Secrets Of The Tulip Sisters

So she’d made the decision to stay. To buy the diner and make her life here. She’d taken up playing the piano again and through that had started working with JML, and had fallen for her best friend’s father. And here she was, all these years later, still in love with him.

She wasn’t sure if that made her slightly foolish or mortally idiotic, because to date she had no evidence that Jeff saw her as other than a friend.

Which left her with only two options—get over him or take a chance and be willing to live with the consequences. Because if he turned her down, well, then she would have nothing at all.

* * *

Kelly couldn’t remember ever having a hangover. She wasn’t one to get drunk very often, or ever. She enjoyed the occasional cocktail or glass of wine, but she was fairly confident she’d never downed half a bottle of vodka before.

Most of the details of the concert were hazy. She knew she’d hung out with Griffith and had said some fairly unfortunate things. What exactly wasn’t clear, although she did have a humiliating recollection of complaining that Olivia had boobs and she didn’t.

Somewhere around 2:00 a.m. she’d gotten up to drink more water and had promptly thrown up in the kitchen sink. That had been attractive. She’d stayed up, sipping water until nearly four when it had seemed safe for her to go back to bed. She’d slept until six thirty.

One shower later, she was feeling almost human. The pounding in her head was pretty awful but wouldn’t be fixed until she could down an aspirin—something that couldn’t happen until she ate. The thought of food was enough to make her want to kill herself, only she didn’t think she had a choice.

She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, then ran a comb through her wet hair. Maybe dry toast, she thought. Or a banana. She thought she’d read somewhere that a banana was good for a hangover because of the potassium.

She stumbled to the kitchen and put a slice of bread in the toaster. Her father, a great, great man, who had warned her she was going to feel awful this morning, had started coffee before he’d left for the diner. She poured herself a cup and did her best not to notice how her hands shook.

The first sip had her system relaxing just a bit. When the toast popped, she grabbed it and took a bite. Her stomach was silent.

Kelly offered a prayer of thanksgiving before finishing the slice and her coffee. Only then did she down an aspirin and start to believe that yes, she was going to be all right. Except for what she might or might not have said to Griffith.

She also had to deal with her truck. She’d left it at the craft mall. When her dad got home, she would ask him to drive her out there. Yet one more check mark in the embarrassing column.

“Good morning.”

The happy, loud voice made her wince. She turned and saw Olivia walking into the kitchen. Her sister also wore jeans, but aside from the basic concept, they were nothing like Kelly’s. The denim was darker and the fit tighter. Olivia’s jeans were long, coming to the heel of her stylish boots. A purple sweater with a deep V exposed just enough cleavage to remind Kelly of her shortcomings.

Olivia’s hair was still all wavy, beachy, and she had on the kind of makeup that emphasized her perfect features. It was annoying and intimidating and made Kelly want to throw coffee in her pretty face.

“Morning,” she mumbled instead, when what she really wanted to ask was “Is everything you own either pretty or beautiful?” There was no point as she already knew the answer. Not that cute, stylish clothes were practical. Kelly was a farmer, after all. She would spend her day grubbing and hauling, but jeez, it was so depressing. And unfair.

Still, she wouldn’t say any of that to her sister. To be honest, none of what Kelly was thinking was Olivia’s fault, which made her feel guilty, so she said, “Are you getting settled?”

“I am. It’s strange being back.”

“I would imagine. Did you have fun last night with your friends?”

Olivia hesitated. “It was great. How was the band?”

“Awful. They usually are. They had their own vocalist. She was okay, but my friend Helen is way better.”

Olivia poured herself a cup of coffee. “Are you going to the farm today?”

“I’d planned to, why?”

Olivia studied her for a second. “I thought maybe we could spend some time together. After all, we’re sisters and we barely know each other.”

Guilt flooded Kelly. Guilt because she’d been the one to suggest sending her sister away. Guilt because she’d never wanted to be friends with the person she saw as their mother incarnate.

“Some of the reason is that as I grew up, you were always mad at me,” Olivia went on. “I get it. I was a pain in the butt and you thought I was too much like Mom.”

