Chapter Nine
To Do:
Order business cards
Set up spare bedroom for massage
Put on makeup!
Thursday morning was rainy, so Jenna opted to give her muscles a break and work on getting her business up and running, ordering business cards online and setting up her massage room in the spare downstairs bedroom that had been Uncle Ralph’s den.
Of course, at breakfast Sabrina wanted to know what they were going to do that day. As in fun and games. She’d been itching to get out with her kite but not in the rain, and now she was frustrated and in need of a social director.
“I thought it was supposed to be sunny at the beach,” she grumbled.
“It should be nicer tomorrow,” predicted Jenna the weather girl.
Sabrina wasn’t impressed with her weather forecast.
Aunt Edie came to the rescue with plans for baking cookies that met with Sabrina’s approval. “And then maybe you can help me clean Roger’s cage.” Sabrina hadn’t looked quite so excited about that, but she politely agreed, and when Aunt Edie promised to teach her how to play canasta afterward, she perked up.
“First, though, you can help me carry in my massage things from the garage,” Jenna said.
“And then we’ll bake our cookies,” Aunt Edie added, sensing a mutiny.
Sabrina heaved a long-suffering sigh and followed Jenna to the garage.
“My, there is a lot,” Aunt Edie observed as Jenna set up her equipment. She pointed to Jenna’s old turkey roaster, which had been a garage sale find, and the ancient microwave sitting next to it on the repurposed bookcase. “Are you going to be cooking?”
“No. I use the microwave to warm up my damp towels, and the turkey roaster serves as my stone warmer. The real deal costs a couple hundred bucks. And as for the towels, well, Mom’s old microwave was a lot cheaper than a towel cabi.”
“You are so resourceful,” Aunt Edie said.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”
“I’m certainly impressed.”
Jenna smiled at her. “You impress easily.”
“Not really. You are a wonderful girl, darling one.”
If only Damien had felt the same way. They could have all been down here at the beach, starting this new adventure together.
Jenna shrugged off the moment of sadness. She was having enough adventure without him. She didn’t need the cheater.
She stood back and admired her handiwork. In addition to her warming equipment, blankets and towels, she had her CD player for relaxing music, her aromatherapy oils and her massage oils. Her little desk looked cute in the corner with a vase of silk daisies sitting on it. Another small bookcase held her copies of Massage Therapy Journal along with a box of tissues for the inevitable runny nose clients would get while lying on their tummies.
“Now I just need a sign to hang outside the house,” she said. “Maybe Seth can make me one.”
“Seth?”
“Our new resident handyman,” Jenna reminded her.
“Oh, yes. I caught a glimpse of him this morning when I went out to get the paper. A very nice-looking young man,” Aunt Edie added, and watched for Jenna’s reaction. Yep, back in Cupid mode.
“He’s okay,” Jenna said, keeping her expression neutral.
“I’d like to meet him. Maybe we could invite him over for dinner,” Aunt Edie added slyly.
“I’ll make sure you meet him,” Jenna promised. “But we’re already feeding Pete all the time. We don’t need any more mouths to feed.” Although the idea of spending more time getting to know the mysterious Seth Waters was tempting.
The mention of Pete’s mooching made Aunt Edie frown. “I’d better get Sabrina started on those cookies,” she said, and disappeared before the topic of Pete could be further discussed.
Jenna shook her head and got to work designing some flyers on her computer. Like rust and mold, Pete was an inescapable irritation here at the beach.
Soon the aroma of baking chocolate drifted in to her. Stay put, she commanded herself. Don’t go into Temptation Land. If she even set a toe in the kitchen she’d wind up inhaling chocolate chip cookies.
She was about to cave right when Sabrina entered her office bearing a dessert plate with one lone cookie on it. “I brought you a sample,” she said, setting it on the desk.
“Aww, that was sweet,” Jenna said. Yes, those moments when she wasn’t the hated, meanest mom in the world were worth more than sunken treasure.
“Aunt Edie wanted me to put more on the plate but I knew you’d only want one,” Sabrina added.
“You did good,” Jenna said. Then, as her daughter was standing there, waiting for her verdict, she took a bite. “Yum.”
Sabrina beamed and went back to the kitchen, and Jenna went back to work smiling. Yes, life was getting better.
The morning slipped by on that nice, even keel as Jenna worked on odds and ends of paperwork. She was posting her new location on her business Facebook page when a shriek from her daughter had her racing into the kitchen. Roger’s cage sat on the kitchen table and Roger was on his perch, walking back and forth, feathers ruffled. Sabrina was holding her bleeding hand and howling and Aunt Edie was trying to attend to it with a wet paper towel.
“What happened?” Jenna asked, hurrying over.
“He bit me!” Sabrina cried, tears in her eyes. “I just wanted to pet him and he bit me.”
“I’m so sorry,” fretted Aunt Edie. “I should have warned her about fast movements. She startled him.”
