She swallowed. “I did, too.” Too nice. She thought back to the first time he’d taken her to Wilma’s. It had been two weeks after their first kiss. Two long, silent weeks where, whenever he saw her, he’d duck his head and dart away.
She’d become convinced he didn’t like her, that the kiss had been a mistake, or maybe he’d acted on a dare. But then, one Friday, she’d arrived at her school locker to find him waiting, looking adorably shy, wanting to know if she wanted to grab something to eat.
She’d almost squealed her answer, but then, with a slow, deep breath had nodded and said, as nonchalantly as her squeaky voice allowed, “That’d be fun.”
“What’re you thinking about?”
“Huh?” Her face heated.
“You’ve got that dreamy, ‘I’m plotting a murder’ expression going on. You figure out another false clue?”
“Red herring.”
“Yeah, that.”
“I was just...” Reminiscing on the best year of my life. Followed by the worst year.
Chapter Fourteen
Jed swiveled his desk chair to face his computer and started skimming through his emails. Most were spam. A couple of script-writing companies had responded to his questions with sample pages, and one was following up regarding material they’d sent a month back. They weren’t the kind he’d use—too crude.
Good thing he had Paige. He smiled, thinking back to their afternoon at the museum. For a few precious hours, the old Paige had emerged—and stayed. And like he’d hoped, perusing exhibits had stirred her imagination. By the time they’d left, she’d been bubbling with plot ideas.
She was talented enough to write the thing on her own, but apparently she was still too uncertain to do so.
Or did she just enjoy spending time with him?
She’d almost seemed excited when he mentioned seeing a murder mystery together. Almost like a real date.
The thought made him smile and spurred him even more to find a theater they could attend this week.
He spent the next half hour searching for the perfect place. Most everything was sold out. Only one he could find was an interactive hippie show, almost an hour northeast. Unfortunately patrons were required to dress up.
He cringed at the thought of wearing bell-bottoms and a bright wide-collared shirt. But the evening could be hilarious.
He called Paige but got her voice mail. He told her what he’d found. “Figured it’d help us get ideas. The show is the day after tomorrow. Thought I’d buy a couple tickets. That night work for you? But I have to warn you that we’ve got to dress up. Seventies style.”
He ended the call and then shifted his attention to finding cheap wood paneling for his renovation. Reclaimed wood would look great, but the price would bust his budget.
Unless...
He remembered the pile of scraps lying beside the partially demolished barn at New Life Furnishings, and his thoughts drifted to Mr. Fischer’s place. He had three barns in various stages of decay. That’d provide enough wood to panel the dining-area walls and maybe even two accents in the lobby. Jed could use the metal roofs to detail the stage or for the counters in the lobby. He might even be doing the man a favor, clearing those eyesores off Mr. Fischer’s land.
He dialed the man’s number.
“Eh-low.”
“Howdy, sir. This is Jed Gilbertson, Judith Tappen’s grandson.”
“Hey, boy. What can I do you for? Everything all right with your nana?”
“She’s great. Busy as ever.” He explained the reason for his call. “What do you say? Can my buddies and I come tear down your barns for you?”
Mr. Fischer chuckled. “You and your friends can come clear my junk away anytime.”
Jed grinned. “I’m much obliged sir, thank you.” He grabbed the estimate Drake had given him. The wood from those old barns would save him a pretty penny. Maybe even enough to pay for stained concrete on the floors—with horseshoe prints pressed in.
Things were finally starting to fall into place.
He was about to call his buddies to set up a barn-tearing party when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. Paige.
“Hey. Thanks for getting back to me.”
“You really think I need this? To attend a murder-mystery dinner theater?”
Did he, or was he simply finding an excuse to be with her? He told himself it was the former, but the way he sprang to answer her call indicated otherwise. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“I don’t want to sound rude or anything, but...are you paying? Because...” Her breath reverberated across the line. “I’m broke.”
Poor girl. He hated that he’d made her say that out loud. “No problem. This one’s on me. Well, on the theater. You know what I mean.”
“All right, then. Only—I don’t own anything remotely hippy.”
Neither did he. “I have an idea. We’ll hit the thrift store. My treat.”
She laughed. “You always were a big spender.”
That sweet, teasing voice got him every time. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, at ten?”
“I’ll be here.”
An image of her wearing a cute little paisley dress with soft curls framing her face triggered a smile.
Then a frown. He’d be wrecked when she left to go back to Chicago.
So he needed to make certain he gave her every reason in the world to stay.
* * *
With her hands perched on her hips, Paige studied her mom as she sat behind her computer. She needed a change of scenery—fresh air and to do something fun.
Paige was failing miserably on her get-Mom-out-more campaign. Maybe she needed to take Mira up on her dinner offer one of these nights.
She folded an afghan over the back of the couch. “You sure you’re going to be okay? And that you don’t mind watching Ava?”
“A quiet afternoon would do me—and this headache I’m fighting—good.” Mom rubbed her temples. “Matter of fact, I think I’ll join her when she naps. If I’m not doing better by tomorrow, I’ll call the doctor.”
