Chapter Eleven
To Do:
Call Top Dog Roofing
Start painting rooms
Convince daughter this will be fun
Jenna’s mom checked in when Jenna was getting ready for church. “I’m glad you’re settling in down there,” she said to Jenna.
“Well, one of us is settling in,” Jenna said, twisting her hair into a knot. It was a good thing that ombré highlights were in style because her roots were taking over. “Sabrina’s still not happy in Wonderland. And she’s really not looking forward to church. The kids haven’t exactly been welcoming. I’m probably going to have to pry her out of bed with a crowbar.”
“Jealous girls?” Mel guessed.
“You got it.”
“Don’t give up. There’s bound to be a nice one in there somewhere.”
“I wish she’d show up pretty soon.”
“So, our baby’s not enjoying herself at all?”
“Oh, she is. As long as I’m spending money on her or doing something to keep her entertained. She’s not enjoying helping with cleanup. She’d as soon go live with Damien as stay here with me.” Jenna sighed. “If he wanted her...” Would she be able to part with her daughter if it made her happy? Yes, if that was what it took. The very thought made tears rush to her eyes.
“That’s a moot point, since he doesn’t have custody.”
He’d claimed he wanted to be able to spend time with his daughter, even made sure the court entitled him to do so, but his actions didn’t exactly speak louder than his words. She should give him the opportunity to prove it, call him and see if he could take Sabrina for a weekend visit. He could certainly manage that.
“Anyway, don’t give up,” Mel said. “She’ll adjust.”
“I wish I could make her transition easier.”
“It would be easier if she fixed her attitude. Maybe, instead of trying to make her happy, you suggest she try and make herself happy and then offer a bribe. Try to have a good attitude and I’ll...”
“Let you live another day?”
“That, too. Seriously, what’s she been wanting that you could dangle in front of her?”
As if Mom didn’t know. “Mom, she’s too young.”
“Honey, she’s fourteen.”
“Barely.”
“Barely counts. Anyway, there’s no school right now. You don’t have to worry about earning the PTO stamp of approval. Let her color her hair.”
“I don’t know,” said Jenna.
“Remember your twelfth birthday?”
“I know. You didn’t want me to get my ears pierced.”
“But we did it. You’d done all your chores without complaining for the whole month. It made a great reward and a perfect birthday present.”
That had been a memorable day of mother-daughter fun. Her mom had taken her to lunch at Red Robin first, and after the big ear-piercing event, they’d gone shopping for some pretty earrings with her birthstone. It had probably blown her mother’s budget for the month but the time together had been priceless.
“Ask Sabrina to try and be a cheerful helper for a week. If she can keep a smile on her face you’ll turn her hair purple. Or green. Or whatever.”
“Pink.”
“Oh, yes. Pink. Pink is nice. Think pink, pretty in pink, in the pink.”
“You’re right,” Jenna conceded. What did it matter if her daughter had pink hair for the summer?
“It’s a bargaining chip,” Mel said.
And Jenna could use all the bargaining chips she could get her hands on.
They chatted a few more minutes, then ended the call so each could get ready for the day.
Jenna finished putting on her makeup, mulling over behavior modification and bargaining chips. Hair was a good one, but the best reward of all would be a visit to Daddy. In fact, that shouldn’t be something to be earned; it should be something to be expected. Of course, when it came to Damien, expecting and getting were two different things. Still...
On impulse, Jenna put in a call to him. Spending time together would be as good for him as it would for Sabrina, and maybe if he began to act the part of good Dad he truly would become one.
It took several rings for him to answer with a sleepy hello.
Jenna didn’t bother with niceties like, “Did I wake you?” Instead, she plunged right in. “Sabrina misses you. Can we set up a weekend visit?”
“What? When?” He sounded panicked.
“Next weekend.” Why not? “I’ll bring her up.” She had a ton of things to do, but she’d carve out the time. A visit with her family and friends would do her good.
“I can’t.”
Balking, of course. She frowned. “Do you have an art show or something? She could come, you know.”
“No. But you know where I’m living.” He made it sound as if it were her fault he’d wound up in his parents’ basement...which had a bedroom, bathroom, minikitchen, TV, couch and pool table. Poor baby.
“There’s no place for her here.”