“My finger’s bleeding,” wailed Sabrina.
“It’ll be okay,” Jenna said, putting an arm around her.
“I hate that bird!”
“He was only protecting himself,” Jenna said as Aunt Edie rushed off in search of hydrogen peroxide, her cure-all for every wound.
“He’s mean.”
“He’s really not. Aunt Edie will show you how to work with him.”
“I don’t want to know how to work with him. I hate him! And I hate it here!”
She began to cry in earnest. Jenna pulled her into a hug and assured her everything would be okay. She realized she meant those words as much for herself as for Sabrina.
Aunt Edie dressed the wound and Jenna found aspirin. Then Sabrina was seated at the kitchen table with ice and a plate of the cookies she and Aunt Edie had baked while Aunt Edie hurried to fetch the canasta deck. Another crisis survived.
With her daughter settled down, Jenna went to check on how the motel was surviving the rain. Some damp drizzles on the walls of several rooms told her she was going to have to invest in tarp for the roof sooner than later, and she drove to Beach Lumber and Hardware to stock up and pick up paint.
She was on her way to her car when her mom called to check in. “Thought I’d give you a quick call while I’m on my lunch break,” Mel said. “How’s it going down there?”
“Well, let’s see. Jolly Roger bit Sabrina and she hates it here. And the motel roof is leaking like a sieve. I’m on my way to the hardware store to buy tarp.”
“Adventures in Paradise,” Mel murmured.
“Something like that.”
“How are you holding up?”
“Okay. The place really does have potential. I just have to figure out where I’m going to get the money to do all the work.”
“How much do you need?”
“We’re probably going to need fifty thousand dollars.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call. Then, “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. But don’t worry. I’ll work something out. It’s summer. I won’t have to deal with the roof until September.” And of course, by then, money would have magically fallen from heaven.
“Maybe we can all chip in,” said her mother.
After their conversation the previous month, Jenna wasn’t holding her breath. “It’ll work out.” She believed that. Yes, she did. If you build it they will come...all good things come to she who waits... Somewhere over the rainbow... Jenna frowned, told her mom she had to go and ended the call.
She detoured by city hall on her way and forked out fifty bucks for a business license. She hated to spend even fifty dollars of her hard-saved funds, but this was seed money. She’d make it back with one massage. Heaven knew they needed to make money somewhere.
“How’s it going over there?” Tyrella asked her when she finally entered the hardware store. Today Tyrella had her hair up in a colorful headscarf and had accented her jeans and carpenter’s apron with a chunky bead necklace and beachy charm bracelet dangling little seashells and coral-colored beads.
“All the old carpet is gone. Painting is next. But first I have to cover our leaky roof. Please tell me you’ve got enough tarp to do the job.”
“I do. I’ll give you a twenty percent discount.”
Jenna smiled at her. “You’re the best.”
“No, if I was the best I’d be giving it to you for free. Come on, let’s get you set up.”
Half an hour later Jenna was ready to roll, her charge card maxed out and every corner of her car filled with tarp and five-gallon buckets of paint. There went Aunt Edie’s money and hers and then some. She encouraged herself as she drove back to the motel by envisioning it all prettied up and decorated and filled with lodgers.
She saw Seth’s truck parked in the parking lot when she pulled in. Now was as good a time as any to see if he could make her some sort of sign. She knocked on his door.
It opened to reveal a mussed sleeping bag on the floor, his cooler and a small pile of books. He had one in hand.
“Were you busy?” she asked, feeling guilty for bothering him. Except why was she feeling guilty? They had a deal. He worked in exchange for...a bare floor.
“Just killing time till you came back. I went over to the house and met your aunt. She said you were out getting paint. Need some help unloading?”
“That would be great.”
“So, what have you got for me today?” he asked as they walked to her car.
“Well, actually, I was hoping you could make me a sign. For my business.”
His brows dipped. “I thought this place was your business.”
“It is, but I’m also a licensed massage therapist. We need an income flow while I’m getting the inn renovated and I’ve gotten set up in my aunt’s spare room.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “A massage therapist, huh? I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.”
That comment produced an image of Seth Waters all oiled up, her running her hands over his back. No, no, no. Don’t go there.
“What’s the name of your business and what do you want the sign to look like?”
“It’s Healing Hands Massage. I just need a simple plaque with that on it. Can you help me out?”
“Sure. I’ll have it for you tomorrow.”
“Great.” The sooner, the better. “Then tomorrow we should be ready to paint.”
“You’d better let me pressure wash the outside and treat the mold before you paint the outside,” he said.
“I thought I’d start with the inside and do the outside later when the weather’s a little more dependable.”
“Good idea. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“I will. And, about the sign, I’ll pay for the cost of your materials.”
“It’s not that much. Don’t worry about it,” he said.
