THURSDAY AFTERNOONS WERE ALL a bustle at Just a Dollar as families procured paper plates and cups, wrapping paper, and tablecloths for weekend birthday parties. Today, a different whisper was in the air as a steady stream of moms with young kids had come through Jennifer’s line, their baskets full of fall-themed decorations and plastic pumpkins. Children eagerly volunteered their costume ideas with little prompting from Jennifer. She loved the cherub-cheeked grins of future Princess Leias, Reys, Finns, and Chewbaccas. Star Wars was at the top of every child’s list.
However, it wasn’t the upcoming Halloween holiday that had Jennifer wishing every customer a very happy day. Nor was it the Harvest Hurrah plans. What really had Jennifer in a good mood was that today she was going to meet up with Kaitlyn to put the finishing touches on her English paper.
Kirke had gone to radio silence. She hadn’t seen him since the estate sale and missed the sound of his luscious voice. Not to mention the way everything in the world was brighter when he was around. As crazy as it seemed, the sky was bluer, Echo Ridge was more festive, and she felt more like herself, like the person she’d always wanted to be but didn’t know how. He unlocked a calmness, a sense of right that allowed her to shine in ways she’d never thought possible.
Following her feminine instincts, and Andrea’s advice, she hadn’t called him. Her distance wasn’t because her heart was silent on the matter. On the contrary, her heart called out to her, begging her to grab on to Kirke’s firm shoulders with both hands and never let go. The small organ could be very persuasive at times, and Jennifer had resorted to long walks up and down Main Street to provide distraction.
At the end of her shift, Jennifer whipped off her green apron and pushed out of the glass doors covered in bargain ads. The crisp breeze bit into her face as if Mother Nature had eaten a whole package of Tic Tacs before she started blowing. The smell of dried leaves and sweetness accompanied her to her car.
She’d had the early shift and had plenty of time to do some retail therapy at Kenworth’s before meeting Kaitlyn. When Kaitlyn said she had a free period and wanted to meet at the library to go over her paper, Jennifer hesitantly agreed. A chance meeting with Kirke might be a good thing— or it could go so very, very wrong if he had fallen desperately in love with a TV charlatan.
Jennifer parked so that she could go through Kenworths’ main doors. The window displays were always worth the effort, and today’s were no exception. A scarecrow stood sentry over an array of pumpkins, gourds, and fall foliage artfully displayed around books highlighting the Harvest Hurrah events. She loved the Dutch oven cook off— oh man, her mouth watered at the thought of slow cooked barbeque.
With the quick step of her ballet flats, Jennifer was through the glass entryway, past the perfume and chocolate counters, each having their own tantalizing aroma, and into the Women’s Department. Because of the fire last Christmas, Kenworth’s had been remodeled. Thankfully, the solid beams in the ceiling and the beautiful brick had remained unharmed.
Stunning dresses in pumpkin and spice colors adorned impossibly thin mannequins. Jennifer perused the display, but she wasn’t here for a dress. She was here for casual chic, so she headed towards the sales rack.
Their time at the estate sale had gone well, but Kirke had been distracted. Normally she would chalk it up to his writing— he could be half in this world and half in the one in his head. But this time it was different. There was a tinge of uncertainty and a dash of wistfulness when their eyes met. When she thought about it later on, she wondered if he was comparing her to Bay. The thought made her boil. Jennifer whipped through the hangers, the hooks whooshing against the metal rack.
Sure, she bought budget cosmetics and discount shampoo, but her mom had been beautiful, before the bitterness sank in, and Jennifer was confident enough in her natural beauty that she wouldn’t shrink from a little competition. Besides, she knew much more about Kirke than some drop-in drama queen.
“Hi, Jennifer. Can I help you find anything?” asked Jessica, startling Jennifer out of her twisting thoughts.
She looked around to see if she’d disturbed other shoppers with her constant shuffling of the merchandise and possible muttering of curse words. No one was in the immediate area, and Jennifer turned her attention back to Jessica. Jessica graduated the year after Jennifer and had a degree in fashion and a natural sense of style. After the fire destroyed the women’s department, Jessica gave the space a complete makeover, turning it into the place to shop in Echo Ridge.
