Susannah's Garden (Blossom Street #3)(14)
She’d always been astonished that her parents had gotten together at all. They’d met in Europe during World War II and her mother had become a war bride. More than once Carolyn had wondered if her mother had ever regretted her choice of a husband, whether she’d resented being forced to live in Colville. Brigitte was like an exotic orchid stuck in a row of sturdy sunflowers.
There were plenty of spaces in the parking lot at the tavern. The light inside was dim and she wasn’t sure she’d recognize Susannah. Her own hair, still chestnut but streaked with gray, was even longer now than it had been when they were teenagers. She wore it pulled away from her face in a thick braid that fell haphazardly over one shoulder. She had on black jeans and a light summer jacket, which was what she generally wore to the mill. When necessary, she donned more feminine attire, but that wasn’t often.
She found a booth and slid onto the polished wooden bench to wait. Only a minute or two after she’d arrived, Susannah came through the door, saw her and immediately headed in her direction. Carolyn would have known her anywhere. Susannah hadn’t changed a bit. Oh, perhaps she was a few pounds heavier, but not many, and she wore her hair shorter these days. It was a shade or two darker, as well. She had on white linen pants and a teal sweater with large white flowers on the front.
Her childhood friend sat down across from her in the booth, facing the door. “My goodness, when did they get a Wal-Mart in Colville?”
Carolyn couldn’t remember. There’d been news of it coming for a year or two before the store was actually built. “I came back five years ago, and it was already here.”
“That long? Really? Funny, neither Mom or Dad said anything about it.” She dragged in a deep breath. “You look fabulous. It’s great to see you.”
“You, too.” Carolyn meant it. She’d always regretted that they’d lost contact. “How’s your mother?”
Susannah set her purse on the bench beside her. “I’m afraid she’s worse than I realized.”
“I’m sorry,” Carolyn said sympathetically.
Susannah leaned back against the hard wooden booth and sighed. “I took her to dinner, and half the time she thought I was my aunt Jean, who’s been dead for fifteen years.”
“Oh, no.”
Susannah laughed softly. “I didn’t mean to start talking about Mom. She’s a sweetheart, but ever since my dad died she’s been confused and—” As if catching herself doing it again, Susannah shook her head. “First, I want to know how we missed seeing each other all these years.”
Carolyn shrugged, unwilling to tread through time and examine the might-have-beens, especially those of the last few years. “I don’t know. I was so caught up in what was happening to my family, it was all I could do to deal with that. I moved back just before my father died. He’d been sick for quite a while, and the business had gone downhill.”
“I wondered about that.”
“When I took over, the mill was on the brink of going under. It’s taken every minute of every day to get back on track, so I haven’t done much socializing.”
“In other words, you’ve had no life.”
Carolyn nodded. “That pretty much sums it up.”
“How’s the mill doing these days?” Susannah straightened, a smile on her face. “I have to tell you I’m very impressed that you’re running such an important business. I had no idea.”
“We’re solvent and growing.” Carolyn didn’t mean to brag, but the mill was thriving at a time when many others were shutting down. Investing wisely, making the most of foreign trade opportunities and her management skills had brought Bronson Mills from the verge of closing its doors to becoming a major player in the state.
“What about you?” Carolyn asked. “Were you in town a lot?”
Before her friend could answer, the waitress came for their order and they each asked for a Diet Coke.
Susannah waited until she’d left before answering. “I didn’t come to town very often—two or three times in the last five years. Until recently, Mom and Dad drove over to the coast to visit me. Dad died last November.”
Although Susannah mentioned her father’s passing without apparent emotion, Carolyn detected a small quaver in her friend’s voice. Her own father had been dead several years now, but she continued to feel his loss each and every day.
“You lost your mom, too, didn’t you?” Susannah asked.
“Mom died of cancer about two years ago,” Carolyn said, and while her death was equally painful, Carolyn felt that her mother was ready and, in fact, had welcomed death. Her life had been nothing like she’d dreamed, filled with disappointments and disillusionment. And without her husband, she lost whatever contentment she’d managed to find. Brigitte had not succeeded in making many friends or developing interests of her own; that was something Carolyn didn’t like to think about.
“Dad died of congestive heart failure,” she added. It was a horrible way to die. Carolyn was grateful she’d been with him those last months. They’d always been close, but they’d drawn even closer as the end of his life approached.
When Carolyn first returned to Colville, she’d assumed she’d be selling off the mill, but during the last months of her father’s life, she realized she couldn’t let go of her heritage. The mill had been in the family for three generations, and now it was hers. Owning Bronson Mills, she’d discovered, was even more of a responsibility than it was a privilege.