“If you’re not feeling well—”
She waved a hand. “You go on. If I stopped living every time my body chose to revolt, I’d never do anything.”
“Maybe the two of you could walk to the park. It’s a beautiful day.”
The doorbell rang, and she spun around and scrunched the ends of her hair to fluff the curls.
She answered to find Jed on the stoop, dressed in a burnt-orange T-shirt that accentuated his muscular build. She smiled, and the familiar jittery sensation that always hit her whenever his dark eyes latched on to hers swept through her. “Hi.”
He tipped his hat at her. “Howdy.” He smiled past her. “Mrs. Cordell. Hey there, Ava.” His gaze returned to Paige, and warmth was radiating from his eyes. “You ready?”
She nodded, and her mouth suddenly felt dry. “Let me grab my purse.” She dashed back inside, paused in her room to inhale a calming breath and check her reflection in the mirror one last time, and then she reemerged.
She snatched Ava up for a firm hug. “You and Grandma have fun.”
“Ice cweam?” She reached for the kitchen, opening and closing her hand.
Ava laughed and raised an eyebrow at her mom. “Ice cream, huh? Is that what Grandma feeds you when I’m away?”
Ava bobbed her head with her smile growing.
“That’s my job.” Mom crossed the room and took Ava from Paige. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?” She hugged her close.
Jed laughed. “Sounds about right. Looks like your daughter’s in good hands, Paige.”
“Apparently.” She blew Ava a kiss, waved goodbye to her mom and stepped out.
She closed the door behind her and followed Jed to his truck.
He unlocked it and then reached past her to o
pen her door, and his familiar cologne set her off-kilter.
Her gaze shot to his, and his eyes intensified; his expression became unreadable. But then his lazy grin returned.
It was almost enough to make a girl forget she wasn’t interested in romance.
It’d been almost a decade and a half, but her memories from that year still stung. She’d felt so alone. Abandoned. By Jed, her father and even her mom.
It was the same empty-gut feeling she’d had when she’d arrived home to find her ex-husband standing in their living room with his suitcases packed.
He’d left in much the same way her father had—without much more than a goodbye and zero child support. Once the court had started garnishing her ex’s wages, he’d quit his job. She suspected he was working under the table—construction jobs made that easy—but she’d given up chasing him down long ago.
She’d vowed to never become so dependent, emotional or financially, on a man ever again.
But here she sat, falling hard for Jed Gilbertson.
He slid in beside her, making the truck’s cab feel entirely too cozy.
He turned on the radio, tuned to the country station and then lowered the sound a notch. “Ever been to The Feather’s Bureau?”
“Been a while, but yeah. I went a few times back in high school. Matter of fact, that was where I bought my outfit for the sock hop.”
“You went to that?”
“Yeah.” And had hated every minute of it. She’d spent the entire night sitting in the back corner with two of her equally shy and awkward friends. The only guy who’d asked her to dance had been Eli Wadlow, a short, bucktoothed kid who talked nonstop about Pokémon cards and video games. “Did you?”
He shook his head. “I was too busy pickling my brains at the next party.” He turned onto Main Street. “I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed back then.”
He expressed a lot of regret for his past, making it impossible for her to think of him as that dumb jock who’d left her for the popular crowd. In fact, he was demolishing all of her reasons for maintaining her emotional distance, one interaction at a time.
But the most important question still remained: Could she trust him with her—and Ava’s—heart?
Thirty minutes later, she headed toward a bright pink dressing room loaded down with polyester clothes in an assortment of colors.
“Wait. Try these, too.” His eyes danced as he held up a pair of checkered bell-bottoms. “They’ll go great with this.” He tossed her a wide beaded headband with rainbow fringe.
“Only if you try that disco ensemble.”
His brows shot up, and he stared at the mannequin she pointed to. But then the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Just my style.”
By the time they finished, he was carrying a large plastic bag filled with clothes bright enough to be reflective, and Paige’s sides ached from laughing.
“You hungry?”
She hesitated. Her heart still hadn’t recovered from their lunch after their museum trip. Sitting across a table from him a second time sounded much too intimate. Especially after their little shopping experience. She hadn’t had that much fun in some time.
Never could she have imagined Jed Gilbertson swapping his jeans and boots for polyester bell-bottoms. She worked to suppress a giggle.
“What’s so funny?”
Taking the hand he offered, she climbed into his truck. “Just thinking what a girl could do with thrift-store-shopping photos.” She held up her phone and wiggled it.
His eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.” He reached for it, and his chest pressed against her shoulder; his face was suddenly very close to hers.
She inhaled sharply; her pulse was accelerating as his gaze held hers.
He stepped back. “On second thought, I should probably get back to the theater.”
She straightened and nodded. “I should get home, too.”
She was falling in love with Jed all over again, only things were much more complicated this time.
If Paige was going to bring another man into her and Ava’s life, she wanted to be certain the man would stay.
