Chapter Five
“Always tell the truth. But only if you tell anything at all.”
—Blu Johnson, life lesson #75
“I seriously have to get back into lifting weights.” Jill ground the words out as she hefted the blue ceramic sink above her shoulders and sent it sailing over the side of the metal dumpster. It clanged against the wall before being muffled in the pile of flooring that had already been tossed in. She, Heather, and Trenton were working hard on cleaning up the debris that had been removed from the house, determined to have a clean slate by the end of the day.
“I call uncle,” Heather huffed out. Her usually stylish hair was a matted mess of sweat and dust, and her jeans and T-shirt were as grimy as Jill’s and Trenton’s.
“You’re too soft,” Trenton informed her. Trenton scooped up a pile of subway tiles and tossed them into the bin.
“Someone in this group has to be soft,” Heather argued.
It wasn’t that Heather wasn’t into the physical-labor side of the job, but she was better suited for the beautification of it. She typically designed the interiors, as well as made final decisions with the landscapers. Those were the activities she enjoyed most.
“And someone has to get the job done,” Trenton lobbed back. Another shovelful of tile clattered off the walls of the dumpster.
“I’m siding with Heather on this one.” Jill glanced at her watch as she caught her breath. “We need a break. We’ve been going since before daylight.”
“And we forgot to eat lunch,” Heather added.
Trenton stopped midmotion, shovel angled down for another scoop, and put a hand to her stomach. It responded with a loud rumble. “How did we forget to eat lunch?”
Trenton had a healthy appetite, with a metabolism to match.
“We worked through while everyone else took a break, remember? No time to waste.”
At the mention of the other ladies working with them, an interior door sailed from the hole on the second floor where the dormer window used to be. It landed in the middle of the dumpster, and Ashley Mayberry immediately poked her head out and looked down. She cringed when she saw them. “Sorry,” she called out. “Sarah bet Josie that she couldn’t score two points.”
Sarah’s and Josie’s faces appeared beside Ashley’s, and Heather muttered something about “not having time for this.” She headed off to retrieve their lunches, while Trenton searched out a spot in the front yard to “get horizontal.”
Jill shaded her eyes and looked up.
Bluebonnet Construction was a company that hired only females, mostly girls who’d spent time living with Aunt Blu and who needed a place to land after they turned eighteen. And thankfully, a lot of those women were either still around or already working for Bluebonnet. Jill had reached out to each of them, and pretty much everyone had been eager to be a part of this project. Which meant a full crew had been lined up for the remaining five weeks. However, also thanks to that same excitement, a few of that crew were overexcited.
“We have a house to renovate first and foremost,” Jill reminded them. “No horseplay, no one gets hurt.”
“Yes, boss,” the three of them recited.
But almost as soon as the words left their mouths, their gazes locked on something behind Jill and their postures straightened.
Jill turned—and then she groaned. “Seriously, Len. Don’t you ever get tired of following me around?”
Len produced a broad grin. “I can think of worse ways to spend my time. Especially when I’m in the ‘following’ position.”
If Jill hadn’t been so exhausted, she would have laughed at the big man. Or punched him. Since pounding out some of her frustration on the kitchen walls a couple of nights ago, she’d been noticeably less worked up, and as part of that, she’d also begun to see her personal cameraman through her foster sisters’ eyes. He really did seem to be a good guy.
Len was originally from Georgia and had lived in California when he’d started out in the business, but since holding a permanent position with Texas Dream Home, he’d bought a house in Waco, where he now spent most of his time.
He was kind of like a jolly Santa Claus, only with red hair—and a lascivious mind.
“You’ll miss me one day.” Len winked, and tired or not, Jill laughed.
“I will, Len. But not soon enough.”
Len winked at her again—a man who could appreciate a good smart-ass comment—and Patrick made his way over to them. He had his trusty clipboard in hand and motioned toward the porch. “Can we get in a quick stand-up before you break for lunch? Then while you eat, Len can get shots of the interior now that it’s down to the studs.”
“Get some shots of us, too, Len,” Ashley singsonged down from the second floor.
