17. Daisy
17
DAISY
T he door to the bedroom opened, and the mattress dipped down as Aaron sat on the edge of the bed.
Did he come back to me? Had my breakfast skillet tamed the wild beast?
“Honestly, Daisy.” He was leaning in close to me, his nose almost brushing mine.
Was he going to kiss me? Were we going to do the deed?
I hoped not. I needed to shower, wax, and shave first.
“Don’t touch me, Aaron,” I mumbled.
“That’s no way to get laid,” Granny Madge declared. She swatted me on the hip.
I woke up with a snort and a crick in my neck.
Granny Madge threw open the curtains. “You didn’t want to get up early to watch that honeybun sleep?”
“Gran, that’s so creepy. I would never watch Aaron sleep.”
… Except for that one time I spied on him in his bedroom. I was thirteen. I was a minor. Legally, I couldn’t be held responsible.
I hauled myself out of bed to stop Gran from rummaging through Aaron’s stuff and shoved a drawer closed while she protested.
“His study was more interesting anyway,” she sniffed.
“Oh my god, Gran, we can’t go in there!” I raced after her. “Why is it so early?” Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs.
“We’ve been up for hours, Daisy, dear,” my mother trilled, waving my father and siblings, who were loaded down with sacks of food and gardening supplies, into the kitchen and terrace.
“You need to take your makeup off before you go to sleep.” My mother whipped out a makeup remover wipe and started rubbing my face.
“I can do it myself.”
“If you could,” she said, wiping my eyes, “you would have. Now there’s my beautiful daughter.”
“You look puffy,” Alex said by way of greeting.
“Coleman!” The front door slammed. “ Coleman . What the hell are all these cars doing here?” Aaron strode in, his white workout shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.
He had to have those shirts tailored. No one had any right to look that good in a sweat-drenched T-shirt.
“There he is!” My mom enveloped a surprised Aaron in a hug. “It’s so good to see you!” She cupped his face and beamed up at him. “Daisy, you see? Aaron is taking good care of his skin.”
“That’s because he spent the first eleven years of his life without seeing the sun.”
Aaron tensed.
“Margaret Grace Coleman.” My mother’s eyes flashed. “Your father and I did not raise you to be rude and hateful. Apologize at once.”
Aaron looked a little taken aback.
“Sorry, Aaron, that was mean.” I gazed down at my toes.
He just nodded mutely.
Drew shook his head at me dramatically, and I made a face at him.
“Let me make you some breakfast, Aaron,” he said. “What do you like to eat? I don’t know what’s gotten into Daisy.”
“This is a stressful situation for everyone,” Aaron murmured.
“You’re so gracious.” My mom linked her arm with his and led him to the kitchen. “Daisy, I brought you some face wash. It’s a small batch from Vermont.”
When I scampered down the back staircase to the kitchen, dressed, face scrubbed, my mom was serving a slightly confused Aaron a pork-and-roasted-spring-veggie crepe while Dorian sat next to his elbow and begged for just a little scrap of ham.
I peered into the fridge. “Don’t we have lemons? I was going to make lemonade to go with lunch later.”
“Raspberry sparkly lemonade?” the twins begged.
“Look in the box, Daisy,” my mom instructed then went back to fussing over Aaron, not her daughter who was trapped in a loveless marriage. “You need to be careful about scowling so much, dear. You’re going to get to be Wyatt’s age and have wrinkles. Now do you have any special requests for the garden, Aaron? Any favorite flowers or vegetables? What about a favorite color?”
“His favorite colors are black and gray,” I told her while I sliced the lemons.
“You all really don’t have to waste your time on that garden, Mrs. Coleman,” Aaron said, cutting off a piece of meat for Dorian.
“Nonsense. Here, have another crepe.”
“Where’s my crepe?” I asked as I poured sugar in boiling water for simple syrup.
“She’s back on her health food kick,” Granny Madge complained. “I don’t know why Aaron got special treatment. He has braised pork belly in his crepe.”
“Daisy, here’s some lemon water with bean sprouts and cucumber salad with a bit of homemade yogurt. It helps with inflammation. More coffee, Aaron?” My mom topped up his cup. “You sure you don’t want cream? It’s oat milk.”
The twins gagged dramatically.
“He takes it black like his soul,” I stated.
“I hope this isn’t how you’ve been acting all week, Daisy,” my mother warned.
