This wasn’t about him.
Done with the conversation, his father ducked beneath the Ford’s open hood and adjusted plugs on the motor. The expensive toy rarely left the garage. He kept it stored away for fear of the tiniest scratch. Now he wanted to do the same to his own mother.
Over time, since her husband’s death, Grandma Estelle’s activities of quilting groups and bridge clubs had lessened to none. But she did keep up with her garden and “puttering” in her house. Take those away, and the grandma he adored might fade as well.
“If she doesn’t want to move,” Reece contended, “she shouldn’t have to.”
His father responded with a mumble, clearly half listening. Reece decided to say something that would make more of an impact.
“Just because you want to cash in on the sale doesn’t mean you have the right to force her out of her own house.”
That one worked. His father drew his head back and stood with a glower, tinged with confusion. “Your grandpa left that house to me for a reason. He trusted I’d make sure she was taken care of.”
“Yeah,” Reece said, “I’m sure staying in my old, flooded bedroom was exactly what Grandpa had in mind.” With that, he turned to leave.
He was about to step outside when his father yelled, “Reece!” The tone carried a deep gruffness so seldom used Reece couldn’t help but stop. He wheeled back around as his father stepped closer, hands hitched on his hips. “You wanna tell me what the hell this is really about?”
Not until asked the question did Reece realize the core of the issue. It was more than a youthful attachment to a house, more than his recent aversion to major change. What really got to him was that his father was never off duty. Always sizing Reece up, judging him. Policing his acts like a dictator of safety. After the snowmobile crash, Reece had felt enough guilt at the hospital without the guy charging in, shouting, “With all the crazy stunts you pull, how many times have I warned you something like this would happen?”
Reece considered explaining this now. Yet there was no point giving his father the satisfaction of knowing it still bothered him. Besides, what would come of it? His dad was far from the type to acknowledge his own faults.
In the silence, the man took a calming breath through his nose. “Look, son, I don’t know what’s eating at you. But after talking it through, even your grandmother agreed it was the right decision.” At Reece’s lack of response, his dad headed back to the engine. “You don’t believe me, you go ask her yourself.”
An unnecessary suggestion. That’s precisely what Reece planned to do.
Jenna parked beside the neighborhood curb, calculating. If she hurried in and out, she’d have plenty of time to grab lunch somewhere before meeting Sally about the appraisals. Fortunately the collectibles broker, with a work ethic rivaling Jenna’s, didn’t balk at an appointment on Thanksgiving weekend. Otherwise, today would have been chalked up as largely unproductive on Jenna’s list.
Cataloging and adding to inventory sheets had been a challenge after her encounter with Mrs. Porter. Unable to concentrate, Jenna had called it a day but followed orders by ridding the house of the shoe box. She could think of three collectors off the top of her head who loved buying World War II memorabilia. For the time being, though, the box would wait in her trunk. Based on the emotion she had witnessed, she’d be surprised if Mrs. Porter didn’t have second thoughts.
As Jenna stepped out of the car, a rumble caught her ear. Across the street, a driver was struggling to start an SUV. Reflections of gray clouds shaded the windshield. The possibility of offering to help zipped through Jenna’s mind. Then again, thanks to modern communication, who today wasn’t fully capable of handling a little car trouble?
She continued toward the Tudor-style house of Mrs. Porter’s son and his wife, Sandy. The woman had promised Jenna a key to an upstairs storage closet at the Porter estate. Hopefully, like all the other closets in the home, there would be items of decent monetary value that just needed a dusting or polish. Perhaps while here she could also determine how long before the elderly woman could return to her new residence.
Jenna had almost made it to the driveway when the slam of a car door turned her head. The driver leaned back against the SUV and raked his fingers through his dark brown hair, inadvertently causing his bangs to spike. He blew out a breath that said it was one of those days.
Jenna urged herself to stick with her plan. But something about his expression—a frustration that ran deep and familiar—wouldn’t let go. She peeked at her watch. With a grumble, she decided she could always eat after the meeting.
Approaching the guy, she became acutely aware of his athletic build. A navy polo shirt, tucked into belted slacks, showed off his toned biceps, a complement to his square jaw. From his profile, she happened to notice a pink dot on his earlobe from a hole that had been allowed to close. Something about the story there made her smile.
“Is there some way I can help?”
He raised his head with a start. The instant their eyes connected, a tingling invaded Jenna’s legs and shot to her chest.
He held her gaze for a long, silent moment, or maybe it only seemed that way, until he replied. “The battery . . . I think it’s done for good.”
“Do you need to borrow a phone?” She managed a smooth voice.
“I called Triple A already. Guess I was hoping to give it one last shot.”
Jenna could relate. She started her own vehicle every morning with the same attitude. Suddenly, she remembered the cables in the hidden compartment of her trunk. “Do you want me to jump you?”
When he went to speak but paused, she reviewed her question. “I meant, in your car.” Oh, God. That sounded worse. “Not in,” she corrected, “but on.”
What was she saying? A burn filled her cheeks.
“I mean to. Do you want a jump to the car?”