“Your parents have a spare room.”
“It’s being used.”
Probably as his mom’s sewing room. What a flimsy excuse.
“Jenna, it won’t work right now. I want to see her but I need time to pull my life together.”
Ironic, considering he was the one who’d pulled it apart. Jenna felt her temper rising like the tide. “How much time do you need? When are you planning on seeing your daughter?”
“I’d have been able to see her anytime I wanted if you hadn’t moved to the other end of the world.”
Oh, yes. It was all her fault. She forced herself to calm down and stay on point. “I can bring her up anytime. We can stay at Mom’s and you can pick her up there and go do something.”
“Good idea. Later this summer. Okay? After I get settled.”
Who knew when that would be. “She misses you, Damien.”
“And I miss her.”
Yeah, Jenna could tell.
“But I’m in the middle of some things right now. I got a commission.”
Here was a surprise. “You did?”
“A new theater is opening up in Icicle Falls and they want something for the lobby.”
Icicle Falls was a cute German town in the Cascades. Were they aware of Damien’s medium? Was he going to make them something out of lederhosen and old tires?
Okay, she could be gracious. “That’s great.” And if he started getting enough commissions for his art maybe he could become self-sufficient and she could renegotiate the maintenance settlement. Go, Damien.
“Yeah, it is. My reputation is spreading.”
“I’m glad for you.” Sort of. Almost. “So, what can I tell Sabrina?”
“Hmm?”
He’d checked out of the conversation, moved on to envisioning himself as the next Dale Chihuly. “Your daughter,” she prompted.
“I know, I know. Just give me some time to adjust.”
He had to be kidding. What was he adjusting to besides having no responsibility? “I’m still adjusting, too, Damien,” she said irritably.
Wrong thing to say. “I’ll take her when I’m ready. Quit pushing.”
“I shouldn’t have to push.”
“And quit trying to guilt me into doing what you want. We’re not married anymore and I don’t have to put up with your bullshit.” And on that pleasant note he ended the call.
Bullshit! Really? How was it pushing trying to pin down a time for him to see his own daughter?
Jenna scowled at her phone. Any time she tried to get him to act like a grown-up he accused her of making him feel guilty. When he wasn’t accusing her of that he was complaining that she didn’t understand him, didn’t believe in him.
Okay, so maybe after a while she had stopped believing. Or maybe she’d simply gotten tired of being the only grown-up in the relationship. Obviously, he’d gotten tired of that, which was where Aurora had come in. Peter Pan had needed a new Wendy. No, Wendy had been responsible. He’d wanted a Tinkerbell and that was what he’d gotten. More like Tinkerboob. Tinkerboob and Peter Poop, Jenna thought in disgust.
What was she going to tell Sabrina next time she talked about wanting to see Daddy? Not the truth, that was for sure.
With a sigh, she made her way to her daughter’s room to see if Sabrina had managed to haul herself out of bed yet.
She hadn’t. In fact, she’d slipped farther under the covers and pulled them over her head.
“Come on, lazy daisy, time to get up,” Jenna said, forcing mommy good cheer into her voice. She pulled the covers from her daughter’s head and kissed her.
“I don’t want to get up.” Sabrina groaned. “I don’t want to go to church.” She’d said the same thing about school when she was eight and struggling with math.
“I know. But this isn’t optional.”
“You are so mean,” Sabrina informed her, pulling the covers back over her head.
“It’s in my job description.”
Jenna weighed her options. Be mean and drag the child out of bed. Threaten her with...what? No ice cream for a week? There would be no promise of a visit to Daddy to motivate an attitude adjustment. Okay, that left pink hair.
She sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed. “It’s a shame you’re not being more cooperative. I was thinking if you tried to be more positive I’d let you color your hair.”
Sabrina flung off the covers and sat up, her eyes bright. “Really?”
“I’m not wild about you doing this. Your hair is already gorgeous,” Jenna began, making her daughter’s mouth dip down at the corners. “But if you could work on improving your attitude...a little less complaining—”
“I can!”
“No complaints about going to church.”
For a moment, Sabrina looked dubious. But then she came to a decision and nodded. “Okay.”
“All right, then. Let’s see if you can make good on that promise.”
“I will! When can we do it?”
