Part 38 (1/2)
”Thanks, Jim.”
They rode in silence until they finally pulled up in front of a flower shop. Bob got out and bought everything they had; he filled the front seat of the car with bouquet upon bouquet.
”That ought to smooth the path,” Bob said.
”It sure should!” Olivia said.
Minutes later they arrived at Martha Ann's house, which was a gorgeous southern antebellum mansion behind a gate, down a long drive lined on both sides with live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The front of the house had enormous columns that crossed the portico and four sets of French doors with tall black shutters on either side of a ma.s.sive front door.
”This is Maritza's mother's house?” Olivia said. She was completely stunned. ”I thought she was a fry cook in the local diner?”
”She was. Her parents thought she ought to work for her spending money when she was a teenager.”
”I didn't know she came from money,” Olivia said.
”Her folks own the chicken-processing plant in town. It's the largest one in the United States or the second largest.”
”So she's rich?”
”Rich is a relative term,” Bob said. ”In my world, I'm rich. I'd say her folks get along fine.”
”I'd say so too,” Olivia said and shook her head.
They pulled around the circular drive. Bob and Gladdie got out, carrying armloads of flowers, and rang the doorbell. A few minutes pa.s.sed and Belle, Martha Ann's head honcho/confidante/majordomo, answered the door.
”h.e.l.lo, Belle!” Bob said.
”Well, h.e.l.lo, Mr. Bob. Miss Maritza said to tell you she ain't home. Hey, Miss Gladdie! You want some cake?”
”Grandmomma!” Gladdie screamed and ran inside to Martha Ann, who was stationed in the foyer.
”Baby doll!” Martha Ann said loudly.
Gladdie flew into her arms and as instructed, Bam! Belle slammed the door right in Bob's face, so hard he thought it might fall off the hinges.
CHAPTER 16.
Sorry
Bob was stunned. Olivia was horrified. Even Jim their driver was surprised.
They were all standing in the yard at the bottom of the front steps.
”This is worse than I thought,” Bob said. ”I thought Belle liked me.”
”Man, what did you do?” Jim said.
The afternoon was very warm and there was a gentle breeze that carried the scent of jasmine that Olivia proclaimed to dislike-at least in candles. She could not remember if she had ever smelled it as it occurs naturally in a garden.
”He was a bad dog,” Olivia said. ”Gosh, it smells heavenly here. What is that smell?”
Jim said, ”Confederate jasmine and pine mixed up with the roses from the garden over yonder.”
Jim pointed to an area of small boxwoods laid out in an argyle pattern. In the center of the diamonds were stands of old roses and hybrid tea roses. The ancient brick wall that surrounded the property was blanketed with Confederate jasmine vines.
”Jasmine! But I hate jasmine!”
”Maybe you don't,” Jim said. ”See that bush that's pale, pale pink? That's a rose from the time of Abraham Lincoln! That's how long these folks been here.”
”My G.o.d. That's incredible. I've never had a garden.”
”For G.o.d's sake! Please! Cut the garden commentary and tell me what to do!” Bob said. What the h.e.l.l? he thought. I'm practically hysterical, and they're talking horticulture! And why are they so relaxed? ”Olivia? Do you know something I don't? Have you spoken to her?”
”No, if I had, I would've told you. You know that! I'm just very taken by this beautiful house and this yard.”
”You're sorry what you did, right?” Jim said.
”Very. Look, I can't live without her. I feel like I'm dying!”
”You want to try the back door first?” Jim said.
”That's a good idea,” Olivia said.
Bob Vasile hadn't knocked on a back door since he was a delivery boy for his neighborhood grocery store when he was a teenager.
”Yes! Excellent idea,” Bob said and started for the back door with another armful of flowers and the shopping bags filled with gifts.
Olivia and Jim followed.
”How long they been married?” Jim said.
”Five years,” Olivia said.
”He's got it bad.”
”Yes, he does. I've never seen him like this.”
”So, y'all go back?”
”Like thirty years.”
Olivia thought it was very peculiar that Jim was imposing himself into the situation and being so inquisitive, but she was also amused by it. Maybe it was a southern thing-men sticking together, people asking personal questions or something like that. In any case, Jim could turn out to be more help than she might be because she had a sense that he knew how things worked in that neck of the woods. He knew the history of that rose, didn't he?