Jill looked up again to find a dormer full of smiling faces staring down at them, and she just shook her head. At least they were hard workers. Otherwise, with most of them trying to finagle their fifteen minutes of fame, the schedule would get out of hand in a hurry.
She also knew that Len most definitely would get shots of all of them. He’d at least check them out. Because from what she could tell, the man’s libido could put a younger man’s to shame.
Jill allowed Patrick to position her on the porch where he wanted her as Heather returned with a backpack cooler thrown over her shoulder. Heather had also managed some quick repair to her hair while she’d been gone, but instead of her and Trenton digging into the food, they sat together under a nearby tree and turned their focus on her. That had been the strategy they’d come up with. All three of them had pieces of their lives they’d rather the show not delve into deeply, so if anyone got pulled to the side, someone else would “stand guard”—ready to rescue, if need be. Thankfully, no rescues had been needed thus far.
Patrick walked Jill through a series of questions about the work that had been done over the past couple of days, as well as the next steps they’d take in the renovations, and Jill instantly relaxed into the role. She’d easily grown comfortable with the cameras.
“So, just one more thing.” Patrick slid a photograph out from beneath the papers on his clipboard. “We came across this beauty the other day.”
Jill stared down at the photo of her and Cal on their wedding day.
She’d gotten used to Patrick’s attempts to get her to talk about Cal. Or to be on camera with Cal. In fact, she’d turned his attempts into a game, trying to predict and then outsmart the producer’s next maneuver. But this one caught her off guard. She passed the picture back.
“We were cute, huh?” They’d looked amazingly happy. Especially for two people who would be divorced a short twenty-four hours later. “Don’t we all wish we could still look the way we did at eighteen?”
At her question, Heather and Trenton rose to their feet.
“I understand the two of you went down different paths after that,” Patrick pushed.
“That’s right.”
“Cal came back home.” Patrick stressed the last word. “But you went to California. You had an LA address for a while.”
“You’re a thorough man, Mr. Whitaker.” This bit of news didn’t surprise her.
Trenton inched closer.
“Just doing my job, Ms. Sadler. So let’s talk about LA, shall we? Why there?”
She gave a casual shrug. “Why anywhere?”
“What did you do?”
“A little of this, a little of that.” She used the words as a stall tactic as she worked out how best to play this. She wasn’t about to give him the reasoning she’d given her friends at the time. It was none of his business that her father was supposedly a big-name actor. And she sure as hell didn’t plan to tell him she’d gone out there with big hopes and childish dreams.
But she could see she’d have to give him something. Otherwise, he’d keep digging.
So she decided it was time for a useful sound bite or two. The purpose of coming on the show was about winning new clients, after all, and she could totally provide a story in keeping with how the town had seen her at the time. It was bound to tug on hearts.
She glanced at her hands before looking back up. “Mostly, I tried to get lost.” She said the words with heavy emotion, making sure to show the same on her face.
Everyone around them seemed to hold their breath.
“From Cal?” Patrick asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t need to hide from Cal. He wasn’t looking for me. I was hiding from myself. Have you ever just not wanted to be you, Patrick? Ever had that bad of a day? A week?” She paused for dramatic effect and pressed her lips together as she swallowed. “Years?” she whispered. “I wasn’t hiding from someone. I was simply not being Jill Sadler for a while. That girl had a rough start to her life.”
Patrick nodded—the wind had been knocked out of him. “I understand that she did.” He glanced at Heather and Trenton, and legit concern seemed to fill his eyes. “Did you want to go ahead and talk a little about that now?”
The three of them had decided to tell the stories of how they’d come to be orphans by being interviewed together.
“Not now.” She glanced up at the one-and-a-half-story house, at the now-missing porch roof, and pictured the open trusses they’d eventually add to create a more welcoming entry into the home. And she let herself go to a place she rarely visited. She thought about coming home to discover that her life was suddenly different. About how her mother had killed herself—without consideration for her only child.
She pictured her mother as she’d found her.
She thought about all the times she’d tried her best to be there for her mom. To give her mother something to live for.
