Suddenly Single (A Lake Haven Novel Book 4)

by Julia London

Edan didn’t strike Jenny as a man who was going to rot away. He was far more likely to die in a fiery car crash. Seventy my ass.

  The woman must have realized she was gossiping, because she suddenly said, “Goodness gracious, don’t listen to me. My husband says I’m a busybody and he’s right. But I did wonder if he was going to close before the Italians came.”

  “The Italians?”

  “There’s a few of them that come every year to the Cassian. Brothers, I think. If you ask me, I think they want to marry one of their girls off to someone here and get an anchor in the US. You know how the Italians are.”

  “No,” said Jenny, mystified. “How are the Italians?” Her maternal grandmother was Italian, and Jenny had spent summers at her villa in Italy as a child. She found most Italians quite charming.

  “There I go again,” the woman said with a laugh and waved a chubby hand before she began to stuff paper bags with Jenny’s purchases. “I’m just saying that they are always looking for a place they can turn into an Italian restaurant. That’s what they want from Mackenzie, I think. They want to put an Italian restaurant in over there.”

  That seemed absurdly unlikely and a bit racist. “I love Italian food,” Jenny said absently.

  “That will be thirty-seven eighty, please.”

  Jenny fished in her wallet for money and handed it over to the lady. She hoisted two paper bags into her arms and smiled at the woman. “Have a great day,” she wished her.

  “Oh, I’ll have a fine day. You do the same over at the Cassian.” The woman punctuated that with a cackle.

  Jenny didn’t know what she was going to do at the Cassian, honestly. She didn’t know what she was doing anywhere. She waved at the woman and stepped outside with her two bags and walked next door to the coffee shop.

  Lakeshore Coffee was crowded. Small bistro tables were filled with people drinking out of enormous coffee cups. They were chatting or glued to their laptops. Jenny ordered a bear claw and a cup of coffee, and maneuvered her way out to one of the little bistro tables on the sidewalk.

  She had hardly drunk any of the coffee when she spotted Edan. He was just down the street, a plastic shopping bag in one hand. He was speaking to two women. Or rather, they were speaking. She couldn’t see his face, but she imagined him standing there, just staring at them with those green eyes, his jaw set. What were they doing? Checking in on him? Asking how he was doing after the death of his fiancée? Maybe they were inviting him over for a kidney pie. One of them looked like a woman who’d done her fair share of baking. Did they eat kidney pie in Scotland, or was that just an English thing? Jenny had tried kidney pie once, at a restaurant in New York. It was god-awful—

  Edan suddenly broke away and strode toward her, his walk powerful and strong. He motioned toward the car as he neared her, and for a brief moment, she thought he meant for her to make a run for it. But in the time she took to figure out why they needed to make a run for it, and finish her coffee, he reached her table. He looked down at her bags, then at her bear claw.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m not keeping you from your friends, am I?” She looked over his shoulder to where the two women were still standing, their eyes fixed on Edan. Or maybe their eyes were fixed on her—at this distance, Jenny couldn’t tell whom exactly they were studying so intently.

  “No’ friends,” he said, ushering her along. “Acquaintances. Come on, then.” He reached down and picked up her bags.

  Jenny appreciated chivalry, but she hadn’t finished her coffee. She stood up, gulped as much coffee as she could, and grabbed her bear claw as she followed him to the car and watched him load her bags into the trunk.

  When he closed the trunk, he looked at the bear claw pastry. “Hunger seems to be a constant state with you.”

  “You have no idea,” Jenny muttered.

  As they pulled out of the car park and started back the way they’d come, she scrutinized this man who, according to the local grocery store clerk, had lost his fiancée and now wouldn’t come out for coffee. It was hard to believe he’d managed to remain free of attachment, knowing what she did about how the female brain operated. He had all the core requisites for the Perfect Match: sexy accent, check. Handsome, check—especially today with that shadow of beard and longish, mussed hair. He needed love, check. Anyone who had suffered the loss of a fiancée needed love. And, last but not least—he had money. Well, she was surmising he did. People who owned inns couldn’t be poor, could they?

