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His interest in her plans amazed her, since most of the guys she’d known were too consumed with their own lives to be curious about hers. “Usually I follow the art-show circuit because that’s where the business is. People are out traveling, hunting for unique souvenirs to take home with them.”
A slow grin edged across his face, and he cocked his head in a challenging pose. “You didn’t answer my question. Does that mean you’re thinking about staying in Barrett’s Mill awhile longer?”
“No,” she answered reflexively. When he lifted an eyebrow, she had to admit he’d nailed her on this one. She’d been in this particular town longer than any of the others she’d visited, and her mind recognized it was time to move on. The trouble was, the people in Barrett’s Mill had embraced her, making her feel welcome even though they obviously thought she was a nutty artist. “Okay, maybe I am, but only to finish the window for the chapel. It belongs there, and I’ll make sure it’s sound before I give it back to you.”
“And then?”
“I’m not sure,” she confided with a shrug. “I’ve got space reserved in a few art fairs, but none of that’s set in stone. I usually just start driving and pick a place that looks good.”
“Must be nice. I’m stuck here till my parole officer says it’s okay for me to leave.”
His envious tone told her the years he’d spent away from his Blue Ridge hometown were no accident. “Do you have somewhere else you want to be?”
“Anywhere but here. Ironic, huh?” he added with more than a touch of bitterness. “You want to stay, but you’re leaving. I’d like nothing more than to leave, but I’m staying.”
The upshot was they were both staying, at least for the near future. Of course, her ultimate decision had nothing whatsoever to do with Scott being here. The fact that they seemed to be developing some kind of friendship would only make it easier for her to work with him to finish her last job before leaving town.
So, in her usual upbeat way, she did her best to lift his spirits. “Life’s funny that way, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he muttered in disgust. “Tell me about it.”
* * *
“So tell me something,” Jenna began in the curious tone he’d quickly learned to be wary of. “Does anyone ever say no to your mother?”
He made a show of thinking that over, squinting up at the beams in the ceiling. Focusing back on her, he grinned and shook his head. “Nope.”
“I wonder what her secret is.”
Stepping closer, he leaned in and murmured, “We’re all afraid of her.”
Jenna laughed at that, and it struck him that she was one of the most cheerful people he’d ever met. With a ready smile and a dry sense of humor that mirrored his own, she was sweet and fun, with a heart open enough to care about a sad teenage girl and an ex-con who’d given up on having the kind of life he wanted more than anything.
Something deep inside him that had been dead a long time began rustling, as if it was waking from a long sleep to discover the sun was shining. Much to his dismay, a single morning with Jenna Reed had him rethinking his vow to be content with his own company.
Knowing how dangerous such sentimental thoughts could be, he firmly pushed them back down where they belonged. She was leaving town in a few weeks, and after that, chances were he’d never see her again.
Considering his disastrous track record with women, knowing they’d remain friends should have eased his worries. Instead, it made him wish things could be different.
“Ready to go?” Hoping to conceal his conflicting emotions from her, he leaned down to pick up the quilts.
“In a sec.” Leaving him by the door, she scampered up the open-backed steps that led up to the loft and came down with a glass dish. “Olivia sent some leftovers back with me after one of your family’s Sunday dinners a couple weeks ago. Her house is on the way out to the cemetery. Would you mind stopping there real quick so I can return this?”
Scott recognized a setup when he heard one, and he gave her a long, hard stare. Most people backed up a step or two when he did that, but this woman didn’t even flinch. She took it in stride, patiently waiting for him to answer her. He’d already told her more than he should have about himself, but he couldn’t seem to help going a step further. “It’s not that I don’t want to see her.”
“This isn’t about you seeing her,” Jenna informed him as if she had no clue what he was referring to. “It’s about me returning a dish. You don’t even have to get out of the truck if you don’t want to.”
“That’d look stupid, and you know it.”
“Contrary to what you seem to believe, folks have plenty going on in their own lives without worrying about what you’re up to,” she retorted primly. “If you’d rather she doesn’t know you’re there, I won’t mention it. Go inside or don’t. Totally up to you.”
