“Well, don’t you look like you got run over by a train.” It wasn’t a question posed by Dr. Vivian Green. It was a statement of fact.
“I’m sure I do,” Sydney replied, climbing the stairs as if she were headed to the gallows.
“Long day?”
“Long weekend. And not the good, vacationy kind.”
“You eat?”
Sydney stopped on the top step and had to think about the question. “The last thing I ate was a granola bar at”—she glanced at her watch—“around one o’clock, I think.”
Vivian waved an arm. “Come on in here. I made stew, and as usual, have a lot left over.”
“Oh, Dr. Green, I couldn’t—”
“You could. Come on. You’re going to fall over if you don’t get some food in that skinny body of yours.”
Saying no to Vivian Green would feel an awful lot like saying no to her grandmother—something Sydney never did. She obeyed her neighbor, bypassed her own door, and went inside the next apartment.
The interior was unsurprising, in that it looked like an apartment her own grandmother might live in: neat and tidy, with small knickknacks here and there and a lot of photographs. Sydney stopped next to the table by the door and ran her gaze over the frames of varying shapes and sizes, containing photographs of people of varying shapes and sizes.
“My family,” Vivian said, her smile warm. “Come on in.”
Sydney left her bag near the door and kicked off her shoes, much to the blissful relief of her aching feet.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you girls manage to spend an entire day in those things.” Vivian tsk-tsked as she threw a glance at the discarded heels. “You were not meant to walk around on your tippy toes all day long.”
“I completely agree with you,” Sydney said, trying not to stop and loudly inhale the delicious aroma of beef and gravy that filled the air. “Unfortunately, my ballet flats don’t go so well with this suit.”
Vivian simply shook her head and indicated an empty chair with her eyes. “Sit.”
Sydney did as she was told and let her attention wander around the kitchen, which she could see from the small breakfast nook where she sat. The apartment was no bigger than her own, but looked much more lived in, had tons more character. A painting of a serene-looking pond surrounded by trees graced the wall over the table. Unlike Sydney’s kitchen, which was along a wall, Vivian’s was galley-style with light oak cabinets, a stainless steel sink, and almond-colored appliances that all matched. The countertop was a neutral butcher block, but Vivian had used red as an accent color, her canisters, dish towels, and pot holders all adding pops of color to the expanse of beige.
“How long have you lived here?” she asked as she sat.
Vivian stopped ladling stew into a bowl to contemplate the ceiling for a moment. “Let’s see, my Sidney passed…ten years ago now. So, six years? Keeping up a whole house by myself got to be too much. I didn’t need all that space. I downsized.”
“Your place is nice.” Vivian slid a bowl in front of her and handed her a spoon. A small plate with a hunk of bread followed. “God, this smells delicious,” Sydney said as she dug into the stew. Much to her surprise, a glass of red wine appeared next. She glanced up and Vivian, eyebrows raised.
“You look like you could use it,” Vivian said by way of explanation.
“I certainly could. Thank you. Join me?”
Vivian paused, then gave a nod. “Don’t mind if I do.” She poured herself a glass and sat in the seat across from Sydney. “So. Tell me what you do.”
“I’m a reporter for Channel Six,” Sydney said.
Vivian slapped the table lightly. “I thought you looked familiar. You just did a story on that local beer maker, right?”
“I did.”
“That was nice. I’ve had their beer before. It’s not bad.” Vivian sipped her wine as Sydney tried not to shovel stew into her mouth like a ten-year-old eating ice cream, it was that good. “You’re even prettier in person.”
Sydney grinned. “Thanks.”
“What story has kept you working all weekend?”
Sydney took a moment to swallow, then sipped her wine. “I’m hosting the Junebug Farms telethon next weekend. So I’ve been working on editing and voiceovers and the schedule and all that good stuff. A lot goes into it.”
“I can imagine. I watch every year. They do good work, those people.”
“You watch every year?” Sydney wasn’t sure why she was surprised.
“I do. It was an annual thing for my Sidney and me. Our Lucy came from Junebug. Had her for nearly fifteen years.” Vivian’s slightly rheumy eyes seemed to gaze at the past for a beat. “I donate every year.”
“Do you have a pet?” Sydney asked, looking around the small apartment.
“Not at the moment. I think about it sometimes. It’s nice to have company.” She smiled at Sydney, letting her know she meant her as well. “What about you? Pets?”
Sydney shook her head. “My schedule’s too crazy. I have goldfish.”
Vivian chuckled. “Still counts.”
“I guess.” Sydney dropped her spoon into her empty bowl and let out a sigh. “That was amazing, Dr. Green. And I was hungrier than I thought. Thank you so much.”
“Like I said, it’s nice to have company. And I see you come and go all the time, but rarely with a grocery bag in your hand.” She gave Sydney a look of motherly concern that made her feel warm inside.
“It’s a bad habit, I know. My mom will be happy I had a home-cooked meal.” Sydney took a sip of her wine. “So, what kind of doctor are you?”
“Oh, I haven’t worked with clients in several years, but I’m a psychologist. Had my own practice for nearly thirty-five years.”