Kelly felt her mouth fall open. She carefully closed it. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Say it! Tell her! The voice in her head was so loud and spoke in time with the pounding of her headache. This was the moment, she thought, to come clean and say that she had been the reason Olivia had been sent away. Only the words got stuck and wouldn’t move.

“We’ve always been different,” Olivia said.

“I know. I take after Dad and you...” Kelly sipped her coffee.

“I don’t take after Mom that much.” Olivia glanced away.

There was something about the way she said it—as if she knew one way or the other.

“Do you ever see her?” Kelly asked.

Olivia sipped her coffee. “Ah, sometimes. Not all that often.”

Wow—there was information. Once Marilee had taken off, Kelly had never wanted to spend time with her mother again. Of course she and her mom had a very different relationship than Olivia and Marilee.

“You and I were always on opposite sides,” Kelly said. “Me with Dad and you with Mom.”

“Soldiers in their war.”

“Is that how you saw it?” Kelly asked. “I never did. Dad didn’t fight.”

“He should have. Things would have been better if he’d stood up to her.”

“I know. I think he was trying to get along.” Not that she wanted to say anything bad about Jeff. He’d been a good dad—always there for her.

“I was asking about the farm before because I thought we could hang out together. After work.”

“That would be great,” Kelly said automatically, then wondered what on earth they were supposed to do together. She doubted she and Olivia had anything in common and it wasn’t as if there was a ton to do in Tulpen Crossing. Part of the reason they had trouble attracting tourists in the off-season.

“I have a tourism board meeting tonight,” she said. “We’re trying to update the local craft mall and figure out ways to get more tourists to come to town. Maybe you could help us brainstorm.”

She expected Olivia to roll her eyes at the suggestion. Instead her sister nodded eagerly.

“I’d like that a lot. I worked with a couple of charities in Phoenix. Maybe some of the things we did there will work here.”

Kelly didn’t know which was more surprising—her sister’s enthusiasm or the fact that she’d volunteered for something. Which wasn’t fair, she reminded herself. Olivia wasn’t a teenager anymore. She’d grown up, graduated college and had created a life of her own away from her family. Of course she was different.

“That would be really helpful.” Kelly smiled.

“I hope so. I’ll see you after work.”

“You will.”

Kelly poured coffee into a to-go mug and grabbed her bag. She opened the back door just in time to remember that she had no transportation, only to find her truck sitting where it was supposed to be. The keys were in the ignition and a bottle of aspirin was on the front seat with a note that said, Hope it’s not too bad this morning. G

Griffith had somehow arranged to return her truck to her. Talk about above and beyond, she thought happily. She might not be sure about what to do about her sister, but her decision about Griffith’s suggestion was getting more and more clear.

She slid into the driver’s seat, then reached for her purse when she heard her phone chirp. The text message was from Helen.

Your dad just left. Olivia’s back? Are you still in shock?

Yes. Shocked. Stunned and seriously hungover. Missed you last night.

I heard the band was awful. I didn’t miss hearing that. Need to talk?

I’m okay. I’ll fill you in on everything tonight. Oh, Olivia’s coming with me.

Why?

I honest to God have no idea.

8

Olivia tidied the kitchen after her sister left, not that there was much to do. Kelly had only eaten toast and coffee and Jeff had left her a note that during the week, he ate at a local diner. The scrawled PS offered to take her along, but the “I leave at 5:30” had her shuddering. Um, no thanks.

They all had lives, she thought as she poured her second cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. They had their routines, time had moved on. While she knew that in her head, she was still surprised. Part of her had expected life in Tulpen Crossing to be exactly as she had remembered it, with no one changing but her. How silly.

The back door opened and her dad walked in.

“Hey, sweetie.”

“Hi, Dad. How was breakfast?”

“Good, as always. Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh. The bed’s still comfortable.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

He poured himself a mug of coffee and smiled at her.

Her dad looked good—trim and fit, with only a few wrinkles around his eyes. While Marilee held back the hands of time with Botox and fillers, her dad could pass for a decade younger than his age all on his own. The product of great genes and clean living, she supposed.

