cookies. But not for Yule. Those are for Christmas. Pops is a square. He won’t let me cast a Yule circle unless we can bake Christmas cookies after.”
“That’s a good compromise. Your father is a wise man.”
Ruthie finally released Clover, who took a full breath since she could again.
“He’s dating you so I have to raise my low expectations of him,” Ruthie said. Clover took the large backpack from Ruthie and they headed toward baggage claim.
“I’m glad you’re not freaking out over us dating,” Clover said. “I can’t believe how fast everything happened.”
“Fast?” Ruthie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You two have been making gaga eyes at each other for a year. I thought I was going to have to cast love spells on you both to get you to admit it to each other.”
“No love spells required. Just you forgetting your phone. Nice trick.”
“I was pretty proud of that one myself. Took an insane amount of self-sacrifice on my part. I was phoneless for thirty-six hours. Now I know what life in the ’80s was like. No wonder people were this close to nuclear Armageddon.”
“Well, we appreciate your sacrifice on behalf of the cause. But I don’t want you to worry. Your dad and I had a serious talk yesterday and there will be no moving in together or anything of the sort until you’re in college. We don’t want to mess with your routine.”
“That’s evil,” Ruthie said. “Pops is evil.”
“How is that evil?” Clover asked as they stood by the baggage claim belt waiting for Ruthie’s other suitcase to appear.
“Pops is rigging the game so I have to go to college or you two won’t move in together. And since I want you two together, I have to go to college.”
“Trust me, gentle manipulation is preferable to parental passive-aggression. I speak from many years of experience.”
“Yeah, how did Thanksgiving go with your family?”
“Your dad didn’t tell you?”
“All he said was it was more a Spanks-giving than a Thanksgiving, but he’d let you give me the details.”
“I told my entire family off and kicked them out of the house.”
“Dammit.” Ruthie sighed. “I always miss the good fights.”
“Don’t swear, dear,” Clover said. “It’s not ladylike.”
“Yes, Mommy Dearest.”
Erick met them in the parking lot and Clover was relieved to see father and daughter immediately fall back into their affectionate bickering and snarking at each other. No awkwardness. No weirdness. Erick complimented her Smurf hair. Ruthie ordered him to trim his beard before someone mistook him for a hipster, the lowest form of life in Ruthie’s opinion.
“I’m thinking of shaving the beard and doing the waxed mustache thing,” Erick said, putting Ruthie’s suitcases into Clover’s car trunk. “Thoughts?”
“No,” Ruthie said. “Clover?”
“I’ve always had a little crush on Poirot. But you’ll have to shave your head, too.”
“Done,” Erick said.
“I rescind my permission for you two to date,” Ruthie said from the backseat.
“It was fun while it lasted,” Clover said. “Thanks for playing.”
“All my best to you in your future endeavors.” Erick shook Clover’s hand.
“Oh, shut up,” Ruthie said. “You two are so cute it’s gross. Please take me home. I need a shower and all the leftover turkey.”
“We have nearly twelve pounds left over,” Clover said as Erick pulled out of the parking lot. “I kicked my family out before we could eat.”
“And you didn’t let them come back?” Ruthie asked.
“Nope. I wanted to but your dad said I should make them sit on it awhile. He was right. By the end of Friday night they’d all called me to apologize. Even my brother, who never apologizes. And poor Kelly—turns out she and her husband are having trouble. Mike wants more kids and she doesn’t. They’ve almost separated over it.”
“So that’s why she’s been trying to shove her happy-wife, happy-life crap down your throat for the past year?”
“I think she was trying to convince herself how perfect her life was. She and Mike are going to counseling. She said me yelling at her was a wake-up call for her. Of course she would take my pain and suffering and make it about her, but hey, baby steps, right?”
“I’m proud of you, Clo. Kicking your family out is baller. Bring it here.” Ruthie fist-bumped her from the backseat.
“You’re just happy we have so much leftover food,” Erick said.
“This is Woman Bonding time. Men do not have permission to speak,” Ruthie said, snapping her fingers shut like a trap.
“Ahh...now I remember why I was so happy when I put you on that plane,” he said with a sigh.
Ruthie shushed him and turned her attention to Clover again, mouthing the word men and rolling her eyes.
“But speaking of people being selfish...are you selling the nursery?” Ruthie asked. “I need to know if I have to go to work tomorrow.”
“You have to go to work tomorrow,” Erick said.
“Shush, drone. Your part in the cycle of life is done. Clover?”
“You have to go to work tomorrow,” Clover said. “Even if I do sell the nursery, ownership won’t transfer for several months.”
“If? So you haven’t decided yet?” Ruthie asked.
“Nope.”
“Good. I have to tell you something. This might sway you.”
Clover heard Ruthie digging through her backpack.