“Really? That’s got to be so cool, figuring out what makes people tick, how to help them, stuff like that.”
“The human mind is so complex, Sydney. You’d be amazed.”
“Do you miss it? Working, I mean?”
“A little bit every day, yes. But it was also good to stop and rest. I needed it.”
“Overworked?”
“Yes, very much. Like somebody else I know.” Vivian raised her eyebrows poignantly, but grinned to keep it light.
Sydney chuckled, finished off her wine, then stood and took her dishes into the kitchen.
“Just leave them. I have a dishwasher.”
“You’re sure?”
“If I have a dishwasher? I’m not that old, honey.” Vivian smiled at her own joke. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Well, thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Any time, dear.” Vivian walked her to the door.
Sydney contemplated putting her shoes back on, but instead, picked them up off the floor. “It’s not a long commute to my place,” she said, causing Vivian to chuckle as she opened the door.
*
The week was going by so fast, Jessica was surprised her head wasn’t actually spinning. Sure felt like it should be. The Channel Six crew, along with others from various companies, was at the shelter every day, nearly all day long, and the place felt even more chaotic than usual—which said a lot. More bodies milling around. Much more noise. Adding power tools and hammer strikes to the chorus of barks and whines made for quite the symphony, and ibuprofen was circulated regularly among the shelter staff. The phone bank was nearly built, the phone company hooking up lines and getting things worked out so volunteers could answer the phones live during the telethon. There were two different “sets” that had been built in different corners of the lobby in addition to one in the barn and one near the goat house. According to Sydney, they would cut back and forth a few times to give viewers the “full scope of Junebug.” Jessica had to admit, she liked the idea.
On Wednesday afternoon, Jessica hurried down the hall that housed the offices other than hers, her feet moving quickly, her head down so nobody would see her. At Catherine’s closed door, she rapped twice, then opened it and entered without waitin
g for an answer. She closed it quickly behind her, fell with her back against it, and issued a whimper. “Quick. Hide me.”
Catherine looked at her over the rim of her glasses. “Telethon preparation overload?”
“You have no idea.”
“Oh, but I do. You go through this every year.”
“I do?” Jessica stepped farther into the office and sat in the chair opposite the desk. Catherine’s dog, Geronimo, left his dog bed in the corner where he’d been napping so he could give Jessica some love. She patted her lap and he jumped up, turned his terrier-mix of a body in two full circles, then curled up and closed his eyes, sighing in comfort.
“Traitor,” Catherine muttered at him with a mock-glare. Meeting Jessica’s gaze, she raised her eyebrows and made an expression that basically said, Duh! “Yes. Every single year. You’re fine until the week before. Then prep work is in full swing and you’re in full freak-out mode. It’ll pass.”
“I don’t know. Sydney Taylor is a slave driver.”
“Is that who you’re hiding from?”
Jessica nodded. “She’s got me doing a lot. A lot.”
“And that bothers you?”
“It’s just…not how Janet did things.”
Catherine put her elbows on the desk, clasped her hands together, and leaned slightly forward as she looked at Jessica. “Maybe it’s time to let go of Janet since she’s, you know, not here anymore.”
Jessica grimaced and stroked Mo’s soft white fur as she gazed out the window at the afternoon sun.
“I think it’s a good thing that Sydney’s got you front and center.”
“You do?”
“Totally. Especially from a promotional standpoint. You’re the face of Junebug Farms, Jessica, like it or not. And call me crazy, but I would like being able to recognize the person who runs the place I give my money to, you know? It’s good P.R. Ask Anna about it. She’ll tell you.”
“Yeah…”
Catherine squinted at her. “What’s going on, Jess? You’re never this stressed, even when it’s warranted.”
Jessica waved a dismissive hand and forced a chuckle. The last thing she wanted to do was try to analyze the confusing swirl of her recent thoughts. Mostly because she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d avoided it this long; she could make it through four more days. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m just being a weirdo.”
Catherine studied her and Jessica had to use every ounce of energy to stay still, hold eye contact, and smile like everything was hunky-dory. It wasn’t easy, but a knock on the door saved her from having to do it any longer.
Anna popped her head in. “Hey, Jess. Sydney’s looking for you.”
“Of course she is,” Jessica mumbled. Louder, she said, “Okay. I’ll be right there.”
Anna hesitated for a beat before pulling the door shut again.
“If it makes you feel any better, I ran into Sydney at Happy Hour last week, and she said you’re kicking major telethon ass, so…”
“She was with Anna, right?” Jessica tried not to let any opinion color her voice, but Catherine knew her too well not to hear it.
“With her might not be completely accurate.”
“What does that mean?”
“She was with her, but I’m not sure she wanted to be. She definitely wasn’t with her with her, if you know what I mean.”
Brow furrowed, Jessica asked, “How could you tell?”
Catherine shrugged. “Just that any time Anna leaned close or tried to touch her, Sydney would reach for something or shift in her seat to prevent it. It was actually pretty entertaining to watch.”
Jessica didn’t know what to say to that, so she just took a beat to let it sink in.
“Anyway. Stop worrying. You got this,” Catherine said with an encouraging smile.
