One Wish (9 page)

Troy was astonished. Whatever program she was using—amazing. He had no idea this business could be so complicated or high-tech.

“Let me show you something I’ve used very successfully for table centerpieces.” She clicked on a picture. “A clear glass cylinder vase, flowers, white rocks, greenery at the base—I can do this for forty dollars per table. Or, I can tell you where to buy these glass vases and rocks very inexpensively and you can put the girlfriends to work and make it happen for less than twenty per table.”

“They’re beautiful,” Janet said.

“How’d you do that?” Jake asked.

“I buy in bulk, June prices should be good, I thinned the flowers and I know what everyone else charges. You can’t do better and I’ll make that a guarantee. I’m going to suggest you get your bridesmaids or mothers or both together to fashion big white or lavender tulle bows for the pews. Skip the flowers, though they are so pretty. You can buy the tulle at a fabric shop like Jo-Ann’s and save at least a couple hundred dollars and still have the decor of a fashionable and classy wedding. If they don’t show you how to make the tulle bows, I’ll be happy to. Now, those pew stands with candles are pricey—they have to be rented and you can probably live without them if you’re cutting costs. The things that really show in a wedding are the altar flowers, bouquets and table arrangements. I can work up an estimate for this package and email it to you if you like, but I’m guessing this selection will be in the neighborhood of six to eight hundred. Plus delivery, which I do myself. I want my flowers presented perfectly. And, of course, I guarantee everything.”

“Can we look at the next one?” Janet asked, opening the album to another page.

Troy smiled to himself and moved away. An hour later the couple was leaving with a contract in their hands and an official estimate on the way via email. And they were
kissing
.

Grace turned the sign on the front door and locked it. She was closed. Her meeting with the bridal couple had lasted almost two hours.

“I don’t know how you did that,” Troy said, stacking up his papers.

“I was taught,” she said. “The couple I worked for—they were so perfect at pleasing people.”

“When I first met Jake and Janet I thought they were headed for divorce. When they left, I thought everything would be fine.”

“This is so typical. They think they have a budget, but what they really have done is run out of money after the dress and reception and pictures, but they still want flowers.”

“For fifty bucks,” Troy said with a laugh.

“You have exceptional hearing.”

“Yeah, it’s a teacher thing.”

“They’ll probably argue about the expenses several times between now and the wedding and they’ll spend more than they plan to because it’s always more. But I use all the flowers I order so the bouquets and arrangements will be stunning, and that’s a fact. I’m very good at this.”

“Where’d you get the program that pulls the flowers together?”

“Mamie and Ross, the couple I worked for, daydreamed about something like that. We could make up sample arrangements and bouquets, photograph them and load them on the computer, but this is state-of-the-art. I worked on it with a nerdy girl I met in Portland. I admit she did most of the program work, but I designed the site and loaded the flowers and arrangements. Isn’t it great? It’s like creating an online greeting card. Mamie and Ross sold it to a couple of noncompeting florists. I think they got a good price.”

“Did you get a good price?” he asked.

“More than that, I got my future.”

Seven

F
or Ray Anne Dysart, life was more productive and satisfying than ever before, at least as far as she could remember. She had her real estate business, mostly property management, small but respectable. She owned her own home, something she had worked hard to make happen as a hedge against retirement, even though she had no intention of retiring until she had no other option. She had her best friends, Lou McCain Metcalf and Carrie James. And she had Al.

Dear Al. He was hardly her first steady man. She was a little afraid to think about what number he was in a long line of previous beaux and lovers; in fact, she had been married three times. All water over the dam. Al was the most special man she’d ever known and completely unlike her usual type. He was a mechanic for one thing—grease under the blunt nails on those big calloused, gentle hands. He was physical, rough and ready and the best-natured man she knew. Plus, he had those three foster sons. Yes, there was a time Ray Anne had wanted children but she’d gotten over that a long while back. The boys, Justin, Danny and Kevin, were nineteen, fifteen and thirteen respectively. Good boys and Al kept them in line, but Ray Anne didn’t feel equipped to be a parent to boys, foster or otherwise. She was a girlie girl. Yet she couldn’t help but admit she enjoyed them and got a kick out of the way Al was able to manage them.

She felt she was thriving with Al and his family of boys. Of course, most of the time it was just Al she was with. She saw him every day. She would swing by Lucky’s, the service station where he worked. Or he would drop by her house before or after his shift, provided his boys were taken care of. Sometimes they met at the diner for a quick meal or Cliffhanger’s for a drink. Cliff’s was the only restaurant in town with tablecloths. Sometimes they managed a whole evening or day off together; sometimes she joined Al and the boys for dinner. And if they planned carefully, she and Al could get naked and have some real quality time. Once or twice a week.

Like now.

It was Sunday, early afternoon. Al had the day off. The boys had driven to the nursing home where their mother resided. They visited her at least once a week, such devoted sons. Ray Anne took complete advantage of the opportunity when the boys were otherwise occupied.

