On Magnolia Lane Page 2
Zoe, Ava’s boss at the Peach Barn and Daisy’s good friend, had mentioned it a few months ago.
“I did. But I don’t want to leave my little sister.” Millie was nine and also a Hope House resident. Their mom had passed several years ago, and their dad was in prison. “My plan is to get my degree as quickly as possible, then save up so she can go to college. I don’t think she’s going to be getting an academic scholarship at this point.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
The girl was making a big sacrifice for her sister. There was nothing wrong with Dalton State, but Ava would shine even at a big school like UGA.
“What’s your major going to be, do you know?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll just take gen eds at first and see how it goes. I really liked my marketing class last year, so maybe business.”
“I’m sure you’ll do great no matter what you choose.”
“Thanks. I don’t suppose you have a vacuum cleaner I can use? The carpet’s a wreck up there.”
“Oh, honey, I’ve seen it. You need a carpet cleaner. My grandma has one. How about I bring it over after I close up, and we’ll do it together?”
Ava gave a grateful smile. “Sweet. To be honest, it was kind of grossing me out.”
Daisy laughed. “It’s nasty. I’ll be back around five thirty, and we’ll get it cleaned right up.”
TWO
Daisy’s childhood home was nestled at the base of the north Georgia mountains. The clapboard farmhouse with a wraparound porch was like something from a storybook. The rolling green land begged for horses—just as she’d done as a child, but her pleas had gone unheard. A fact she never let her mother forget.
“Knock-knock!” she called before slipping through the screen door. It slapped into place behind her as a delicious aroma mingled with the familiar smell of home. Thursday nights were for supper with her mama, and after a long day at the shop, Daisy was happy to skip out on cooking.
“Come on in, honey.”
Daisy dropped the newspaper on the end table and entered the kitchen just as her mom was pulling a pot from the stove-top. Daisy grabbed the strainer and set it in the old farm sink just in time for her mom to empty the pasta and water into it.
“Thanks.”
Once the pasta was drained, Daisy kissed her mom’s cheek. Karen Pendleton was still attractive at almost fifty-five and kept a tight rein on her figure. Her shoulder-length hair curled under the steam of the boiling water, and her green eyes, so like Daisy’s, sparked whenever she got bent out of shape, which was often.
Daisy began setting out the silverware. “Deliveries go all right today?”
“Mostly. Mrs. Forsythe refused her flowers, though.”
Daisy sighed, thinking of the lovely bouquet of blue and white hydrangeas. “He must’ve really blown it this time.”
“No doubt. I put the arrangement in the case. Maybe it’ll sell.”
“I’ll refund his credit card tomorrow.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s not our fault his wife didn’t want them.”
“I know, but . . . he’s a steady customer.”
“Which only speaks to the man’s poor behavior.”
Daisy shrugged. Part of her didn’t know why Mrs. Forsythe put up with her husband’s shenanigans. The other part—the one who’d been on a dozen first dates in the past few months—understood perfectly well.
They finished putting the food on the table and sat down in front of the bay window facing the backyard. It was a beautiful view—the vegetable garden her mother lovingly tended, the copse of evergreens from Christmases past, and the white fence she’d helped her father put up when she was twelve.
“Daisy.”
Daisy looked over to realize her mom was ready for grace, had maybe even said her name a time or two.
“Sorry. Lost in thought. Go ahead.”
After the prayer they tucked in. The food was healthy but a little bland. A chicken breast with a light lemon sauce and whole-wheat pasta topped with her mom’s homemade marinara.
“How’s Ava coming along with the apartment?” her mom asked. “Gram said she’s been quite the busy bee the past couple weeks.”
“She’s up there cleaning every spare minute. But between school and her job she can’t have many of those. The carpets were so disgusting. We worked until after midnight Tuesday and still didn’t get finished.”
“I hope this isn’t a mistake. She’s so young to be living on her own.”
