Flower Power Trip

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2“You were almost too late for brunch, Kellan,” Nana D teased while standing in her cozy farmhouse kitchen pouring mimosas by the bucketful. “I was outvoted by your sister and your daughter.” She'd selected giant, frosted-green goblets as the holder of the traditional beverage we'd been sharing at our weekend brunches. Ninety percent champagne, ten percent orange juice. I'd be tipsy after the first two since the bubbles always went straight to my head. Give me several cans of beer or a few cocktails, I'd be as sober as a Baptist minister in Utah.

“I thought I saw Eleanor's car out front. Isn't she working at the Pick-Me-Up Diner?” I grew antsy, something fishy was going on. There were only four place settings which meant I wouldn't be surprised by another Nana D-engineered blind date. A setup was guaranteed any day now.

Emma raced into the kitchen, hugged me tightly, and jumped into the open banquette seat near the window. “Auntie Eleanor hired a new manager. He's easy on the eyes.” When I'd left that morning, Emma had been wearing her pajamas and suffering from major bedhead. Now, she rocked a fresh blowout, an empire-cut blue dress, and a cashmere sweater with a butterfly pin clasped to the collar. Eleanor must have dressed her in anticipation of what future motherhood might be like. If Nana D had her druthers, Emma would wear overalls and pigtails.

“Easy on the eyes?” I said, squinting at my grandmother. “Where'd she learn that expression?”

“Your sister's words, not mine, brilliant one.” Nana D sat and guzzled a third of her mimosa. “I offered to let Emma taste mine, but she said it smelled funky. Like your cologne. Is that acid-reflux?”

“I suppose I should focus on the fact she declined the drink rather than harbor any concern you suggested it to begin with?” I loved my Nana D, but she rarely listened to any of the rules I'd laid down when moving back. I trusted her with my life, yet after the margarita incident a few months earlier, I wouldn't drink anything she didn't also drink from. In equal parts. In front of me. Between that revenge tactic and her homemade cold and flu medications, it's no wonder I wasn't already six feet under.

“Of course,” Eleanor chimed in as she sashayed into the room. “Didn't Nana D rub whiskey on our gums when we cut new teeth?”

“It kept me sane. Your mother would've killed me if she knew how many times I'd used that trick. New parents in the last thirty years think they invented all the rules. It's the old ways that always work.” Nana D sliced large wedges of quiche for everyone and directed us to dig in. We sat in silence devouring our food until I couldn't take it anymore.

“So… care to explain who's easy on the eyes, little sister?” Last time I checked, she'd been practically ogling Connor Hawkins. At the same time, she rotated through several picture books to select a possible sperm donor for the baby she wanted to have. On her own, as in, sans anyone to co-parent with. Was she trying to mimic my life? She'd always repeated everything I did in the exact same manner as me when we were children.

“The renovation brought in loads of new customers, I couldn't keep up. I hired a part-time manager to cover Saturdays. Now, I have a full day off. I thought I told you,” Eleanor mumbled while swallowing and moaning over the quiche. “I'm moving in if you keep serving this brunch, Nana D.”

“The more the merrier,” our grandmother replied, clinking her mimosa goblet against Emma's, which I prayed was only full of orange juice. “Maybe Gabriel will come home soon and need a place to crash. It'll be a family reunion.”

I stopped midway from shoveling a sticky bun between my lips and peered up at Nana D. Had Gabriel been in contact with her? “What makes you say that, Nana D?”

She wiggled her shoulders and fiddled with her bright red, three-foot braid. I didn't think she'd cut her hair in over a decade given it was long enough to touch the floor when she sat down. Nana D ignored me and said, “This might be my best brunch ever. Whatta ya think, Emma, dear?”

Eleanor and I glanced at one another and simultaneously downed the remaining contents of our goblets. I poured us both more while she responded. “I'm not interested in my new manager. I'm quite sure he doesn't play for my team, if you get my drift,” she whispered while nodding in Emma's direction.

“Ah. Well, that would make it difficult. Probably wouldn't stop Nana D from setting you up with him,” I quipped, remembering the bevy of inappropriate women our grandmother had thrown in my direction in the past. Was Eleanor trying to hint at knowing about Gabriel's secret, too? Something was going on between my sister and Nana D, but I couldn't clear away the cobwebs to find the prize.

“Since you two aren't making any sense, let's change the topic. The graduation ceremony went well. I ran into a few people I hadn't seen in a while,” I noted, mostly thinking about Ursula. When I left, she was planning to tell Myriam the note was about an issue with one of the college's alumni donors who called her Flower Child. I couldn't imagine explaining that name to my other boss.

From what Ursula had previously shared, Flower Child was a nickname given to her by her brother, Hans. She'd spent most of her childhood collecting flowers and researching their potential uses in medicines and herbal remedies. Their parents had been scientists who were close to finding a cure for a horrific disease. They'd only been close to discovering the answers until the explosion in the lab eliminated any records or verifiable, repeatable results.

“Did you see Maggie on campus?” Nana D asked, balancing a few plates on one arm and the tray of quiche on the other. Emma stood to clear the table. I'd taught my daughter proper manners despite what anyone else dared tell me.

While Eleanor knew Francesca was still alive, Nana D did not. Eleanor understood my reluctance to pursue a relationship with my former college girlfriend despite Nana D always trying to match me up. “No, Maggie wasn't involved in the graduation ceremony. She's busy planning tomorrow night's costume extravaganza. I'm dropping by later to help with the final details.”