Any trace of earlier angst in his face dissolved. His lips curved into a smile that he appeared to be stifling. “I’d love a jump,” he answered. “To my car, that is.”
Jenna’s insides cringed into a ball. Since when did any guy, let alone a stranger, make her so flustered? Her sole salvation was the subtle blush tinting his olive-toned cheeks.
“I’ll drive over.” She quickly moved her car to face the SUV before retrieving her cables. Behind the shield of her raised trunk, she closed her eyes and exhaled. Her nerves started to settle as she and the driver focused on their tasks. Popping hoods, connecting batteries, revving motors. She did her best to detour from his gaze. After the mess left from her last boyfriend, she didn’t need another complication.
Life was better without the clutter.
Done helping the guy, her shoulders loosened a notch. She leaned into her trunk to put the cables away. Then she turned around and discovered him right behind her. How long had he been standing there? The view of her backside in faded jeans topped with an old sweatshirt couldn’t have been rated as sexy.
Not that she wanted it to be.
Because she didn’t.
She closed the trunk, hoping to entrap the thought. “So, you’re all set.”
“I really appreciate your help—” He stopped and shook his head. “Geez, I didn’t even ask your name.”
“It’s Jenna.” She stuck out her hand in reflex, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Somehow she knew the touch of his hand would resurrect those damn tingles. And that’s just what it did. Only this time around they hit more like a current.
“Well, Jenna, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
“It was nothing. Really.”
In the midst of their lingering shake, warm as the deep tone of his voice, Jenna’s stomach groaned. A reminder of lunch, and her meeting.
“I’d better get going or I’ll be late.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled with lines of regret. “I’m sorry to keep you.”
She appreciated the excuse to pull her hand away, as much as she hated it.
After an awkwar
d beat, he shrugged and said, “Take care of yourself.”
“You too.” She hastened off to snag her keys and purse from her car, but then chose to wait in her seat until he drove away, to avoid another exchange.
Once in the clear, she hazarded a look at the dashboard clock. If she left this very minute, she could make it on time. But that would mean having to swing by here again later.
“Oh, crap,” she said, making her choice. She dashed outside and up the driveway.
Her second ring of the doorbell succeeded in summoning Sandy Porter, who was busy listening to someone on a cordless phone. She ushered Jenna inside and motioned her hand like a bird’s beak to indicate the caller was a chatterbox.
“I agree,” Sandy said into the mouthpiece. “I definitely think you should bring that up at the next committee meeting.” Charitable boards and events appeared to fill her schedule. All were likely important enough, but Jenna didn’t have time today for patience.
“The key,” Jenna whispered, using her own hand motion to illustrate.
Sandy vigorously nodded, bouncing her twisted-up do. Her nails and lips were glossed in pink, perfect matches to her sweater set. Continuing their game of charades, she raised her pointer finger—Be back in one minute—and ambled off around the corner.
Jenna flicked at the side seam of her jeans, an anxious countdown. She could hear Sandy rustling through a drawer and commenting cheerily on the phone.
That’s when Jenna glimpsed an image in the formal room. On the white fireplace mantel appeared a framed photo of the SUV’s driver. A residual flutter drew her into the cream-carpeted room. Was he part of the family?
She picked up the picture to take a better look. A huge waterfall behind him, a backpack on his shoulder, he beamed with a ruggedness that glimmered in his eyes. He was attractive, sure, and had loads of charm. But there was something more than that....
“Oh, here you are!” Sandy entered the room. “Sorry about the phone. Auction season. The thing rings off the hook.”
Jenna fumbled with the frame to prop it back in place. “No problem. I was . . . wiping a smudge.” She pushed up a smile. “Occupational habit.”
Sandy tilted her head at the photo with a prideful glow. “That’s our son at Multnomah Falls. Reece and his sister, Lisa, used to go hiking there every summer, before she moved to Washington. You just missed them both, actually.”
Jenna strained to absorb anything that followed his name. Reece. Putting that together with the memory of his face returned a simmer to Jenna’s cheeks. She needed to switch topics. Now. “By the way, I had a question about . . . Mrs. Porter.” It was the first thought her mind could grasp.
“Go on, shoot.” Sandy smiled, waiting.
You’re a salesperson, Jenna told herself. Spin this.
“The thing is, I have some items of hers that seemed pretty important. A box of old pictures from when Mr. and Mrs. Porter served in the military. Even a Bronze Star from World War Two. But when I asked her, she told me to toss it all out.”
Sandy didn’t ponder this for more than a second. “It couldn’t have been them. Probably just some people they knew.”
“But, the woman in the photos—her features looked so similar.”
“Hmm . . . maybe a cousin, then. I couldn’t tell you. But I do know that Bill’s father never enlisted. Because of flatfoot, I think. And goodness knows, Estelle isn’t the type to have enlisted in the military.” Sandy laughed softly, making the suggestion seem ludicrous.
When it came to personal items, Jenna welcomed the invitation to do as she pleased. She just wished she could as easily discard Mrs. Porter’s reaction.