With that, the topic of the to-do list was exhausted. But she was curious about the book he was holding. She pointed to it. “What are you reading?” He held it up for her inspection. “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare? I never figured you for a Shakespeare kind of guy.”
He shrugged. “Just furthering my education. Never finished college.”
“I never started,” Jenna confessed. Did that make her sound stupid? “I like to read, though,” she said. Not Shakespeare, but she decided not to share that. “Once I discovered massage it was all I wanted to do, so I went to massage therapy school instead.”
“At least you went to school for something.”
He sounded wistful. She was about to ask why he didn’t finish when he said, “Well, see you tomorrow, then.”
“Yeah, tomorrow.” And that signaled the end of the chitchat for the day.
Seth Waters sure wasn’t much of a talker. Sometimes, the way he looked at her with those dark pirate eyes, she could swear he was interested, but unlike Brody, he hadn’t put the moves on her, so maybe she’d imagined that interest.
Oh, well. Her first love was now the Driftwood Inn. It really was going to be cute once it was all done.
“Yes, it is,” Aunt Edie agreed as they sat around the dinner table that evening downing hot dogs and Aunt Edie’s potato salad.
She’d also made one of her standbys, a salad with strawberry gelatin, cream cheese, frozen strawberries and a crust made with pretzel crumbs. If you asked Jenna, it was more dessert than salad. Not that she was complaining. Sabrina, who was on her second helping, sure wasn’t.
“The first thing we have to do tomorrow is get that roof covered,” Jenna said.
“Don’t look at me,” Pete told her, dishing himself up more potato salad. “At my age, I could fall and break a hip.”
“I can help,” Sabrina offered, making her mother immensely proud of her.
“That’s sweet of you, but no, I don’t want you up on the roof. I’ll do it.” She wouldn’t cry buckets if Pete fell. Her daughter, however, was another matter.
“But you’re afraid of heights,” Sabrina reminded her. “Even the little-kid roller coaster at Enchanted Village used to scare you.”
On the other hand, Sabrina was afraid of nothing. All the more reason why Jenna wasn’t letting her up on the roof.
“This roof’s not that high.” She could do it.
“Okay,” Sabrina said doubtfully, giving Jenna doubts, as well.
“I hate to think of you up on that roof,” Aunt Edie fretted. “Why don’t you let that nice young man help you?”
Jenna already had more than enough for Seth to do to earn his stay at the fabulous Driftwood Inn. She’d planned on getting Pete to help her. But really, it probably wasn’t a good idea to send the old guy up on the roof with his brittle bones. So, this would be a job for Super Jenna.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured both her aunt and herself.
And she was. The next day, wearing the tool belt Tyrella had loaned her, which was stocked with nails and Uncle Ralph’s old hammer, she managed to get a roll of tarp up on the edge of the roof and herself, as well. After several deep breaths.
Oh, man, it was high up here. And in bad condition. Some of the shingles were missing, probably blown away by high winter winds. She could get blown away!
“Don’t be stupid,” she scolded herself. The sun was out and there was no wind.
Yet.
She took another deep breath, and inched farther up the roof. What if she dropped her tarp?
Never mind the tarp. What if she dropped herself?
More deep breaths. The roof wasn’t steeply pitched and she managed to make it to the peak where, gripping tightly with one hand, she squeezed her eyes shut and unfurled the tarp with the other. There. Good for her.
But now she had blue tarp in one hand and was holding onto the cap of the roof with the other. How was she going to get to her hammer?
With a whimper, she stretched out over the peak like a giant taco shell in the making and then reached out a foot to hold down the tarp. Getting out her hammer had her breathing hard but she managed. Now, a nail. Oh, Lord, she was going to die. She kept herself spread-eagle over the roof and managed to dig out a nail. Then scooted around so she could hammer while lying down, scraping her elbow in the process. Boy, was this fun.
But with her first corner nailed down she felt like she’d won gold in the Olympic Games. She could do this!
Once she got busy rolling out and nailing down tarp she was almost able to forget where she was. Until it came time to go down the ladder for more.
Her eye began to twitch. Don’t be such a sissy, she told herself. You can do this. Just turn around, put your foot on the ladder. She reached out a foot...into empty space. Eeek. She pulled it back in, looked over the edge of the roof. It wasn’t that long of a way down.
Oh, yes, it was. She edged away from the ladder, digging her hands into the crumbly shingles. Helicopter rescue, that was what she needed. “Help!” she hollered, hoping Pete was somewhere around to hear.
He wasn’t. And while there were customers at the Seafood Shack across the parking lot, they were coming and going, talking and playing their car radios so loud no one would have heard her even if she’d had a bullhorn.
The sun began to beat down on her, frying her shoulders. She wished she’d put a little bottle of water in one of her apron pockets. No, she wished she’d never gotten on this roof.
