Broad Street Goddesses Page 8

  “I need a bouquet of something spectacular.”

  “I have some beautiful Argentinean roses…” She wiggled her white eyebrows tempting him.

  “Perfect! Can you get them right over to my mom?” He paused at the counter filling out a card while Mrs. Chapel gathered up the roses to show him a sample.

  “She’s so lucky to have a boy like you. I miss my Terrance something fierce. You give me hope that he’ll come back someday.”

  “Don’t we all come back?” He put the money on her counter and charmed her with his best smile.

  “Take care Mrs. Chapel. Thanks!”

  Etta sat at her desk, thumbing through paint chips she’d selected for her house and watched Will duck in and out of the flower shop. There was something different about him, couldn’t quite put her finger on it but she enjoyed watching him, intrigued. He had always been like a brother to her, but the warm tingle she felt as she watched him speed off in his hot new car was not sisterly at all. Perhaps her interest was that Will had actually left Nevada City and chose to come home again. It was a luxury she had never allowed herself. Home for Etta was a little house, a few blocks from her office on Broad Street.

  There was only a few ways to own property in Nevada City; Inheritance was the first and being independently wealthy was the second. Property wasn’t cheap. When Etta inherited her little house she considered it a sign that she was going to stay. She wasn’t quite sure why painting the house this summer had become such a nagging issue. The white paint was holding up okay. Glancing at the paint chips in her hand, Etta’s niggle of doubt with the choices she held grew into dull disappointment. She stuffed the chips into her hobo bag thinking she’d ask Jake about the colors when she saw him that afternoon.

  The town business mixer on the first Thursday of every month was a social event and a high honor among the business community in Nevada City. It was Jake’s turn to host and Etta agreed to pick up some appetizers from the café to help out. It always inspired a smirk when Etta saw Jake in a suit. She knew he would rather be in shorts and an aloha shirt hiking or working in the cabinet shop. He’d lost his passion for being a lawyer after his granddad died. They never talked about it, but to everyone in town it was obvious. He spent every spare minute building his business in the cabinet shop and as few as possible in his law office. Her brother owed Nevada City six years of service due to a grant given to him for law school. She admired the way he took care of business and still followed his dream. Jake was one of Etta’s favorite people on the planet.

  Apples and brie cheese with baby loaves of sour dough bread had been artfully arranged on small cutting boards around the office. Etta lit some candles, and watched their flicker dance on the high sheen of the hardwood floor. The windows ran from floor to high ceiling with carved details in the trim. The city had gone all out to create a grand and beautiful office for Jake when he returned from school as the local council. In the huge mirror over the mantle, she checked her hair and adjusted the straps of her sage green camisole top and smoothed out her flowing gypsy skirt. Etta looked around the office and was satisfied that her job had been well done. She poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Jake.

  “Have you seen the boy wonder yet?” Jake asked his sister.

  “I saw him in town today. He looks happy. I wonder if he’ll let me drive that car!”

  Jake laughed, “Yeah, he dropped his stuff at my house and I haven’t seen him since.”

  At exactly Six o’clock, Broad Street merchants piled into the lobby of his office. The sounds of happy chatter, glasses clinking and jazz music played in the background; a monthly ritual that kept them all united. It was the little things that Nevada City merchants were so good at. They kept tabs on each other, they genuinely cared. Occasional peals of laughter rang out in the lobby as someone told a story, and then it lulled to a hush.

  Etta looked over as the door opened and Will escorted his mother into the lobby as if she were royalty. Will’s suit was a shade between purple and charcoal grey, beautifully cut silk with a lavender shirt. He filled every inch of it with elegance and the self assuredness of success. Mim was beaming, wearing a turquoise halter dress and a light shawl over her tanned shoulders holding onto her son’s arm. His wild curling dark hair lent to the illusion that his polished good looks came straight from the pages of GQ Magazine. It wasn’t until he made eye contact with Etta that his boyish charm busted out into a smile that spread across his face and lit up every corner of the room. Everything was right in the world.