Forever.
* * *
The next evening, Paige realized she had never worn bright pink before, and the fringe dangling from her headband made her feel ridiculous.
“You look beautiful, sweetie. Don’t you agree, Ava?” Mom bopped Ava on the head with her stuffed animal. “Jed Gilbertson is such a nice young man. I’m glad the two of you are spending time together again.”
Paige frowned. “Our interaction is purely professional.”
“Yes, of course, dear.” But her wry smile said otherwise.
Paige sighed as she headed to her bedroom to grab her pocket notebook. Regardless of what her jittery nerves indicated, she was going to this dinner purely for business purposes.
The doorbell rang, and she paused to wipe her sweaty palms on her dress. With a deep breath, she answered.
The image of Jed in a shimmery black, flared-leg ’70s disco outfit made her laugh. “I’m sorry. I just—Hi.”
His face colored. “Hey.” His hand rose toward his head, as if reaching for his hat, which obviously wasn’t there, before plunging into his pocket. He glanced past her. “Ma’am.”
“Jed.” Mom appeared at Paige’s side. “Good to see you.” She gave Paige a hug. “You two have fun.”
The lilt in her voice caused Paige’s face to flame. “I’m sure tonight’s entertainment will prove very helpful.” She crossed the room to hug and kiss Ava, who sat on the floor, surrounded by stuffed animals, and then returned. “Ready?”
Jed smiled. “I was born ready.”
On the drive to the theater, they talked about murder mysteries in general and how many he’d attended after buying into his grandparents’ business.
“Before then, the only dinner theater I’d ever been to had been Grandma and Grandpa’s. I wanted to see how other folks ran things.”
“Makes sense.”
He shared what he knew about the ’70s production, which wasn’t much, and she talked about the one time, other than tonight, she’d worn feathers and fringe.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why I ever went to that stupid dance. I spent most of the night consoling sobbing friends in the bathroom.”
“I bet you were beautiful.”
Her gaze met his, and her face turned warm.
Chapter Fifteen
Paige checked her hair in the visor mirror as Jed turned into a parking area in front of a blue house with pink trim and a yellow door. Half a dozen other cars filled the lot with couples stepping from them dressed like The Brady Bunch cast members.
A woman with a beehive hairdo and gigantic hoop earrings passed in front of them.
Jed chuckled and cut the engine. “Guess we’ll fit right in tonight, huh?”
“Seems like it, although at least we’re dressed for the correct era. I think.”
Inside the lobby, bright murals covered the walls. Beading draped along the cashier counter, above the windows, and formed a doorway to what likely led to the main dining area. Music she recognized from the ’70s poured from hidden speakers.
Jed handed their tickets to a tall man wearing a long blond wig and scraggly beard.
“Table twelve.”
Jed nodded and guided Paige into a low-ceilinged room filled with tables covered in tie-dyed linens. “Think we’re over there.” He pointed to the center of the room, where two other couples sat, and then led her that way. He pulled out the chair for her.
The woman to Paige’s right loved to talk. She thought Paige and Jed were “simply adorable.” She followed this with a myriad questions about everything from where Paige and Jed had met to how long they’d been dating.
“We’re not.” Paige fumbled for her glass. “We’re just friends
.” Attempting to avoid further conversation, she watched the couples seated at the other tables.
By the first intermission, however, frequent bouts of laughter had set her at ease. The show was hilarious.
Could she make her script this funny?
She pulled her notebook from her purse. “I’m pretty sure they have cast members placed, incognito, at different tables.”
“Like Ms. Chatty, you mean?” Jed tipped his head toward where the woman with the gazillion questions had been sitting before she and her husband had migrated to the hall.
“Hmm.” Paige tapped her pencil against her chin. “Know what? I bet you’re right.”
“You think we should do that?”
“Could be interesting, though it’d probably increase the cast size.”
“This seat taken?”
She turned to see a large man dressed in plaid sitting beside her. “Actually, yes, but I think they’ve gone to the bathroom.”
“Their loss. They should learn not to leave such a beautiful woman unattended.” He grabbed her hand and leaned forward. “Is he your boyfriend, this man that left you?”
Laughing, she exchanged glances with Jed, who was also chuckling.
“Ah!” The man jerked back with a frown. He crossed his arms and looked from her to Jed, then back to her again. “I see how it is.” He stood, dragged his chair to Paige’s other side and then attempted to shove it between them. “You and he,” he wagged a finger. “No, no, no, no.” He glowered at Jed. “What are your intentions toward this lovely woman?”
Jed blinked. “I...uh...excuse me?”
Paige squirmed, feeling as if the entire theater were watching her. They probably were.
“Your intentions.” The man jutted his chin. “Declare them now or release her.” He grabbed her hand again and kissed the back of it. “Leave this loser and come away with me. He doesn’t treat you as you deserve. See? He refuses to proclaim his love in the most romantic of settings. But not I. I am not afraid to tell the entire world about my love for you.”
Hometown Healing Page 12