Maybe someone would get the idea if she waved. She tried to stand to make the time-honored “help me” wave of the stranded, had a panic attack and sat back down, heart thumping. Never mind. She didn’t want help that badly.
Her stomach began to rumble. It had to be getting close to lunchtime. That meant Aunt Edie would send Sabrina out with food. Then she could have her daughter call the fire department and they’d bring out a ladder truck and rescue her. And she’d look like the idiot of Moonlight Harbor.
Like she cared at this point? She just wanted off this roof.
A million years passed until, finally, Seth’s truck came into sight. Help at last. And just in time. In addition to her whining stomach, Jenna’s bladder was beginning to think fondly of a bathroom visit.
He got out and came to stand at the base of the ladder. “Checking out the view?” he called up.
“Something like that. Can you call the fire department?”
“Are you on fire?”
“I need someone to get me down.”
“I think they only rescue cats.”
“Ha, ha,” Jenna said sourly.
“You’re afraid of heights, huh?”
She scowled at him. “Can you just call someone?”
“No. I’ll get you down.” He started up the ladder, running up it with the agility of the fearless. Once at the top, he held out a hand. “Come on. Scoot down here where I can reach you.”
“Oh,” Jenna whimpered.
“You can do it. You got up there.”
“Getting up and getting down are two different things,” she informed him.
“Don’t be a wuss,” he said, his hand still out.
She sucked in a breath and scooted half an inch, the hot shingles burning her bottom as she went.
“You probably should let somebody else do this if you’re afraid of heights,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t get any takers last night,” she snapped.
“You didn’t ask everyone. Come on, come down a little closer.”
Another whimper, another six inches.
“You can do it,” he said.
Dear Lord, get me off this roof and I’ll never be stupid again. Jenna scooted down some more until, at last, she was back at the ladder.
“Good,” he said encouragingly. “Now, stand up and turn around. I’ll guide your foot.”
“What if I fall?”
“I’ll catch you.”
“Yeah, but who’ll catch you?”
“Come on. Don’t think like that. Get up.”
Jenna managed to get almost up and turned around. Blink, blink.
She commanded her eyes to stop twitching. She needed to watch what she was doing.
But she didn’t want to see where she was falling. Maybe she should shut them.
“Okay, now grab the ends of the ladder.”
And fall. Jenna was practically hyperventilating now.
“You can do it. Come on.”
She swallowed hard, opened one eye and grabbed the ladder. Then she swung out a foot. Immediately, his hand clamped over her ankle, guiding her foot to the first rung.
“Okay. First rung’s the hardest. After this it will be a piece of cake. Let’s get your other foot on the ladder.”
She had to stick out another foot! Blink, blink. Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink.
“Give me your damn foot,” Seth growled.
His impatience galvanized her and she stuck out her foot. With a whimper.
That also was guided to the ladder, which she was now gripping with all her sweaty might.
“The hard part’s over,” he assured her, his tone softening. “Come on. Next rung.”
Several eye twitches and another whimper and she managed another rung. And then another. Step by step, he walked her down until she was finally on solid ground. She was a sweaty mess and her heart was pounding as if she’d run a marathon.
She let out her breath. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. How long have you been up there, anyway?”
“Forever.” And even though she’d put on makeup that morning, her lipstick had long worn off and she was grimy, slimy and sweaty. Someday this man would see her at her best. Maybe.
Not that it mattered since she was done with men.
“You’d better let me finish for you,” he said.
She nodded. Fine with her. “Thanks. I need to go...” Well, she needed to go.
“Wait a minute.” He ran to his truck, pulled a slab of wood from the front seat and returned with it. “Here’s your sign.”
He’d painted her company name on it and on the side had managed to carve in a hand holding a seashell. He’d screwed two hooks on the top so she could hang it up.
“I can put in a post so you’ve got someplace to hang it,” he offered.
“Thanks. It’s perfect. How did you do the hands?”
“I’ve got a Dremel. No big deal.”
It was to her. “Give me the bill for your materials and I’ll reimburse you.”
“It wasn’t that much.”
But it was yet another thing she’d asked him to do. Was she asking this guy to do too much? In light of the poor excuse for a room she was giving him, absolutely. “I think I’m getting the better end of our bargain.”
He shrugged. “I like to keep busy and I like being outside. Not enough business yet so I don’t mind having things to do around here.” He nodded in the direction of the roof. “I’ll put up the rest of your tarp.”
“Thanks,” she said. Then, “I think I’ll get inside. I need water.”
“Better put something on your face,” he advised. “Looks like you got a burn going.”
There was an understatement, she thought once she looked in the bathroom mirror. She looked like Lobster Girl. Note to self: don’t work on a roof in a sleeveless top. Correction: don’t work on a roof at all.
“Can we fly my kite now?” Sabrina asked once Jenna had finished smearing every inch of available skin with aloe vera cream.
Just what she wanted, more sun. “Can we do that tomorrow?”