“She can take care of herself. She seems years older than most eighteen-year-olds.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Poor thing, her and those other girls. I’m glad you do that Spring Fling dress drive for them.”
“We’ve gotten quite a few donations. I just picked them up from the cleaners today.”
“Was the shop busy?”
“Pretty steady. The insurance forms came in the mail, and I worked on them between customers.”
“Oh, don’t worry about those,” her mom said. “I can fill them out this weekend.”
“That’s all right. I’ve already got a good start.”
“I don’t mind, honey. I know how you struggle with—”
Daisy gave her mom a look. “I’ve got it, Mama.”
A long pause ensued, then Karen gave a tiny nod, her mouth tightening. “Of course you do. I was only trying to help.”
Daisy’s fork scraped the plate as she stabbed at the grilled chicken.
“How did your coffee date go with that gentleman friend?” her mom asked.
Daisy’s fork paused on its way to her mouth. “How did you know about that?”
“You must’ve mentioned it to me.”
“I’m sure I didn’t.” Daisy told her mom as little as possible about her love life—or lack thereof. Including the fact that she’d recently branched out with a dating app.
“Well, maybe someone else mentioned it to me. So how did it go? Was he nice?”
“He was just fine.” For a thirty-year-old man still living at home with his parents and working at the Dairy Freeze. He’d had beady little brown eyes that never left hers, not even for a moment. He’d talked about his motorcycle (Sasha) like she was the love of his life—and blew his nose repeatedly at the table. Allergies, he’d said.
“You’re too picky, honey. You’ll never find a perfect man, you know.”
“I’m not talking about this with you, Mama. I’m fine just as I am. I don’t even need a man.” She simply wanted one. Rather badly. Okay, desperately.
“Now stop that foolish talk. Of course you do. You could wear a little lipstick now and again. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
Nor was she likely to forget it, with her mom reminding her every five minutes.
Daisy reached for the serving spoon. “Would you like more pasta? It’s very good.”
“Of course not. I’m watching my weight.” Her quick assessment of Daisy’s figure didn’t go unnoticed.
Daisy scooped a heaping spoonful of pasta and dumped it on her own plate. “Well, I’m starving.”
“I always make too much pasta. Are you still jogging, dear? It’s so healthy for you.”
“You know I’m not, Mama.”
“You were so mellow when you were jogging.”
“It’s called exhaustion. I couldn’t move for days.” She’d tried jogging for a week last fall. If there were a second wind, she’d never found it. Maybe she’d take up walking now that the weather was warmer again.
“You should walk with me in the mornings. I’d love the company.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She would definitely not think about it.
Her mom began listing the benefits of aerobic exercise while Daisy finished her food. When she was done, she took her plate to the sink and rinsed it off. She was sliding it into the dishwasher when she noticed a form on the counter by her mom’s purse. She couldn’t miss the large bold print at the top.
Her stomach shrank two sizes as her breath tumbled from her lungs. She turned and gaped at her mom. “You’re selling the house?”
It took her mom two seconds to notice the form on the counter. Her eyes widened and lips parted. Then her gaze slid away, and she traced the eyelet trim on the tablecloth.
“I was going to tell you tonight.”
Betrayal whipped through Daisy. It was irrational, she knew. The house belonged to her mother, and she had every right to sell it.
But . . .
“Honey, it’s just a house—and a big one at that. It’s too much to take care of. Too much property. I’d rather be closer to town, closer to the store.”
“Do you need more help around here? I can mow every week, I don’t mind. And if it’s the cleaning—”
“Honey, you do enough. You have your own house and yard to take care of. I just don’t want this big responsibility anymore.”
Daisy’s heart had taken flight, and her lungs struggled to keep up. Her eyes darted to her dad’s seat at the kitchen table, to the bay window he’d installed, and out to the yard where he’d sometimes camped out with her on mild summer nights.