  No matter, she couldn’t believe some woman hadn’t swooped in to help him with his grief. At least come around to check on him. Just how long had he been hiding away at the Cassian, anyway? And what was this Italian business? She was dying to know the answers to these questions but knew from experience that outright interrogation was not the way to go.

  As Edan pulled away from the curb, and she gripped the door to keep her seat as he hit the gas, she asked, as if the thought had just occurred to her, “Just curious, how long have you been in the States?”

  “Four hundred years,” he said.

  Jenny sputtered a laugh. “Well, that’s amazing, because you don’t look a day over forty.”

  “Forty!” he exclaimed, and muttered under his breath. “I’m thirty-four, aye?”

  “Aye,” she said, smiling.

  He glanced at her from the corner of her eye before turning a corner. “And you?”

  “Twenty-nine,” she said.

  He looked back to the road.

  “So how long have you been here?” she asked.

  He slowed to stop at an intersection. “Five years.”

  “What? That means you arrived when you were twenty-nine, just like me! I mean, not like me, but you embarked on a new adventure when you were twenty-nine.”

  Edan drove on. “Are you embarking on a new adventure, then?”

  “Open to interpretation.” A lot of interpretation, actually, because she had no clue what she was doing. “Do you ever think about doing something entirely different? A whole new occupation?”

  He shrugged as he turned onto the main road and sped up. Jenny put her hand on the dash to keep herself from flying out the window. “No,” he said. “I’ve always known I’d take part in the family business.”

  “Lucky you. I still haven’t figured out what I want to do with my life. I’ve had great ideas in theory. But then, when I pursue them, the actual idea doesn’t turn out like I thought. Like minoring in history. I love history, and just assumed I’d be a college professor. But there aren’t so many of those jobs around, and even if you get one, you have to do all this stuff to get tenure. So then I got into Buddhism.”

  He seemed startled. “Are those two things related?”

  “Nope. But I was interested, and I thought it might lead to something.” She snorted. “It didn’t. However, it is a very interesting belief system if you’re into that sort of thing.”

  He did not indicate one way or the other.

  “Then, I had a job at a plant nursery, which I loved. Except the pay was paltry, and it was really far from my dad—he has Parkinson’s and needed me, you know—and I felt dirty all the time, because there is a lot of dirt involved in the plant industry. But I learned a lot, and I haven’t even mentioned my yearlong stint in premed. I wanted to be a nutritionist. I’m all about whole foods and plant-based diets.”

  He looked at the half of the giant bear claw in her lap.

  “Don’t judge me,” she said, and took a bite. “So anyway, after that, I was a nanny for the Oosterhausens, and when they moved back to Holland, I figured I’d be good at teaching little kids. So I got a job as an art teacher at a private school.”

  “You’re an artist?” he asked curiously.

  “Well, no,” Jenny said. “But I feel artistic. Anyway, I don’t have that job anymore.” She took another bite. “Budget cuts,” she said through a mouth full of pastry.

  Edan was silent. He was probably thinking that her liberal arts degree was perfect for someone who never ha
d the right goals. Or goals that were so vague they required a catchall degree.

  “Look, here’s the deal—it’s about my dad. He’s a brilliant scientist,” Jenny said, deciding to come clean. She added, “Really,” at his skeptical look. “He invented some thing-a-ma-jig for telescopes that NASA bought and it made him insanely rich. But he’s also a hoarder, and he’s terribly absentminded, which means he does things like leaves the stove on or forgets to take his medicine. All he has is me, and I could never venture too far away from him. I mean, I’ve traveled some, and I went to college away from him. But he needed me too much, so I’ve sort of floated around Santa Monica.” And then, after several years of being attended almost daily by his devoted daughter and only child, he had inexplicably come up with a girlfriend.

  “You’re no’ there now,” Edan said.

  “Well, no, because out of the blue, Dad got a girlfriend off Hoarder Tinder. All I know is that my dad, who is a little nutty, and has Parkinson’s, and is a hoarder, has better luck than I do when it comes to dating.”