Sabrina frowned. “I guess.” She wrinkled her nose. “You do look kind of sunburned.”
“I am kind of sunburned. How about we play some cards with Aunt Edie instead?”
“Okay,” Sabrina said in resigned tones.
“First, let’s make a run to the store for some root beer. We can make floats.”
That met with her daughter’s approval, and they made their way to the grocery store. “What did you do all day while I was up on the roof?” Jenna asked.
“Nothing,” Sabrina said with a pout.
“Nothing at all? You just sat like a rock all day.”
“I did some sketching. And I wrote in my journal.”
She didn’t volunteer what she wrote and Jenna didn’t ask. She didn’t think she wanted to know.
“And I took some pictures.”
Ah, something positive to focus on. “Did you get some good ones we can hang in the rooms?”
“I guess,” Sabrina said, refusing to reward her mom with any kind of positive attitude.
“Great. You’ll have to show them to me when we get back.”
Sabrina just gave her another shrug, her reward for being a neglectful mom.
Beachside Grocery was busy when they walked in, with both locals and tourists in town for the weekend, all picking up supplies. They snagged the last gallon of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of root beer and made their way to one of the lines of people waiting for access to a checker.
In the process, they ran into Brody. He was looking handsome and polished as usual, wearing a blue shirt that matched those baby-blue eyes.
“Well, hey there,” he greeted Jenna. “Hi there, kiddo,” he added, smiling at Sabrina.
She frowned and muttered a hello.
Brody was impervious to teen girl disapproval. “Stocking up on food for the chick gathering tonight?” he asked Jenna.
“No. Getting ready to play some cards and we need sustenance.”
“Poker?” he teased as their goodies rode up the belt and the checker began ringing up the purchase.
“I’m not a gambler,” Jenna informed him. Except she was taking the biggest gamble of her life with the Driftwood Inn. “We’re playing Hands and Buns.”
“Hands and Buns?” he repeated as if she’d said something naughty.
“It’s a card game.”
Sabrina grabbed the bag. “Mom, our ice cream’s melting.”
“Oh.” Jenna pulled out a bill, paid up and got change.
“Have fun,” Brody said. “See you tomorrow.”
“You’re going out with him?” Sabrina demanded as they crossed the parking lot.
“Just having dinner.”
“Jeez, Mom, he’s such a yuck. He called me kiddo.”
“He was only being friendly.”
“I’m not a kiddo,” Sabrina said, her voice charged with umbrage. “Anyway, you and Daddy are barely divorced.”
“And Daddy’s already with someone else,” Jenna reminded her, which made Sabrina scowl.
Jenna sighed inwardly. Wrong thing to say. As if her daughter wanted reminding that her father was moving on and leaving them in the dust. And now, Jenna was shaking things up just when Sabrina craved security.
She put an arm around her daughter. “I’m not getting involved with anyone.”
“Not him, please,” Sabrina added in disgust. “Anyway, I bet Daddy’s not going to stay with Aurora forever. He’ll start missing us and come back.”
And fish would walk. But what if he did come to his senses and ask her to take him back? Would she?
Never. He’d hurt her too badly.
Sabrina was quiet on the ride home, but once they started playing Hands and Buns, she reanimated and even crowed when she won. And Jenna felt less like a neglectful mother. How did other single moms manage that delicate balancing act between work and family without falling into guilt?
She asked her mother that when she called her after dinner to report on her big roof adventure.
“You remind yourself that you’re doing what you have to do,” Mel said. “It’s that simple. And that difficult.”
“Sometimes I feel like such a failure,” Jenna confessed.
“It wasn’t you who failed. Don’t take on the burden of your husband’s bad behavior.”
But maybe he wouldn’t have behaved badly if Jenna had admitted defeat, acknowledged that they were two mismatched people pulling in different directions instead of together and set them both free. Too late to relive that part of her life. All she had was the present.
But she wasn’t sure she was managing that so well. She heaved a sigh. “I know I’m not spending enough time with Sabrina. And she hasn’t made any friends here.”
“Things will sort themselves out and you two will be fine,” Mel said.
“I hope so. I don’t want to ruin her life.” Aunt Edie’s offer had looked like such a godsend at first. But now that Jenna was up to her eyeballs in the mess of trying to revive the motel it felt more like some sick cosmic joke.
“You’re not. A little adversity is good for all of us.”
“That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger?” Jenna said with a frown.
“Something like that. It seems like most of us build up fortitude only by wading through rough waters.”
“I don’t mind wading. I just don’t want to drown.”
Mel chuckled. “You won’t. Trust me on that.”
And, after what her mom had gone through, she should know.
They said their goodbyes, and Jenna went to help her aunt get ready for her Friday night gathering of friends. The fare was simple: shrimp dip and crackers, a cheeseball that looked radioactive and cubed watermelon.
