Chapter Twenty-Five

Rich Redman paced the kitchen from the French doors back to the sink and over to the oven and back again where Lulu was finishing up washing some pots and pans. On each pass, he stopped long enough at the sink to jingle the change in his pocket before setting off again.

Lulu’s sudsy hands flew out of the sink, sending bubbles into the air. “Would you stop the infernal pacing!” she scolded. “For criminy sakes, you’re making me nervous. Everything is ready. The dinner will be perfect.” She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and tore her yellow apron off from around her slight frame. “All the food is warming nicely in the oven. Just keep the foil covers on until the last minute when you serve the food onto the plates.”

She glanced over at Rich, who was back at the stove, peering into the oven with the inside light on. “What do you hope to see in there? Oven imps? Trust me, Richard Lee, you can’t mess this dinner up. A child could serve roast beef and vegetables.”

“Lulu, have you ever seen me cooking anything?” Rich slumped against the counter and crossed his arms, watching her put away the last of the bowls and pots she had used.

“No, come to think of it, I don’t believe I have.”

“Case closed. I could mess this up without any effort.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve never cooked anything?”

“Do Ramen noodles count?” Rich pinched the bridge of his nose and looked down at the little woman.

“Oh, boy.” She looked at him like he had grown two heads, but she recovered quickly.

“And I want this to be perfect.”

“It will be perfect.” Lulu grabbed her purse from the counter and went to him, patting him on the arm. “You’ll be fine. Once she sees that gigantic diamond, she won’t even be hungry. At least not for dinner.”

“Lulu!”

“For pity’s sake, Richard Lee Junior, get yourself a stiff drink to calm your jittery nerves. Use some of that expensive whiskey hidden in the study and go outside and cool off. Try counting the number of twinkle lights you had Gus string all over the back porch to look like Disney World. Meditate or star gaze. But please settle down. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Lulu.” He wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders. “You’re the best. I owe you!”

“You finally got that right, knucklehead.” She winked and headed for the door.

Minutes later, Rich went out to the decorated porch with a glass of whiskey on the rocks. It was a perfect night for a romantic outdoor dinner. The air was balmy and overhead stars, bright as the twinkle lights on the porch, were scattered across an inky sky.

“Lovely night, Richard Lee,” a voice said from the side of the porch.

Caught off guard, Rich jumped and choked on a mouthful of his drink. He swallowed so suddenly the whiskey burned a trail clear down to his toes. He coughed, his eyes watering, and fished out an ice cube, popping it in his mouth to soothe his throat. “For the love of Pete, you have to stop popping up like this, Grandmother Gertie. You have to go to the next dimension or I’m going to go crazy. What don’t you understand about heaven and hell?”

He drew in a huge breath. “I finished everything you requested in the letter. I found the jewels and I located my half-sister. We have the vintage roses robustly growing from both grafting and cuttings. What more do you want? See all those stars up there?” He waved his hand frantically at the sky. “Go find them. Go find cloud nine. Please go to the Light. Cut me a break and pleeeeese go to the Light or tell me what I need to do to get you out of my hair forever.”

“Get a grip, Richard Lee,” Gertie scolded.

“No, I’m serious. Dead serious. No pun intended. Must I smudge every room in this old house with sage? Call a priest to sprinkle holy water? Get a shaman with divination skills?”

Gertie snorted. “Like a little sage is going to scare me! Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘it’s like heaven on earth’? That’s what I’ve had while I’ve watched you find your way back to Hickory Valley.”

Rich leaned against the post and stared at the rocking chair which was slowly and methodically moving on the tranquil, windless night. One niggling question still bothered him, erratically surfacing from his thoughts. “Tell me, did you put those dolls in Estella’s room?”

Gertie’s chuckle was light and lilting. “I thought the girls would like them. I thought it would make them feel a little more at home. They were from your Great Grandmother Hilda’s collection in the attic.”

“Ah, ha. I see.” Rich rubbed his chin. “So tell me. What more do you want from me?”

“Nothing more, Richard Lee. Just stopped by to offer some parting words of wisdom to you.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Remember the heart often sees what the eyes cannot.”

“Both my heart and my eyes want Torrie Larson for my wife,” Rich admitted. “They have from the moment I saw her in those oversized coveralls with blue nail polish on her fingernails.”

“Then ask her. Convince her. ‘Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.’”

“Oscar Wilde, your favorite writer.” Rich leveled his gaze toward the flower gardens out on the lawn, visible through the dim light shining from the gazebo. The roses were starting to bloom and their white buds shone as if someone blew luminous bubbles through the air and they drifted downward, floating just above the ground. They were exquisite. The smell was intoxicating.

But when he turned back to the rocking chair to mention it, the rocker stood unmoving.

Silence surrounded him.

“Gertie?” he asked.