  Jenny had learned about Cathy at the same time she’d been laid off of her job teaching art to first graders because of budget cuts. Her father had told her not to worry, that he had plenty of money.

  “Where’s your mum?” Edan asked.

  “Dead,” she said matter-of-factly. “She couldn’t take the hoarding.” Jenny’s mother had once told her the trouble between her and Jenny’s father had begun when he got so rich he could buy whatever he wanted. He did. And then he’d filled the house with it. “When I was ten, she took off with a guy on a motorcycle. A few weeks later, he crashed his motorcycle and killed them both.”

  “Good God,” Edan said softly.

  Jenny didn’t offer that Bethany’s opinion was that her mom’s death was the reason Jenny never dated the right guy. She’d explained it all a few weeks ago when she’d come out to California for work and they’d met for drinks. “Think about it. You’re afraid to commit to anything. A job, a guy...get it?”

  “No,” Jenny had scoffed, but privately, she wondered it that was true.

  “Look. Your mom abandoned you and then she died. Your grandmother died shortly after that. Your dad constantly let you down and then didn’t tell you about finding Madge—”

  “Her name is Cathy.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, he was the one person you trusted. Oh, and you had that boyfriend when we were college freshmen who cheated on you, remember?”

  “Vividly.”

  “You have never really found a profession you love, and you don’t have to because you’re filthy rich and have this father to take care of—”

  “I’m not rich. My dad is,” Jenny had said, blushing. It was no secret that her dad showered her with money, slipping big sums into her bank account even when she asked him not to.

  “Anyway, it’s easy to see why you don’t want to commit to anything,” Bethany had said with a shrug, then had wrapped her lipsticked lips around a straw to sip her cocktail.

  Jenny glanced at Edan, who had, predictably, remained silent. But he kept casting strange looks in her direction.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked. “Are you worried about my bill?” She flicked her wrist. “Don’t worry—I have rivers of money.”

  “I think you’re a wee bit mad,” he said, and sounded, Jenny thought, a little too concerned.

  “No! It’s just that sometimes, life is so lovely it’s hard to know where to start, right? It’s not like I don’t understand that I have a bad work history. But I haven’t figured out what I want from life yet. I thought I’d be taking care of my dad forever, but he...well, he clearly doesn’t need me quite like I thought.”

  Edan glanced out the driver window and added, “Sorry about that.”

  His sudden spurt of empathy surprised her. “Thank you.” Her friends never said sorry about her dad—they thought Jenny ought to be glad he had a girlfriend. She was, but there was more to it than that. She was sad about it. Inexplicably sad. “Life goes on, right?”

  “Aye. That it does,” he said with a sigh.

  That’s what her father had said. “Life goes on, Jenny. You have to live your life now.”

  “I am going to get a job, you know,” she said. “I haven’t exactly landed on what it is just yet, but I’m thinking—” Jenny was startled by the ring of her phone. “Oh, that’s mine.” She dug it out of her pocket and looked at the number. God, it was Bethany. She punched it silent.

  It rang again.

  “You should answer it,” he said.

  “It’s a friend.”

  “I donna mind,” he assured her. Probably so she’d stop talking to him—this was not Jenny’s first rodeo. “Okay,” she said, picking up the phone, as the ring seemed to grow louder. “But if you hear some yelling, don’t be alarmed.”

  “What?”

  “Hello?” Jenny said into the phone.

  “Turner Tots! It’s Bethany. What’s up?”

  “Umm...not much.”

  “Not much? Not anything you want to mention to a friend? Maybe about how you and Doofus broke up?”

  Jenny glanced sidelong at Edan. His interest had expired; he was watching the road ahead of him, his expression like someone who was miles from where they actually were. “Well hello, Bethany,” she said. “Can you turn it down a notch or two? And how do you know about that?”

  “No, I cannot turn it down a notch or two. I just got a call from Bozo, because he lost your number in some weird phone accident where he could only see some numbers, not all of them, I don’t know, it made no sense, but anyway, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. What did he want?”

