternoon.

But first, the beds needed tending. She unlocked the garage—which, judging from the cleanliness of its concrete floor, had never housed a car—and picked through the assorted garden tools that Delia had brought for her. Selecting what she thought might be the proper rake, she proceeded to clear the beds of dried leaves and new grass, then bagged it all to clear the walkway. By noon, the worst of the debris had been raked and the beds cleaned. The last of the spring daffodils and tulips remained, their once green leaves and stems beginning to go brown. She broke off the stems and bent back the leaves the way she had seen Delia’s gardener do. She would need rubber bands or string to hold them but for now, just folding them back was an improvement.

She carefully inspected the plants that were left. Those tall, hardy-looking things that seemed to grow in every bed, she recognized as daisies. Judging by the number of buds, there would be lots of them that summer. She frowned as she bent to inspect something else, some dark blue spiky flowers the color of ink that danced in the breeze on
sturdy stems that grew from fern
y type leaves. What had Wally called them? She couldn’t quite recall the name, but she liked them. They looked like dancing girls wearing hoop skirts. There were white ones in another bed, delicate yellow in yet another. Oh, columbine. That was what Wally had called them.

Those big tall ruffly dark pink things across the back fence were hollyhocks, she knew that too. They were a favorite of Delia’s, who always had tons of them in her own garden. And along one side grew the daylilies—everyone knew daylilies—in all colors and sizes. Cleaned up, the garden looked pretty, inviting. How much nicer still it would be when she planted her Shakespeare garden. She recited the names of the plants she would need: violets—got plenty of them; fennel— isn’t that an herb? and columbine—no problem there. And then there was rue—Wally said that grew wild out back by the woods; and daisies—got that covered. Pansies
…
she smiled recalling Ben standing at the gate, reciting, “And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts.”

All she would need to buy for her Shakespeare garden would be fennel and pansies.

And, oh, of course. Rosemary. For remembrance.

“Pray love, remember,” he had said.

Zoey sighed, remembering the touch of his lips against her mouth, her chin, the side of her jawline, her neck, and she shivered. Not much chance she was going to forget
that.

Zoey drove to the nearest nursery with the windows down and the radio on. She grabbed several flats of pansies in what were being touted as heirloom colors— pale cream, pale dusty rose, soft yellow, and gentle lavender. Next, a flat of fennel, and two flats of rosemary. What she would do with all those herbs, she had no clue, but there were plenty of beds and she figured she might as well plan to fill in the empty spots.

A tall dark purple flower in the perennials section caught her eye and she stooped down to read its name tag.
Monkshood.
She had never heard of it but it was striking, so she grabbed a few of those. And a few of the soft silvery green of the Russian sage would look so pretty by the monkshood, she had to have a few of those. A rosy-colored delphinium looked interesting, as did the bright yellow coreopsis.

“Now, how are you fixed for annuals?” a young woman whose name tag identified her as Angelica asked Zoey.

“What?” Zoey frowned.

“You have all perennials there. You want to plant
some annuals that last through the end of the season, don’t you? So that the garden’s not bare come September?”

“Oh, sure.” Zoey nodded, looking suspiciously at the flowers she had already pulled out and marked as hers. Would they not “last the season”?

As if reading her mind, the young woman told Zoey, “Perennials usually bloom earlier in the season, June or July, which is why all of those”—she waved her hand at the selections Zoey had made—“are already blooming. If you deadhead them all summer long, you’ll still have some bloom come September, but to keep the color going until frost, you want annuals. They are slower to bloom—your zinnias and cosmos, for example, won’t start blooming till maybe August, depending on sun and water conditions.”

“Oh. Okay.” Zoey nodded. “I’ll take some
of
…
those things that you said.”

“Do you want your zinnias mixed or all one color?”

“Mixed, please.”

“Flats?”

“Sure.” Zoey shrugged as the woman pulled out several flats having what looked like several rows of small flowerpots, each holding several small plants.

“Now, you’ll plant these in full sun and you’ll have gorgeous blooms till November, if you’re lucky,” Zoey was told.

Zoey just smiled, not having any way of judging just how lucky she’d be in the garden, but willing, all the same, to make a go of it.

