Wild Rose, Book 1 of The Late Bloomer Series (Contemporary Romance)

Intro

Rose
Death makes people hungry, Rose thought, as she pulled out another tray of sandwiches from the refrigerator to feed her guests. Just last night she polished off the remnants of the macaroni and cheese, the latest splurge in a month of grief eating and drinking since the news of Miriam’s death. 

Neighbors, friends, and strangers had streamed through her house for almost four hours this afternoon at the celebration of life service for her friend Vi’s mom, a woman who was like a mother to her, too. While the initial burst of grief over Miriam’s passing had faded a bit over the last few weeks, having Rose’s lifelong friends arrive in town last night brought back a slew of old memories and a fresh round of tears. 

The five of them – Rose, Violet, Lily, Daisy, and Ivy – stayed up late reminiscing, getting the true grieving done in private as a family, like the sisters they practically were. Last night was for them; today’s service was for everyone else.

Rose looked out the kitchen door at her tall and elegant friend Violet, surrounded by her mother Miriam’s friends and frenemies alike, patiently listening to their stories and small-town gossip. Poor Vi. She looked like Cleopatra with her perfect black bob, straight bangs, and regal face. Vi was a stoic who only shared her feelings with her inner circle, and those people were not in that group. Rose’s heart ached for Vi, now an orphan at the age of forty-one.

As Rose unwrapped the plastic film and searched for more napkins, Lily walked into the kitchen. Rose knew she was antsy, uncomfortable with just sitting around and making small talk. Time to put Lily to work.

“Can you start another pot of coffee, Lil? Thanks.” Lily nodded her head and started opening cabinets, looking at the options. 

“You don’t want to use your expensive special roasted stuff for the masses, do you?” Lily frowned, giving the task more concentration than it required. 

“Doesn’t matter, just pick one.” Rose walked over to her friend and gave her a one-armed hug, leaning her head on top of Lily’s much shorter one as she balanced the sandwich tray in her left hand. “People will leave soon, and then it will just be the five of us, like old times.”

The two friends exchanged a smile and separated, the momentary contact easing the discomfort of the day just a little.

Rose’s adobe house on the hill was ideal for the celebration of life service for Vi’s mom. The house with the cheery turquoise door was an oasis in the desert, opening to a central courtyard that was overflowing with flowers and comfortable seating. The house was a lot like Rose, warm and cozy, but a little bit off the beaten path. You had to make some effort to get there, but once inside you didn’t want to leave.

Guests flowed through the one-level house and courtyard, talking in low tones about Miriam as well as Rose’s design choices. She only invited close friends to her home, and as a popular landscape architect in town, people were naturally curious what her own living space and gardens looked like. Rose didn’t mind hosting the event – she insisted on it, actually, since Vi’s house was already being packed for her move to New York next month. Rose would do what she could to make this crisis easier for her friend, just like she always did. Rose had been a mother figure long before she actually became one, a trait that came naturally to her. She always thought of other people first. It was why Rose was such a good friend and mother – and also why she often neglected her own needs and desires.

Rose was the first person Vi called after her mom died. The painting Miriam had been working on in her studio – a field of sunflowers – had a streak of blue paint down the middle. The sky fell onto her landscape as she suffered a heart attack. Doctors said she died instantly, and Rose hoped that was true. Miriam loved to create, and she’d find a certain kind of karma in leaving the earth while painting it.

They locked up Miriam’s house and Vi put the canvas in her car, and then they both went to the funeral home to arrange the cremation according to the will. The celebration of life service was also one of Miriam’s requests, specifically to be held a month after her death so that “people would be over all the crying nonsense” and remember the joy of her life. Rose thought about the joy of her own life: her business, her daughter, her friends. But all that had already happened, and she was just barely forty. What other joys did she have ahead of her? She couldn’t even imagine. 

Rose snapped back into the present when Ivy walked into the kitchen.

“Are we cleaning out the pantry to feed this horde? God, Vi’s mom would be pissed if she knew Jane Alden and her pack of crows were here eating up all your food, Rose. She couldn’t stand them.” Ivy pulled her long red hair back into a ponytail, then wound it into a messy bun.

“That’s small town politics for you, Ivy. You’re lucky to have escaped to London. Besides, if I know Miriam, she’ll haunt Jane and her cronies just for kicks.” Rose set the tray down on the counter and tucked her auburn hair behind her ears. She rubbed the faint vertical crease above her nose and reached into the drawer for an aspirin.

“Lucky? I’d call it damned smart. I think we should all be living in London.” Ivy smirked and Lily pulled a towel off the counter and snapped at her with it, eliciting a howl from her victim.

“Smart, maybe, but still not as quick as me.” Lily’s almond-shaped eyes were sparkling, her jet-black hair hanging straight down to her shoulder blades. Her small frame contained a powerhouse of a body, honed over the years with gymnastics, martial arts training, and yoga. Lily worked as an emergency physician in places where medical care didn’t exist: war-torn areas, sites of natural disasters, and locations of epidemics. She spent more time out of the United States than in it, and she said exercise was her therapy for all the horror she saw. As hard as her body was, Lily must see a lot.

“All right, ladies. Let’s finish this for Vi and start herding people toward the door. You know she can only take so much of the touchy-feely stuff.” Rose was in take-charge mode, a fierce protector of her friends. She remembered what it was like to lose her parents in a rainy car accident twenty years ago and how much she relied on these lifelong friends to see her through her own grief and the surprise pregnancy she discovered a couple of months later. This was a family stronger than blood, and it always had been.

Their mothers were all close friends who had blessed and cursed their firstborn daughters with flower names, a throwback to the peace and free love days of the late sixties and early seventies. The five of them had been collectively called The Bloomers since childhood. In junior high, they hated this nickname and all the jokes it spurred by the Jennifers, Amys, and Melissas who surrounded them. Rose especially hated being called the wallflower of the bunch. As adults, the five friends embraced the name Bloomers as if it were some exclusive club, going so far as to call themselves the LateBloomers during their ironic hipster phase in their late twenties. No longer ironic but slightly sentimental, they still called themselves the LateBloomers.

“Daisy is already on it. How someone with such an innocent face and golden hair can be so shrewd I will never understand. Did you hear her tell them there was supposed to be a violent storm this evening? There’s not a cloud in the sky.” Ivy said it with a trace of jealousy, knowing her blunt style would never allow such subtle deception. “They’re all gathering to leave now, not a doubt in their minds. Daisy should start her own cult.”

“She lives in Portland so they think that means she’s an expert at rain.” Rose’s lip curled to one side, admiring her friend’s skill at getting people to do what she wanted. 

It didn’t surprise Rose one bit that Daisy, Lily, and Ivy flew to tiny Hobart, Arizona to support Vi in her time of grief. Rose and Violet were the only ones who remained in their hometown, and soon it would just be Rose when Violet moved to New York.

So much has changed over the years, Rose thought, remembering their various love affairs, career peaks and valleys, and even the birth of her daughter Rachel when she was just twenty. And then she looked at her friends, all working together in their own way to get this makeshift family through the crisis.

And so much remains the same.