“Kelly already gone?” he asked.

Olivia nodded.

He flashed a grin. “She got a little drunk last night, so I would guess she’s not feeling her best today.”

A hangover? “Does she get drunk a lot?” Kelly didn’t seem the type.

“Not usually. I brought her home. I was going to help her get her truck, but unless she walked to the farm, someone took care of that for her.”

“Her truck was here this morning.”

“What are you going to do with your day?” her dad asked.

“I thought I’d explore the town—see what’s changed. I’m excited that it’s not already ninety degrees.”

“How do you stand the heat?”

“You get used to it.” Although in the middle of summer, no one enjoyed 108 degrees with a low of 95.

“I’m glad to have you home.” Jeff kissed her cheek. “You let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, Dad. Thanks.”

There hadn’t been a lot of fanfare, but that was okay. Olivia trusted her father’s steady acceptance more than any parade. Marilee had been welcoming at first, but lately that had changed and Kelly had no idea why. Nor did she know why she’d lied about how much she saw her mother. Instinct, maybe. Being sent away had taught her that the only person she could trust was herself.

She rinsed her mug and set it in the sink, then went back to her room to check email. She’d been in touch with her clients before she left, but wanted to make sure they were all okay.

By ten she’d finished with email, had played three games of Solitaire and was wondering how on earth she was going to get through a whole summer with nothing to do. Her dad had long since left for work. Everyone had somewhere to be but her. She grabbed her bag and walked out to her car. The air was cool, the sky cloudy. She had a feeling it might actually rain. Up here that wasn’t anything but ordinary. If she stayed long enough maybe she would start to take the rain for granted, just like everyone else.

She drove to the end of the street, then merged onto the main road. The town had grown just enough to be slightly unfamiliar, as if it had somehow shifted out of focus. She saw a few new stores. The library had been refurbished. What had been an old grocery store was now a bowling alley and some kind of music school. She kept driving until she reached the edge of a huge field, then pulled to the side of the road.

For as far as the eye could see was flat, groomed earth. She wasn’t sure how many acres her family owned, but it was a lot. Murphy Tulips were sought after all over the country. They were known for quality blooms, delivered on time. The main crop was traditional tulips in a variety of colors, but the company also had a small but growing exotic collection. If you wanted Russian Princess tulips for a dinner party, Murphy Tulips was the one to call.

Even though she’d never been interested in the family business as a kid, she couldn’t help learning a few things by virtue of where she’d grown up. She knew that every fall bulbs were planted in the fields and come spring they would grow and blossom into beautiful flowers. Once they were harvested, the bulbs were dug up and sorted. Those deemed healthy and hearty could be reused, a process different from hothouse tulips.

Olivia pulled onto the road and drove back toward the highway and turned into what looked like a big antiques mall. They had a couple similar malls in Phoenix and she’d always found them a great place to shop for staging projects. She could often find unusual pieces at a great price.

She parked in front. Despite the fact that The Dutch Bunch had been open for a couple of hours, there was only one other car in the lot. That wasn’t good for business, she thought.

She walked inside and was immediately overwhelmed by several large, busy displays with too much information. There were notices about activities, posters for a couple of local hotels and restaurants and a corkboard covered with business cards. Flanking the disarray were mock room settings filled with ugly furniture and too many decorations in a tulip theme. There were tulip pictures and tulips slipcovers. Wooden tulips on a table covered in a tulip-print tablecloth. A tulip rug, tulip stenciled bassinette. Even someone who loved tulips would find it all overwhelming. No wonder there weren’t a lot of customers—Olivia imagined most of them had turned and run in terror.

She walked past the horrible tableau and went down one of the main aisles. Here things were more like she expected. Different booths featuring different items for sale. Some were craft-based while others were antiques and a few had nothing but junk.

