by Shirley Jump
No, that wasn’t it. Everything was where it should be. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling.
Father Michael walked over to Jenna, and shook her hand. “Thank you,” she said. “You really pulled off a miracle for me at the last minute.”
He waved off her gratitude. “I didn’t do anything but drive the van that got the band here. You did something much bigger.”
“What’s that?”
“You gave them a second chance.” He waved toward the band. “And that’s something that can’t be bought. You did it for Tammy, too. Goodness, Jenna, you’re making changes all over this town. People will miss you when you leave, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Father Michael’s gaze swept the room, then came back to Jenna’s face. “I think you need to have a closer look at all the friendly faces here. This is your home, Jenna. It always was.” Then he walked off toward the band.
Her home. Hadn’t Earl said pretty much the same thing? For so long, she’d resisted that thought, sure that she could never feel truly at home in a town where the whispers about her parents were a constant hum around her. She’d been too busy listening to that hum to appreciate the rest of the town. To realize it offered a connection, one she had foolishly left behind.
And then, she knew. What she had been looking for all along wasn’t success, or a great party, but this—
This people connection that showed she had made a difference. She’d handled dozens and dozens of parties, but after all the flowers were dead and the decorations taken down, what had she been left with? A sense that she’d thrown a great party, sure, but there’d always been that little sense of is this it?
She brushed off the questions. She didn’t have time to deal with them now—she needed to keep her focus until Eunice’s party ended. She headed over to the buffet line, and a moment later, Stockton joined her. “Thank you for what you did with Betsy.”
“No problem. You know her as well as I do. She can have a temper, but she can also be fair and understanding.”
Jenna nodded her agreement. She gestured toward the head table, where the group with Eunice was chatting, laughing and eating their second helping of Rustica’s entrées. “So what was that all about with my aunt and Betsy?”
“The food.” He grinned. “And you.”
Jenna groaned. “Do I want to ask?”
He chuckled. “No, you really don’t.”
Undoubtedly, her aunt was playing matchmaker, one of the roles she liked best. Jenna decided to stay far, far away from that topic. Stockton had dropped the subject of her staying in Riverbend, and seemed fine with the fact that she was leaving for good in a few hours.
She tried not to let the disappointment swell in her chest, but it did all the same.
With all the guests served, Stockton began cleaning up the buffet while the waitstaff carried in the empty plates and dirty silverware. Stockton hefted the massive, and nearly empty, bowl of salad into his arms and headed for the kitchen. Jenna grabbed the container of rolls and followed after him.
She found him in the kitchen, busy scraping the leftovers into a small container, then loading the dirty bowl into the sink. Silence extended between them, while outside the double doors the room’s chatter continued at a happy hum, set to the beat of the band’s soft rock tunes.
She watched him work, watched the movements of his lean frame, the way his jaw set in concentration. She knew Stockton better than she knew anyone else. Could have drawn his features in her sleep. And she had loved him nearly all that time.
How was she going to leave this town? Leave him again? It had been so hard for her to get on the plane to New York the first time. She’d told herself at the time that she was making the right decision, the one that was best for both of them. Eight years ago, it had felt right.
But now… Now it hurt.
The kitchen doors swung open and Livia strode into the small space. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but it’s time to sing happy birthday to Eunice and let her blow out the candles.”
“Great,” Jenna said, although she was feeling far from festive. Birthday cake meant the end of the party was nearly here, and she’d be that much closer to putting Riverbend and Stockton far behind her.
Jenna left the kitchen, then signaled to the band. As they launched into “Happy Birthday,” Jenna and Livia wheeled the cake in front of the head table. Jenna lit the three numeral-shaped candles spelling out the number one hundred—much better than the overwhelming option of a full hundred candles—while Eunice came around to stand before her cake. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Goodness gracious. I can’t believe I’m a hundred years old. I still feel ninety.” She laughed.
Someone called “speech, speech” from across the room. Another voice asked, “What’s your advice for living to be one hundred?”
Eunice thought a second, her hands clasped at her waist. “Find what truly makes you happy, and living to an old age will be easy.”
The ballroom erupted in applause, the band launched into “Happy Birthday” and the crowd began to sing to Eunice. She leaned forward, paused, as if she was making a wish, then she blew out all three candles. There was another, more enthusiastic round of applause, then Jenna and Livia took the cake back to the kitchen to cut it into serving pieces.
“I can do this with Jenna,” Stockton said to Livia. “You go keep Edward company.”
“I’m not turning that offer down,” Livia said. She thanked Stockton, then left the kitchen, a wide smile of anticipation on her face. Jenna suspected it’d be a long time before that smile disappeared, given the way things were going between Livia and the owner of the banquet hall.
“Looks like Eunice’s party was a success,” Stockton said to Jenna as he dipped a long cake knife into hot water and began slicing through the dessert. With deft movements, he cut off squares and loaded them onto plates that the waitstaff then put onto trays. As he did, Jenna added dessert forks to each serving. The waitstaff moved in and out of the kitchen, delivering the cake to the guests before returning for more.