  “Money, probably. I refused to give him your number. Where are you?”

  “At Lake Haven.”

  “East Beach?” Bethany asked.

  “Nope. Other side of the lake,” she said, glancing from the corner of her eye at Edan. “A darling inn.” It was darling. It was so unique.

  “What happened? What did that asshole do?”

  “Now is not a good time,” Jenny said, and to Edan, she rolled her eyes and made a whirling motion at her head to indicate Bethany was nuts.

  “Why not? What are you doing? Jesus, Jenny, go to Vanessa’s.”

  “I’m fine!” Jenny insisted. “I don’t need to go anywhere. I mean, not at this precise moment. It happens to be very beautiful here. And peaceful.”

  “Is it like, a camp?”

  “No!”

  “Please promise you’re not going to go off and try and camp by yourself.”

  Jenny was not going to do that, but she didn’t like the insinuation that she was somehow incapable. At least Misty Pachenko had taught her how to pitch a tent before fucking Devin. “I really like it here. It’s where I want to be right now. I have a lot to think about.”

  “Jen-ny,” Bethany said. “This is what you always do! You jump from frying pans to fires.”

  Jenny’s pulse began to quicken. She was getting angry. She tried to shift around in the passenger seat so that Edan couldn’t see her face. “Please explain to me why, when I do something different than any of you would do, that the assumption is that something is wrong with me? Different strokes, baby.”

  “Well here’s the big difference,” Bethany said. “We all have jobs. Listen, it’s your life to live and all that, but come on, Jen, you can’t live like this forever. We say something because we care. You can’t live like a gypsy.”

  Jenny blinked. Her heart leapt with indignation. “Since when did everyone become my mother?” she exclaimed, forgetting Edan. “I am fully in charge of my life, Bethany. I am mindful and centered and I know what I’m doing.”

  “No you don’t,” Bethany said. “You yourself have said you don’t know what you’re doing with your life. Don’t make me come and get you.”

  “Please. You wouldn’t leave your job for a moment or the whole telecom industry will fall apart, remember?”

  Bethany hesitat
ed at the truth in that statement. “I didn’t say I was coming tomorrow. Maybe Monday.”

  “Ha,” Jenny said triumphantly. “I may not be here Monday.”

  “Why? Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know!” Jenny shouted. “Life’s a journey, Bethany, and I’m on the train! I am living! I don’t know where I will go from here just yet, but I promise, you will be among the first to know.” She glanced at Edan. She had to hand it to him—he was smooth. His expression was completely inscrutable.

  “Look, I have to go,” Bethany said. “Call me when you can talk and tell me what happened. We’ll help you make a plan.”

  “I don’t need you to help me make a plan,” Jenny snapped. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Fine. Call me,” Bethany said curtly, and hung up.

  That was one thing that could be said for the four of them. No matter how mad they got at each other, anger never got in the way of their friendship.

  She looked at Edan from the corner of her eye. The sudden silence felt oppressive. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” she said with a wince.

  “No’ my business.”

  “My friends think they know everything.”

  “It’s no’ necessary—”

  “I mean, yes, she has a point, I do tend to flit from one thing to another, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong—”

  “You need no’ explain.”

  “I like having different experiences. I like searching for my place.” No she didn’t. She hated not knowing what her place was in this world.

  Edan said nothing. And surprisingly, neither did Jenny for the rest of the way to the Cassian Inn. When he stopped the car, Edan wordlessly got out.

  Jenny sighed and got out, too. He was already at the trunk and handed her the bags of groceries. “Do you need help getting them in, then?”

  “No, no, I can get it. Thanks for the ride,” she said, and smiled.

  “Welcome.”

  She would be so relieved if he would just smile, even a little. But he merely looked at her, as if he was waiting for her to speak. “Okay. Well. I’ve got it from here. I’m just going to go inside and contemplate the universe for a bit. And I know you’re dying to get down to the river and cut down that bush and get the thing that fell off your fishing pole.”