And she thought about how she’d failed.
Jill allowed the hurt from those years to define her features, and other than noise from the work going on at the other house, no one made a sound.
Before the memories became too much, she forced her mind to the man next door. To the competition at hand. She hadn’t lost the ability to show the cameras what she wanted them to see. She knew that now. Which meant that she had Cal beat when it came to winning viewers. He might have charm on his side, but she had skill. And she had a backstory.
She let a tear slip from her eye, then wiped it away and refocused on the job at hand. “I needed to escape.” She faced the camera. “To find the real me. And when I did, I came home.” She motioned toward Heather and Trenton and saw that another cameraman had repositioned on them. “The three of us started out together almost sixteen years ago . . . and then we found each other again ten years later. I came home when it was time, Patrick. As did all of us. And I decided to make something of myself other than just being ‘that poor little Sadler girl’ from Red Oak Falls, Texas.”
Trenton and Heather swiped at their eyes as she finished her monologue, and Jill knew she’d scored. Because her foster sisters cried as rarely as she did.
“I cannot believe all of that was fake.” Trenton was horizontal in the grass again, all three of them under the massive oak that shaded both the front yard and the crumbling sidewalk, and none of them were currently wearing their mic packs.
Jill had declared a break from being recorded after finishing on the porch—also insisting that Len find someone else to harass for a while—and instead of simply muting their mics, they’d taken great pleasure in stripping them off each other. The tape and wires weren’t the easiest things to get out of, and Patrick would be annoyed when he realized someone would have to redo it all. But after the wedding photo he’d sprung on her, Jill didn’t care.
“I wasn’t bad, was I?” Jill took a sandwich from Heather. “I even made you both cry.”
“Only because we thought you were crying,” Heather protested. She passed a bottle of juice and a sandwich to Trenton, and Trenton pushed to one elbow to eat.
Trenton made a face at the sight of the green juice. She wasn’t nearly as health conscious as Heather—but she would also never reject anything with calories. She unscrewed the cap and looked up at Jill. “You were so believable that I’m beginning to think being around all those LA types for so long must have worn off on you. You shine on camera, chica.”
Jill grinned. She’d take that compliment.
“And I totally get why they wanted to center the show around you,” Heather added. She unwrapped her own sandwich, though it was on a spinach wrap—and likely only contained veggies. “I had no idea you had that in you.”
Jill chewed on her bottom lip as her foster sisters dug into their lunches. She couldn’t eat thanks to the anticipation suddenly filling her. She wanted to tell them. The feeling of failure had always been so prevalent that she’d preferred not to think about those six years. About why she’d gone out there. But for the first time since coming home, she wanted to talk about it. She wanted her friends to know.
She plucked a blade of grass from beside her thigh and spoke while staring at the ground. “It might not come from being around those people, so much as from the years of acting classes I took.”
Heather choked on her juice. While Trenton shot upright.
“The what?” Trenton screeched.
Heather coughed into her fist.
“The . . . uhmmm . . .” Jill gave them an apologetic grimace. “Acting. Classes.”
“Since when?” Heather wheezed.
“Since . . . the whole time I was out there.”
Heather and Trenton just stared at her. Several people had glanced their way after the initial commotion, but when nothing else happened, they returned their attention to their work.
“I thought you went out there to find your dad,” Heather finally said. Her confusion drew a vertical line in the space between her eyes.
“I did go out there to find him,” Jill hurried to assure them. “That wasn’t a lie.” She had wanted to go to Hollywood to find her father. From an early age she’d had fantasies of bringing him home so her mother would finally have someone who would love her enough. “Only, I . . .”
Only, her mother had died, and her wants had shifted.
“Only, you wanted to act, too,” Trenton accused. She’d managed to sit up even straighter, so that she now looked down her nose at Jill. “You said you took classes the whole time you were out there. Does that mean you knew you wanted to act before you left?”
Jill nodded.
“And what?” Trenton continued. “It just never occurred to you to mention this to us? Neither before, nor in all the years since?”