  ~

  “This place is wrecked!” Will announced after the merchants had dwindled down to the three of them.

  “It’ll only take a few minutes to clean it up.” Etta said, beginning to gather all the dishes lying around.

  “No way… not tonight.” Jake said, “This mess will wait. Tonight we party!”

  “To O’Doul’s!” Will announced, holding out a chivalrous arm to Etta.

  O’Doul’s was only a block away. They walked, arms interlinked, Etta sandwiched between them, laughing in the moonlight, paying no attention to the grate on the pavement which her heel slipped through and stuck desperately into. She fell forward twisting her ankle and let out a squeal of pain.

  “Whoa there…” Will’s arms slipped around her completely engulfing her waist. The heat of his skin penetrated into her side.

  Etta’s squinting eyes looked into Will’s face, “Shit that hurts!”

  Jake had to use both hands and all his body weight to pull the shoe free. He handed the strappy backless sandal to her, which she examined for damage, “Thanks, that was my best Jimmi Chu knock off!” She placed the shoe on her foot and began walking with a limp. Will swept her up and carried her over his shoulder into O’Doul’s, fanny first.

  “Are you crazy?” Etta slapped at him. Inside it was occupied by only a few patrons, who turned at the ruckus. The oak bar which spanned over 30 feet in length had the polished shine of hardy’s relentless rag. His great grandfather had brought it from Ireland over a hundred and fifty years prior. Patrons lazed comfortably in booths as if O’douls was their second home. Ernie sat on his favorite stool, leaned heavily on the bar and shot the three friends a bear-like toothy grin.

  Will gently, smacking her behind with a smirk, “There. Now I feel better.” He stood her back onto her heels and she narrowed her gaze at him.

  “Ah the gruesome threesome!” Hardy, a portly Irishman came around the bar to embrace them, paying special attention to the new celebrity, “AH the famous Will! I saw your mum driving that little red car, good luck gettin’ it back. Darned if it’s not nice for a home town boy!” He slapped Will’s back, “What are you scallywags havin’?”

  “I’ll have Makers straight up… You guys, it’s on me,” Will waved his hand as if the world was his to offer. He slipped off his jacket and loosened his tie.

  “I’ll have the same,” Jake said.

  “Me too.” Etta added.

  “Got to love a woman who drinks Whiskey,” Will placed his arm loosely over Etta’s shoulder.

  He gave her a mischievious look that generated unnerving chemistry. Will had always been an annoying prankster who prayed on her trusting nature like it was his job. He had been her stead-fast life-long friend. Now he felt different. Etta was attracted to him so quickly it was frightening. She passed it off as the whiskey creating naughty thoughts and slid away to the ladies room.

  Washing her hands for the cool refreshment, she looked in the mirror, she was radiant. She hadn’t called in the “glamour”, she was completely herself! There was something going on between her and Will that had never been there and it was certainly the perfect way to end a lifetime of friendship. Don’t be an idiot Etta… she whispered to herself, Get a grip and stop this!

  ~

  Behind a white picket fence, elbows resting on clear plastic table clothes, Will and Etta shared a chicken salad and a Cajun BBQ sandwich. Etta closed her eyes to envision what he was telling her about t
he city and the people he met there. The fascinating picture of his adventures unfolded like a movie in her mind. Etta and Will never had any trouble expressing their adventures to each other. Things felt normal in the sunshine as she sharked French fries from his plate. There had been no twinges of desire or impure thoughts during lunch, Etta felt sure that avoiding Will after dark and wine would be the key to her survival.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Will asked around his bite of sandwich.

  “Painting my house, I am not sure about the colors though,” she pulled the chips out of her hobo bag and laid them on the table.

  Studying the colors, he ran his fingers through brown floppy curls which slipped down over his furrowed brow, “You puzzle me.”

  “Do you have a better suggestion? I’m not married to those colors.”

