Black Rose

rearview mirror to see Hayley rolling her eyes and giving get-to-it hand signals.
    “So... ah, did you and Mitch work on the project last night, or take advantage of the quiet house and just relax?”
    “Stella, why don’t you just ask me if I had sex with him instead of beating around the bush? Nothing I hate more than seeing a bush beat half to death.”
    “I was being subtle,” Stella replied.
    “No, you weren’t.”
    “I told her she didn’t have to lead up to everything,” Hayley said from the back. “Besides, we know you had sex. You’ve got that recently waxed and lubed look.”
    “God.”
    “Of course, it’s none of our business,” Stella put in, shooting Hayley a hot look in the mirror.
    “Of course it’s not,” Roz agreed easily.

    “But we just wanted to find a way to say that we’re happy if you’re happy. That we think Mitch is a terrific guy, and we’re here to support—”
    “Jeez.” Hayley leaned forward as much as her seat belt would allow. “What she’s trying to say in her Stella way is: Score!”
    “I am not. Exactly. I’m trying to say, with some delicacy—”
    “Screw delicacy. Hey, just because people are a little older and all doesn’t mean they don’t want and deserve some touch the same as the next guy.”
    “Oh,” Roz declared. “I repeat, God.”
    “You’re beautiful and sexy,” Hayley continued. “He’s great looking and sexy. So, it seems to me that sex is... She really can’t understand all this, right?” Biting her lip, she glanced at Lily, who was busy playing with her own fingers. “I read this theory on how babies absorb all the stimuli around them, including voices and words, and kind of file them away, and shoot, here we are.”
    She gathered the diaper bag, then jumped out of the car in the rain. After jogging around, she opened the door to release Lily’s harness and drape a blanket over her head. “Don’t say anything interesting while I’m gone. I mean it.”
    When she dashed off, Roz let out a long, heartfelt sigh. “Half the time that girl makes me feel old and creaky, and the other half she makes me feel about eighteen and grass green.”
    “I know exactly what you mean. And I know it sounds like we’re pushing and prying into your private life, but it’s because, well, it’s just because we love you, that’s all. And added to it, we were wondering when you and Mitch might take things up a level.”
    “Wondering, were you?”
    Stella winced. “The subject might have come up in casual conversation. Once or twice.”

    “Why don’t I let you know when and if I’d like to have a casual conversation on the subject?”
    “Sure. Absolutely.”
    When Hayley ran back out, jerked open the door, Stella cleared her throat—loudly—and gave a quick shake of her head. As Hayley let out a disgusted sigh, Stella pulled away from the side of the road and spoke brightly.
    “So, I’ve been working on ideas for displaying the potting soil.”
    HER LIFE DIDN’T change, Roz reminded herself, just because she’d gone to bed with a man she found attractive and appealing. Life went on, with its duties and obligations, its irritations and its pleasures.
    As she headed for her garden club’s monthly meeting, she wasn’t sure which category her current destination landed in.
    A Harper had been a member of the garden club since her grandmother’s day. In fact, her grandmother had helped form it in 1928, and Harper House had held many of its early meetings.
    As the owner of a garden center, she felt a double obligation to support the group and remain an active member. And there were some pleasures attached to it. She enjoyed talking with like-minded people about gardening and felt the club had worked hard to implement fund-raisers for beautification projects.
    But then, there were plenty who just wanted to dress up, have lunch, and gossip.
    She walked into the meeting room at the country club into that beehive hum of female voices. Square enameled pots exploding with forced narcissus sat festively on tables draped with spring-green linen. A podium stood in front of the room for the various committee chairs who’d give their reports or pitches.

    She could only thank God she wasn’t chairing anything currently.
    When she stepped farther into the room, glances shot her way, and the hum of voices trailed off. And died.
    Almost immediately they started up again, just a bit too loud, just a bit too bright. She let the cold shield slide