Chapter 9

Jenna

SURPRISINGLY, THE DAY HAD been going much better than the previous one, even with a twisted ankle and a splitting headache. Judith and Harry’s plumber had come through with a much lower price than Mr. DeAngelo. The electrician who was just out had also come in under budget, and I was still waiting on the carpenter to get done with his estimate on the work I needed done, hoping he’d continue the streak of luck I was having. Right on cue, the text from Brad that had just come through sank my spirits. I hadn’t even read it yet, but I knew no matter what the context, it would somehow end in a fight. I mustered the courage to look at it.

Brad: I tried calling you last night. I don’t want to fight with you anymore. I’ll call you when I get home from the city.

That was the best apology I was going to get, so I needed to suck it up and just prepare myself that this was going to be the rest of my life. It was like I was on a seesaw with him. One day we were up and the next down, but we were never level, and I hated it. I stepped out on the front porch, waiting for the carpenter to get done as I peered over at the couple on the front porch next door. There was no sign of the handsome stranger this morning when I’d left, and I didn’t see what I’d assumed was his car either. I’d wondered if he’d checked out just as we were getting to know each other. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little disappointed with that thought, and I wasn’t sure why. I knew it was probably for the best. I was feeling a weird attraction to him, one I knew was wrong. So, if he’d exited my life just as mysteriously as he’d entered, I was okay with that.

“Okay, Miss Delaney.”

I jumped at the sound of the carpenter’s voice as he snuck up behind me on the front porch.

“I’m sorry.” He chuckled over my edginess. “I’m going to write everything up in an estimate for you and get it out to you by tomorrow.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable, but do you think I’m going to go over budget?”

He sighed heavily. Clearly that wasn’t a good sign. “Well, some of the work you want done in the dining room is going to be a little more than you planned as well as the flooring in the front parlor, but why don’t you take a look at the estimate once I get it done and we’ll see different ways we can modify it to fit within your budget?”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan.” I managed a smile, wondering just how much modifying I’d have to do. I needed to do something to lift my spirits and the rain that was starting to fall wasn’t helping. After taking in all the beautiful front porches of the inns the other day all decked out for fall, I decided mine needed a little loving too. So what if the inside was a disaster, I could at least make the outside a little cheery. I left the safety of my covered porch, battling the raindrops as I hobbled down the steps. The thought did cross my mind that I was a little crazy for attempting to shop with a swollen ankle, but I didn’t care. It beat the alternative of wanting to jump out of my skin. I’d deal with the physical pain I’d more than likely be in after.

***

After probably spending a little too much money at the farmers’ market and then at the grocery store I was finally lugging my bundles on my front porch. I hobbled back down the steps for the third time to grab the hay bale from my trunk, turning my head to the roaring engine that had pulled up behind me. I quickly put my head back in the trunk upon seeing it was him, and just as I’d surmised that gorgeous car belonged to that even more gorgeous man. Was it wrong that my heart fluttered knowing he hadn’t left without a goodbye? I pulled and twisted, trying to get the bale of hay that was wedged in my trunk. Please let this work. Please let this work, I repeated, feeling like a fool, when I heard his car door slam. My face was heated and my body breaking out in a sweat, not knowing what to say or if I should even acknowledge him in any way.

“You need some help?” The smell of alcohol permeated from him as he moved closer.

“Oh, umm...yeah, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes were glassy, and it was apparent he shouldn’t have been driving, but it wasn’t my place to give him that lecture. Instead, I’d just accept his offer to help me carry the hay bale from the car.

He took it from me and threw it on his shoulder with ease. “Where do you want it?” he asked when we reached the front porch.

“Right here is fine.”

He dropped it and stood in silence.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

He nodded and was halfway down the steps before turning back around. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s feeling better, thanks.” I smiled.

“That’s good,” he muttered before heading down the steps.

I wasn’t sure what had come over me, but the words spewed from my lips before I could even stop them. “Are you hungry? I stopped at the grocery store and the farmers’ market and picked up some things for dinner.” I bit down on the inside of my lip when he stared at me blankly. Instead of just letting him go on his way, I did what I did best—yammered on. “I just thought...well, I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of eating restaurant food...it’s so not healthy. But I totally get it if you have—”

“What time?”