“Here.” Ruthie thrust a pile of papers into the front seat.
“What’s this?” Clover asked as she flipped through the pages.
“Evan and his friends were driving me crazy yesterday. I had to get out of the house or I would have murdered them all, literally. So I went to the library and researched PNW Garden Supply. Turns out they were cited repeatedly for discharging pollutants at their wholesale nursery in Vancouver a few years ago.”
“What? Why am I just hearing about this?” Clover asked as she riffled through the pages.
“They sold that nursery two years and two months ago, and they only had to disclose the past two years of business records. I’m guessing they want to buy Clover’s Greenery and use that name to cover up their past environmental violations. It’s not your fault you didn’t find it. It wasn’t in any of the paperwork they sent us.”
“How did you find this stuff?”
“I have connections,” she said with a smug smile.
“Are these the same connections that talked you into torching a factory farm?” Erick demanded. “The same connections you’re forbidden from having any contact with?”
“Yeah, well, that’s why I went to the public library to talk to them. Public computers. No record of our little chitchat,” Ruthie said.
“My daughter is Edward Snowden. This is terrifying,” Erick said.
“If I’m anyone I’m Mata Hari,” Ruthie corrected. “And I was only doing it to help Clover. If you do sell to them, I’d make sure you have a long talk with the company about their environmental record and get some stuff in writing.”
Clover took a deep breath.
“Wow. Guess I’m keeping the business,” she said.
“You sure?” Erick asked.
“I’m sure. I wouldn’t want my name attached to a company that can’t clean up after itself. The Mount Hood location is on the edge of the Sandy River. The Portland location is a stone’s throw from the Willamette. I’d never forgive myself if ammonia from the fertilizer or something worse got into the watershed.”
“You feel okay about this?” Erick asked.
“Better actually,” Clover said. “I hated not knowing what to do. And we’re making good money. Not ‘five million dollars’ good but good enough to stay in business and keep the bills paid.”
“Do you feel ‘hire an assistant manager’ good?” Ruthie asked. “Now that you and Pops are together, you should probably c
ut back on the eighty-hour workweeks. Even if you weren’t together, you should probably cut back on the eighty-hour workweeks. Just saying.”
“Don’t nag Clover,” Erick said. “It’s her business. Her decisions.”
“Oh, my Goddess, you have learned something from me,” Ruthie said. “I’m so proud of you, Pops. You can teach an old dog new tricks.”
“Thank you?” Erick said. “I think?”
“What do you think, Erick?” Clover asked. “What’s your opinion on me hiring an assistant manager? I’m asking so I want your thoughts as a fellow business owner.”
“I think hiring an assistant manager is a good idea,” Erick said. “And we’re only saying this because we care, not because we’re criticizing. Your work ethic is impressive, but I would like to see my girlfriend more than one hour a week. And a business needs more than one person who knows how everything works. You could get hit by a bus, you know.”
“Or pregnant,” Ruthie said. “Because of the lemon tree.”
“I don’t want to know what you two have been doing with the lemon tree,” Erick said. “So don’t tell me.”
“I’m not getting pregnant, Ruthie. But I will hire an assistant manager,” Clover said, relishing the idea of having a personal life again. No more living for work. Time to start working to live. She’d hire a new manager, but not for Erick’s sake and not for her parents’ sake and not for the sake of any future children she may or may not have. But for her sake and her sake alone. “I’ll start looking for somebody on Monday.”
“Tomorrow is Monday. Do I really have to be there on Monday?” Ruthie asked.
“As a thank-you for digging up this stuff for me, you can have the day off—paid,” Clover said.
Ruthie cheered from the backseat.
“Thanks, Clo. You’re the best,” Ruthie said.
“Yes, she is,” Erick said, taking Clover by the hand.
Clover felt warm from the inside out, relaxed, happy, at home. She felt like she always wanted to feel with her family—loved unconditionally. Even if her own family still had some work to do, at least she could get that kind of unconditional love here, with Erick and Ruthie.
Erick kissed the back of Clover’s hand.
“So...” Ruthie asked. “When are you two getting married?”
Clover looked at Erick, who winked at her.
“Ruthie, you’re fired.”
* * * * *
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Hot Winter Nights
by Debbi Rawlins
1
“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO be dead.” Staring over the woman’s shoulder, Lila Loveridge stopped in the middle of touching up Penelope’s dark roots.
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Penelope picked up the script, with the revisions marked in a brilliant pink, and held it against her chest. “You’re not supposed to see that, anyway.”
Oh, for goodness’ sake, she’d left it in plain sight on her lap. It was obvious she wanted her to see. “When did Jason make those changes?”
“I shouldn’t be discussing this with you,” Penelope said with her usual air of superiority, which was one of the many reasons the film crew didn’t like her.