“She has, Mrs. Coleman.” Aaron’s mouth quirked as he glanced to me, more warmth in his eyes than I’d seen all week.
The buzzer at the gate sounded.
“Daisy, go let Reese in,” my mother said. “I told all of Aaron’s employees to take the day off. It’s so nice outside. They should enjoy the weather in the park.”
“She baked them scones!” Granny Madge wailed. “With real butter.”
Reese was walking up the drive, her sunhat on.
“Your mom made me come over for free labor.”
“She made him breakfast.” I dragged my friend into the cool house. “She’s acting like he’s her sixth and favorite child.”
“Reese, you came!” My mom hugged my friend.
Aaron had been given a protein muffin.
“He’s not going to eat that, Mom. He doesn’t eat baked goods.”
My husband took a bite, maintaining eye contact with me. “It’s delicious, Mrs. Coleman.”
“See, Drew?” Alex sniffed at Drew. “Some of us like the health-cookbook meals. I lost another half inch from my waist.”
“So did I, but it’s because all that fiber is making me shit my brains out,” Granny Madge declared.
“Eat a muffin, Reese. We have a big day ahead of us!” My mother sailed around the kitchen.
“I did not want to get up this early on a Saturday,” I mumbled before I choked down my lemon water, which was unsettlingly slimy.
“It’s like my semester abroad in Italy,” Alex crooned, looking out the kitchen window at the ivy-covered statues in the overgrown garden.
“Did you study abroad, Aaron?” my dad asked him.
“No, I just wanted to finish school as quickly as possible.”
“See? You should take a page from his book, Daisy.” Drew snickered. “She’s been in college for the last ten years. And she’s not even going to be able to prescribe drugs at the end of it.”
“She made money writing Harry Potter porn online.” Reese jumped to my defense.
“Somehow I’m not shocked,” Aaron said.
“A doctor in the family would be more practical,” Alex said lightly.
“Why, because she could do your breast implants?” Jordan shot at her.
Aaron choked on his muffin.
Granny Madge whacked him on the back. “It feels just like that coming out the end of the ride.”
“An English degree is more useful than an art history degree,” I declared.
“I’m using my degree to draw up designs for your garden,” Alex squabbled. “You’re not even cooking for your husband.”
“I made him dinner yesterday!” I screamed at my sister.
Aaron was alarmed.
“Don’t mind her. She’s pissed that her fiancé isn’t rich enough to have his own lawn in Manhattan,” Brooklyn said dreamily to Aaron.
“Leave him alone.” My mom cleared Aaron’s empty plate. “Aaron, go brush your teeth and put on some boots. Then we’re going to get to work on that garden. I have slate chips being delivered at two, so we need to have the paths cleared… Did you bring cheese, Wyatt? Honestly.”
“It’s been a stressful few weeks.” My dad swallowed as the rest of us, minus Aaron and Alex, clambered for cheese.
Reese and I were sharing the last of the Brie when Aaron joined us all out on the crumbling stone terrace that looked out over the overgrown garden.
“I pulled some old plans.” Alex held up several oversized prints of the original garden. “It was designed as a classical English garden, so the idea was that it wasn’t supposed to be formal like a French garden,” my sister lectured. “This garden is supposed to transport you back to nature.”
“So the wildness is sort of intentional?” Aaron clarified.
“Exactly! Just like Daisy’s hair,” Alex said.
“Girls!” my dad begged.
“Aren’t a lot of these plants dead?” Aaron frowned as we surveyed the garden in the daylight. “It’s so dark here that I was just going to have it all torn up and Astroturf put down. I didn’t want to waste money on yard care. That’s why it’s so overgrown.”
Peggy pressed a hand to her chest. Her eyelids fluttered closed.
“Absolutely not, Aaron.”
“You’re not going to get much to grow out here,” he argued, unconvinced.
“I’ve been hooking up with this guy who grows marijuana. He can set me up with some grow lights,” Granny Madge offered.
“It appears,” my mom said as we walked through the path, “that the original structure of the garden is still here.”
Aaron held back branches for the twins and Reese. Then he let them hit me in the head.
“Oops,” he deadpanned.
I shook the last of my ice out of my water and stuffed the cubes down the back of his shirt, making him swear and shake it out.
“… restore the paths and clean up these beds,” my mom was elaborating as Dorian leapt ahead, exploring the overgrowth. “We’ll prune these plants, but here and here, I want us to plant vegetables and herbs. Over here, we’ll do flowers. We need to prep these beds. Aaron, you’re big and strong. Can you work the soil here? Drew, stay with Alex and clean up these paths. Wyatt, you’re helping me with these fruit trees.”