“Oh...umm. Is an hour good for you?”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you then.”

He headed next door without saying another word. God, he was strange. I shook my head, wondering what I’d just gotten myself into, but I did have more than enough food and ever since I discovered this morning that the stove actually worked, I was dying to cook something. Cooking was my therapy, and according to Brad I was the best around. Brad. Ugh. Guilt overtook me just thinking about him and the text he’d sent me earlier. I’d gotten annoyed at him for not apologizing, and here I was cooking dinner for another man. This was so wrong. But he was drunk and the last thing I wanted him to do was continue drinking in his room and then take some more pills like he had the other night. So, in a way, I wasn’t mentally cheating on my fiancé, I was doing a good deed.

I took my bags of food inside and into the kitchen then rummaged around the cabinets. Thankfully, my aunt’s cookware and dishes were still in place. I got to work right away, peeling potatoes, slicing and dicing the fresh vegetables, and prepping the chicken. Once everything was in the oven, I set the table and poured myself a glass of wine then headed out to the porch, hoping to salvage some daylight to get some decorating done. After rearranging my mums and pumpkins and moving the hay bale to several different spots on the porch, darkness had finally won out. “Oh, well, tomorrow is another day,” I whispered to myself, still not satisfied with the setup.

I looked down at my watch and became a little distraught when I realized my dinner guest still wasn’t here. I walked inside and took the food out of the oven, pretty certain I’d been stood up. It bothered me for a quick second, but my stomach didn’t have time to dwell on it. I was much too hungry. I was just about to carry the food to the table when I heard a knock on the front door. I rushed to open it, finding Mr. Mysterious on the other side, cleanly shaven and looking even more handsome than usual, if that were even possible.

“Hey! You’re right on time.” Actually, he was fifteen minutes late, but who was counting? “Come on in, I just took everything out of the oven.”

He followed me back into the kitchen.

“Have a seat,” I said, directing him to the kitchen table. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Water is fine.”

I poured him a glass of water and brought the food over to the table.

I was always nervous to have new people sample my cooking. What if they didn’t like it and were too afraid to tell me? “Is everything okay?” I asked after he took his first bite.

He nodded, and I figured that was the best I was going to get from him. Even if he did love it, he didn’t seem like the type who’d make a big fuss. I managed to keep the conversation flowing during dinner, although at some points it was like pulling teeth to get him to talk, but we got through it. After dinner, I took him on a tour of the house. He actually seemed genuinely impressed, remarking quite a few times about some of the original aspects that still remained.

“I’m hoping I can afford how I’m envisioning it in my head.” I sighed heavily as we stood in the main parlor. “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow after I get the estimate back from the carpenter. I may have to sacrifice some of the flooring for something cheaper, but we’ll see.”

“What kind of flooring did you want?”

“Something in a cherry finish. As close to the original as possible.”

“Why don’t you just refinish the original flooring?”

“Well, the carpenter said that would run into more money because of the condition they are more than likely in and the staining and everything else that would be required.”

He bent down and looked up at me. “Do you mind?” he asked, readying to peel the old linoleum floor back to have a look underneath.

“Be my guest.”

“They don’t need to be stained,” he advised after getting a good look.

I raised an eyebrow and shook my head in doubt. “I don’t know, they look pretty bad to me.”

“Trust me, they don’t. Just sand them. The patina from its age will provide a nice amber color.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“Patina. It’s a layer of sheen that builds up on wood over time.”

“Okay...how on earth do you know this stuff? Are you a carpenter or something?”

“No, my grandfather was. I’d spend every summer with him growing up. He taught me a lot. Now I just do it as a hobby and to kind of take my mind off things.”

“Like therapy.”

He creased his eyebrows in confusion. Sometimes I really knew how to stick my foot in my mouth. I hoped he wasn’t thinking I was suggesting he needed therapy. Even though the thought may have crossed my mind a few times about him.

“I mean like my love of cooking. Whenever I’m upset about something or feeling down...I cook, and it kind of makes me feel better.”

“Are you doing tin ceilings in here?” he asked as he looked up, not even acknowledging my explanation.