“When I see a change in your attitude.”
Sabrina frowned. “But when? Tomorrow?”
“Let’s give it a few days. This is a big deal, Sabrina. I want you to earn it.”
“Okay. You’re the best mom ever!” Sabrina cried, and hugged Jenna.
Yep, the best mom ever. For about two minutes.
Sabrina was true to her word. She was all smiles at breakfast, and set the table without being asked.
“What are you so happy about?” Pete asked her as they dug into pancakes.
“Mom’s gonna let me dye my hair.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Why do women do that?”
“To look good, of course,” Aunt Edie told him.
“Men don’t care about stuff like that,” Pete said.
“Oh? Ever hear the saying ‘Gentlemen prefer blondes’ or ‘Blondes have more fun’?” Aunt Edie replied. “You don’t think Marilyn Monroe was born with that hair color, do you? Anyway, it’s fun. An artistic expression.” She smiled at Sabrina. “What color are you thinking of?”
“Pink.”
“Pink? You’ll look like you got cotton candy on your head,” Pete said in disgust. “Who dyes their hair pink?”
“Lots of girls these days,” Jenna said, coming to her daughter’s defense. Or maybe she was coming to her own. Good moms let their daughters go pink. Well, why not? Maybe she’d put some fun color in her hair...and embarrass her child.
“I think it’s great that your mother’s letting you do that,” said Aunt Edie, who had obviously gotten the bribe-the-kid memo.
“But remember, you have to hold up your end of the bargain,” Jenna reminded Sabrina.
“What’s that?” Pete wanted to know.
“She’s going to work on improving her attitude,” Jenna told him, making Sabrina blush and frown at her. Okay, she shouldn’t have shared.
“Ha! Good luck with that,” Pete said, and shoveled in another mouthful of pancake.
“Why’d you have to tell him?” Sabrina demanded once they were on their way to church.
“You’re right. My bad. Our deal was none of his business.”
“I don’t like him.”
“He’s a little lacking in social skills,” Jenna said.
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot. And just between us, I’m not real fond of him, either. But he’s been kind to Aunt Edie and she likes him, so let’s try to find the best in him.”
“Good luck with that,” Sabrina said.
And good luck with her daughter making any effort to make friends. She didn’t hang out in the foyer with Jenna, preferring to duck into the sanctuary and hide. Jenna watched her go with a sigh.
“It will get better,” Tyrella assured her.
“Only if you can birth an instant fourteen-year-old for her to hang out with.”
“She’ll find her feet. Transitions are tough on kids. It takes a while.”
“It’s my fault she’s here.”
“No, it’s thanks to you that she’s here. This will turn out to be a good thing for both of you. Wait and see.”
“How long do I have to wait?”
“For as long as it takes. Come on, let’s go in and keep her company.”
Pastor Paul Welch was in fine form that morning, and Jenna wished her daughter was paying attention. Even though Jenna had a no-iPod-in-church rule to cut down on distraction, she knew from experience that a kid could tune out adult talk even without the aid of technology.
“And so,” concluded Pastor, “if Abraham could strike out and leave behind his family and friends and way of life, surely we can be brave enough to tackle whatever challenge we’re being called to meet.”
Hmm. Had Pastor Paul read Muriel Sterling’s new-beginnings book?
“I think God gave Pastor that message just for you girls,” Tyrella said when the service was over and the congregation began to leave the sanctuary. “What do you think, Sabrina?”
Sabrina blushed, evidence that she hadn’t been listening. “I guess,” she said, not meeting Tyrella’s eye.
Tyrella chuckled. “Run home and collect your aunt,” she told Jenna. “Then you girls come on over to my place. I’ve got fried chicken, macaroni salad, green beans, and a key lime pie that will make you think you died and went to heaven.”
“Sounds great. What can I bring?” Jenna asked.
“Just your sweet little aunt and a big appetite,” Tyrella said. “And, of course, your darling girl,” she added, and gave Sabrina’s cheek a pat.
“Hear that?” Jenna said to Sabrina as they left. “You’re a darling.”
“I’m your darling,” Sabrina said, and linked arms with her.
With the promise of pink hair dancing on the horizon, yes. For the moment. No. Always, no matter what.