She stopped in front of a booth filled with quilts. The work was lovely—beautiful and well-made, but the display was terrible. Only two quilts were hanging. The rest were stacked, with only a bit of the design showing. Olivia would guess the owner wanted to display as much of her work as possible, but nothing about this was working. She should hang three or four quilts, then have a binder with high-quality pictures of her inventory. A pretty chest could hold several dozen of them, so a customer had choices.

She continued wandering the aisles only to find herself forced to make a sharp right turn that ended in a blank wall. She went back the way she’d come and realized she’d missed several rows of booths. The flow of the mall was all wrong, she thought. There would be booths and vendors that no one would see. There had to be a better way. She wondered if there was someone she could—

“Don’t bother,” she murmured to herself as she headed back to the front of the building. As her mother had told her countless times, no one cared what she thought. They never had.

* * *

The scent of blueberries and sugar and something baking filled the café. Helen’s stomach growled, despite the fact that she’d managed to grab a salad at eleven, before the big lunch rush. Still, it had been small and dressing-free and whatever was happening in the kitchen needed to be tasted.

“What are you doing, taunting me like that?” she asked as she walked in back.

Delja stood at the stove with Sven by her side. They were each stirring a large pot. Here the delicious smell was intense to the point of being heady but what really caught her attention was the contrast between the two friends.

Sven topped Delja by at least a foot. He was broad-shouldered and chiseled, some from his job and some from working out. Delja was short and round. He was blond-haired and blue-eyed. Delja had dark hair and eyes. He was Nordic, she was Russian, but they came together over their love of cooking.

Sven had shown up in the diner’s kitchen shortly after he’d moved to town and asked if he could use the large stove. He’d been so charming, no one had thought to tell him no. Every few weeks he would arrive with interesting ingredients. Together he and Delja would create something amazing for the following day’s special.

“You’re killing me,” Helen said as she peered into the pots and saw early blueberries simmering in a thick sauce.

“She’s on another diet,” Delja said, rolling her eyes.

Ack! Did her friend have to choose this moment to start speaking in more than single words?

“Sven doesn’t need to know that,” Helen said quickly, hoping she didn’t blush. After all, Sven was the poster boy for physical perfection.

“You’re beautiful,” Delja told her. “Don’t change.”

“I agree.” Sven held out a spoon coated in thick, dark purple sauce. “Try this.”

She hesitated for a second before taking the spoon and putting it to her lips. The explosions of flavors—sweet blueberries, something tart and a hint of butter and brown sugar had her groaning.

“You’re the devil.”

“So I’ve been told,” Sven said with a grin. “Tomorrow you’ll have blintzes and crepes on the menu.”

Helen held in a whimper. How was she supposed to exist on plain salad while surrounded by blintzes?

“I have a meeting at JML,” she said. “You two will lock up when you’re done?”

Delja nodded. She motioned for Helen to move close, then hugged her tight.

“Beautiful girl.”

“Thanks. You’re always good to me.”

Delja smiled.

“Come here, you,” Sven said, surprising her by pulling her into his embrace.

Helen didn’t have time to wonder if Sven had decided to see her as more than a friend. Before she could gather any thoughts at all, he’d squeezed all the air out of her and then ruffled her hair.

“You’re fine. Stop trying to change.”

“Thanks,” she said between clenched teeth. “Great advice.”

Ruffled her hair? What, was she five? Apparently no one saw her as a sexual being. It was incredibly disappointing. Not that she wanted Sven but still.

She drove to JML and walked inside. It was too early for lessons, so the building was blissfully silent—except for the occasional smack of a bowling ball hitting pins. But when compared to the indignities the untrained could inflict on an innocent guitar, the sound was almost welcome.

She found Isaak in his office. She waved as she plopped down in one of the visitor chairs.

“Let me guess,” she said with a grin. “You have a new group that wants to learn every song from the Foo Fighters.”

“I wish, but no. I’m hosting a showcase.”

“You’re always hosting a showcase. I heard the one last night was particularly challenging for those attending.”

He groaned. “Tell me about it. You were lucky you didn’t have to be there. But this is different. There are a couple of other music schools that do what we do. We’ve been talking about organizing something together. It’s going to be up here at Petal Pushers.”