  “Why would you choose such ordinary colors?”

  “I didn’t give it much thought I guess.” She pursed her lips and looked at the chips again.

  “You have an excellent eye for design Etta, just look at your gallery! I’ll go back to the hardware store and bring the colors I think will make that little house completely you. You’re making dinner and I’m getting lunch,” he waved the bill in the air. “I’ll bring the wine.”

  “Deal!” She was so excited to have help with her daunting paint issue that she forgot about her new ‘no Will after dark’ revelation, until she was halfway home.

  She may have ignored the white exterior of her house but the inside was decorated completely in Etta style. Beaded burgundy curtains in her living room, an antique fainting sofa sat in the bay window covered in colorful pillows. The whole space was lit by a perfectly restored carnival glass chandelier and art nouveau antique lamps. Her pieces had been carefully selected and everything she displayed had its own story. In her kitchen she had a pie safe for storage and open shelves displayed fiestaware in bright yellow, turquoise and persimmon. Her Hoosier cabinet sat dignified and filled; used everyday just as it had been durring the turn of the century. A small wooden table covered in Battenberg lace and two chairs sat in the middle of the large room.

  Her bedroom was wrapped in purple velvet. A gold and creamy coverlet adorned her bed which was littered with pretty pillows in all shades of velvet and satin, beaded and heavily trimmed. A threefold screen placed in the corner concealed the connection to the bath. Fringed shawls, feather fans, beads and crystal lamps were artfully placed on art deco waterfall furniture. The vanity with a large round mirror amplified the opulence of Etta’s treasures. She had created all of this with a deep desire to invite romance into her life.

  Herb had been her only real relationship, and that ended as soon as his job was complete after only a couple of years. He wasn’t cut out for a small town and had begged her to come back to Los Angeles. It felt like the war of the worlds in her heart trying to decide which way to go. Etta wanted children and a happy home but the only place she wanted that life was in Nevada City. In the end, she had inherited her little house from a client who adored her. That was the deciding factor. She stayed, Herb left. They never spoke again. Nothing in her life reminded her of Him, he was just gone. It was probably best that way.

  The aroma of baking lasagna burst from the oven and filled the house. She was putting fresh parmesan cheese on the bread when she heard Will come through the door. He had sterling roses in one hand, a pink box in the other and wine tucked under his arm. Etta immediately stiffened in defense. He was incredibly sexy in his jeans and collared shirt, tucked in but collar unbuttoned at the neck. She could feel his electricity the moment she saw him, but the smell of him dipped into her gut and created a slow brew of wanting.

  He kissed her cheek and handed her the flowers, “You better beware, you’ll have a line around the corner! What are you cooking?” He opened the oven, bent over and took a huge whiff, “Amazing!”

  Etta’s gaze was on the curve of his waist slipping into his jeans. She jumped the instant she realized her disobedient wandering eyes had a mind of their own. She handed him the wine glasses and he poured while she kept herself as far away from him as possible, fussing with the roses and preparing the salad.

  “What’s up buttercup?” He came up behind her with a hand on her shoulder. He’d used that phrase with her since they were teenagers together.

  She slowly turned, meeting his look with hesitation.

  “Did I make you mad?” Will asked, his dark eyes filled with concern.

  “Oh God, no… it’s just… I’m getting used to having you around again.”

  “We’ve been around each other our whole lives… tell me what’s wrong.” He stroked her bare arm. Goosebumps crept out and she mustered up the strength to look him square in the eyes. His look intensified and then softened as he leaned closer to her feeling the electricity himself, “Well, that’s new.” His smile widened, head fell back and his toothy grin crept into a big lazy laugh.

  “Yeah... that’s new. Laugh it up, Chuckles… not comfortable!” Her eyes were wild with uncertainty.

  Will stepped back a bit and handed her a glass of wine. They clinked the crystal together as Will said seriously, “Here’s to interesting reunions.”

  Etta looked at the wine in her glass, “Yes.”