“And the raspberries!” I squealed, noticing the brambly bushes near one stone wall.
“I didn’t realize I had these back here,” Aaron marveled as I worked gloves onto my hands.
“You never explored your own yard?”
“Some of us have to work, Coleman. Besides, I didn’t think I was going to keep any of it. I was just waiting for a permit to remove those trees.”
“They’re not bad. They just need a little pruning.” I plucked several ripe raspberries off the bush.
“Daisy, your hair.” Aaron untangled leaves and thorny vines from my hair.
“Worth it.” I ate the handful of dark-red raspberries.
Aaron scowled. “Those aren’t washed.”
“Stop being such an indoor kid.”
“I’m not a—”
I forced one of the plump red berries into his mouth.
“Nothing better than fresh-grown produce.”
“That’s what I keep telling Alex. Those boob implants never look natural.” Granny Madge shook her head.
“There is supposed to be a fountain here,” my dad said loudly as Aaron and Drew hacked at the vines and overgrowth.
“We could put a little seating area here,” I suggested, “and stone pavers. We should have one path paved from here to the stables.”
My family was silent for a moment. Then everyone mobbed Aaron.
The twins squealed, “Horses!”
“You have horses, Aaron?” Peggy asked.
Jordan and Brooklyn raced off to the small wisteria-covered stable building. My sisters let Aaron’s horses out, and they cantered over to him, nickering, and nuzzled his neck.
“Do you ride?” my dad asked him.
“The stable hand takes care of them. They’re a little too old to ride. They’re rescue horses. I got them for free on the internet.” Aaron scratched the big animals on their necks as they whickered happily.
My mom beamed at him. “Daisy didn’t tell me you were an animal lover.”
“I mainly just keep them here because the deed has a clause that you are allowed to have horses as long as they occupy the property continuously. Once you stop, you can’t bring them back later.”
“So they’re just very expensive pets. And you give Dorian a hard time.” I crossed my arms.
“Dorian eats and sleeps all day,” Aaron argued. “My brother has been trying to get me to adopt a cat, says it will be companionship, but Dorian doesn’t do much.”
The Scottish fold had taken a break from exploring and was napping on the stone bannister at the terrace.
“What do you have planned for this area?” I pulled at the overgrowth in front of the terrace, the vines clinging to the stone balustrades.
“What do you want to put there?” my mom asked.
“A tulip garden,” Brooklyn suggested.
“Not daisies?” Aaron smirked at me.
“Real original.” I elbowed him. “I want to put slate pavers here. Save these vines and relocate them so they grow over some brick walls we’ll install to look like old ruins. It gives you more outdoor entertaining space.”
“Yes! This will be a lovely area to have a garden party, Daisy.” My mom sounded excited.
“Great, because I already ordered the brick and mortar. Isn’t your brother involved with the Angelique Foundation?” I asked Aaron. “We could host a charity garden party event here.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Do send me their information, Daisy,” my mother said. “I’m inviting them to my Hamptons party next weekend.”
“They don’t need to come,” Aaron said in a rush.
“Of course they do.” My mother clicked her tongue. “Aaron, they’re your family.”
“Ooh, how many brothers do you have, and are they single?” Jordan asked.
Aaron frowned. “They are not your type.”
“Rich? Handsome?” Brooklyn danced around him.
“Mom, they’re harassing my husband.”
“Husband? I don’t see you wearing a ring!” Jordan shot back.
“Dammit,” I said.
“Daisy, did you lose it?” Aaron sighed.
“You said I wasn’t supposed to take it off. Ever,” I reminded him.
“That doesn’t apply if you’re gardening.”
“You threw a tantrum about it.”
“I didn’t throw a tantrum,” Aaron debated.
My mother tsked. “I do hope that wasn’t a family heirloom, Aaron. Daisy, let’s retrace your steps.”
“Nobody move. I have a metal detector in my car,” Granny Madge declared.
“I thought we talked about how your mother wasn’t going to be driving anymore,” my father muttered to my mom.
We started clearing out the overgrowth in the garden and prepping the beds for planting. The twins helped my mom dig out plants she wanted to save, then my dad went to town mulching what was left. The work was hot and sweaty. Periodically, my mom came by to spray sunscreen all over everyone. The horses and Dorian napped in the shade of the cherry trees while Gran swept the metal detector over the yard.