She stretched out in bed. She smiled. She could hear the shower running. Al had spent the morning in her garage, changing the oil in her car, checking her brakes and such. He wanted to clean up before joining her in bed. She wore one of her sheer lacy, seductive little nighties, waiting. Her cell phone chimed and she frowned.
It better not be important
, she thought. She’d been looking forward to a little time alone with her man.

It was her cousin, Dick. Ray Anne had very little family, but she and Dick had been close growing up and kept in touch. She picked up. “Dickie, let me call you back in a little while...”

“It’s important, Ray,” he said. “Call me back right away, okay? As soon as you can?”

“What’s so important?”

“It’s Ginger,” he said. “She’s just not doing well. I don’t know what more to do. Me and Sue, we’re out of ideas. She’s had counseling, talked to the minister, her friends have tried to boost her up. We thought maybe if she went to stay with you for a little while...”

“Honey, I don’t know what to do, either.”

“Could you think about it? Even if it’s only a few weeks? Because we worry about her and she just won’t help herself. We thought maybe a change...”

“Do you have any idea how gloomy it is here in winter? I wouldn’t expect it to lift her spirits any. And besides, I’m in a... Well, I’m in a relationship and it’s hard enough finding time.”

“Ray, it’s almost spring and you always got a relationship, don’t you? Girl, I think I need help this time. Could you just think about it? See if you get any ideas that could help us out? Because we don’t want to lose her. Ain’t we lost enough?”

She took a deep breath. “Sure. Of course. Let me think about this. Let me ask some of my close friends for ideas. They know a lot more about kids and family stuff. I love her, you know that.” The shower stopped. “I just don’t know anything about how to help in a situation like hers. And God, I’d hate myself forever if I just made it worse. You know I’m not much of a mommy kind of girl.”

“You were her fairy godmother,” he said. “Just the sight of you made her happy.”

“Well, the sight of me is damn hard to fix up these days. I’m not young anymore.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “And she isn’t that young, either.”

“I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Thanks. Anything you can do. Thanks.”

She clicked off and sat on the edge of the bed. Thinking. Dickie had always been there for her. He was a hardworking trucker who’d ended up with his own company and any time Ray Anne had a problem—a man, a big bill she couldn’t pay, a need to move, a co-signer, a shoulder—he never asked a single question, never hesitated. He was there. His wife, Sue, wasn’t quite as warm and loving toward her, but she sure accepted her and never balked when Ray and Dickie got together or when Dickie helped Ray Anne out.

And they’d never asked much of her.

Al came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, rubbing a smaller towel over his short hair. His arms and shoulders were muscled, his belly flat, a body that usually filled her with all kinds of dirty expectations. But she was distracted.

“Did I hear you talking?” he asked.

She still gripped the phone. She lifted it and showed him. “My cousin, Dickie. Remember, his daughter was the one whose baby died—crib death.”

“Yeah,” he said, kind of wearily. He sat down beside her. “I wasn’t likely to forget about that.” In fact, way back in Al’s youth when he was a young husband, he and his wife had lost their only child the very same way. Al had spent decades trying to run away from that sorrow. “Poor thing.”

“Well, she’s not good. She’s not getting better. She’s grief stricken and they’ve tried everything from medication to counseling and Dickie wants me to take her in for a while, even if it’s only a few weeks.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because she was my little princess and always loved staying with me. But she’s not a little princess now—she’s a thirty-year-old woman whose baby died and I don’t think I can help her get over it with facials and mani-pedis.” She looked up at him. “I wouldn’t have the first idea what to do. I might just make it worse.”

Al shifted into the bed, stretching out his long legs as he leaned against the headboard. He pulled her back into his arms. “Ray Anne, just being you puts a smile on most faces. You’re kind and sweet and funny—maybe that would lighten her spirits a little bit. You could let her talk about it.”

“Ugh,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I know, I know. But they know you’re not a professional counselor. I mean, your cousin and his missus. They don’t expect you to cure her or anything, right? They just want her to have a safe place to go, right?”

“I think so,” she said. “The poor thing. Her marriage was breaking up when she was barely pregnant, so she was alone. Had the baby alone. She moved back with her parents so she could take three months off work and she never went back because... How do you get someone over something like that?”

“Honey, you don’t,” Al said, pulling her closer against him, holding her in the crook of his big arm. “You can’t get someone over something. All you can do is give ’em a little love and space and pray. You pray, baby?”

She laughed in a short, sarcastic huff. “All my damn life, but my prayers weren’t very holy. ‘Please God, let that big stud buy me a drink.’”

He laughed at her. “I think you should let her come.”

“You do? Like we don’t have enough complications...”

“I think if you don’t, you might not get over it later. Sometimes we have to do things like that just to keep from having too many regrets.” He kissed her forehead. “Might have to get a room at the Coast Motel again.” Then he laughed.

“She doesn’t work,” Ray Anne said. “What am I going to do with her?”

“You should talk to your girls—Lou and Carrie. They’ve been through some rough times. So have you, for that matter.”

Indeed, she had. An abusive husband, a couple of acrimonious divorces, getting financially wiped out by at least one of them. That was just for starters. She’d learned a lot, been around the block a time or two.