With that, she sailed past him and out the door to his truck.
“Do you always leave your door open like this?” he shouted.
“Just pull it shut. It’ll lock behind you.”
Outmaneuvered for now, he followed along and joined her in the cab of the ancient pickup. Mentally crossing his fingers, he turned the key and was relieved when the engine turned over with only a mild protest. As it settled into a throaty rumble, he pulled out onto the highway and headed for town.
Heading up Main Street, he was treated to the full-color version of Gretchen’s sketch and couldn’t help smiling. He hadn’t experienced spring in the Blue Ridge Mountains in a long time, and he had to admit it was even prettier than he remembered. A warm breeze wafted through the open windows, scented with a combination of various flowers and the barbecue cookers out back of The Whistlestop.
Originally built from an old trolley and section of track, the town’s landmark diner now boasted a modest-size dining room that served up some of the best food anywhere. He’d visited lots of places and eaten in dozens of restaurants, but for him Molly and Bruce Harkness’s down-home cooking still ranked at the top.
“I love that restaurant,” Jenna said, taking a long sniff of the air. “Not only can those two cook up a storm, they were my first customers when I came into town. Beyond that, Molly’s the best PR I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, she knows everyone hereabouts,” Scott agreed, recalling his grandmother’s old friend with a grin. “If she likes you, you’re golden.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
He gave a mock shudder. “I don’t even wanna think about it.”
On the other side of the tiny business district, he took a right into his grandparents’ driveway. Well, Gram’s driveway now, he amended soberly. Granddad’s beloved blue sedan sat in its usual spot, its cover of dust showing it hadn’t been moved recently. Parking beside it, Scott said, “Someone should take that old clunker out and make sure it’ll run if she needs to use it.”
“Good idea,” Jenna agreed lightly as she reached for the handle. “I won’t be long.”
“Don’t be a goose. I’m going with you.” When he climbed out and walked around to open the passenger door for her, he found her smiling at him. “What?”
“You’re going to make her day, you know.”
“Or ruin it,” he parried, suddenly uncertain about his decision to tag along. Glancing at the old farmhouse, he still could remember racing around the yard with his cousins and climbing the tall oaks that shaded the front porch. With a collection of white wicker furniture and hanging pots of bright flowers, it invited you to come up and sit for a while.
Welcoming, he thought with a frown. The trouble was, he’d been gone so long he wasn’t sure he belonged here anymore. While he debated with himself, the front screen door creaked open, and his grandmother stepped onto the porch. She gave him a long look, and he fought the urge to squirm the way he had when he’d been a little boy caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
“I’ve got fresh snickerdoodles and lemonade,” she said finally. “If you want some.”
His favorite childhood snack. He couldn’t imagine how she’d known to make it. Then it hit him, and he turned to Jenna. “You called her?”
“When you were hunting for those quilts,” she confirmed with a poorly concealed grin.
So, the sunny artist had a devious side, he mused as he opened Jenna’s door and walked up the front steps with her. Who knew? When he reached the porch, he saw tears welling in Gram’s eyes and stopped dead. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m just so happy to see you. It’s been such a long time.”
She opened her arms wide, and the last bit of his misgivings evaporated as he went into that warm embrace. He’d dreamed of it so many times, he’d begun to believe the recurring image was simply the result of being homesick. But now, standing there with her, knowing she forgave him for the mistakes he’d made, he actually could believe that somehow, someday everything would be all right.
Chapter Four (#ulink_3e7c7f4c-69f2-5037-85d0-e1176bb11e56)
Inside the Barrett house, things were right and wrong at the same time.
Jenna hadn’t been here since Will’s funeral, and it still struck her as odd that the dining room had gone back to its normal configuration. During the final months of his illness, Will’s hospital bed had dominated a corner of the large room, leaving space for the visitors Olivia coerced into dropping by so she and her husband wouldn’t feel so isolated. Its absence only reinforced the fact that Jenna never again would see the kind old man who’d found so much joy in a simple landscape she’d painted for him.