“I’m sorry,” Jill whispered. She felt horrible, but the reality of the situation was that she’d never truly expected to see them again. They’d been great friends, sure. Life wouldn’t have been the same if she hadn’t had them back then. And they’d all said they would keep in touch.
But words were easy. She’d learned that with her mom.
It was also far too easy to believe you meant more to others than you did.
Pain touched Trenton’s eyes. “Did you think we wouldn’t support you?”
“No,” Jill protested. “That’s not it. I just . . .”
She swallowed. She’d just needed a layer of protection around what she’d desired the most. And the fact was, they had lost contact for a few years.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I think it was more that saying it out loud scared me too much. It scared me more than the thought of not going. And I really wanted to go. I used to watch the drama club at school.” She could remember those days clearly. She’d be in the background as part of the stage crew, but at the same time, she’d keep an ear out for everything being said on stage. She’d never missed a rehearsal. And she’d memorized every line. “I so wanted to be in the plays,” she admitted now.
Those words had never been uttered out loud.
“But I was too terrified to try out. Too afraid to fail.”
“You should have told us,” Heather said. She reached over and rested a hand on Jill’s thigh.
“I know.” Jill nodded. She put her hand over Heather’s, and she glanced at Trenton. “I should have. But we all had our issues, right? I wanted to prove myself before sharing something like that.”
She’d wanted to be the fourth person from Red Oak Falls to make it in the world.
After Cal left her in Vegas, she’d been too mortified to talk to anyone. About anything. She’d ignored her phone for weeks. Then she’d just been angry. That anger had fueled her stubbornness, and her visions of grandeur had grown. She’d worked her rear off trying to make it as an actress. Only, grandeur never came. And by the time she’d been on the bus heading back to Texas, she realized she was even more alone than she’d ever been. She hadn’t spoken to either Heather or Trenton in years—they’d drifted apart as time passed—and she’d had no idea if Aunt Blu would so much as open her door for her.
She’d failed. No one had wanted her. And she’d had nowhere else to go but Red Oak Falls.
“So what happened?” Heather asked. She was more easily forgiving than Trenton.
“Nothing in the end,” Jill answered. “I went out there and I was instantly overwhelmed with the talent I saw everywhere, so I enrolled in a class. I took every acting class I could find for the first few years, and after that, I mostly did improv. Stuff like that. I couldn’t keep up with the cost of the classes all the time, but I kept trying. Because I really thought I had talent. That I could make a career of it.”
“You do!” Heather flapped a hand toward the porch. “You could. We just saw it. And it wasn’t only today, either. You were stellar when Bob and Debra were here. We just didn’t say anything because we thought that was about putting on a face around Cal.”
“Oh, it was about putting on a face around Cal. Don’t think for a second that I’m not still angry at him. But there’s no way I’ll give him the pleasure of seeing it play out on screen.”
Of course, he’d seen it in person Wednesday night.
“So you just beat the crap out of our kitchen instead?” Trenton said, and Jill gave a little nod.
“At least it was work that needed to be done,” she offered.
Her foster sisters had commented on the kitchen’s destruction the morning after, but neither had asked a pointed question about it until now. Jill had also kept secret the fact that Cal had come over while she’d been in the middle of it.
“That was a little concerning,” Trenton told her. “Coming in and seeing that. You haven’t lost your cool like that in a long time.”
“I would maintain that I didn’t lose my cool so much as have a controlled burn,” Jill explained. “The first few days of this week were tough. I wasn’t prepared for everything. You know”—she nodded toward the Cadillac House—“with him. I needed to work out a few kinks.”
“And you’re better now? You’re okay with him?”
“You do seem better,” Heather offered.
“I’m adjusting.” Jill gave a little chuckle. “I’m also counting down the days.”
Pete Logan came out of the house next door before they could get back to Jill’s story, and captured their attention. The man was not bad looking at all. At least six foot, solidly built. And he currently had clumps of dust clinging to the black cotton of his T-shirt. It was strangely adorable. He glanced at them sitting under the tree, before turning back to speak with someone still inside the house. Then instead of going wherever he’d been headed, he disappeared back inside.
