Secrets Of The Tulip Sisters. Susan Mallery
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you?”
“Please.”
Olivia retreated to her small, windowless office. She went online and uploaded the listing she’d already prepared. Then she checked on their other listings, which didn’t take very long. The number of houses they were selling would pick up again in September, but until then, they were in the real estate dead zone.
An hour later, Marilee buzzed for Olivia to come to her office. Olivia smoothed the front of her sleeveless dress before walking down the carpeted hallway. Marilee sat on the leather sofa in her large, corner office.
“That woman is so tiresome. I thought she would never leave. At least she liked the staging, although I have to say I was a little disappointed.” She wrinkled her nose as best she could, considering the Botox. “Really, Olivia? Starfish and a sand bucket? Is that the best you could do?”
Olivia felt herself flush. “I had a budget of five hundred dollars. There weren’t a lot of choices. I think the unique style will appeal to buyers.”
“We’ll see. Jenny was happy at least, although that’s not saying much.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “How hot is it out there? Over a hundred?”
“It’s close.”
“I can’t wait to get out of here. Roger’s place in Colorado is going to be heavenly. The views are amazing. You should go away for a few weeks, Olivia. There isn’t much business over the summer and it would save me having to cut your hours.”
The not-so-subtle hint wasn’t new. Marilee was forever threatening her employees with reduced wages or being fired. The fact that she owned the most successful real estate firm in the city gave her power and she knew it.
When she’d first joined the firm, Olivia had been immune to Marilee’s pettiness and whims, but lately that had changed. Maybe it was inevitable with the passage of time. Maybe it was the fact that Olivia had caught Roger staring at her legs. No matter how much Marilee did to slow the clichéd ravages of time, the truth was she would be fifty in a couple of years. Whatever the reason, Olivia wasn’t Marilee’s favorite anymore. She was just like everyone else.
A familiar ache filled her chest. It had started when she was twelve years old and her mother had simply left. Olivia had been devastated. She and her mother had been so close. They were the two who got each other. Kelly had always been Dad’s favorite and Olivia had been Mom’s, one each, the way it was supposed to be. But when Mom had left, Olivia had been alone.
Ever since then, nothing had been right. There had been moments when she’d felt safe, as if she belonged, but only moments. Except with Ryan. When she was with him, she always knew that she was going to be okay. With him, she could believe in herself, in the future.
She thought of the messages on her phone. The meaningless parties she could waste time on, the women she hung out with. They, like Marilee, were more frenemy than friend. What did she have keeping her here? Kathy’s boyfriend? A career that was going nowhere? She had no idea what she wanted, which meant she was never going to achieve anything. She needed time to think and maybe, just maybe, the chance to make her life perfect again.
She couldn’t go back to being that twelve-year-old girl again, but she could take Ryan up on his invitation. Go back to Tulpen Crossing. That would give Marilee something to chew on and wouldn’t that be fun? Plus she could finally get her man. Because with Ryan, everything was better.
“You know what, Mom? You’re right. I should take some time off.”
Marilee’s expression tightened. “I’ve told you not to call me that. Especially at the office. I’m nowhere near old enough to have a daughter your age.”
“Good thing Kelly doesn’t work for you. She’s even older than me.”
“I have to say I don’t care for your attitude.”
“Sorry. I should probably get out of here, then. I need to pack and close up my apartment.”
“You’re actually going somewhere?”
“Uh-huh. Home. I’m going home for the summer.”
Marilee sat up. “Home? To that backwater town? Are you crazy?”
“No. I think it will be fun. I haven’t visited in forever. I’ll let you know when I’m heading out. And I’ll make sure Kathy has all the information she needs for the listings we have.”
“You can’t simply leave me. You have responsibilities.”
“You’ll be fine, Mom. You always are.” Olivia smiled. “At least this way you don’t have to cut my hours.”
* * *
Reporting for work at 5:00 a.m. was not for sissies but there were a few things that could mitigate the horror. One was the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls hot out of the oven. The other was Billy Joel blasting at a volume just short of hearing loss.
Helen Sperry walked in the front door of The Parrot Café at two minutes to five. Being on time wasn’t difficult what with her basically living around the corner. She paused to inhale the glorious, gooey scent, then smiled when she heard the opening line to “Uptown Girl.”
“I’ll bet Billy can afford to buy all the pearls he wants now,” she called as she flipped on lights. “What do you think, Delja?”
There was no answer from the kitchen, but that was okay. Delja America wasn’t much of a talker. Instead she expressed herself through her amazing cooking and baking.
Helen hummed along with the song as she walked into the kitchen. “Morning. Everything okay?”
Delja had been with the diner since she graduated from high school nearly forty years before. She was barely five feet tall, but had the build of a linebacker. The muscles of one, too. She could flip a fifty-pound bag of flour onto the counter like it was a small baggie filled with grapes. And the things the woman could do with eggs bordered on miraculous. She was a widow, with one son—the current mayor of Tulpen Crossing—and a daughter who lived in Utah.
Delja looked up at Helen and smiled. Helen crossed the kitchen to receive her morning hug—the one that nearly squeezed the air out of her body. She hung on as tight as she could, trying to return the body crushing with equal force, but suspected Delja was not impressed by her upper body strength.
Delja released her, then held her at arm’s length.
“You good?”
The question was asked in a low, gruff voice. It was the same one Delja had asked every single morning for the past eight years—ever since Helen had taken over the diner from her aunt.
“I am. Did you talk to Lidiya? Are you going to stay with her this summer?”
Every year Delja visited her daughter for three weeks. The entire town wept as the supply of cinnamon rolls dried up. Tempers grew short and people counted the days until Delja’s return.
“September.”
“Okay, then. You’ll email me the dates?”
Delja nodded once, then turned back to frosting the rolls.
There was more they could discuss. Their personal lives, what supplies might be running low, whether or not the Mariners were going to have a winning baseball season, but they wouldn’t. Delja preferred a single-word response to actual conversation and did most of her communicating via email. If something had to be ordered, she would have already sent a note to their supplier.
As for checking on her work, Helen knew better. Delja started her day at two in the morning. By five there were biscuits in the oven, all the omelet extras had been prepped and oranges squeezed. At The Parrot Café, the back of house ran smoothly—all thanks to Delja.
Helen went to her office and tucked her handbag into the bottom drawer of her desk. She glanced in the small mirror over the sink by the door. Her black hair was pulled back in a French braid, her bangs