Tyrella’s snug little bungalow was a two-story affair with lots of windows and a long front porch. It was painted the same Creamsicle orange that was popular with some of the shops and other houses around town. Clumps of daisies and lavender hugged the porch and the front walk, and a big rhododendron with purple flowers made its presence known at one corner of the house. Wind chimes created from shells and beach glass and tiny bits of driftwood tinkled a welcome.
“Isn’t this adorable?” Aunt Edie gushed as they made their way to the front door. “Tyrella has such flair.”
“It makes me think of fairy tales,” Sabrina observed.
Her daughter was right. Jenna could almost imagine pixies hiding under the rhodie or envision Snow White inside, tidying up before the dwarfs came home. Tyrella did, indeed, have flair. “Welcome, ladies,” she said, throwing wide the door.
“This is really sweet of you to have us,” Jenna told her.
“I love having people over for Sunday dinner,” she said.
Obviously. They entered to discover they weren’t her only dinner guests. Tyrella had also invited the pastor. “I thought you two should get to know each other,” she said to Jenna and Pastor Paul. “Seeing as how you’re new in town and all, Jenna,” she hastily added.
Too late. She’d already betrayed her ulterior motive. But seriously? As if the pastor would be interested in someone newly divorced. Or divorced at all. Pastors were supposed to have it together. The same thing held true for their wives. Jenna doubted she’d qualify, even if she wanted to.
“Nice to see you again,” he said politely after Tyrella had introduced everyone. “This was your second Sunday with us, wasn’t it?”
“As a matter of fact, it was,” Jenna said.
“I hope everyone’s making you both feel welcome,” he said.
Most everyone. “Yes,” Jenna answered for herself and her daughter.
“You’re not going to see me in church,” Aunt Edie informed him. “All the churches these days play the music way too loud.”
He took the scold with a good-natured smile. “I know.”
“But I think Jenna’s enjoying it,” Aunt Edie continued.
“Your sermon sure fit my life right now,” Jenna told him.
“I’m glad,” he said with a nod. “I just say what I think God wants me to say. So,” he continued, still smiling, “is your husband going to be coming down with you?”
Awkward as a fart in church. Silence, a pout from Sabrina, a flush across Jenna’s face and an uh-oh look on the pastor’s.
“They’re divorced,” Aunt Edie said.
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“These things happen,” Aunt Edie said. “Tyrella, can we help you?”
Tyrella, who had been standing frozen, came to life. “You sure can. Sabrina, are you any good at cutting French bread?”
“I don’t know,” Sabrina said, still frowning.
“Come on. Let’s find out,” Tyrella said, and she and Aunt Edie escaped, herding Sabrina into the kitchen, leaving Jenna and Paul standing in the living room. He motioned to the sofa and she sat down.
He took a chair opposite. “I’m sorry I stepped in it just now. Tyrella didn’t tell me.”
“I guess she figured you’d find out. Anyway, it’s all good.” Or it would be. Eventually.
“You couldn’t pick a better place to hit Restart,” said Paul.
“You’re right, and I’m ready to. It wasn’t my idea to get divorced,” she couldn’t help adding. I’m not the sinner here.
“Things happen,” he said.
“Other women happen.” She felt her cheeks heating. “Sorry. I guess I’m still working through things.”
“I guess that’s all right,” he said, giving her a sympathetic nod.
Tyrella was putting food on the table now, and the aroma of chicken wafted over to Jenna. “That smells great,” she said, drifting over to the table. Paul, too, followed his nose, and smiled appreciatively at the large platter. A huge bowl of macaroni salad enhanced with crab and shrimp followed, along with French bread, green beans and a spinach salad.
“This was Leroy’s favorite Sunday dinner,” Tyrella told everyone after she’d had Paul say grace and the food had been passed around. “The only thing he liked better than having company was eating.”
“It helps when you’re married to a good cook,” Paul said to her.
She pointed a chicken leg at him. “You need to find yourself a good cook.” Subtle. Very subtle.
They had just started their pie when he got a call. “I’d better take this,” he said after checking his phone’s caller ID. “It’s Janice Walters.”
“Of course. Her mother’s in the hospital, not doing well,” Tyrella explained as Paul left the table, phone to his ear.
“He seems like a nice young man,” Aunt Edie said.