“They changed the name. It’s The Dutch Bunch now.”

“Whatever. I can’t keep up. Anyway, the venue is great and we’re each going to bring our best bands and players. I thought you and Jeff could do a duet.”

Naked, she thought dreamily. That was the duet she was most interested in. Naked Jeff and naked her. Not onstage, though. In her bedroom. Yup, that would be fantastic. Just their bodies touching and rubbing and—

“Helen?”

“What? Oh, sorry. That would be great. We can do our usual.”

Isaak sighed. “Not everyone likes Billy Joel.”

“Everyone should. He’s an icon and my personal piano hero.”

“I thought you could try something different.” He passed over sheet music.

She picked it up and glanced at the title. As she didn’t know if she should laugh or scream, the sound that escaped had a snortlike quality to it.

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. You’d be great.”

“It’s not a duet.”

“It could be.”

Helen briefly closed her eyes. “‘Wrecking Ball’? I doubt Jeff knows who Miley Cyrus is and I know he’s never heard the song. It’s not his style.”

“Neither is Billy Joel but Jeff does it for you. I think ‘Wrecking Ball’ has potential.” Isaak winked. “Plus, he’ll love the video.”

Helen winced. No offense to anyone, but having Jeff watch that particular video was not going to get him in the mood to have sex with her. Miley was too beautiful, too perfect, too everything. Ordinary, plump women wouldn’t stand a chance.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said.

“Your lack of enthusiasm is inspiring.”

“I still think we should stick with what works.”

“No Billy Joel.”

She took the music and stood. “I’m going to tell Billy you said that and he’s going to come beat the crap out of you, so there.”

Isaak laughed. “I’m willing to take the chance.”

9

By the time Kelly was due to leave for the tourist board meeting, she was back to her regular self.

In deference to Olivia and not because her sister made her feel frumpy and androgynous, Kelly dug out a pair of relatively new jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt she rarely wore because it required ironing when it was washed. She took an extra couple of minutes with her hair, releasing it from her usual ponytail and fluffing it with her fingers. She thought briefly about mascara, but was afraid the single tube she owned might be well over a year old and God knew what could be growing in it. She settled on swiping on a little Burt’s Bees lip balm and called it a night.

When she stepped into the hall, she caught sight of her sister and thought maybe she should have risked an eye infection. Olivia had changed into a dress. Not just any dress, but a pretty sleeveless one that was white at the top and bottom with wide bands of different shades of pink and red in the middle. The dress had a relatively high neck, was fitted to the waist, then flared out to just above Olivia’s knees.

Her bare legs were toned and tanned and she wore a high-heeled nude pump. Her hair was pulled back into a French braid. She had on pearl studs and the kind of makeup that made her look sophisticated and competent.

Kelly felt her meager confidence shrivel and die as she turned from normal human to genderless country mouse. Telling herself she didn’t care about things like clothes and makeup didn’t help. Not when faced with a living, breathing example of what both could accomplish.

Olivia smiled. “Hi. I’m ready. You said six thirty and I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

“You’re right on time,” Kelly said, hoping she didn’t sound as bitter as she felt. It wasn’t Olivia’s fault Kelly felt inept when it came to things like fashion.

“I’m really interested in the meeting tonight,” Olivia said as they walked out to Kelly’s truck. “I spent the afternoon researching tourism in the area and in other towns similar to this one. There are a lot of things that can be done to draw in tourists.” She opened the passenger door. “Don’t worry. I’ll only take notes and give you my thoughts later. You can use them or not.”

Kelly put her key in the ignition. “What do you mean?”

“It’s your meeting. I’m not going to butt in.”

“Trust me, any ideas would be welcome. We’re all at a loss. The tourist season around here is way too brief. Once the tulips are gone, so are the people. The hotels are full all summer long, but everyone is busy going somewhere else. We have the same weather as the rest of western Washington. It’s pretty. Why not spend the weekend here?”

“You wouldn’t mind if I said something?”

“Of course not. Is that what you did today? Computer research?”