Wildflowers, Page 3

  When she was upgrading the kitchen, she had come up with a single page of plans. Her initial planning efforts for the café were along the lines of signing and filing all necessary business papers, doing an inventory of kitchen equipment, going through her recipes, and getting new menus printed.

  Planning the aesthetic dimension of the café was much more fun. It energized Genevieve in the same way planning her elaborate garden in Pasadena had enlivened her for several years.

  By Friday, the third morning after Leah had challenged Genevieve to dream up some plans for improvement, Genevieve was filled with hope. She parked behind the Wildflower Café and walked around to the front to view her handiwork from the past few days.

  A smile came to her lips.

  The flowerboxes she had found in the café’s back storage shed worked perfectly. She painted them a bright blue, and the next day, Seth came over and attached them securely in place under the front windows.

  This morning the new flowerboxes glistened in the sunlight. White alyssum spilled over the sides while blue and yellow pansies turned their faces toward the welcome sunbeams. Stately daffodils nodded their heads, looking like contented cats preening themselves in the warm window box. Several of the red tulips stretched their necks and appeared ready to yawn themselves open at any minute.

  “That’s what we needed,” Genevieve said proudly. “What a difference.”

  Nearly every customer had commented on the flowerboxes the day before, when the flowers made their debut. Leah delighted in telling everyone that they were the original flowerboxes Genevieve had found in the back shed and that all the flowers had been donated by long-time Glenbrooke resident, Ida Dane. At Leah’s request, Ida had dug up the bulbs and flowers from her extensive garden and had brought several buckets to the café. She had insisted that she be the one to arrange them. Ida’s final results had been rewarded with lunch on the house and all of Leah’s free publicity.

  Genevieve stood another moment, admiring the transformation brought about by the three window flowerboxes. She especially was pleased because it had cost her nothing. Even the blue paint, which she had found on a clearance rack at the hardware store, was free. When Mack at the hardware store heard what Genevieve was using the paint for, he told her she could have it at no charge. Any other supplies she needed for repairs at the Wildflower Café would be discounted. All she had to do was ask for Mack when she came in.

  “I’ve been eating at that café since I was a kid,” Mack had told her. “We all were worried that it might close down for good before you bought it. They say that when a small town is about to die, the restaurants and gas stations close up. When you bought the place, I don’t mind telling you, quite a few of us had high hopes for Glenbrooke’s future.”

  Genevieve hadn’t felt stunned or pressured by his comments the way she had when Richard Palmas made some of the same statements. Instead, Mack’s words became a gentle blessing and mandate from Glenbrooke’s older residents. Mack made her feel as if she were carrying out a noble mission to revive the café. With such support and encouragement, she was more hopeful than ever that she could get her little business to turn the corner and start showing a profit.

  With the flowerboxes taken care of, Genevieve’s attention was focused on the front door. She had considered painting it bright blue as well but wasn’t sure if that would work. One thought had been to paint all the wooden tables and chairs bright primary colors to give customers the feeling that they were stepping into a field of wildflowers at the height of summer. But then the walls would definitely need to be repainted, and the cost would add up. Even with a discount on the paint, it would be too expensive.

  Genevieve wasn’t ready to make any decisions on the door or interior yet; she was still in the envisioning stage. That’s the process she had used when she created her garden in Pasadena. For hours she would study garden magazines, cutting out pictures and making notes. Then she would take her notebook of clippings and scribbled thoughts outside and sit on the grass in the open, undeveloped space between her house and the set of duplexes they rented out.

  Genevieve would sit for only ten or fifteen minutes at a time, gazing at the pictures in her notebook, then gazing at the various corners and pockets of the yard. She would close her eyes, trying to envision where each gathering of flowers would go. Then she would walk away and think about it while she made dinner or folded laundry. By the time she turned up the first shovelful of dirt, she had “lived” with the proposed idea long enough to have considered every pro and con and worked through possible problems. The results in the garden were spectacular.

  Genevieve wanted those kinds of results now for the Wildflower Café. Her major obstacles were time and money. With her garden she had spent years working on it at her leisure. Money hadn’t been a problem then. Money wouldn’t be a problem now if she were working on the garden at their home. She had a substantial budget to work with at home.

  The café was another story because it was on a different budget. Funds for the restaurant came from a separate bank account. Steven’s greatest concern when Genevieve wanted to buy the café was that it would drain their personal savings and put them in financial difficulties. They had agreed to keep the café finances separate, with Genevieve agreeing not to dip into their family funds to cover the cafe’s expenses. If she needed more money for the restaurant, she would take out a loan at the bank. If she couldn’t make the loan payments, she would sell the café or declare bankruptcy. Clear and simple.

  Genevieve shook away the reoccurring thought that she was slowly heading for bankruptcy. But for now the flowerboxes were enough of a day brightener to prompt her to enter the café smiling. Her grin broadened when she heard the lilting melody of the tiny wind chimes she had hung over the door. The chimes had also been in the café’s storage shed out back. They were too small and too rusted to be used out front where someone would notice them. But when Seth had climbed up on the tall ladder to change the lightbulbs last night, it occurred to Genevieve they could hang the wind chimes on a peg high enough above the door that they wouldn’t be noticed but they would be ruffled by the air every time the door opened.