“He is,” Tyrella assured her, and they both looked expectantly at Jenna.
She smiled and kept her mouth shut. Except to insert more key lime pie.
“This is really good,” Sabrina said.
“It’s real easy to make,” Tyrella said. “I’ll give you all the recipe.”
Paul was off the phone now. “Sorry, I’m going to have to leave. Janice’s mom just passed, and I need to get to the Aberdeen hospital.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Tyrella. “You want me to call around and start arranging for meals?”
“That would be great. Good to meet you all,” he said, not singling Jenna out in any way.
Which was fine with her. She didn’t need to add any more men to her collection.
The women passed the rest of the afternoon teaching Sabrina how to play Triominos, and she was in a happy mood when they finally left. And that made Jenna happy.
Sabrina got even happier when they arrived home and Aunt Edie proposed a movie marathon. “I think every girl should get to watch the Alfred Hitchcock classics,” Aunt Edie said, pulling out an old video cassette of Rear Window. “This movie had me on the edge of my seat when I first watched it. But that was nothing compared to The Birds.”
“A movie about birds?” Sabrina asked dubiously.
“A horror movie about birds.”
Horror movie, the magic words. “Let’s watch that one!” Sabrina said.
“Oh, I don’t know if your mother would want you watching that,” Aunt Edie said, looking to Jenna.
“Her father’s let her watch worse, believe me,” Jenna said.
“Well, all right, then,” Aunt Edie said, digging around in the cabinet where she kept her outdated technology. “That will be our encore movie. You know, I have almost every movie Alfred Hitchcock ever did. He was a genius.”
They settled in with popcorn and root beer and watched Jimmy Stewart spy on his neighbors. “That was pretty good,” Sabrina said when it was done. “Grace Kelly sure was pretty.”
“No prettier than your own lovely mother,” Aunt Edie said. “She could have been a movie star.”
“The one who could have done that was Celeste. She was the ham,” said Jenna.
“You could totally have been a movie star, Mom,” Sabrina said, and Jenna was touched by the compliment.
They were about to move on to the invasion of the birds and Jenna was in the kitchen in search of a pop refill when Courtney called the house, looking for her.
“You up for going to the Drunken Sailor for some line dancing?” she asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Jenna. “I’m not too into country music.” Although the idea of line dancing appealed to her.
“But do you like to dance?”
“Who doesn’t like to dance?” Jenna replied.
“If you have a chance to go out, don’t feel you have to stay here with us,” said Aunt Edie, who’d come to the kitchen in search of cookies for the next movie course.
“They have a lesson at seven where they teach you a couple of dances before it starts,” Courtney said. “And besides, unless you’re into playing pool this is about as good as the nightlife down here gets.”
Why not? Jenna put on some jeans and a pair of flats and slipped away, leaving Aunt Edie and Sabrina to watch the birds peck out people’s eyes. At least after that Sabrina couldn’t complain about not getting to watch any horror films.
The Drunken Sailor had a good crowd of landlubbers perched on bar stools, playing darts or pool and hanging out at the edge of the small dance floor. In fact, it looked like just about every single person in town under the age of fifty was there, including Brody, who sauntered over to say hi as soon as he caught sight of her.
He was wearing jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off well-toned pecs and biceps. Brody Green sauntered well.
Not that she was interested. It was just an observation.
“I see you decided to give line dancing a try,” he said.
“Aunt Edie and Sabrina are watching The Birds. I decided this was better for my psyche. I want to be able to walk on the beach without fearing a seagull attack.”
“They will dive-bomb you when they’re nesting,” he warned.
“Just so they don’t peck out my eyes. Anyway, nothing’s going to happen to me in here.”
“Sprained ankle,” he teased.
“You going to risk spraining your ankle?”
“Not me. I’m here to watch.” He held up a bottle of Hale’s ale. “And drink.”
“You should try it, Brody,” Courtney said. “I bet you’d be great.”
“That’s okay. I’d rather watch you girls, anyway,” he said with a grin.
More people were drifting over to the dance floor, including one of the cops who’d come to rescue Jenna from her faux burglar. He came over to say hi to Jenna.
“You know Vic?” Courtney asked, looking from one to another.
“Not really,” he said. “Victor King.”