Losing this house would be like losing another piece of him. The last piece. This was where all her best memories with him were. She blinked against the burn in her eyes.
Her mom approached, taking her hand. “Honey . . .”
“Please don’t sell it, Mama.”
“It’s only a house, Daisy.”
She pulled her hand away and turned back to the sink. “No, it’s not.”
She could still picture her dad on the recliner in the living room after he came home from the office. Could still hear the squawk of the porch swing as he listened to her prattle on about her school day.
“I know this is difficult, honey, but it’s been seven years.”
“I know how long it’s been.” The day after tomorrow was the very anniversary of his death. That only made things worse. Made the feelings so raw.
“There’s a cute little bungalow on Katydid Lane, just the perfect size for me. The yard has room for a nice garden, and the neighborhood will be a great place to walk.”
She blinked at her mom. “You’ve already found a place?”
“I haven’t put in a bid yet. I haven’t even put the house on the market.” She brushed Daisy’s hair over her shoulder and resolutely met her daughter’s gaze. “But I’m going to, honey. I have to move on with my life. It’s time.”
Daisy shrugged her mom away. She couldn’t believe this. She’d imagined always having this place to come home to. Sure, her mom had complained a time or two about the upkeep, but she’d never once mentioned selling it. And coming at the anniversary of her daddy’s death, it just all seemed like too much.
“I have to go now.”
“Honey . . . don’t be like this,” Karen said as Daisy gathered her purse and fought the rise of emotion.
She paused on the way out the door and gave her mom a weak smile. “Thanks for supper, Mama. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
THREE
Jack tried not to fixate on Daisy at the other end of the table as she conversed with her girlfriends, Hope and Josephine. Last Chance, the local country band, was gearing up to play, and it was standing room only at the Rusty Nail. Music blared through the speakers, and the smell of grilled burgers and french fries made his stomach rumble.
A crack of thunder sounded over the music, and rain pounded the metal roof overhead.
“It’s really coming down out there,” Jack said to his friend Brady—the only other male still sitting at the row of tables they’d strung together.
Brady ran a hand through his short dark hair, his blue eyes flickering to the nearest window. “There’s a thunderstorm warning. Looked pretty nasty on the radar.”
“Well, we need the rain.”
“True enough.”
Daisy suddenly appeared across the table from Jack, jump-starting his heart. “How’d Gloria like the flowers?”
Her green eyes were laser-focused on him, her sweet perfume filling his senses. She wore a little makeup tonight, and her lips looked especially lush.
He pulled his eyes away, ignoring the way his heart punished his ribs. “Um, she liked them. She really liked them.”
“Oh. Great.” She nodded, waiting for him to expound on the thought.
Jack searched for something else to say but got distracted by the way the light reflected off her hair, making it glitter like spun gold.
Say something. Heat rose from the collar of his button-down shirt as his mind spun like tires in a snowbank.
Traction. He just needed a little traction. “Um . . . She really loves flowers.” There was that master’s degree at work.
Daisy blinked. “Right. Well. I’m glad she liked them.”
Another awkward pause ensued. Jack filled it with a plastic smile.
“I’m just gonna”—Daisy gestured toward the bar—“go get something to drink.”
“Sure, sure.”
“You want anything?”
He reached for his Coke. “That’s okay, I’ve got”—he bumped his glass, and soda sloshed over the side—“plenty.” He grabbed his napkin and began mopping up the mess.
Really, Jack? Really?
“Right,” she said. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
He closed his eyes in a long blink, half hoping he’d vanish. Or she’d vanish. Or he’d suddenly know what the heck he was doing. He was such an idiot. His palms were damp, and the back of his neck had broken out in a sweat.
Brady leaned closer, smelling faintly of car grease and brake dust. “How can someone so eloquent in the pulpit turn into that when a woman comes around?”
Jack glared at him. Brady had caught on to his unrequited feelings for Daisy last fall. That made two enlightened people, as their friend Noah had known almost from the beginning.