As they watched, Heather let out a mopey-sounding sigh, and Jill looked at her questioningly.
“I still wish we’d gotten that house,” Heather explained.
“But we didn’t,” Trenton asserted. “And we’re not talking about the house right now. We’re talking about Hollywood. And Jill’s rise to fame.”
They’d actually been talking about her temper at that particular moment, but Jill didn’t point out the distinction. “It was more like my non-rise to fame,” she clarified instead. She then returned her attention to Heather. “And seriously, why would you still want that house? It has so much more potential for problems. Didn’t you hear about their plumbing inspection? Even worse than we’d expected. And much worse than ours.”
The report had reinforced the pleasure she’d taken in manipulating Cal into choosing the worst house. During their initial walk-through, she’d caught him studying the three of them. As if watching for a tell as to which house they preferred. So she’d given him the sign he’d been looking for.
She’d oohed and aahed over all the tucked-away spaces and the gorgeous trim work. She’d let her breathing pick up as she’d “visualized” what the main floor could one day become. Only, she’d done it all “secretly,” while making sure Cal witnessed her trying to not let him see. Her acting skills had already been razor sharp on day one.
“But Bonnie Beckman is still going on about it,” Heather told them. “She caught me at the grocery store last night. She’s already calling Cal the winner. That could have been us.”
“It can still be us,” Trenton added, though her tone implied she couldn’t care less about winning at the moment. “Now seriously. Hollywood. What happened? Did you get any parts?”
Jill pulled her thoughts back from screwing with Cal and answered the question. “No,” she stated bluntly. “Nothing worth mentioning, anyway. I went by the stage name of Jessica Grant, so you wouldn’t find my name on anything if you tried.”
“And what made you finally come home?” Heather scooted around until she sat facing both of them. “Because at this point, I’m assuming it wasn’t that you ‘found yourself,’ as you told Patrick.”
Jill grinned. She did enjoy messing with Patrick.
She finally unwrapped her sandwich. “Correct. I did not find myself. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m still looking.” But she also wasn’t sure she was ready to admit what had finally driven her out of California.
Not all of it, anyway.
“Mostly it was money,” she told them. “I was out of it, and it costs a fortune to live there. I also discovered that I didn’t like LA the way I’d always dreamed I would. It wasn’t . . . home. You know?”
Heather nodded silently, while Trenton simply watched. As if understanding there was more to the story.
“And talk about demoralizing,” Jill continued. She let her eyelids drift closed as she went back to those days. “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get anywhere. It ticked me off. But it also broke my spirit.” She swallowed. “It beat at my confidence.”
“That’s why you don’t watch TV.”
Jill opened her eyes at Trenton’s statement. “Right. My failure wouldn’t crush me quite as much if I wasn’t constantly reminded of what I failed to achieve. At least, that was the theory.”
“And did it work?” Heather asked.
Jill only shrugged. She still didn’t watch TV.
“Then tell us . . .” Heather motioned to one of the camera crews. “You’re very good at acting. I can understand why you wanted it. So, is all of this making you miss it? Is it making you wish you could try again?”
“I’m not quitting our company,” Jill assured her.
“That’s not what I asked.”
But that was what was most important, Jill thought. It had taken her too long to realize what these two women meant to her. Not to mention Aunt Blu. She wouldn’t give that up now for anything. Or for any part.
However, with Heather’s question hanging in the air—and with Trenton still eyeing her, as well—Jill forced herself to think about the situation. She’d been so focused on lining up the subs and getting work under way that she hadn’t really given thought to how she felt about the rest of it. She put her back to the tree and worked on her sandwich as she stared at both houses.
“I don’t know,” she finally said. She was having fun. She could admit that. “I am enjoying it. More than I expected to. Especially considering that so much of my energy has to go toward avoiding Cal.”
Trenton snorted. “I’d say your avoidance is adding to your fun.”
Jill sat up straighter. “What do you mean by that?”