“King of my heart,” teased Courtney, making him blush. “So how do you guys know each other?”
“I thought we had a burglar. He came to check it out,” Jenna explained. “So embarrassing,” she said with a shake of her head. “It turned out to be Aunt Edie’s handyman, Pete. He’d sneaked into the house to make himself a sandwich.”
Courtney snickered. “Still, you’d rather have that than the real thing. Not that we have that many burglars down here,” she quickly added.
“Nope,” Vic said. “It gets a little boring.”
“I’d rather have you bored than me scared,” Courtney told him.
Jenna caught sight of Austin Banks in the corner, talking with a man in his fifties who had long hair, a beard and a beer belly. He was setting up their sound system for the night.
“If you haven’t met her yet, that’s Austin Banks,” Courtney explained. “Her husband, Roy, runs the music for us.”
A moment later Austin was taking the floor, calling, “Come on, y’all. Let’s get goin’.”
The dancers began to form lines in back of her and Jenna followed Courtney onto the floor and placed herself next to her. Vic placed himself next to Jenna.
Austin pointed at her. “Well, you came out! Good for you. Hey, ya’ll, this is Jenna Jones. She’s runnin’ the Driftwood Inn now.”
Several women murmured hello, and a couple of men looked her way eagerly.
“I got a new dance to teach you tonight. It’s called the Twisted Pony.”
More like twisted feet, Jenna thought as she tried to keep up with the various step patterns.
“And a grapevine and a hitch,” Austin said, and demonstrated.
“I thought you said this was easy,” Jenna said to Courtney.
“You’ll catch on,” Courtney assured her.
They went through the whole song without music and then, just as Jenna thought she had the steps down, Austin called to her husband, “Okay, Roy, give us some music,” and everything went into fast motion.
Half the time Jenna found herself either doing the wrong step or facing the wrong way.
Great. And she’d thought it would be fun to do this? She hated looking stupid and she could feel her cheeks sizzling.
But nobody seemed to care. A couple of times Vic caught her by the shoulders and gently turned her the right direction. “You’ll catch on,” he said after the dance ended. Then he called to Austin. “Hey, Austin, how about something easy for the newcomer?”
“Sure,” Austin said.
“Let’s do ‘Footloose,’” somebody called.
A fast song? “Oh, boy,” Jenna said under her breath.
“No, let’s give her something real easy,” said Vic.
Austin nodded. “We’ll do the Electric Slide.”
“That old song?” groaned a twentysomething redhead.
“Just to get her started. Then we’ll do ‘Footloose’ and ‘Drunken Dreams.’”
Jenna was beginning to think she needed a drink.
But the Electric Slide turned out to be easy, and it gave her enough confidence to stick around for another dance. Pretty soon she was kicking and flicking with the best of them.
“Okay, that is fun,” she said to Courtney as they went to the bar to order soft drinks.
“You looked good out there,” Brody told her as they joined him.
“You should come dance with us, you big chicken,” she teased.
“Maybe next time.”
“Right. That’s what he says every Sunday night,” Courtney said.
Jenna laughed, took a sip of her drink and looked around, checking out the rest of the patrons. That was when she saw Seth Waters. He was standing at a pool table in the corner, leaning on his pool cue and watching a blonde in tight jeans and a low-cut top take a shot.
It looked like Seth Waters was making new friends. Well, good for him.
Jenna left after a couple more dances. Nothing to do with Seth, of course. She had to get up in the morning.
* * *
Sabrina was still in a good mood the next morning. Jenna came in from a beach walk to find her in the kitchen, helping Aunt Edie make oatmeal muffins. Her expression wasn’t quite so sunny when Jenna mentioned their painting job. Obviously, painting didn’t hold the same excitement as walking around on a roof.
It only took one word to motivate her: hair.
“Okay,” she said with a sigh.
Pete was no more excited than Sabrina, and, as they worked, he groaned every time he bent to dip his roller in the paint tray. They were covering the walls a light brown shade, aptly named Sandy Beach. She only hoped the tarp would keep the roof dry enough to save them from getting a river running down her sandy beach wall.
Finally, by noon, Pete was done groaning. He was done. Period. “That’s enough for one day,” he informed Jenna.