“The girls always bring wine,” Aunt Edie said as they pulled out wineglasses. Aunt Edie had a variety—everything from polka dots to turquoise swirls. Even one with a face complete with false eyelashes and earrings in the glass ears. “I collect them,” she said.
There was an idea to hang on to for Christmas.
“Who all is coming tonight?” Jenna asked, bringing herself back into the present.
“Let’s see. Nora Singleton, for one. You’ve met Nora. She’s a doll, and she and Bill have been so supportive ever since I lost Ralph. And, of course, my old friend Patricia Whiteside. Sometimes I wish I’d thought big like Patricia and made this place larger.”
Then they’d have had an even bigger headache trying to remodel. “It’s perfect the way it is,” Jenna assured her, and Aunt Edie gave her a grateful smile. “Who else?”
“Let’s see. Tyrella, who you’ve met. We’ve done business for years. Cindy Redmond. She’s just as sweet as the candy she sells. Then there’s Courtney Moore, who works at Beach Babes. Nora invited her to join us. That girl has a flair for designing clothes. If Susan Frank would give her a chance she could bring in some wonderful distinctive pieces to Beach Babes.”
Jenna remembered Susan from the chamber of commerce meeting, she of the frown and the grumpy comments.
“But you can’t tell Susan anything,” Aunt Edie continued. “Then there’s Courtney’s friend Annie Albright.” Aunt Edie shook her head. “There’s a gal who needs to hit Restart. Her husband is a drunken lout. Works on and off as a handyman. Drinks away most of his paycheck. Verbally abusive.”
“Why doesn’t she leave him?” Jenna asked.
“She keeps hoping he’ll change. They’ve got a little girl. I think she’s eight.”
“Does Annie work?”
“She’s a waitress at Sandy’s, works the morning shift. She’s quite the cook, and she’d love to have a little food truck someday. I don’t know if she’ll ever be able to make that happen, not with the man she’s tied to.”
“This almost sounds like a support group,” Jenna joked.
“In a way, it is. They’re all lovely women. I know you’re going to enjoy them.”
The women started arriving at a little before seven. Nora and Tyrella were the first, and came bearing wine.
They were followed by Cindy Redmond. “You can’t have a Friday night without chocolate,” she said, laying down a plate of chocolate truffles.
“It pays to know people,” Tyrella said, plucking one from the plate. “Lord love you, Cindy. What would we do without you?”
“We’d be a lot skinnier,” said Nora.
“You’re one to talk, Ice Cream Queen,” Cindy shot back good-naturedly.
Sabrina stuck around long enough to be fussed over and snag a chocolate treat, then disappeared into her room to text with Marigold, and Jenna vowed to invite the bff down to visit as soon as they got things more squared away.
“She’s adorable,” said Tyrella, who was already digging into the toxic cheese ball.
“She can be,” Jenna said.
“Girls,” Cindy said, shaking her head. “They’re enough to drive you to sugar. I have two, twins. They’re off to college in the fall, thank God.”
“Remind me again. How old is your daughter?” Nora asked Jenna.
“Fourteen.”
Nora gave a knowing nod. “The right age to start driving you nuts. That was when my daughter became a handful. And the boys.” She rolled her eyes. “Once the testosterone kicked in they were always at each other’s throats. They’re the best of friends now, though, and I don’t know what I’d do without them to run the go-carts and arcade and golf.”
“What is it about teenagers, anyway?” put in Cindy.
“Aliens,” Nora said. “When they hit adolescence, aliens come and take over their bodies. Once they hit their twenties the aliens return to the mother ship and your kid becomes human again.”
There were smiles, nods and chuckles to confirm the truth of Nora’s statement.
“I think my little alien would be happier here if she had a friend,” Jenna said. “She’s lonely. And I’m not spending as much time with her as I’d like.”
“Kids need to have friends to hang out with,” Nora acknowledged. “My granddaughter Caroline is the same age, and she’s coming for a visit later this month. Maybe they can hang out together.”
“That would be great,” Jenna said. Any granddaughter of Nora’s had to be a good kid.
“I wish my daughter was old enough to keep her company,” said Annie, who had arrived with some chips and dip. “But she’s still playing with dolls.”
“Encourage her to enjoy that as long as possible,” Nora told her. “Kids these days grow up way too fast.”
Annie nodded, and her smile looked sad. How fast was her little girl growing up in a home with an alcoholic dad?
Of course, everyone wanted to hear all about Jenna, and the room was full of praise for her boldness in leaving her husband—as if she’d had a choice—and her kindness for coming to help their pal Edie. Hardly surprising, in light of the fact that Edie made her sound like a cross between Mother Teresa and Joan of Arc.
She was impressed with them, too. Courtney was striking, tall and willowy with dark hair, strong features and a flair for dress that declared her an artist. She had a fancy mani and pedi, with both her fingernails and toenails dotted with tiny seashells, and wore a necklace of silver mermaids and sand dollars. She was a gum chewer, taking her gum out to enjoy treats and perching it on the edge of her wineglass.
