A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,44
at least drive a fancy sports car?”
“Yes. A DeLorean.”
Marianne sighed. “Well, that’s something. Invite him. I’m sure he’ll be a fascinating addition.”
“I’ll ask. Thank you.”
“Wait. Does he have a posse?”
Diane rolled her eyes. “Good-bye, Marianne.”
On Thursday, Diane answered her front door and found a pick-up truck in her driveway and a large man in khakis and a tee shirt on her front step, holding a clipboard and a potted rose bush.
“I have a bunch of stuff here for Diane Matthews. Is that you?”
Diane looked past him. There were three men in work clothes standing by the truck. “What kind of stuff?”
“Forty-two slate blocks, nine rose bushes, two flats of – “
“Wait a minute.” Diane took the clipboard from his hands and looked at it. Underneath the order sheet was a print-out of the rose garden plan she had made on Michael’s computer.
“Where did you get this?” She asked.
“I do Mike Carlucci’s place. He asked me to get the stuff and bring it over. Now my guys would be happy to set everything in for you, especially those slates, they’re heavy. But Mike said we just deliver, nothin’ else, unless you ask.” He looked down at her. “Mike’s a good guy. I’m Ed, by the way. You can call him and check it out.”
She touched the rose bush. The tag said Lagerfeld. The bush was a healthy green with tiny, tight buds. She walked out of the house and peered into the back of the truck. It was filled with everything she needed, including bags of bone meal, compost, and edging blocks. Ed had followed her.
“We could unload right here on the side yard, but I’d let us haul this stuff in the back for you, I’m tellin’ you, it’s heavy,” Ed advised.
Diane nodded. “Sure, that would be great. Follow me.” She took him to the back yard and showed him her prepared ground. Ed nodded approvingly.
“You did a good job. And you’ll get plenty of sun. This little slope here, good drainage. Nothin’ should die. But if it does, call Mike. Our stuff is guaranteed.”
He walked off, shouting to his men, and Diane watched as they unloaded flats, bags of stone, slate blocks, pavers, a small stone bench. There was even a shining silver wish ball for the center of the garden. He had remembered everything.
When they were done, she went inside and called Michael.
“Hey,” she said, “a man just filled my back yard with half a million bucks worth of roses.”
“Half a million bucks worth? Really? Dammit, he charged me a full million.”
“Thank you very much, Michael,” she said softly. “I’m not very good at taking things from people.”
“I noticed. I hope I didn’t step on your toes.”
“No. Not at all. I can’t believe you went to so much trouble.”
“No trouble.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yes.
She hung up and spun around the room, laughing with delight, and danced back into her yard.
The next morning Emily was cheerful and Megan was pouting. Emily was going to the prom, and down to the shore. One of the parents was going down with the group, and Diane had relented. Emily had been beaming for three days. Megan was still fighting with her father over the trip to France. Diane was staying out of it, but her daughter’s mood spilled over onto everything.
Megan was staring into the back yard, chewing a bagel. “I thought you didn’t have the money for all that stuff,” she grumbled, looking at the rose bushes and bags of compost. “I thought you could only do a little at a time.”
“I got my state tax refund,” Diane lied calmly. “I had forgotten all about it.”
“Do we have to help you with all that?” Emily asked. “You know I hate all that gardening stuff.”
“No. It will be my project. It will give me something besides work to do while you girls are gone all summer.”
“Maybe you should find a boyfriend,” Megan suggested.
Diane turned and stared at her. “What?”
Megan shrugged. “Well, you should think about it. You’re still pretty.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Diane said, hiding a smile.
“How about Dale Watson’s father?” Emily suggested.
“Bill Watson?” Bill Watson was about fifty, thinning hair, very shy and painfully thin. Diane looked from one girl to the other. “Is that the kind of boyfriend I should get?”
“Well, he’s nice,” Emily offered. “And tall.”
“Besides, Mom,” Megan pointed out, “you’re not so lucky with guys.”
Diane chewed her lip to keep from smiling. Michael would be there in twenty minutes. “Tell you what. You girls work on saving some money this