When Maggie had assumed the role of head librarian of Braxton's Memorial Library, she'd quickly realized the structure and its contents were outdated. She pitched an idea to the Board of Trustees who unanimously supported her request to raise money for a complete remodel and modernization. Although they'd received large contributions, they were several hundred thousand dollars short. Maggie had proposed a grand event to show everyone what the building looked like now and could become in the future. She invited a hundred of Braxton's wealthiest families hoping they would donate the missing funds needed to start renovations. The costume extravaganza was called Heroes & Villains. Guests were encouraged to dress as their favorites from any historical period.

Emma helped Nana D dry the dishes while Eleanor and I moseyed outside to catch up on Francesca's latest postcard. “I'm certain my wayward wife will come home as soon as she realizes I made the right decision,” I explained.

“Cecilia didn't sound happy last time,” Eleanor reminded me. Cecilia Castigliano was Francesca's mother, and the brains behind the family business. Francesca's father, Vincenzo, handled the mob's daily operations ensuring his wife didn't get her hands dirty.

“Not at all. She's threatened me on a throng of occasions. I've been given two more weeks to locate Francesca. The best I can do is to list any of the remaining places we'd visited in the past. Maybe Vincenzo's thugs can check them out and find her before she's discovered by Las Vargas.”

“You certainly lead an interesting life,” Eleanor said as she unlocked her car door claiming she had errands to run. The inside of her car looked like a bomb had exploded and needed a massive decluttering. “Can you come with me next week to meet the doctor at the clinic? I think I've nailed down the top three options for a donor.”

I consented and suggested she text me the date, time, and location. I'd given up trying to talk her out of the plan to have a baby and figured it would settle itself. Sometimes keeping one's mouth firmly closed delivered the desired results.

Nana D took Emma with her to the orchard to check on Danby Landing's latest saplings. I hopped in the car to meet Maggie at her family's bed and breakfast, Roarke & Daughters Inn. Maggie's parents, former hippies in their younger days, and her four sisters ran the ten-room Victorian stunner. Maggie was the only daughter who opted not to get involved, instead choosing to enter into business with Eleanor as a fifty-percent silent partner in the Pick-Me-Up Diner. Ben and Lucy Roarke were supportive of their eldest child, but it was obvious they preferred she join them at some future point.

Roarke & Daughters Inn was located near Crilly Lake in the northern part of the county. Formed by melting glaciers during the shaping of the Wharton Mountains, the lake was a popular haven for swimming, fishing, and boating during summers. During the spring and fall, it offered striking views of the landscape where exercise and nature lovers spent countless hours surrounded by unmatched inspiration and dreamt of the future. When I pulled up to the front of the historic bed and breakfast and parked in the circle driveway, Maggie and one of her sisters, Helena, stepped into the enclosed wrap-around porch. From the twenty-foot distance, I could see they were having a disagreement about something. Maggie's finger waggled at Helena who crossed her arms on her chest and groaned loudly enough for me to hear in the distance.

I hadn't seen Helena in close to a decade, back when Maggie and I'd been about to graduate from Braxton. Helena was once the proverbial unruly teenager who'd failed her driver's license exam at least twice yet still demanded a brand-new car. She'd also gone to school with my brother, Gabriel, for a few years. Where Maggie had porcelain skin and soft, girlish features, Helena resembled the rest of their sisters—tall, incredibly thin, voluptuous, blessed with thick luxuriant hair, and immortalized with tons of makeup. Basically, the complete opposite of Maggie who was often mistaken for a ceramic statue or a timid doll. Helena recently celebrated her birthday by doing a pub crawl across all four villages in Wharton County. Eight hours, eight bars, eight different drinks. I wouldn't have survived that level of commitment.

Ivy crawled up and around each of the ornate shutters on the building's front windows offering a sharp contrast to the recently repointed beige brick and iron-colored mortar. Roarke & Daughters Inn had once been the home of a former mayor who'd passed away with no immediate descendants at the end of the nineteenth century. The three-story Victorian home passed to a distant cousin, one of Maggie's ancestors, and was used for most of the last century as their family home. Once their hippie days were over and their kids had grown up, the Roarkes converted it into an income-generating property. “Afternoon, ladies,” I said, crossing the threshold into the enclosed porch.

“Kellan Ayrwick, I heard you returned to town. Not that my darling sister ever mentioned you would dare show your face around these parts again,” Helena hollered as I walked across the porch. She scooped a handful of platinum-blonde hair into her palm and tossed it across her shoulder, revealing the thin spaghetti-straps of a hunter-green silk camisole that dipped incredibly low across her ample chest. “Dang, you look finer than I remember, hot stuff!”

I blushed when she pulled me into a tight hug and I inhaled her perfume, a cross between a bouquet of overly sweet flowers and freshly-baked cinnamon rolls. She'd matured into a fully grown-up knock-out with more curves than I'd remembered. Gorgeous. Dynamite. But not really my type, if I'm being honest. I preferred a woman with both a shy and a bit of a wild side, not someone like Helena who flirted with any man between eighteen and sixty-two and pushed her best assets out for everyone to admire on every possible occasion. “Maggie and I have put the past to rest, Helena. I hope you'll be able to, as well,” I noted, withdrawing from the temporarily enticing embrace.