“I’m looking for something with a little extra something.” Jennifer blushed. “That was really specific.”
Jessica laughed. “It’s good enough. I think I have something over here.” She gestured to a rack with a forty-percent-off sign. “I ordered these shirts, thinking they would be here for the back-to-school rush, but there was a delay, and I just got them in. Unfortunately for them, I need the space for the holiday shoppers. Fortunately for you, they’ve been marked down, and there’s a good selection of colors and sizes.”
Jennifer picked up the three-quarter-length sleeve and rubbed the cotton blend between her fingers. The cut was simple, fitted in the right spots. Around the collar was a band of sequins, not too gaudy, just enough. And the best part was the discount. “They’re beautiful.”
Jessica picked one up and held it against Jennifer’s shoulders. “This dark teal would be stunning against your hair, and it brings out the color of your eyes.”
“I’m going to try it on.”
“Be my guest.”
She hooked her finger under the hanger and slipped into the dressing room. The top was perfect, and after changing back into her regular clothes, she floated out to the register. A loud woman talked on her cell phone near the designer dresses, drawing attention from every corner of the store. Jennifer flipped around. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered.
Bay Barington threw dress after dress over Jessica’s outstretched arms, all the while talking to someone about a new screenplay she was ecstatic over. Since Bay ignored everyone in the vicinity, Jennifer took a moment to study her. She had on grey leather boots with a small heel, cream leggings, a black lace shirt, a cream cardigan, and a faux fur vest that hung mid-thigh. Her legs were shapely and so was her chest, which was artfully displayed through a slit in her top. Not only were her clothes perfectly put together; her skin radiated youthfulness and not a hair was out of place. Jennifer ran her hand over her own limp locks. Working an eight-hour shift would take the shine off of anyone.
Jessica caught Jennifer’s eye. Sorry, she mouthed. Jennifer waved off her concern. Instead of waiting to see when Bay would let Jessica out of her clutches, Jennifer took the shirt to the men’s department, where the place was devoid of television superstars and Botox.
Okay, the Botox thing was kind of mean.
In no time, she’d been rung up and was back home, new shirt on and glittering, and perched on a chair while Andrea put the finishing touches on her hair. The stylist had several hair claws attached to the front of her shirt and used them to hold sections in place while she teased and twisted to get volume. The intricate braid would hang loose, like the ones on Pinterest that everyone repins but no one can ever duplicate. Andrea promised it would stay in place.
“So she didn’t get off her phone?”
“Not that I ever saw.” Jennifer bit her lip. “You should have seen what she was wearing! I could never put together an outfit like that.” Jennifer looked down at her new shirt. She liked it, she really did, but it wasn’t a fur vest or leather boots. “I’m not even in her league.”
“Hey.” Andrea gave her hair a swift tug. “Hold still.”
Jennifer lifted her chin.
“No good ever comes from comparing ourselves to other women because we always pick their best traits to compare to our worst.” Andrea forced in a bobby pin.
Jennifer winced. “First of all, this is my best, and it’s nowhere near where Bay Barington is on the fashion scale.”
&
nbsp; Andrea grunted, several pins stuck between her teeth.
“Second, it’s not me I’m worried about comparing us; it’s Kirke. Saturday was great, it really was. We got along, just like always, we laughed, just like always, and I was happy with that. Then … nothing. After seeing Bay, I’m wondering if just like always is getting boring for him.”
“Valuable is never boring.” Jennifer stared at Andrea in the mirror. “Substance is never boring. You have just as much beauty as Bay. And you have kindness and humor on your side too.” Jennifer stood back and grinned. “And your hair is amazing.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “I’m sure every guy out there is dying to kiss substance.” Jennifer stood and inspected Andrea’s handiwork. “Although you’re right, the hair is pretty incredible.”
Andrea put her arm around Jennifer’s shoulders. “You’re incredible. If he can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”
Jennifer tipped her head against Andrea’s. “Thanks.”
