Chapter 38

 

 

After Sam had forced Raul to purchase the cardinal red cardigan that Raul doubted Mr. Rogers would wear, Raul drove them back to Sam’s house, finding Miss Posey standing on Sam’s doormat in a tizzy.

“What did Fido do now?” Sam groaned as she mounted the porch steps expecting the worst.

“No, it’s not Fido’s antics this time,” she said, her voice warbling. “I… I… I almost died!” she exclaimed, at which point she broke down into tears, pulling tissue after tissue from her sleeve like a magician with a silk scarf. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sam was about to ask her what happened—clearly Miss Posey wanted to tell all about it; why else would she be standing on Sam’s doorstep announcing it to all the neighborhood?—but Miss Posey trembled and sputtered.

“It’s too horrible to put words to,” she said between sobs.

“Would you like for me to make you some tea?” Sam offered.

“Tea? I can’t possibly stomach tea when I’m in such a state. Didn’t you hear me? What would poor Archibald Maverick Emerson Posey the Sixth do without me?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“No, it’s too traumatic to speak of what happened.”

“Okay, I won’t press,” Sam surrendered, nudging past Miss Posey toward her metal screen door.

Miss Posey’s hand flew out and yanked Sam’s arm to stop her, then she spun Sam around to face her.

“If you’re going to insist on being so nebby, Samantha, fine, I’ll tell you.” From there she launched into storytelling mode, which for Miss Posey was every mode. “It was earlier this afternoon, and I was on my way home from the dry cleaner, getting the stain out of my fur coat from when Betty—do you know Betty, who lives four houses down?”

Sam had lost count of all the Bettys in her life, but she nodded nonetheless in order to move the story along.

“Anyway, a couple weeks ago Betty spilled wine on my beautiful fur coat that my late husband—God rest his soul—had bought me for our first anniversary. Would you believe the dry cleaner said it was one of the toughest stains he had ever encountered?”

“Yes, I would.” Sam prodded her, saying, “Now about your near-death experience?”

“I’m trying to tell a story, dear. The details are important.”

Sam wasn’t sure how a tough wine stain was pertinent to her brush with death, but she couldn’t wait to find out.

“So I was driving home when a deer darted out in front of my car. I careened off the road into a ditch, blowing my tire. While the car was rattling off the road, I knocked my head pretty badly against the window. Then when I glanced down at my coat it was covered in what looked like blood! The sight almost caused me to pass out, when a policeman came to my rescue.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Sam said, assuming the story was over. But Miss Posey was only just getting started.

“He was my guardian angel sent by the Lord Himself, I believe. Even the name he wore said love. That man fixed my tire and escorted me home. A personal escort, would you believe it? So here I am, still clinging to life, with a whole new appreciation for each moment, I might add.”

While a blown tire didn’t seem quite like a brush with death, to each their own, Sam supposed. At least Miss Posey walked away from the trauma with a new attitude toward life. Perhaps this newfound zeal would help her cut the Breedlove family some slack.

“What about the stain?” Sam belatedly remembered.

“Oh, that. Yes, well, when my car shook from the tire popping, my grocery bag with a bottle of wine in it broke and spilled all over my freshly dry-cleaned coat! Turns out it wasn’t blood on the coat but red wine. Can you believe that? Now I have to take it back to get cleaned again. How embarrassing!”

“Not any more embarrassing than fainting from seeing a stain,” Sam offered with a smile.

All this time Raul hadn’t spoken a word, because he knew better than to start a conversation with Miss Posey, whose favorite topic was his singledom and why he hadn’t taken Sam to the courthouse to marry her yet.

“Well, I’m glad you’re alive, Miss Posey. But we’re running late and have to go.” Sam inched toward the door, attempting a sly getaway.

“Oh, do you need a chaperone?” Miss Posey’s voice rose with playful octave as she eyeballed Raul. “I don’t mind joining you.”

“We wouldn’t dare impose on you like that,” Raul nearly shouted feverishly. His tolerance for Miss Posey was very low, and already he had met his quota of her for the day. “I meant, no thank you, ma’am. We’re simply dining with the neighbors.”

As if the universe wanted to aid and abet Raul and Sam’s getaway, Bernadette called from her window, “Supper’s ready when you are, lovebirds!”

Miss Posey cast a disapproving scowl at Bernadette’s house. “You’re not befriending the terrorist family, I hope?”

“They’re not terrorists, Miss Posey.”

Sam nudged Miss Posey off the porch, shooing her back home, when she noticed a large, unmarked manilla envelope sitting on the doormat Miss Posey had just vacated. She picked it up, examining both sides, which were void of any kind of address or markings. Apparently it had been hand delivered.

“What’s that you have there?” Raul asked, looking over her shoulder.

“I don’t know. Knowing my luck, it’s bound to be something bad. I’m probably being tried for treason. Goodbye, cruel world!”

Raul reached for the envelope, but Sam pulled it away and shoved it in her purse.

“I can deal with it later,” she said, though in truth she wasn’t sure she could. Good news, bad news… Sam was news-ed out.

“Maybe it’s best you not deal with it at all. I can handle it for you, if you want.” The cryptic way Raul spoke sparked Sam’s curiosity.

“Why? Do you know what’s in this package?”   

“No, of course not.”

“Then why are you acting so strange?”

“I’m not acting strange.”

“Elusive.”

“Cautionary, maybe.”

“No… guilty.” Sam watched his features shift, cheeks blush, eyes dart. “What did you do, Raul?”

“Nothing.”

“Something is up. I can tell. You’re easier to read than Flower & Garden Magazine.”

The comparison was lost on Raul, who didn’t find anything easy about reading Flower & Garden Magazine as he confused hydrangea with hibiscus, and peonies with pansies. And don’t get him started on plant propagation versus stem grafting.

“I promise you, Sam, nothing is up other than my heartrate after seeing you looking so fine tonight.”

Sam rolled her eyes at his over-the-top compliment, but she was right. Raul was hiding something and couldn’t tell her the truth. It would certainly end things between them—whatever the fragile thing was that they had.