Jessica inhaled deeply, let the breath out, gave one determined nod. “I do. I do got this.” Reluctantly, she lifted Mo, who groaned his dissatisfaction, and set him back on his dog bed. “Thanks for letting me hide out.”
“Any time.”
Hand on the doorknob, Jessica steeled herself, then pulled it open and headed back into the fray.
By the time three more hours had passed, Jessica was both feeling better about things and also completely fried. Her eyes were scratchy, her head felt foggy, and she had the hunger shakes. But for the first time in several days, she was starting to get a feel for how the telethon was going to look…and the changes didn’t seem quite so scary.
“What do you think?” Sydney asked as they stood together in the lobby and watched the crew wrapping up for the day.
“I think it’s going to be good.” Jessica smiled at her, a genuine smile, not the artificial one she’d been tossing Sydney’s way lately, the one that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Yeah?” Sydney turned to face her completely and her voice registered wonder. She hadn’t dressed down today at all. Well, her suit was a pantsuit instead of a skirt, so maybe that was considered dressed down to her, but she looked incredible just the same, Jessica had to admit. And she had admitted it, to herself, several times today as she tried to take in the black pants and matching black jacket. Sydney’d had the sleeves pushed up to her elbows for half the day until she’d decided to lose the jacket all together, revealing a deep raspberry tank top that showed off her smooth-looking, toned arms.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am, a little.”
“Walk with me,” Jessica said as she headed to her office. “Why are you surprised?”
Sydney gave her a look that, though gentle, said, really?
“I’ve been a bit…difficult, haven’t I?” She was startled when Sydney stopped their progress by grabbing her arm, turning her so they were face to face.
“No,” she said vehemently. “Not at all. I need you to understand that. Believe me, I have worked with difficult people and you, my friend, are not one of them.” Her point made, she seemed to realize her hand was still gripping Jessica’s forearm and she let go as if it had burned her. “I think…hesitant is a better word for you. Reluctant, maybe. Skeptical.”
Jessica grinned and resumed the walk. Inside her office, she said simply, “You’re right. And I’m sorry.” She went behind her desk, moved her mouse to wake up her computer, clicked a few windows closed.
“Don’t apologize. There’s no need.” Sydney stood in the middle of the room, looking around as if uncertain why she was there or what she should do next. Before either of them could speak further, Anna came walking in, her steps determined and quick, as they always seemed to be lately.
“There you are,” she said to Sydney, barely registering Jessica.
“Here I am,” Sydney said.
Anna reached out to stroke Sydney’s arm. Jessica bent forward and looked at her computer screen, even though she’d already logged off. “I had really hoped we could meet up tonight, but I made these plans with my mother ages ago and she will guilt trip me for weeks if I bail.”
“No problem at all. I’ve got plans anyway.”
“Okay, good.” There was a pause; Anna must have looked at her watch or something because then she said, “I’m going to scoot then. I’ll call you later.”
Sydney must have nodded, as she said nothing. Jessica continued looking at her blank screen until Anna was gone. Then she stood up straight. There was a beat of silence as she and Sydney made eye contact and it held. It was awkward. And kind of awesome. Jessica felt her stomach flutter.
“Want to grab some dinner?” Sydney asked softly.
“You have plans.”
“I actually don’t, though.”
“So, you lied.”
Sydney pressed her lips together, but her eyes never left Jessica’s. “I did.”
“I see.”
“Want to grab some dinner?”
Jessica didn’t so much as pause, something she’d analyze later. “Yes.”
*
Jessica and Sydney had each gone home to change clothes, and
weirdly they’d shown up at the front door of Bucky’s at the exact same time, approaching from opposite directions, which made them both chuckle. Bucky’s wasn’t terribly busy on weeknights, but there was a mellow jazz trio in one corner playing instrumental favorites and that usually brought in a nice, medium-sized crowd. Henry put Jessica and Sydney at a table in the opposite corner, a small, dimly lit, intimate table, which ended up being perfect because they could hear the music, but weren’t overpowered by it. Conversation was more than possible. They ordered a bottle of Pinot Noir to share. Kim brought it to them and did the open-pour a sample-let the customer sip thing that Catherine, who moonlighted as a waitress in a nice restaurant, had taught Jessica years ago. Once approved, the wine was poured and Jessica raised her glass.
“You remembered,” Sydney said, and her smile was wide, showing those perfectly straight teeth the television viewers were growing used to.
“You say that like I don’t listen when you talk.”
Sydney arched one eyebrow and said, “I suppose it’s possible that Janet Dobson doesn’t do it this way, but…”
Jessica burst out laughing. “Touché,” she said, then touched her glass to Sydney’s.
They sipped and Sydney nodded her own approval. “Oh, that’s delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s a favorite of mine. People don’t always think of Oregon when they think of wine, but they’ve got some really wonderful ones.”
“I’m only just beginning to pay attention to wine, so maybe you can teach me.”
“Well, I’m no pro. I’ve learned a lot from Henry.”
“So, he’s a friend of your parents?” Sydney opened the menu.
Dare to Stay (Puppy Love Romances Book 3) Page 13