“Things did go very well, even with that little glitch with the band,” Jenna said. “I’m pleased, not just for my company, but for Eunice. And for you. This should help spread the word that Rustica is one of the best restaurants in Indiana.”
Stockton sliced the last piece, then put the knife down. “You know, I didn’t take on this job because it would help my business, Jenna.” He considered his words for a second. “Maybe I did at first, but then it became something more.”
Jenna propped a fork onto the small plate, set it on the tray, then faced Stockton. There was nothing left to do, not really, except finally deal with what they had been dancing around for days. “What do you mean?”
“I did this because I wanted answers.” He leaned back against the stainless steel countertop. He wore his white chef jacket and dress pants, but to Jenna, he had never looked more handsome. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to kiss him just one more time before she left.
She stayed where she was. Trying to be wise, not rash.
“Answers about us,” he said.
“Us?” Her heart beat faster, and her breath caught in her throat.
“You asked me why I didn’t come after you when you went to New York.” His blue gaze met hers, so direct she was sure he could see inside her.
She shrugged, as if the topic didn’t send a sword through her heart. As if bringing up those awful days didn’t still hurt like hell. “I just assumed if you wanted to be with me, you would have come after me. You didn’t, so…” A long breath escaped her. “So that was it.”
He pushed off from the countertop and closed the gap between them. Her pulse began to race, and as she looked over his face, her mind repeated one phrase over and over again.
This is the last time you’re going to see him.
Because even if she returned to Riverbend after this, to visit with her aunt, or to see Livia, she knew,
deep in her heart, that she would not be with Stockton again. They had reached some kind of pivotal moment in their relationship, a door that had been opened by the catering job, and she was about to let that door shut.
Once it did, she sensed whatever feelings might have remained between them would die. It would be over. For good.
“I always wondered why you left so abruptly.”
“It was the end of the summer. I had a job offer at a party planning company, and there was an opening at the college there for the hospitality program—”
“Which meant you’d planned this, at least a little.”
She bit her lip. “I just couldn’t find the right time to tell you.”
“Was it really that?” he asked quietly. “Or did you drop that bombshell and hop on the next plane so you could leave me before I left you?”
“I…” Her protest died on her lips. She thought of those last few months when they’d been dating. Stockton had talked about traveling the world, then coming back to Riverbend. All she heard, though, was “leaving town.” She was so sure—so, so sure—that he’d never return. That he’d find someone else in another city.
“People are going to leave you, people are going to disappoint you. So why not force that process along a little bit?”
“I didn’t…” She sighed and shook her head as tears worked their way to the surface. She thought of all the people who had left her, or let her down. Her parents dying, her world turning upside-down. Had she done that to Stockton, too? Been so ready for someone else to leave her that she did it to them first? “Okay, maybe I did. But how can you blame me for a little self-preservation? By the time we graduated high school, I realized all your talk about traveling the world was so you could get away from the one thing you’ve always avoided like the plague. Commitment.”
“My schedule is insane, Jenna. Even if I wanted to have a family—”
“If you want something bad enough, you get it, Stockton. You did it with your restaurant. You bucked all the odds, silenced the naysayers. You did it. But when it comes to your personal life…you don’t take that same risk. And you know why?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Because you’re guarding something, too. That’s the part you’ve given to your restaurant instead of to other people.” Her hand flattened against the left side of his chest. “The one thing I could never have, no matter how hard I tried. Your heart.”
She stepped away and headed for the swinging door of the kitchen. “That’s why I’m going back to New York, Stockton. Because I know better than to wait around for something I’m never going to have.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NIGHT HAD FALLEN, bathing Riverbend in a nearly silent darkness. Like most small towns, everything buttoned down once the sun went down. Most of the shops were closed, the traffic disappeared and even the neighbor’s dogs seemed to quiet their barks. Jenna stood in the bedroom she had lived in since she was seven years old and added the last of her sweaters to her suitcase. “I’m all packed.”
Aunt Mabel sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t go.”
Jenna turned and drew her aunt into a tight hug. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Aunt Mabel said. “And please, don’t let so much time go by next time.”
Jenna laughed, then went back to her suitcase while Aunt Mabel took a seat on the bed. “You could always come to New York and visit me, Aunt Mabel.”
“I could. And while I was there, I could stock up on that coffee you’re always sending me.” Aunt Mabel smoothed a hand over the quilt at the end of Jenna’s bed. “Or…you could call Percival Mullins.”
Jenna glanced around the room, but didn’t see anything she’d left behind. The bathroom, had she gotten everything in there? Either way, if she forgot anything, her aunt would send it to her. Still, the persistent feeling that she was leaving something behind nagged at her. “Percival who?”
“The Realtor. I saw his sign on a tiny little storefront on Main Street yesterday. It’s a sweet little shop. Used to be an antiques shop, until Lucy Higgins retired and moved to Florida.”