  “How long until dinner,” he asked.

  “Whenever you like, lasagna can sit for a while and it just gets better.”

  “I’ll show you the colors for the house.”

  What Will saw as he looked around her house was genuine Etta. He was charmed by her choices in every corner. But it was the glance into the bedroom where he stopped and stared trying to take it all in.

  “Wow, were you going for vintage bordello?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. How’d I do?” She cut her eyes around at him which was interpreted by Will as flirting.

  “I’d say you hit the mark right on. This is so cool,” he walked into her sacred space without hesitation and ran his fingers along the fringed curtains. Again, Etta thought, not comfortable!

  “Well if you want romance in your life, you’ve got to create a place for it. At least that’s what I tell my clients.” As she leaned through the doorway watching him touch her bed pillows.

  “Romance… is that what you want?” Will gravitated back to Etta, and stood so close she could smell the soap on his skin.

  “It’s what every woman wants, Will.”

  “What happened to that guy… you know the banker…”

  “Herby.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t like him.”

  “He wanted to move me to LA. He hated small town life. Once he got the Bank up and running, he asked to be transferred.”

  “Jerk.”

  Etta shrugged, carefree.

  She turned and walked into the living room, setting her wine on an old trunk that served as a coffee table. “Not really, Will, he just knew what he wanted and having kids in a small town with a psychic wasn’t in his plan. I challenged his balance.” She said without bitterness.

  “I’m glad he’s gone. You’re too good for him.”

  “Well, that leads to a lot of lonely night.”

  “Yeah, I know about that...” He sat a respectable distance from her on the couch.

  “Common Will, you’ve had more than your share of love.”

  “I’ve had sex, that doesn’t mean love or romance.”

  “I didn’t think men cared much for romance.”

  “You’ve been talking to the wrong men.”

  “What about Jenny? I think you loved her.”

  “I was in lust with her…I thought she broke my heart, but really she broke my wallet.”

  “Bitch!”

  His smile deepened, “It was worth it.”

  Etta laughed for the first time that night, took a deep drink of wine “Honesty,” She flopped back with the glass in her hand, “God I love our friendship.”

  “Want to see the colors of your house?”

  “Yeah… show me the colors.” The wine was settl
ing in her skin, and she felt her body relax for the first time since he’d walked through the door.

  Methodically, he placed paint chips together on the coffee table. Etta watched as a brilliant rainbow of colors took flight in her imagination. Will grouped four or five colors together and placed them in separate piles.

  “Look at the colors in this pile and tell me how you feel.” He said filling her wine glass, then handed a fan of colors to her.

  Etta looked at the color combination of dusty dark blue, dull gold and pale terra cotta and closed her eyes, “I feel deep and melancholy. It’s beautiful but sad.” Will threw the colors on the floor.

  “Now these…” She took the brilliant yellow, burgundy and royal blue. She closed her eyes, “This is so weird! I feel exposed and vulnerable.”

  “Not so good… how about this.” He handed her five colors.” Interestingly they were not colors Etta would have picked on their own, but together they created a wrapping; a promise of the wonderful story told under the cover of her book.

  “They make me happy, and I feel safe. Why did you put these colors together?”

  “This color,” Will held up cornflower blue, “represents your spirit. It’s clean and vibrant and feminine. This should be the body color.”

  “This peachy color represents your warmth of character. Paint the shutters this color. They are your arms extended out into the world.”

  Etta sat back and listened to him continue to explain her in the color world.

  “This pale green is stunning, it represents the healing that you do in the world…so subtle and sincere, yet unmistakably your vibe.” Will’s voice was soft and soothing. She couldn’t believe he had given the task so much thought.

  “This color of raspberry represents the passion in everything you do. It doesn’t rule you, it adds flavor to your deeds. This will be your trim.” He pulled out a chip of indigo, “because some of your gifts are mysterious use this on the gingerbread in the eves and on the porch floor.” Etta had been smiling for so long her face ached.