“So nice to have company during the week,” Olivia said, motioning for them to sit at the kitchen table. Donning a set of oven mitts shaped like sunflowers, she pulled a scrumptious tray of cookies from the oven in a cloud of cinnamon-sugary aroma. “Ever since Jenna called, I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out how you two could possibly have met. It must be an interesting story.”
After pouring three glasses of lemonade, she set the plate of cookies down and joined them with an expectant look. Jenna waited for Scott to answer her, but he was too busy shoving cookies into his mouth. Deciding it was up to her, she said, “I went out to the cemetery to plant flowers for Will, and Scott was there. So I drafted him to help me out. It turns out he’s pretty good with a shovel.”
“And she’s pretty good at giving orders,” he piped up with a chuckle. “Worked out fine.”
Olivia turned an adoring look on him and patted his hand. “It can’t have been easy for you, but I know your grandfather was pleased to see you. Thank you for taking the time to go out there and be with him awhile.”
Misery swept across Scott’s face, and he fixed her with a pleading look. “I wanted to visit sooner, Gram. I just couldn’t.”
“Have you been avoiding the cemetery,” she asked gently, “or me?”
That tortured expression was back, only much worse than she’d seen on his face earlier. Jenna felt awkward being included in such a private moment, but she feared moving would distract him from forcing the guilt he felt out into the open. That was the first step in overcoming it, she knew, and instinct told her his compassionate but very pragmatic grandmother was the one to nudge him in the right direction.
“Both,” he confided in a hoarse whisper. After swallowing some lemonade, he rested his hand over hers. “I’ll always be sorry for that.”
“Oh, I hope not,” she told him briskly. “Such a waste of time, reliving the past over and over.” Dark eyes twinkling with her characteristic optimism, she punctuated her little lesson with a fond smile. “Those times are done and gone, and now that you’re home, there are plenty more good ones to come. You’ll see.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
It took him a few seconds, but he returned the smile, and Jenna got a glimpse of what this cool, distant man must have looked like years ago, before the consequences of his bad choices had all but shut him down. She sensed there was more to it than mere happiness, and she mulled that over while the three of them chatted about the latest goings-on around town. When she finally identified what had changed Scott’s mood, she couldn’t help smiling.
It was trust. So he was capable of it, after all, she mused with genuine interest. Prison hadn’t destroyed it, just sent it into hiding. Which, considering what he must have been through, was totally understandable. Knowing he still had the ability to believe in someone made Jenna want to find a way to make him trust her, too. She wasn’t sure why his opinion of her mattered so much, but in situations like this she always listened to her intuition. Even if what it was telling her didn’t make sense at the time, in the long run it was usually right.
“Here we are, rattling along, when we’ve got a guest at the table,” Olivia said, bringing Jenna back into the conversation. “How are things at your studio?”
No one wanted to hear her life was chaotic and she was way behind on her deadlines, so she smiled and gave her usual chipper response. “Just fine. Diane stopped in this morning and asked me to drop by the teen center later this week to talk to one of the new girls about art.”
“Gretchen,” Olivia commented with a nod. “Such a heartbreaking story with her and her father struggling the way they are. You’re just the kind of role model she needs.”
“I don’t think I’d be anyone’s choice as a mentor,” Jenna protested with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure Diane just wants me to tell Gretchen how talented she is, encourage her to keep practicing, that kind of thing.”
“Like that munchkin art professor did for you,” Scott suggested.
“In slightly less colorful language,” she clarified with a nostalgic smile. “Miss Fontaine was—what’s the word?”
“Nutty?” he asked in a helpful tone.
“Eccentric. Most creative people are.”
“Oh, that’s true,” Olivia confirmed with a nod. “My old friend Annabelle, God rest her, sang like an angel and could play a dozen different instruments. She also talked to the coatrack in her foyer like it was a real person and couldn’t remember what she was doing from one minute to the next. She was a gifted musician but madder than a hatter.”