“Tacky, I know,” she said to Jenna. “But it’s either this or smoking.”
Jenna couldn’t help admiring her cold shoulder top with the lace-trimmed bottom that she wore over her tight jeans, which were decorated with lace seashells.
She smiled down at it. “It’s one of my designs.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“It would look great on you,” Courtney said. “One of these days, I’m going to have my own clothing line and put on a fashion show at the Porthole. Maybe you and your daughter will be models for me in exchange for getting to keep the clothes?”
“No maybe about it,” Jenna said. “That would be a for sure.”
Courtney’s friend Annie was as shy and quiet as Courtney was outgoing. She was a pretty brunette, clad simply in white jeggings and a faded T-shirt printed with a picture of a smiling quarter moon. No fancy manicure for her.
As the evening wore on Jenna noticed her rubbing her right shoulder a lot. She moved over to sit next to Annie on the couch. “Is your shoulder bothering you?”
Annie blushed and waved away Jenna’s concern. “It’s nothing.”
“I’m a massage therapist. Let me see if I can work out some of the kinks.” Annie’s protests were weak enough to convince Jenna the woman was only being polite, so she moved behind her and went to work.
“Oh, my gosh, that hurts so good,” Annie said with a groan.
“Whoa, what’s this?” demanded Courtney.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you all. Jenna’s a massage therapist,” said Aunt Edie. “She’s going to set up business right here at the house.”
“I’ll be your first customer,” Tyrella said.
“Then I’ll be your second,” said Cindy.
Jenna smiled. Good. She could use all the business she could get.
“Your traps are a little tight,” she told Annie. “Are you under any stress?” She had to be with the man she was married to.
“No more than anyone else, I guess,” Annie replied.
Courtney gave a snort. “Yeah, right. She may as well know right off what the rest of us know. Your husband’s a shit.”
Annie’s muscles bunched under Jenna’s fingers. “I get it,” Jenna assured her. She found a rhomboid and worked it.
“Oh, my,” Annie yelped. “That goes all the way up my neck.”
“You get trigger points where the neck is knotted,” Jenna explained. “It refers pain to other parts of the body. This one in your shoulder is referring right up your neck.”
“In other words, her husband is a pain in the neck,” Courtney said.
“Maybe,” Jenna said.
Courtney was trying to drive home a point, but in light of what Jenna had gone through and what Annie was going through, it wasn’t funny. And nobody laughed.
“I guess that was tacky, huh?” Courtney muttered.
“Just a little,” Cindy said. “Greg’s not going to change,” she told Annie. “You should kick him out.”
Annie sighed. “I can’t afford to. Anyway, he’s fine when he’s not drinking.”
Courtney gave a disapproving frown. “And when is that?”
“He’s started AA. Things are going to improve.”
“He’s started AA before,” Courtney reminded her.
“I’m trying to keep us a family, for Emma’s sake.”
“Yeah, but what kind of example are you setting for Emma?” Courtney argued, making Annie tense up all over again.
Jenna suspected these two had had this conversation before. She didn’t blame Courtney for wanting to help her friend, but what to do with a problem husband was a very personal decision. Was Courtney married? Did she understand the whole family dynamic dilemma thing?
“I know, I know. I don’t have a kid,” Courtney said as if reading Jenna’s mind. “But I had a loser husband, and I don’t regret cutting him out of my life.”
“It’s different when you have a child,” Annie said softly.
Jenna sighed. Yes, it was.
“Well, we’ll just keep praying for him,” Tyrella said firmly. “Pray that demon alcohol right out of him.”
“I say we beat it out of him,” Courtney muttered.
“I say we change the subject,” Nora said, and after that the evening’s conversation turned to lighter subjects—what new books the women were reading, whether or not the latest movie showing at Seaside Cinema was worth seeing, who was dieting, who had given up.
At one point there was a discussion about the upcoming festival and the hope that it would bring in some new visitors.
“And some return visitors,” Cindy said.
“I’m sure it will,” Nora told her. “I hear we’re supposed to have a hot summer, which will be good for tourism.”
“I hope so. We need to bring in more business than we did last summer if we’re going to make it through the winter,” Cindy confessed.
Her words sent a cold shiver down Jenna’s spine. She wasn’t sure they were going to make much money at the inn before winter. She hoped between her massage business and Aunt Edie’s social security they could hang on until the next summer.
“Okay, ladies, let’s make sure we all buy a ton of chocolate,” Nora said, and the others smiled and nodded.
“It’ll be tough to force myself to eat more chocolate but I’ll try,” Courtney joked.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you through winter,” Tyrella promised, demonstrating the commitment the people of the little beachside community had for each other.
“It’s got to be hard to keep going when the bulk of your business is seasonal,” Jenna said, hoping someone would contradict her.