Trenton rolled her eyes at the defensive tone. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I’m just saying that you always did enjoy trying to one-up people. And Patrick is like a dog with a bone the way he tries to get you to talk about Cal. Or be caught in the same shot as Cal.”
“That he is.” Jill smiled. “And yes, I am enjoying it. A lot. I sense he doesn’t appreciate my efforts as much as I do, though.”
Trenton and Heather both laughed, and Trenton dropped back to the ground, her head now pillowed by the grass. She stared up at Jill. “So, do you think he’ll stop?”
“Would you if you were producing the show?”
Trenton shook her head, and Jill did the same. It may be all a game to her, but the man had a show to put on, and she knew it. No way would Patrick give up trying to get his two stars on camera together. Especially when there was an ongoing feud between them.
Cal came out of the other house then, and though Jill hadn’t once looked directly at him since he’d caught her with the sledgehammer, she couldn’t stop herself from watching now. He was a solid six two, no extra fat anywhere, and he moved in a kind of slow roll. His shoulders swaggered a little, which alone could draw any woman’s attention, but it was his thighs that had always reeled Jill in. They were thick and muscled, same as the rest of him, but they turned outward just the slightest amount. As if what lay nestled between needed that little bit of extra room.
Her throat went dry. She knew what lay nestled between.
Jill felt Heather’s gaze on her as she watched Cal, then Heather turned her head, same as Jill’s, and joined her in tuning in to the action next door. Trenton rolled to her side to participate, as well, and the three of them admired the view as Pete came out of the house next. Following him was the redhead who’d been working with Cal and his crew that week. The redhead wasn’t an overly large man—and there was a softness to his features that made him look closer to twelve than whatever age he might possibly be—yet he moved with a strength not unlike Cal’s.
They headed to Cal’s truck, each hefting a couple of bags of leveling concrete out of the bed, and as their legs ate up the space back to the house, the redhead glanced toward the tree. His gaze landed on Jill and his footsteps slowed.
“That boy needs to get laid,” Trenton muttered under her breath, and Jill promptly snorted, choking on a gulp of the juice she’d been drinking.
“I vote Heather do it,” she croaked out. “Heather’s the one who likes redheads.”
“Oh, but sweetie. It isn’t me that redhead has his eye on.”
Jill lowered her gaze with embarrassment, because Heather was right. The guy’s name was Doug Caldwell, and yes, he had his eye on her. He’d done some phenomenal tile work over at the Rusted Rooster when the owners had decided to class up the place the year before. Therefore, Jill was aware of who he was. But over the last two days, every single time the boy’s eyes had turned her way, she’d sworn she felt steam radiate off him. And that didn’t even include the heat filling his cheeks with every glance.
Poor little redhead.
“How old can he possibly be, anyway?” Jill looked up from her lap. “He can’t be more than twenty, right?”
The men returned to the truck.
“Eighteen, maybe?” Trenton guessed. “At least that would be legal.”
Jill once again snorted her juice.
Trenton snickered at Jill’s choking, and Jill threw the almost-empty bottle at her. But Trenton caught it and fired it right back. It bounced off the side of Jill’s head, splashing the final drops into her hair, and as she cackled with laughter, Little Red tripped over his own two feet.
Jill smiled at him then. Giving him a full-blown I’m-watching-you-watch-me grin.
Heather elbowed her in the ribs when Red smiled back. “You’re evil,” she whispered.
“I know.” The boy’s cheeks were darn-near red at that point.
But Jill was also aware that Cal had lingered at his truck while Little Red had been dawdling in the yard. And that Cal was looking at her, as well. That’s where her true evil lay.
She stood then, fearing that if she didn’t soon get out of there, she’d take another direct look.
“Break’s over,” she announced.
She swiped at her rear to dislodge whatever dirt might have accumulated while sitting on the ground, then helped to gather the mic packs and the remainder of their lunch—all while ignoring her ex-husband, Little Red, and Len—who was once again heading her way. And as they walked off to find Patrick, Jill conceded that though she might have managed not to take another look toward the Cadillac House, she was very much aware that Cal’s gaze had remained affixed on her.
Only thirty-five more days to go. She had this.