“Aaron!” Granny Madge called. “Yoo-hoo!” Aaron, muscles on his arms bulging, was carting a wheelbarrow full of plants out of the way.
“Gran.” I ran over. “Leave him alone.”
“I found your ring.” Granny Madge pointed. “But I only get on my knees if I’m sucking dick. Gotta make sure these knee replacements hold up. I’m not going through that again.”
I bent down.
“It’s just an old key.” I slipped it in my pocket. “I’ll keep looking.”
“I know what I’m going to keep looking at!” Gran whistled as Aaron easily swung a pickax over his shoulder, his shirt riding up and revealing a strip of muscled torso.
“Damn, you sleep next to that every night?” Reese leaned on her shovel.
The twins gaped at Aaron as he attacked the overgrown flowerbeds with the pickax, his muscles rippling under his sweat-drenched T-shirt as he churned up the black earth. Even my mom had stopped separating the seedlings and was watching him, stunned.
“Just throw him in a lake and call me Mrs. Darcy,” Reese whispered.
“That didn’t happen in the book,” I mumbled.
“Movie’s better,” Brooklyn piped up.
“What?” Aaron noticed us all staring. “Did I dig up the wrong bed?” He wiped an arm across his forehead.
“No, dear, just perfect. Could you grab the tray for me?” My mom pointed.
Aaron set down the heavy tray of plants next to her so my mother, straw hat on her head, could plant them carefully.
Against the noise of the city, a truck beeped as it backed up down the alley.
“My bricks!”
“I hope you bought nice ones.” Alex made a face.
“Reclaimed historic bricks,” I declared as Aaron loped over and opened the heavy gates to the alley.
“Watch out for the fountain,” I told the truck driver as he used a forklift to unload the pallets of bricks and ferry them over to the terrace.
“Sign here.” He stuck out a clipboard. “We need the final five thousand on delivery.” The brick guy tapped the paperwork.
I looked up at Aaron.
“I didn’t order all these bricks.” He glared down at me.
“You don’t have a credit card on you?” I rocked on my heels.
Aaron sighed and pulled a slim wallet out of his pocket.
“That’s being a husband to one of the Coleman girls. You just sign checks,” my dad joked.
“Just like Daddy does it!” Drew said.
“Honestly, Drew, don’t be crass,” my mom chided.
While I did want the garden to look nice, I had been dreading the work. But with Aaron there to help, we were making way more progress than I thought.
He’s showing off , I decided as his muscular back and arms churned through another dormant flowerbed. He’s doing it to screw with me.
Aaron rested the pickax against a tree and accepted a glass of water from Granny Madge and a bite of a sandwich.
“I hope you’re not gazing at me meaningfully because you want me to help you with that godforsaken wall, Coleman,” he remarked, gesturing with the sandwich.
“I can lay my own bricks, thanks,” I said primly.
“Sure, whatever,” he snorted and went back to the next garden bed with a roll of his shoulders.
I set a string for my wall while my mortar mixed.
As I laid down the first withe, a shadow crossed over me. I glanced up while grabbing the next brick. Aaron, leaning on a shovel, looked down at me.
“Hmm. Guess you’re not completely useless, Coleman,” he said.
“Daisychain spent a summer building sets for me for an art film I directed.” My dad kissed the top of my head.
“What film?”
“You never heard of it,” Gran said, “and the only reason Wyatt isn’t completely in the red is free labor from all these children he spawned.”
I slapped down more mortar.
“Thank God you saved this family, Aaron, because my daughter is the only one here who has anything in the way of survival skills,” Granny Madge declared. “Daisy’s got nice tits, but she’s useless in an apocalypse.”
Aaron’s eyes flicked from my face to my chest and back up.
“I mean, they’d be good for something.”
Aaron was almost relaxed, making easy banter with Drew, shooing away the curious horses, and politely redirecting the twins when they tried to flirt with him. He finally hooked some ancient-looking plow up to the gelding and had him tilling the rest of the garden from the new plants.
The horses clearly knew and liked him.
I snuck glances as he murmured encouragingly to the animals.
My mother set some trays of creeping thyme seedlings next to me.
“Hmm.” Peggy tilted her head thoughtfully. “Aaron would be a good father, don’t you think, Daisy?”
“What!” I dropped my trowel on my foot. “No. I don’t think.”