“I remember her. She gave me a lace handkerchief once. Told me every young lady needs a handkerchief.”
“Well, her store is empty now.” Aunt Mabel traced over the triangles that formed a starburst on the quilt’s panels. “It’s a really nice place, too. The kind of place that would make a great office for a party planner.”
Jenna zipped her suitcase shut, then slid it onto the floor. It was a little lighter than when she’d first arrived, because her suits were now with Tammy, but still the Samsonite hit the floor with a soft thud. “Gee, is that a hint?”
Aunt Mabel shrugged. “Call it a suggestion.”
“A pretty obvious one.” Jenna laughed.
Aunt Mabel’s light blue eyes met her niece’s. “Don’t you want to live to be a hundred?”
“What’s that got to do with Lucy Higgins’s store?”
“Lucy retired at eighty-five. You know why she kept that shop open as long as she did? Working long past the age most people retire?”
“Because she needed the money?”
“Because running that little shop made her happy. Didn’t make her rich, but sure made her happy.” Aunt Mabel rose. She cupped Jenna’s jaw in the same tender way she had when Jenna had been a little girl. “What you’re doing now isn’t making you happy, my dear. You keep telling yourself it is, but I know you as well as I know my own self, and you are searching for something, something that you already have here.”
Jenna opened her mouth to argue back. The sentences formed on her tongue, but refused to leave her mouth.
Aunt Mabel was right. Jenna had been telling herself that once her business was back on track, she’d be happy. She’d find that missing ingredient that had been plaguing her for months, no, years. But she hadn’t, even as she’d stood in the middle of Eunice Dresden’s birthday party, surrounded by happy, content guests.
She had, however, felt that sense of satisfaction earlier today. When she’d stood in the basement of the church and promised to help Father Michael plan the shelter’s fundraiser.
“Running a business like that out of a town this small would be tough,” Jenna said. “I mean, I’m sure I’d draw a lot from nearby cities, like Indianapolis, but still, it would take time to spread the word.”
Aunt Mabel smiled. “Good thing you have a whole town to rally behind you. Who better to spread the word than your friends and neighbors?”
Jenna thought of what Earl had said, and what people like Father Michael and Betsy had done, and what they were still doing to help the people of the community. Riverbend truly was a family, complete with the quirky uncles and overbearing aunts.
The kind of family that had always been here, waiting for her. She’d let what a couple of people said ruin this town for her. No more. She realized what had bothered her all these days about going back to New York—
Her heart wasn’t in the big city. It never had been. It had always been right here, in Riverbend’s center.
“Friends and neighbors,” Jenna repeated softly, then hefted the suitcase back onto the bed, unzipped it and began to unload everything she had just put inside. While Aunt Mabel stood beside her and cried.
Stockton had been a fool.
He stared at the ring box sitting on his dresser and wondered how it was possible for a man to make the same mistake twice in one lifetime. He’d woken up this morning, and for a second he’d thought it was the day of Eunice’s birthday party again. That he had a second chance to make things right between himself and Jenna. Then he saw the ring box and realized that day had already passed.
His cell phone rang. Stockton yanked it up, flipped it open and barked a greeting. “Yeah?”
“Yo, Stockton, this is Larry. You sick or something? Everyone’s here waiting for you, for the staff meeting.”
Stockton glanced at his watch and let out a low curse. In the year Rustica had been open,
he had never been late. Never called in sick. And here he was, daydreaming and running a half hour behind. “I’ll be right—” His gaze lighted on the ring box again. He thought of Jenna’s words yesterday, accusing him of using his business as a way to avoid his fears. To avoid going after what he really wanted. To avoid committing to another person.
Damn. She was right. He had done that for the past two weeks—always, coming back to work instead of going after the thing he wanted most in life. Only a fool would keep doing something that wasn’t working, and sure as hell wasn’t making him happy.
“I’m, uh, not coming in today.”
“You’re…what?” Larry sputtered. “I think we have a bad connection because I thought I just heard you say you’re not coming in today.”
“You can handle the meeting and service today, Larry. I’ve got some…personal things to take care of.” Larry spouted a few more objections, but Stockton cut him off. “You’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he hung up the phone, grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.
Aunt Mabel had swept the front parlor twice already. Mopped the kitchen before the sun finished rising, and had fluffed the pillows on the parlor loveseat so many times, Jenna was surprised there was any pouf left in them. “Aunt Mabel, what are you doing?”
“Preparing for the first footer. A few days late, I might point out, but better late than never.” She grabbed a dust rag and a bottle of furniture polish and set to work on the bookshelves.
“The first…what?” Jenna took the rag from her aunt’s hands. “Here, let me do that.”
“Goodness gracious, Jenna. I swear you never pay attention.” Aunt Mabel handed over the cleaning products, then faced her niece. “The first footer is the first visitor of the new year.”
“Aunt Mabel, the new year is already almost a week old. Surely—”
“We haven’t had any visitors since the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve. But we will today.” She smiled, then fluffed the pillows. Again.