“Can I quit, too, Mom?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes. You worked hard. Good job,” Jenna said, making her smile. “How about you go help Aunt Edie make lunch? Bring me back a tuna sandwich.”
Sabrina nodded and was gone. Then it was just Jenna and her paint roller, singing “Stand by You” along with Rachel Platten, who was serenading her from her iPad. The song had such a great beat, before she knew it she was dancing as well as singing.
Her performance ended to applause, and she whirled around to see Seth Waters leaning against the door. “You missed your calling.”
She was blushing; she knew it. “You have a way of sneaking up on people. You know that?”
He smiled and pushed away from the door. “All your helpers on lunch break?”
“No, done for the day.”
“Not you, though, huh?”
“It has to get finished.”
At that moment, Sabrina returned with a sandwich on paper plate and a glass of lavender lemonade.
“Do you want a sandwich?” Jenna offered. The calico cat that Jenna had seen hanging around before approached, lured by the smell of tuna. She broke off a piece and absently handed it over and the cat took it, dropped it on the ground and hunkered down to enjoy its snack.
Seth wasn’t interested. He shook his head and picked up an abandoned paint roller. “I’m good.”
She’d just bet he was.
“Can I go get an ice cream?” Sabrina asked.
“Yes. But don’t go anywhere else without letting us know where you are. Got it?”
Sabrina nodded vigorously and vanished.
“She seems like a good kid,” Seth said as he began work on the wall opposite Jenna’s.
“She is, for the most part.”
“Reminds me of my little sister,” he said.
“Where does she live?”
“California. Both my sisters are there, and my mom.”
“You wound up a long way from home.”
“Guess so, but so did my brother.”
“How come you didn’t wind up in Tacoma with him?”
“I like the beach.”
She’d buy that. “Me, too,” she said. Still, she didn’t think she’d want to wind up someplace by herself. “So, you don’t know anybody around here?”
He shrugged. “You.”
“I mean anybody else?”
“Nope.”
“You just came here without knowing anyone?”
“I came here because it looked like a good place to start a business.”
“Especially the business you’re starting. Looked like you made a new friend at the Drunken Sailor,” she couldn’t resist adding, and looked out of the corner of her eye to see his reaction.
His smile was downright cocky. “Were you watching me?”
“No,” she insisted, wishing she didn’t blush so easily.
He chuckled. “I was watching you. You looked pretty good out there on the dance floor.”
“How come you weren’t out there?”
“I was later. You and the house peddler had both left by then.”
“We didn’t come together,” she said. Somehow, it seemed important for Seth to know that. “There were plenty of women left to keep you company,” she added, shifting the spotlight back on Seth.
“Yeah,” he agreed, not offering any further information.
She frowned. “I can’t believe there’s no one special in your life.”
“No chance to find someone,” he said.
“Been too busy?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, there seem to be plenty of women around here,” Jenna said casually.
“Are you a matchmaker in your spare time?” he teased.
“All women are matchmakers in their spare time.”
“You’re probably right about that. So, what about you? There’s plenty of guys in this town. Looks like the house peddler’s already found you.”
“We’re just friends.”
He grunted. “The F word.”
“I know, guys hate that. Almost as much as women hate hearing, ‘It didn’t mean a thing.’”
If only Damien had said that to her. But he hadn’t. His affair with Aurora had meant something. Jenna scowled at her Sandy Beach. “Why can’t men be faithful?”
“Some can.”
“You ought to wear badges or something. That way we’d know.”
“Love’s a crap shoot,” he said. “Hell, all of life’s a crap shoot.”
Jenna wished he’d say more on that topic. What roll of the dice had affected his life? Who was Seth Waters, really?
Even though they spent three hours together painting, she didn’t learn much more beyond the fact that he liked nachos, thought boy bands were stupid and loved a good cage fight. She tried to pry more information out of him about his family, but failed. Instead, he would turn the table on her, asking about her family.
“I think you know my whole life history now,” she said as they cleaned up the brushes and rollers, “but I hardly know anything about you.”
“My life’s not that interesting,” he said.
Which, she strongly suspected, was a big, fat lie.
What was the story with Seth Waters? “I’ll find out,” she murmured as he drove off in his truck, headed for who knew where. I’ll find out.