The garden was looking much more livable when the next truck showed up with the slat chips for the path.
“Not here,” my mother instructed the workers. “We’re installing pavers.”
“You want to have them put somewhere the Ch—”
“Shh!” I hissed to Granny Madge, grabbing her.
“The new you-know-what for the new you-know-who?” she said out of the side of her mouth.
Aaron was immediately suspicious.
“What are you plotting?” he asked.
“They’re probably plotting for Granny Madge to move in here,” Drew joked.
“Dad should be so lucky.”
We worked until the first fireflies came out. Then my mother declared that she’d put the last plant in the ground.
“I’m leaving instructions for the gardener,” she explained to Aaron, “but Daisy, you need to make sure these plants don’t die.”
My wall was looking pretty nice.
“I’m going to grow creeping thyme in these hollows.” I showed Aaron. “It’s going to look like a fae prince’s castle when I’m done.”
“You went above and beyond.” My mom grabbed Aaron by the neck and pulled him down for a hug. “I love having a big strong man around. You need some food.” She patted his back.
Dorian padded over to him, rubbed against his leg, then hacked up something on his shoe.
Aaron bent down.
“Your wedding rings.” He handed them out to me.
“We’ll eat outside,” my mother decided as my siblings and I ferried blankets and flatware outdoors.
“Do you want help?” Aaron offered, his hands by his side.
Peggy beamed at him.
“You’re so lovely. Just dump that water out, Aaron. I don’t want the pasta overcooked. There’s dressing in that mason jar I put in the fridge. Mix it up in that bowl. Reese, why don’t you slice the bread?”
“It’s real bread.” Granny Madge was excited. “I told my daughter she could not force people to do manual labor and not let them have gluten.”
“Did you make herb butter?” I asked.
“I did,” my dad promised.
“Praise!” Jordan threw her hands up.
“Your next cookbook needs to be dairy based, Mom.”
“I don’t know why you don’t like my spelt muffins.”
“Aaron does, so that’s something.”
“I love just making big salads for summer,” my mother said, handing Aaron oversized bowls from the fridge.
He helped carry out the salads, and we sat out on the neatly cleared terrace to have an impromptu picnic.
“You need an arbor, Aaron,” Dad said as the sun set slowly. “You can have a big table and the wisteria growing over the trellis. It would be magical. A nice bottle of wine—enjoy the garden.”
“Your brother can make one for him.” My mom patted her mouth. “He’s into woodworking.”
“That’s not going to go with my stone wall,” I complained.
“Sure it will. You can use huge beams. I actually think I have some in the basement,” Aaron offered.
“I guess that could work.”
“See?” Alex said, showing me a photo on her phone. “Like that. I think that would look good against your house. What do you think, Aaron? Like a country English home in the middle of Manhattan. All the businesspeople will be envious watching you two enjoy the garden.”
“Yep. Sex outdoors is a risky proposition here.” Gran guzzled the rest of her wine.
“Ooh, what is Daisy doing with her new husband all alone?”
“Shut up, Alex.”
I cast a guilty glance at him.
Next to me, Aaron visibly flinched as fireworks were set off somewhere in the city.
I grabbed his arm and stroked it.
The horses neighed, startled, their hooves thudding on the cleared dirt.
“I need to put them up,” Aaron said abruptly, shaking me off.
I jumped up to follow him and gently looped a lead rope around the mare’s neck.
“I have it,” he snapped.
“I’m just trying to help you,” I said, feeling testy. “You don’t have to be rude.”
He clucked his tongue.
The mare, more interested in licking the remains of my dinner off my face, ignored him.
“Come on, pretty girl,” I cooed, coaxing her down the cleared garden path to the stable. Once she was safely in her stall, I kissed her soft nose.
“When we’re in the Hamptons next weekend,” I told him, “I’m going riding. You should come. Your aunt said you rode.”
“I don’t have time for that. I already wasted a day gardening with you.” He slammed the stall door. “Some of us don’t have parents handing us everything in life. We actually have to work if we want to survive.”
“News flash, Aaron, you’re one of the richest men in the world. You’re not eking out a survival in the barren wasteland. You can take a break, do something other than ruin lives via spreadsheets. Do something fun and creative.”
“Breaks are for soft, pampered trust-fund kids,” he said rapidly. “I saw you out there today. You’re completely spoiled.”
“Having a loving family isn’t being spoiled,” I said quietly.
“Yes, it is.”