  The sound was subtle and pleasing. So was the improved lighting. Although, the sun’s bold appearance today was probably the real reason for the bright and cheerful atmosphere inside the café.

  Genevieve glanced around at the tables. Yes, something definitely needed to be done with the tables and chairs. But the good news was more people were in the café than usual, and it wasn’t quite eight o’clock yet. She counted only three empty tables. That was a new record.

  “Good morning,” Genevieve greeted one of the diners by the window.

  “G’day,” he replied. “Glorious day, isn’t it?”

  She thought his accent was most likely Australian and that she had seen him in the café before, but she wasn’t sure if she knew him.

  “Yes, it is a beautiful day.” Genevieve hurried back into the kitchen where Leah was moving around like a frenzied cottontail rabbit.

  “I’m so glad you’re here! It’s been busy for an hour. What happened? Did all the groundhogs in Glenbrooke decide to come out the same morning just for the phenomenon of seeing their own shadows?”

  Genevieve laughed. “I think the flowerboxes lured them here.” She tied on her apron and noticed that Leah was wearing a khaki skirt with a slit in the back rather than her usual jeans and T-shirt. The style wasn’t particularly flattering for Leah’s short, thick legs, but she looked fresh and crisp with her white shirtsleeves rolled up. The baseball cap was gone this morning as well. Instead, Leah wore a row of tiny, glittering clips to keep back her hair.

  “You certainly look fresh today,” Genevieve said. “Here, let me flip those pancakes for you. I can take over if you need to serve some of these.”

  “Thanks. We need two more orders of pancakes, one ham and cheese omelet with an English muffin, lightly toasted, and a scrambled with well-done hash browns and so
urdough toast. Did you get all that?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Leah left with three plates in her hands and called out over her shoulder, “I’ll start writing down the orders.”

  Up until now, they had rarely been busy enough for Leah to take notes, plus many of the customers ordered the same thing everyday. Even they knew how costly paper was and told her to save the expense. Besides, Genevieve had a great memory and didn’t usually need Leah to write out the orders for her.

  Genevieve worked quickly. The morning rush calmed down around nine-thirty as usual, and Genevieve prepared the soup of the day in a large pot. The soup of the day and the dessert of the day came from her favorite recipes. Her carrot cake was by far the favorite dessert of the day. The favorite soup of the day came from a Glenbrooke resident and appeared on the menu as Jessica’s Broccoli Cheese Soup. It was requested as often as the clam chowder. Leah was the one who had suggested that Genevieve feature special recipes for the soups and desserts of the day.

  As Genevieve loaded the industrial dishwasher, she thought about showing her notebook of café ideas and pictures to Leah. It felt like a bold step because she usually kept things to herself. She had spent most of her life making all the necessary decisions on her own. When Steven was home, he usually had some input, but Genevieve was the one who considered all the options and suggested the final course of action on everything from buying a new washing machine to hanging a mirror instead of a picture over the living room fireplace.

  Plus she had been telling herself for a long time she didn’t need anyone. Ever since she had closed up her heart for a season of silent winter in her soul, Genevieve’s circle of relationships had grown smaller and smaller. She didn’t want anyone knocking on her heart’s door or trying to pull the boards off the windows. She could take care of herself.

  But right now, in this situation, it felt different to open herself up to Leah. Leah felt like a partner and had good insights. This was business, after all, not personal. It was about consulting someone else to do everything possible to make the café succeed. And in a very limited way, Genevieve felt she could trust Leah. Yes, Leah’s opinions on the proposed changes to the café would be helpful.

  Genevieve waited until later that day when only two people were in the café. Leah was seated on a stool in the kitchen, eating pasta salad out of a coffee cup.

  “Leah,” Genevieve forced herself to say, “may I show you something?”

  Chapter Three

  Leah didn’t say a word as Genevieve went through the long lists and showed Leah the pictures she had cut from various magazines. When they reached the last page, Genevieve cast a shy glance at Leah. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think you’re a genius.” Leah’s apple-round cheeks turned pink as she spoke. “All of these ideas are really good. I love the one about designing a separate meeting room in the corner that’s partially closed off.”

  “Do you think that would work? I’ve been in restaurants before that have quiet spaces like that. I thought it might draw in people for meetings or to have a semiprivate place to celebrate a birthday.”

  Leah’s eyes lit up. “That would definitely attract a younger crowd. Do you remember the other day when Paul was here from church? He was trying to have a meeting with Gordon and Teri, but it was so noisy for them at the middle table that they asked to be moved to the corner table as soon as it opened up.”

  “That’s where I was thinking the semiprivate room should be set up.”

  “I also like your idea of finding ways to get more children and families to come to the café,” Leah said. “You know how much that would change this place? Instead of just being a place to eat, the Wildflower Café would become a gathering place for friends.”

  Genevieve loved the sound of Leah’s words. A gathering place for friends. A rush of hope spilled into her spirit. Something inside her said, Yes, that’s what has been missing. You need to provide a gathering place for friends.

