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A Vision of Roses

By Deborah Cole

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2009 Deborah Cole
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4389-9306-5

Chapter One

"You really don't get out much do you, Boss?" Chrissy flipped her bouncy, nearly white, curls out of the way as she stacked a pile of books onto the table in the center of the room.

"You must be getting bored with your new husband to start harassing me so soon ... And please, don't call me "boss", you know I hate that title." The "boss" tossed her long, dark, Indian-style braid over her shoulder and continued dusting the shelves.

Chrissy grinned. "Okay Ellie, but it's been what, four years since your husband died and you've been out like, three times?" Chrissy cocked one white-blond eyebrow knowingly at her friend.

Ellie nodded. That's right. Not everyone can be as lucky at finding the right guy as you were with James.

Chrissy's bright blue eyes narrowed. "Getting to meet James was the only good piece of luck in that mess."

Ellie sighed. "I'm sorry, Kid. I wasn't thinking. I know it was hard on you. Honestly, I'm just glad there are still good men like James out there, especially when they're in law enforcement. You hear such awful things these days." She stopped dusting to drape an arm around Chrissy's shoulders. "Look, I just feel like I've had my shot at marriage and it was a fairly successful venture."

"But ..." Chrissy interrupted.

Ellie's hand dropped to mangle the dust rang she held at her side. "But, I'm a busy woman, I've got five kids, I'm running this marvelous establishment and" She shrugged. "Who wants an almost forty year old woman anyway?"

Ellie looked down at her hands. They'd never been petite and years of gardening and cleaning made them something less than the soft, smooth hands in the dish soap commercials. She almost never wore nail polish, or grew her nails out past the end of her slender fingers. They were a constant reminder of her age, her life and her kids.

"I'm quite happy with my kids and the store." Maybe if she said it often enough she would someday actually believe it.

Chrissy shook her head. "Okay, I'll drop it for now, but I hope I look half as good as you when I get to be thirty-eight. You'd never guess to look at you, that you'd had five kids." She held out a feather duster as if it were a microphone. "So tell me lady, what's your secret?"

Ellie laughed. "Beats me. I've always just blamed my metabolism and nervous energy. God knows I eat like a horse!"

Both women laughed as they finished up the evening chores before closing it down for the night. Chrissy couldn't wait to get home to James and Ellie was looking forward to an evening with her 'herd' and hearing about their day.

'Old Friends and New' was her own enterprise. Ellie had worked hard to make it the best bookstore in the Chicago suburb of Deer Creek. Over the last four years, she felt she had accomplished a lot. Ellie loved the shelves full of old and new books, the thick carpet where she held weekly readings for the neighborhood children and the old, carved wood trim that graced the entire building. It had become her place of retreat and safety. She played the role of shopkeeper/librarian and she loved it.

"Who needs a man? The one I want probably doesn't exist anyway." Ellie thought as she waved to Chrissy. Then she grabbed her purse, adjusted the lights and security for the night and locked the door. She looked through the glass on the heavy door. She loved the old building and the fact that it was located in a quiet residential neighborhood, close to home. As she walked down the front steps she inhaled deeply. The scent of spring flowers filled the air. Ellie loved spring, the feeling that everything was new and fresh. She had a strong urge to skip down the block, but was stopped by a shouted greeting from behind her.

"Hey, Mrs. Hart! Guess what?"

Ellie smiled and waved at the young man approaching. Bobby looked tough: his long, dark hair, bound by the bandana that marked his gang affiliation, brushed the shoulders of the black leather jacket only she and his mother knew was a gift from his Air Force-hero-dad. He was one of her favorite students. "Hi Bobby. How are you? Have you heard yet?"

Bobby's grin practically split his freckled face. "You got it teach! I've been accepted! Can you believe it? Drop out Draper on his way to college! They even offered me a scholarship!"

Ellie gave the young man a quick hug. "That's fantastic news Bobby. You know I expect to hear from you regularly. Right?"

Bobby grinned broadly. "You bet. Look, I've got to go get packed and get my stuff together. I'm going to stay with my aunt until school starts in the Fall. Thanks for all your help Mrs. Hart. This would never have happened without you."

Ellie shook her head. "You've always had the potential and the talent, Bobby. Now you get to show it off."

Bobby nodded, pulled the well-worn rag from his head and handed it to her. "This is for you, Mrs. Hart, a trophy. I won't need it anymore." Bobby laughed at the stunned expression on the woman's face and left before she found her tongue.

* * *

The watcher sighed as he caught sight of the dark-haired lady locking up the bookstore for the evening. She was one of those classically beautiful women, nice too. He spoke to her only yesterday when he bought that book on native plants. She could be the one.

He held a rose he had picked from the botanical garden earlier today. Sarah wasn't the one; but this one, this Mrs. Hart, she could be the one; the perfect lady of Chicago. His fingers stroked the soft petals of the rose as he watched her stop to take a deep breath of fresh Spring air. So full of life ... He had followed her home yesterday, seen her children at the windows. The blond with the big mouth at the bookstore had told him Mrs. Hart was a widow.

His eyes observed her every move. Elana Hart was classy. She would take her hair down for him. He would run his fingers through her soft tresses. She would step into his embrace and sigh when he kissed her.

Not like Sarah, pretty Sarah; she had laughed in his face when he proposed. Sarah had screamed when he kissed her. She had tried to call the police, but he had wrapped the cord of the telephone around the soft flesh of her neck and held her until the scream was silenced. The rose he had given her lay crushed; the petals scattered across her breasts like a red lace shawl.

In front of the store, a young man approached the lady from the bookstore. The watcher tensed, his hands balled into fists. "No! Not her too!"

Then the young man turned; it was one of Mrs. Hart's students in that literacy class she held weekly. It was only natural she should speak with him. He must have passed the entrance exam they were all talking about. All the regular customers knew about him. The poor kid was so excited about it. Now he would be leaving for college. He was too young for her anyway.

The watcher sighed in relief. He looked down and blinked. In his palm lay the rose, crushed and broken. It had been so perfect ...

* * *

Aaron McCord frowned as he glanced down at the direction in his hand. His gray eyes flashed as he thought over the conversation he'd had with the overbearing Mrs. Cheryl Smythe. He didn't like this whole thing, but somehow he'd gotten himself elected to serve on the Grace College Scholarship committee this year. Aaron snorted. It was supposed to have been an honorary position. No real work involved.

Then...