By the time all of her selections had been gathered at the cash register, she realized that little of it would fit into her little car. Not one to lose a sale, the young woman quickly offered to have the plants delivered to Zoey’s house by two that afternoon.

That being done, Zoey took the long way back to Brady’s Mill. When she arrived at the house, the work crew was just finishing up and preparing to leave. She
walked with the contractor to the second floor to inspect her new living quarters.

“It’s gorgeous, Alan. You’ve done an incredible job!” Zoey beamed as she glanced around the bedroom that had been created on the second floor of the bungalow. Once the plans had been agreed upon, the carpets and wallpaper selected, Zoey had deliberately avoided her new quarters, wanting to be surprised when the job was completed. The newly installed plush green carpet stretched before her like a well-mowed lawn, and the floral wallpaper with its strong colors seemed to bring the outside in, which was exactly what she had had in mind. The skylights would open to the sun by day, the moon and the stars by night. It would be perfect when she got that
big canopy bed put together…

“Come see your new bath.” Pleased with her reaction, Alan grinned and pushed open the door.

“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Oh, wow! It looks exactly like the sketch! Oh, and doesn’t it look sinful!”

Alan laughed and turned on the water in the oversized whirlpool tub to demonstrate its usage.

“Oh, just what I need after a long day.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to try it out.”

“You can try it out tonight,” he told her. “It’s all set up.”

“It’s just what I wanted. You did a wonderful job.”

“Thank you. I’m glad that you’re happy. Now, what will you do about getting your furniture up here?”

Zoey frowned. She had thought to ask Nick to help her, but with the wedding three weeks away, she couldn’t very well ask him to come to Brady’s Mill to help her With a little interior decorating.

She bit her bottom lip. Wally was out. Lifting her big marble-topped dresser would just about kill him. Besides, how to get it from the basement, where it was stored, to the second floor of the bungalow would be a problem regardless of who was doing the lifting.

“Don’t know,” she replied.

“Look, my men are headed out for lunch, but we can
stop back in an hour or so and give you a hand with that. No charge.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Positive. You’ve been a great customer, Zoey. It’s the least we can do.”

“Thanks!”

Zoey followed Alan downstairs, going into the kitchen after he left to fix herself a quick lunch of soup and crackers before going back up to her new room. She swung open the double doors on the space that would serve as a small dressing room and walk-in closet. She couldn’t wait to begin to move her clothes in here, and she would do that tomorrow, taking her time to organize things. She went back into the bathroom and admired her new dark green fixtures, white tile accented here and there with smal
l
hexagonal tiles of deeply hued wildflowers. The course around the top was solid green and a stripe of ceramic dots in greens and blues ran around the wall halfway up. Even the whirlpool tub was dark green, and she envisioned how wonderful it would be with hanging ferns and baskets of flowering plants—maybe even orchids, she mused—on the window ledges.

She turned on the water and let it steam and bubble for a moment before turning it off. She sighed. Definitely luxurious, she thought. Lying in that tub would be a totally sybaritic experience. It would be a shame, she told herself, to bubble away alone.

“Zoey?” Alan called from the bottom of the steps. “We’re back. Want to show us what you need done?”

“Yes! I’m on my way!” She ran down the steps excitedly, anxious to see
her carefully sought and accumul
ated treasures once and for all where they had been intended to go.

Later, when the last of the workmen had followed Alan out the back door
and Zoey had thanked them for
the twentieth time for their help, she went back upstairs to look at her new room. It was perfect, exactly as she had seen it in her mind’s eye. The canopy bed of verdigris stood angled i
n one corner, the skylights per
fectly positioned overhead. All that remained to be done was for Zoey to make up the bed. She hummed as she fitted soft white sheets with a sprinkling of pale yellow roses onto the bed, and plumped the pillows after sliding them into their cases. Across the bed she draped a plush blanket of sage green that matched the old lamp she had found at a house sale some months before. How pretty it would be, she thought, when she bought fabric to drape around the bedposts and over the canopy. And how perfect a big bowl of fresh flowers will be on the dresser, maybe a smaller bouquet on the painted table next to the bed
…

She sighed with total contentment and peeked into the bathroom one more time. She had stacked some big fluffy towels on a wicker table and filled a small basket with lavender-scented soaps. She couldn’t wait till she finished in the garden and could reward herself with a long, sensual soak amid the swirling waters.