She wondered at Andrea’s words. Was she supposed to feel better because she wanted someone who didn’t deserve her? Or was she supposed to dismiss his dismissal because he was in some way lower than her on life’s totem pole? Neither answer helped settle her nerves as she made her way to the library.
The library was crowded for a Thursday afternoon. A half dozen senior English students crowded the computers on the main level, furiously working through their assignments, which were due the next morning. Jennifer met up with Kaitlyn, but soon several others asked for advice, and she was buried in drafts and random questions. Apparently each teen had been given a different book. She could only imagine the headache that created when it came time to grade the papers.
Marian circled past periodically, her lips pressed together. Jennifer shushed the group each time she got close, hoping to stay on the assistant librarian’s good side.
“I can’t decide who was prideful and who was prejudiced.” Anthony Malcolm groaned and laid his head on the desk. “I have a page of notes on why Elizabeth is prideful and a page of notes of the same thing for Mr. Darcy.”
Jennifer chuckled. “Good— because they both are both.”
He popped up. “They are?”
She nodded encouragingly. “Yes, they are.”
“Sweet.” He started typing, his fingers flying.
“My, my, isn’t this a busy area.” The elderly woman who had sat in front of Jennifer and Andrea at the reading, the one with the umbrella hair, stopped by. She held several contemporary romances and one mail-order bride book in her arms, the titles familiar to Jennifer, who usually put a hold on new releases before they came in. “It’s good to see young people discussing quality literature.”
“We’re only doing it because we have to,” said Anthony, causing snickers from the rest of the group.
“They’re working on their English papers,” explained Jennifer. Movement at the top of the stairs caught her eye. Britta and Lindy spoke animatedly. The meeting must be over. Jennifer patted her hair to make sure all the pieces were still in place. Now that the Kirke moment had arrived, she couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands.
“And you’re helping them?” the woman asked, bringing Jennifer’s gaze back to the main level.
“She’s amazing,” Kaitlyn piped up.
The woman smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth.
“Yeah,” added Anthony, “It almost makes sense when she explains it.”
Jennifer laughed. “Almost, huh?” She glanced at the staircase again and found it empty. Her shoulders sagged; Kirke must have slipped by while she was talking.
Anthony shrugged and kept typing.
“It was nice to see you again, dear.” The woman shuffled away.
I should find out her name. Jennifer puzzled over how to ask without sounding rude.
“Is this a real ghost?” Jared, another senior with a penchant for procrastination, shoved a worn copy of Wuthering Heights in her direction.
Feeling as low as Heathcliff, and just as scorned, she asked Jared why he thought it was a ghost.
“This word. I think it means ghost.”
Smiling, Jennifer handed him a pocket dictionary. He grunted as he flipped through the pages to find specter.
Satisfied that the group was taken care of for a minute, Jennifer made a quick circle of the room hoping to bump into Kirke. When she didn’t find him, her enthusiasm for Thursday afternoons took a dramatic drop. So much effort on her hair and the new shirt for so little return. Maybe it was a sign.
Her mind flashed to that scene in Sleepless in Seattle when Meg Ryan tries on her grandma’s wedding dress and the sleeve rips.
“It’s a sign,” she says.
“You don’t believe in signs,” replies her mother.
“I don’t believe in signs,” repeated Jennifer.
Except that she did. She just didn’t want to believe this one.
FRIDAY MORNING, KIRKE HUNG his bike on the rack attached to his car and checked his messages. He’d missed his afternoon ride the day before to have an early dinner with Bay that turned into a brainstorming session. She had some ideas for screenplays and claimed to have several interested parties already. They just had to be written. Feeling the pressure of expectation weigh on him like a set of antlers on a bull moose, Kirke had taken to the mountain.
When he was with Bay, the future seemed promising and full of success. However, when he sat down at his computer to write, he couldn’t get a handle on the direction of his life. Transferring her ideas to the hard drive was as difficult as slogging through waist-deep mud; he was exhausted and irritable and somehow felt sticky. Bay was the only antidote he’d found— and yet he was starting to wonder if she wasn’t also the problem.