“You’re well-dressed, well-spoken, and you’re a nice-looking guy—not my type, honey, but you know.”
Jack hated being tongue-tied around Daisy. It was more manageable in his office when she was doing most of the talking. All he had to do was nod and ask how she felt about that and offer to close in prayer. Basically, put on his pastor’s cap. But away from church, when casual conversation was supposed to be a two-way street . . .
He just wasn’t good with women. He never had been. He’d been such a dork in high school. He had these horrendous thick-framed glasses and a scrawny build. And the acne . . . There wasn’t a girl in high school who would’ve given him the time of day.
“Seriously, man,” Brady said. “You’ve gotta get it together. She’s just a woman.”
Easy for Brady to say. He and their friend Hope had fallen in love and were currently living in wedded bliss. All of their friends had paired off. Noah and Josephine, Cruz and Zoe, and most recently, Brady and Hope. They all made it look so easy.
That’s not really fair, he thought. They’d each had their own share of troubles. It was easy to forget, though, seeing them now.
“I don’t know what you’re waiting for,” Brady said. “Are you ever going to do anything about it or what?”
Cruz appeared in the seat beside Jack. He had good looks that turned the ladies’ heads, but he’d only ever had eyes for Zoe. The two had a beautiful little girl named Gracie and worked the peach orchard Zoe had inherited from her grandma.
Cruz was looking between Brady and Jack. “Do anything about what?”
“Jack has a crush on Daisy,” Brady said.
Jack gave Brady a withering look. “Seriously?”
Cruz raised his hands, palms out. “Hey, that’s cool. Daisy’s great. You should go for it.”
“I’m not going for anything.” He narrowed his eyes at Cruz. “And you didn’t hear any of this. Daisy’s a friend. Just a friend. End of conversation. Let’s talk about something else.”
“He doesn’t think she wants to be a pastor’s wife,” Brady said.
Jack scowled at him.
“Also he thinks he’s too old for her,” Brady said.
“Really?” Cruz eyed Jack speculatively. “What are you, thirty-four, thirty-five? Not exactly a card-carrying member of AARP.”
“Plus she’s a member of his congregation,” Brady said. “I don’t know why that matters, but he seems to think it does.”
“What part of ‘end of conversation’ didn’t you understand?”
“I don’t see why that should matter,” Cruz said. “It’s not like you’re her boss or something.”
Brady set down his drink. “And, dude, she’s meeting a lot of men right now. She’s going to get snatched up, and then it’ll be too late. Trust me, you don’t want to have regrets. Regrets are the worst.”
A weight settled in Jack’s chest. “What do you mean, meeting a lot of men?”
“She’s using that new dating app,” Brady said. “Butterfly or something like that. Hope was telling me about it. It limits the pool geographically so you’re only meeting singles in your area.”
“You mean Flutter,” Cruz said. “My buddy’s using it. He loves it. Daisy’s on that? I should tell him about her.”
Jack stiffened. “Hey.”
Cruz shrugged. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”
Jack’s heart had gone into overdrive at the thought of losing Daisy. Losing. As if he could lose something—someone—he’d never even had.
“So what’s up with this app?” he said. “Is she dating strangers? How can that be safe?”
“You chat on the app first and see if you want to meet up,” Brady said. “She’s met guys from all over the region, but I’m sure she meets them in public. She’s a smart woman.”
Brady leaned forward on his elbows, his blue eyes intense. “She’s had a ton of dates in the past few months, man. According to Hope she’s pretty serious about finding someone, and she’s not wasting any time.”
Jack’s mood had taken a nosedive. “Terrific.”
Bad enough seeing Daisy all the time and knowing he couldn’t have her. Watching her dance with other men. How much worse would it be when she found someone and started bringing him around the group every Saturday night? Started bringing him to church on Sundays? How would he even be able to focus on his sermon as he watched her fall in love with another man right in his own pew?