  For a moment, Genevieve felt as if a stream of sunlight had burst into her heart. The thought came that she should open her heart’s windows, hang a welcome sign over her heart’s front door, and invite all her friends to gather there.

  Where did that thought come from? We’re talking about the café not my life. Genevieve quickly pulled back her feelings. Her heart wasn’t open for visitors of any kind. But the café would be. It would take on a new image and draw new customers, and that would provide the necessary revenue to stay open.

  “All we need now are some more creative donations like Ida’s flowers,” Genevieve said, returning to the practical aspects of the moment.

  Leah hopped down from the stool and headed for the dining area to check on the last two customers. “I have a feeling the Lord will provide.”

  Genevieve couldn’t help but wonder if Leah already was thinking of ways to use her connections around town to help the Lord provide. When Genevieve first had moved to Glenbrooke, she had heard from her friend Alissa that Leah was called “the Glenbrooke Zorro” because for years she quietly gave to people who were in need. As a matter of fact, because of Leah’s generosity a number of new utensils were being used in the café’s kitchen. Leah had claimed they were wedding gift duplicates and that, by donating them to the Wildflower kitchen, she could use them everyday, whereas at home they would sit in a drawer.

  “We should check the storage shed again,” Leah suggested. “We might find a few more treasures in all that stuff.”

  Genevieve decided she would have a look as soon as she finished unloading the dishwasher, which was her final task for the day. Before she stacked the last plate, her two daughters, Mallory and Anna, entered the café.

  “I thought you two were going home after school,” Genevieve said.

  “You told us we could come here any time we wanted,” Mallory sputtered. At ten years old, she was the one who always came up with the quickest responses. Anna was more shy and reserved, like Genevieve.

  “Of course you can come here. Any time. I love having you with me. I’m almost finished so we can all go home in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t you have anything more to do here?” Mallory’s cocoa brown eyes took on the same look Steven’s eyes had whenever he couldn’t find his favorite pair of reading glasses.

  “Not really,” Genevieve said.

  “You don’t have anything else to paint?” Anna asked.

  “No.”

  “Because we can help,” Anna said. “If you want us to. I mean, with painting or something fun like that.”

  Genevieve’s pulse beat a little faster. Aside from asking to lick the bowl after she made brownies for catering events, this was the first time her serious middle daughter had expressed interest in being involved in what Genevieve did.

  “You know what?” Genevieve smiled at Anna. “I’m glad you asked. I should have suggested you paint the flowerboxes the other night. You love that sort of thing. The key to the shed is on the hook by the back door. You’re welcome to go out there and see what you can find. Anything that looks worth saving or painting is available to you. Your creative touches will help make the café special.”

  “Me, too?” Mallory asked.

  Genevieve caught a look of older sister disapproval on Anna’s face. “No, I have another project for you in here,” Genevieve told Mallory.

  “What? Are you making cookies?”

  “Yes. Cookies are the dessert of the day for tomorrow. You can help me with them now, and that will save me some time in the morning.”

  “Can I wear an apron?” Mallory reached for one of the aprons on the hook by the sink.

  “Of course. Here, let me tie that for you.”

  An hour and a half later, Genevieve and the girls climbed into the van. They each had a warm, white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookie. An old rusted bicycle was crammed in the van’s back along with three old, wooden picture frames and a box of soiled linens. Anna also had found a chair with an unusual, thin met
al frame. The chair didn’t fit in the van along with the bike so they left it under a tree beside the storage shed.

  “Can I paint the frames any way I want?” Anna asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you promise you’ll use them at the café no matter how I decorate them?”

  “Yes, I promise.” Genevieve had no problem making such a promise because Anna was artistic. She first showed her ability when she was around eight. But it wasn’t through coloring or drawing; it was when she wrapped Christmas gifts. She had a knack for selecting unlikely materials and putting them together to make beautiful packages.

  Genevieve decided that turning the frames over to Anna without giving her direction would be a good thing for Anna. It would be a good thing for their mother-daughter relationship. No matter how the frames turned out, Genevieve could find a use for them and a way to praise Anna.

  Before Anna went to bed that night, she presented Genevieve with her first finished frame. Anna had painted the frame white with tiny blue and yellow flowers weaving up the sides. The look was fresh and appealing. Across the bottom she had written with flowing letters: “Consider the lilies of the field.”

  “It’s very pretty,” Genevieve said. “Where did you find the little quote at the bottom?”

  “From the Bible. Matthew 6. I tried to find other Bible verses on flowers, but there weren’t very many. I’ll paint the other two frames tomorrow because I want to finish my postcards for literature now. They aren’t due until next week, but I don’t want to have any homework over the weekend.”

  “Postcards?”

  “We had to take our favorite lines from the short stories we’ve been reading and make postcards.”

  “That sounds like a creative way to do a book report,” Genevieve said. “I’d like to see what you came up with.”

  “I’ve finished two.” Anna brushed her fine, blond hair off her forehead. She shyly pulled two postcards from her backpack and showed them to Genevieve.