“It is,” Nora admitted. “But we’re all here because we love Moonlight Harbor.”
“Life’s good at the beach,” Courtney said, “as long as you can pay the bills.”
“We just need to keep working on ways to bring people into town,” Nora said. “We’re not that far from Seattle, and Olympia’s only an hour away.”
“Our mayor keeps talking about making things happen,” Tyrella said, “but so far we’re not seeing much.”
“We do have those way finders now,” Nora said.
Tyrella made a face. “Street signs shaped like giant shells. That will bring the tourists.”
“Change takes time,” Nora reminded her. “Anyway, it’s a beginning.” Obviously, she was a fan of the mayor.
Time. How much time did Jenna have?
The evening ended around ten, with hugs for all, and Jenna went up to her bedroom, feeling like she’d put down some good roots in the sandy soil of Moonlight Harbor. Now, if they could just find a friend for Sabrina, life at the beach would be really good.
She checked in on her daughter, who was still texting away, and ordered a switch to a book so she could settle down for sleep. It wasn’t too hard to persuade Sabrina to do that as she loved to read and was caught up in a dystopian tale of a mutant teen girl with superpowers.
Jenna wished she had superpowers. If she did she could find a way to use them to make a huge pile of money for the motel. Except superheroes never used their powers for ignoble and boring things like money.
She flopped on her bed and began texting her sister about her adventures.
I’m so jealous, Celeste texted. You get to live down at the beach.
You did look at the pictures I sent, right?
That can all be fixed, Celeste texted back breezily. It’s all cosmetic.
Cosmetics for hotels don’t come cheap. I need a new roof. No $.
We’ll think of something.
Maybe Celeste would. Her sister was the creative one. When they were kids she could craft circles around Jenna and specialized in turning clamshells and beach pebbles into charming characters complete with eyelashes and beach hats. When she wasn’t doing that she was often curled up in a corner with a notepad, scribbling stories. She had enough imagination for ten people.
After hearing about the mysterious Seth Waters she’d decided he was either a burned-out navy SEAL or one of America’s most wanted criminals come to the beach to hide out.
Maybe he was. Of course, he could also be the type of man who didn’t like to talk about himself. Who knew? Jenna wished she did. There was something fascinating about the man that pulled her like the moon pulled the tide.
Or maybe she was just sex starved, because Brody managed a pretty good pull, too.
What was the deal with Seth?
So, anything happening with Sethalicious?
Her sister was a mind reader.
Not interested.
She’d been fascinated by Damien, too, and look where that had gotten her.
You can’t give up on love.
Oh, yes, she could.
I want to come down and meet everyone, texted Celeste. Hook me up with Seth if you don’t want him. He sounds like a hunk.
What about the new Mr. Wonderful?
Hee, hee. Yeah, him. He’s great. Sooo sexy. And fun.
And responsible? You did say he has a job, right?
Of course he has a job. He’s a cop. It doesn’t get any better than that.
Has he used his handcuffs on you yet?
What do you think?
A noise downstairs caught Jenna’s attention. Aunt Edie had gone to bed. Sabrina was reading about the end of the world.
You there? prompted Celeste.
Yeah. Thought I heard something.
What?
Nothing. Just my imagination.
But there went her imagination again. It sounded like someone was in the kitchen. There it goes again. And there went her heart rate, picking up.
Call 911!
It’s probably the wind.
But the wind didn’t open cupboard doors. Now Jenna’s right eye was twitching. She’d locked both the front and back doors.
Who would break into Aunt Edie’s house? It didn’t exactly look like Millionaire Acres.
I’d better go see who’s down there. Or maybe I’d better hide under the bed.
Jenna told herself to stop being such a baby. She had to be imagining things.
Oh, boy. There went her imagination again.
Call the cops!
I’ll be back, Jenna texted, then slipped off the bed and tiptoed to her bedroom door. She opened it a crack and listened. Was someone moving around down there? What did she have for a weapon?
She remembered the pepper spray she’d always carried in her purse when she’d gone for walks after work in case of rape or mad dog attack. Good thing she never cleaned her purse. She fished out the can and tiptoed back to the door. She’d never used the stuff, wasn’t even sure it worked, but it was better than nothing. Unless the intruder had a gun. She swallowed and tiptoed across the landing, heart thumping, eye twitching.
Maybe she should call the cops. Blink, blink, blink. Thump, thump, thump.
She started down the stairs. Just like the idiots in movies who went into the dark basement all by themselves and then got their throats slit.
That was her. Idiot Girl.
There was someone in the house. The kitchen light was on. What kind of dumb crook turned on the light?
“I’ve got a gun,” Jenna yelled. “And I’ve called the police.”
“What?” replied the burglar.
The kitchen door opened and Jenna grabbed her pepper spray and aimed. And got a nice dose in the face.