To top off his already melancholy state, he’d decided that tonight was the night he would tell Jennifer he was moving. He’d tried to put it off; truly he’d made a monumental effort to avoid breaking the news. However, there was this voice in his head that called him some pretty nasty names each time he chickened out.
He chuckled, thinking that it was pretty conceited of him to assume Jennifer would think his leaving was bad news. For all he knew, she’d think it was great to finally have him out of her hair. Ever since the pastor assigned her as his personal welcoming committee, Kirke had followed her around town. She never treated him like he was a bother, even though he’d hardly bothered to make other friends. He knew a lot of people, but when it came time to hang out, he preferred Jennifer. That’s why he was bucking up and following through— tonight.
Trying to stay above the rising dread, he checked his messages.
“Kirke! Buddy. This is Robert Halverton.”
Kirke nearly dropped the phone. Robert Halverton, as in LA producer Robert Halverton?!
“I heard you were moving to town, and I’m having a soiree at my place. You should come. ’Kay, I’ll see you later.”
Kirke pulled the phone away from his ear. This looked like his phone. It had the same bright orange case as his phone. Robert Halverton the producer had his number. Kirke shook his head. Life was crazy. He hit seven to save the message.
The second voicemail started. “Kirke— David Salvadore here— hey, man. Call me when you get to California. We seriously need to talk about this manuscript. I’m throwing a dinner party on Sunday, nothing fancy, wear a tie. Bye.”
Kirke opened his car door and fell into the passenger seat. Was this really happening? Sunday! It was Friday morning. He could catch a flight and make the dinner, but … Was he really expected to put in an appearance? And if he was running back and forth from LA, when was he going to write? Bay was already a part-time job, and he still hadn’t found a book for Marian.
Panic set in, and Kirke dialed Bay.
“Morning, sweetie,” Bay moaned. Her seductive purr made him picture her stretching as she got out of bed. Kirke had seen the same move countless times on her show and associated the noise with the image easily enough.
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nbsp; “Did you tell David Salvadore and Robert Halverton I was moving to California this weekend?”
She squealed. Kirke pulled the phone away and rubbed his ear.
“Isn’t it exciting? Everyone who’s anyone is dying to meet you. I wish I had a publicist as good as me.”
“Bay, I’m, I mean …” Kirke threw his empty hand out. “I’m not ready. I haven’t sold my house. I haven’t even packed a bag.”
“I thought it was a done deal. You said yes.” Bay now pouted. This time he’d heard enough in person that he didn’t need the help of her TV career to imagine her lower lip protruding and her eyelashes batting furiously. He’d bet dollars to donuts that her head tipped slightly to the left. If he’d been near, she would have run her fingers up his arm.
“It is; it’s just happening so fast.” And my stomach doesn’t like the motion. Kirke rubbed his belly.
“Darling, these things don’t wait. You need to get a move on while you’re hot.”
I feel hot, all right. He wiped the perspiration off his brow.
“I’ve invited my agent to come into town. He’s dying to meet you. Saw one of your plays off Broadway a few years ago. Says you’re on the move, and he’s always looking for people who are on the move.”
“So I’m not flying out tomorrow?”
“No.”
“But there’s these parties— ”
“Darling, if you show up you’ll look desperate.” Bay’s declaration was packed full of confidence.
“I will?”
“Trust me, producers can smell desperate a state away.”
“I’ll just call and let them know— ”
“Don’t you dare!”
Kirke pulled the phone away from his ear.
Bay sighed heavily. “Your top priority is meeting my agent tonight.”
Kirke grimaced. Tonight was the auction with Jennifer. He’d already missed their Thursday lunch at Fay’s. He could use a quiet night with a beautiful girl who didn’t wear enough perfume to freshen up a dumpster or expect him to be this brilliant wordsmith who wrote screenplays in his sleep. Jennifer didn’t care about fame or fortune. To her, Kirke was enough right now. “I’ve got plans.”
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 18