She’d even lost a child, but hardly anyone knew about that. And her baby hadn’t died the way Ginger’s had. Hers was a secret teenage mishap that ended sadly and she’d never talked about until very recently.

“I’m not smart or wise enough,” she said.

“You’re the smartest woman I know. And you’re so full of love I can’t even hold all of you.”

She turned her head to look up at him. “I’ve never had anyone like you in my life before. Really, I haven’t. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I feel the same,” he said.

“We’ve got an awful lot on our plates,” she said.

“Bounty,” he said. “That’s what we call a full plate. Bounty.”

“Hope it doesn’t kill us,” Ray Anne said.

* * *

Al planned to take his two younger boys to the high school basketball game on Friday night. Lou’s husband, Joe, was a trooper who worked the swing shift four nights a week and Carrie didn’t open the deli early on Saturday mornings. Friday night was a perfect night to get together with her girlfriends, so Ray Anne reached out to see if they felt like a little hen party at her house—a little wine and whine.

“Come to my house, instead, and I’ll put out some snacks. You bring the wine and I’ll invite Gina,” Carrie said, including her daughter, who was also Lou’s niece-in-law. “If Mac is working or something, she’ll just sit around at home. If that’s okay with you.”

Of course Gina was a welcome addition, anytime. For a woman under forty, she was very prudent in the ways of the world. When Ray Anne arrived at Carrie’s, the others were already there and Rawley was just leaving. “You’re not staying for the hen party?” she asked.

“I ain’t no hen,” he said, pulling down his cap. “Thought I explained that.”

“Rawley is babysitting tonight,” Carrie said from behind him. “Cooper and Sarah want to go out without the baby.”

“Really?” Ray Anne asked. “How are you with babies?”

“Perfect,” he said. “If they go to bed and stay there.”

The women had gotten used to having Rawley in the background of their little gatherings, silently serving them, saying nothing unless specifically asked, hiding out in front of the TV when sports were playing while they gathered in the kitchen. “We’ll miss you,” Ray Anne told him. “Having you around at a girl’s night is kind of like having a butler—there to serve, but not there at all.”

“I reckon you’ll have to get your own food and drink and do your own dishes tonight,” he said. “Don’t wear yourself out.” And with that, he was gone.

The women were sitting around the kitchen table where Carrie had put out a selection of her best hors d’oeuvres. As Ray Anne moved toward the table, Gina held up an empty wineglass, more than ready for Ray Anne’s contribution to the party. She quickly uncorked one chilled white and one red.

“Will Rawley come back?” Ray Anne asked Carrie. Carrie merely shrugged and reached for a crab ball from the platter in the center. “Does he stay over?”

“Sometimes,” Carrie said. “If he doesn’t want to drive all the way to Elmore, to his house.”

Ray Anne put both bottles on the table and sat down. She lifted one of Carrie’s amazing crab balls and raised her eyes heavenward. “I have such a hard time picturing you and Rawley together. Romantically, that is.”

“Then don’t,” Carrie advised.

“But seriously, are you a couple now? I mean, I know he’s been around for months, like your boyfriend and partner, but...”

“Not everyone is as comfortable talking about the personal side of things as you are,” Carrie said.

“He has his own room,” Gina pointed out. When everyone stared at her, including her mother, she added, “Well, he does! He has my old room. Which doesn’t mean anything, just that it’s the way they want it! But believe me, I knock before walking in now.”

“Seriously?” Lou said. “His own room? Jesus, are you set in your ways or what.”

“Very much so,” Carrie said. “Rawley is, too. I’ve gotten so used to him, I don’t know what I’d do without him. He loves to cook, clean up, shop and run errands.”

“Very exciting,” Lou said.

“That’s all the excitement I can stand.”

The women were incredibly different. Just a look at them would make anyone wonder what they could possibly have in common. Carrie was plump and grandmotherly; she had never colored her short, steel-gray hair. She nurtured with food that was lovingly and thoughtfully prepared. Lou was small, trim, fit, kept her shoulder length auburn hair free of gray and looked younger than her sixty-two years. Gina was lovely, blond, midthirties with an eighteen-year-old daughter and three stepchildren and had been working at the diner for years and years, yet she looked like a girl.

And then there was Ray Anne. She teased her blond hair, wore her clothes on the tight, short, sexy side, her heels as high as possible. Well, she was short. But that had nothing to do with it, really. She liked them. She’d always worn more makeup, long nails, fancier and, for lack of a better word,
spicier
clothing. Lou called her a Dolly Parton knockoff and Ray Anne was not offended.

The women weren’t alike in many other ways, either. Lou was an educator who had raised her nephew Mac and then helped him raise his three children after his wife left him. Carrie had been a single mother and small business owner—the deli and catering. Gina had only married Mac a year ago or so and became the instant mother of a big crowd. Only Ray Anne had been this solitary, childless woman. But somehow they understood one another.

“Remember my cousin Dickie?” she asked, sipping her wine. “Remember his daughter, Ginger, whose baby died a while back?”

“Terrible,” Lou said, shaking her head. “Was that almost a year ago?”

“Almost nine months. Last summer,” Ray Anne said.

“Nothing could be harder than that,” Carrie said.