“I was hoping to, but he told me to stick with the popcorn ceiling because of the damage from a leak they had years ago.”

He shook his head. “No offense, but where did you find this guy?”

“He was another recommendation from my aunt’s lawyer.” I sighed.

“My suggestion would be to get a second opinion.”

“Yeah, but I really want to get the ball rolling on it.”

“So, you’re gonna pay double the price and not get anything you want?”

I shrugged. “I still don’t know what price he’s gonna come back with. It might not be so bad. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”

After he gave some more suggestions on the rest of the downstairs rooms, we ended in the kitchen. “Thank you so much for all the advice. Now at least I can look like I know what I’m talking about when he comes back at me with the price.”

“No problem.”

“Did you want a glass of wine?” I asked, hoping to pick his brain a little more about his carpentry knowledge.

“Sure.”

I poured us each a glass and we headed into the parlor once again. I removed the cover from the sofa, directing him to have a seat.

“So, how come you’re not just staying here instead of next door?”

“Well, there’s no hot water, and they’re coming to replace the windows on Monday. Then once they start the construction it’s going to be a mess, so I figured I’d just stay next door and then I could keep an eye on everything.”

He nodded. “Do you live local?”

“About two hours away. What about you?”

“Upstate New York.”

“I used to work in New York City, until I got laid off.”

“What did you do?”

“I was an editor for Willow House Publishing.”

His eyes widened as if I’d just told him I was a prostitute or something. He took a gulp of his wine and recovered.

“So, this is your new job?”

“I guess you can say that. My aunt and uncle left me this house because they knew how much I loved it. So, in their will they laid out their wishes. If I sold it, I could keep the proceeds, and if I kept it they would leave me an additional sum of money to restore it. I got a pretty generous severance package when I was let go, so I haven’t had to dip in the restoration fund to live off of. I’m hoping the timing on everything works out just right and I can have this place up and running by the time my severance is done.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“What about you? What do you do for a living besides carpenter extraordinaire?”

I sensed his discomfort with that question.

“If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” he replied without even cracking a smile. Part of me wondered if he was half serious. “I’m in business for myself.”

I nodded, not even bothering with asking him what type of business. Clearly, he didn’t want me to know or he would’ve offered it up.

“Are you gonna answer that?” he asked as my phone vibrated on the coffee table with Brad’s name displaying across the screen.

“Not right now.” I sighed, knowing I probably wouldn’t have answered even if I was alone. I just didn’t have the energy that was required every time I spoke to him.

“Is that the fiancé you’re hiding out from?” He grinned.

“That would be him.” I sighed.

“Can I ask you something, and if you don’t want to answer, you can tell me to go to hell.” His steel-blue eyes burned into me.

“Sure.”

“Why are you marrying him if you’re so unsure?”

I rested my head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. I’d been asking myself the same question for some time now and still didn’t have an answer. The best reply I could give him was a shrug of my shoulders.

“When’s the big day?”

“December twenty-first.”

“The Winter Solstice.” His voice wavered.

“The what?”

“It’s the day autumn ends and winter begins,” he explained.

I took another sip of wine and my thoughts began to spill freely. “It’s just...everything is already booked and paid for. I know...I know that’s a lame excuse.” I admitted when he shook his head. “I just feel like I’d be letting everyone down. My mother and father love him, and—”

“But do you love him?”

I hesitated.

“If you need to think about it, that answers my question.”

“No...no...I do love him or at least I...” I took a fortifying breath and continued. “We used to get along great, then once we got engaged everything changed. He started acting like he controlled me, his daughter turned into uber-bitch, and now I’m just so unsure about everything. I mean, don’t a lot of people start getting cold feet before their wedding?” I couldn’t believe I was sitting here talking to this guy like he was my shrink instead of someone I’d just met a few days ago. Someone I was finding myself more and more attracted to each time we met. “I think we just need some time apart to appreciate each other again,” I continued, sounding more like I was trying to convince myself than him.

“Yeah, maybe.” He sounded as if he believed that theory as much as I did.

“So, what’s your story? What are you running away from?” I giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

The somberness that shrouded his face told me my attempt at humor had failed. If his expression wasn’t enough to convince me, his words were. A chill shot down my spine when he replied, “A ghost.”