They all laughed at that, and Scott polished off the rest of his drink before standing. “I hate to leave, Gram, but I have to drop Jenna off at the cemetery so she can pick up her van. After that, I really should get back to the house. If I don’t finish covering the holes in the chapel roof, that storm they’re talking about is gonna wreck all the new wood I put up inside.”
“Don’t you dare apologize to me for being busy. I’ve got things to do, too,” she assured him as she stood and went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. All her grandsons towered over her, but Jenna thought it was adorable the way Olivia still gave them a quick peck whenever they were headed out. “If you’re interested, I’m making pot roast Friday night.”
Grinning, he cocked his head like a half-starved hound who’d just gotten wind of a free meal. “For me?”
“Well, it’s not for me,” she teased, then turned to Jenna with a critical look. “I noticed you’ve been losing weight again, dear. I think you’d better come, too, and have something that didn’t come out of a microwave. There will be plenty of food, so you two can split the leftovers.”
Scott eyed her warily. “You’re not trying to set us up, are you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided him. “I’ve invited everyone who’s got the night free, so there will be lots of other folks here.”
“You’re having a family shindig now?” he asked. “How come?”
“Because I feel like having company, and no one ever turns down my cooking.” She looked from him to Jenna. “Should I plan on seeing you two or not?”
Jenna had been planning to work late to finish up the doggy painting for her clients. But since she didn’t have a domestic bone in her body, she never could resist the lure of a home-cooked meal. “Sounds good to me. Six o’clock?”
Olivia gave her grandson a questioning look, and after hesitating, he gave in with a grin. “Works for me. While I’m here, I’ll tighten up that loose railing on your front steps.”
She beamed at him as if he’d just offered to build her a whole new porch. “That would be wonderful, honey. Thank you.”
“I’d imagine there’s a lot more jobs like that around here,” he commented as she walked Jenna and him to the door. “I know Paul and Jason have their hands full with the mill, so you go ahead and make a list. It might take me a while, but I’ll make sure everything gets done.”
“I’ll do that.” Pausing on the porch, she hugged him again, grasping his arms as she gazed up at him. “Welcome home, Scott.”
His sheepish grin made him look about ten years old, and he stooped to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Gram. See you Friday.”
Back in the truck, Jenna couldn’t help gloating a little. “So, that went well.”
“As blatant manipulation goes, it was a ten.” While he fiddled with the ignition, he sighed. “But I can’t blame you for taking a shot. I wasn’t getting anywhere on my own, but now I feel stupid for being so worried about seeing her.”
“Your grandmother is a very forgiving person,” Jenna reminded him gently. “Actually, your whole family’s like that. It’s one of the big reasons I enjoy spending time with them. They don’t expect anyone to be perfect, and that makes it easier for me to be myself.”
“Mostly, they don’t have patience for a lot of nonsense.” When the ancient truck finally let out a hacking cough and started, Scott pulled out of the driveway and headed out of town. “Mom sees right through that kinda thing, and she seems to think a lot of you. That’s good enough for me.”
“Good to know.”
“So, what’ve you got planned for Gretchen?”
“No plans,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll let her run the show. If she wants to confide in me, I’ll listen. If not, that’ll be okay, too. She’s old enough to decide stuff like that for herself.”
Slanting her a look, Scott opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. His reserve came across to her as more of a habit than part of his real personality, and she seized the opportunity to take another whack at this very stubborn nut. “You wanted to ask me something?”
“None of my business.”
“That never stops anyone else,” she informed him with a laugh. “What did you want to know?”
Another hesitation, then very quietly he asked, “What happened with you and your mom?”
Jenna’s heart thudded to a stop. Of all the things he could have questioned her about, her mother was the last one she’d anticipated. In the past year, the only person she’d confessed her sordid history to was Diane Barrett, and then only with a lot of patient—and persistent—encouragement.
Keeping secrets, that one especially, had become a bad tendency for her. Gradually, she’d come to recognize that it served no purpose other than to lead her in never-ending circles back to a time in her life she was trying desperately to leave behind her. But Scott had been forthright with her about his own past, she reminded herself. It was only fair for her to do the same.
“It’s not a nice story,” she cautioned him.