“So you don’t think they’re worth saving?” Jenna wanted final confirmation.
“From what Estelle told you, doesn’t sound like it. Besides, even though she has a great little setup here, with a kitchenette and its own compact washer and dryer, I’m afraid there isn’t a lot of storage space.”
Jenna nodded. The subject was settled.
“Anyhow, this is for you,” Sandy said.
The key. Jenna had nearly forgotten. She accepted the offering, which brought back her other concern: How long until the flooded bedroom was repaired?
Before Jenna could ask, a phone rang in the kitchen.
“Ooh, I need to catch that,” Sandy said, stepping away. “Would you mind letting yourself out, sweetie?”
“Um—no. That’s f ine.”
“Thanks a bunch!” Sandy waved and disappeared into the next room.
Releasing a sigh, Jenna headed out.
After sending a text—On my way!—she drove toward her meeting. Houses on every block were in the midst of being Christmas-ized. Neighbors were hanging wreaths, untangling lights. Planting huge plastic candy canes in perfectly good lawns.
Today, though, Jenna barely felt her usual irritation over the scene. Despite her better judgment, her thoughts kept channeling back to the mystery of Estelle Porter’s past.
Chapter 5
The system had become a clustered mess. Thousands of international shipments continued to arrive at stores with no clear tracking of details. For Reece, this meant an emergency campout at the office, regardless of it being Thanksgiving weekend. Even if the holiday were observed by his biggest London account, it wouldn’t matter. Reece and his IT team were ordered to fix the problem before Europe’s retailers opened for morning business.
For yet another hour Reece left his techies to their mission. In his office he’d tried calling his grandma, but her house phone had been disconnected. His father hadn’t wasted any time. If there was any chance of making it over before she went to bed, he needed the Brit issue solved.
“Making any progress?” he said, peeking into IT’s cubical area.
One of them mumbled “sorta” and the three continued typing away. They slouched before their computers with four screens each. Why the hell they needed as many screens as the CIA was beyond Reece, but now wasn’t the time to raise the question.
He glanced inside the pizza box on the closest desk and found a lone slice. The six-pack of Mountain Dew he’d brought in, bribery for the two caffeine addicts of the bunch, was nearly gone. He wished he could think of something else to speed up the group.
“Anything I can get you guys?”
Instead of responding, over their shoulders the three exchanged codes and technical speak to facilitate their test cases. The mood was sluggish and gray. But then, he couldn’t blame them for not being enthused. Working today hadn’t been part of Reece’s plan either.
After getting his car battery replaced that morning, he had zoomed onto the freeway, headed for his grandma’s house. Thoughts of Jenna, the beautiful woman he’d just met, had disengaged his auto-pilot skills. When his cell phone rang, he realized he’d missed the turnoff—by three full exits. His boss’s call about the integration disaster had rooted him back in reality.
“I tried to tell them,” Reece had insisted, “rushing the SAP cut-over was a bad idea.” Ignoring his warning, some hotshot exec had demanded they implement the complicated system right before a global launch of a winter clothing line. A real genius.
“I know, I know,” his boss had said. “But unless we want to lose millions, you’d better round up your guys right away.”
Reece had groaned his compliance. In the background, he could hear people talking and laughing, band music blasting from a televised football game.
“Bet you wish you’d taken me up on my offer, huh?” A smirk in the man’s tone.
“Hell yeah,” Reece had replied, though hadn’t actually meant it. Even with the two feet of fresh snow on Mount Hood, rarely seen this early in the year, a snowboarding trip had lost its appeal.
He now grabbed the last slice of pepperoni pizza and called out to his team, “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” An ugly mountain of nonurgent e-mails had piled up during his travels. At least that would keep him busy until receiving his cue to help put out the logistical fire.
Reece journeyed through the ghost town of a floor to reach his office. He took a bite of cold pizza and plopped down in his chair. On the corner of his desk was a digital frame he’d grown so accustomed to that he barely noticed its auto slide show anymore. He had forgotten this particular picture, of him and Tracy in a stall beside her horse. He’d never been much of an animal person. Then he’d volunteered to groom Chestnut until Tracy was well enough to do it herself, and the horse gradually grew on him.
Reece smiled at the memory of the first time Chestnut nuzzled his neck, a sign of affection and acceptance, of trust. That was the day Tracy snapped the photo.
The picture faded from the screen, replaced by a shot of the Graniellos. Or “Granolas,” as Tracy called them.
“A bunch of fruits and nuts,” she liked to joke, “all packed into one big family.”
He laughed to himself now, before a realization struck: Tracy was the one he should have been thinking about all morning, not some stranger who’d helped him with his car. And yet somehow, he couldn’t shake the buzzing thrill he’d felt from watching Jenna move, from touching her hand. The raw beauty she projected from every pore. The way she seemed embarrassed by anyone flustering her like that—
He stopped there, scrapped the wandering thought.
“Now who’s the genius?” he muttered, and threw his pizza away.
Reece didn’t know a thing about the other girl, one he’d never see again. Cold feet. That’s all this was. Natural nerves about taking the next step.
He’d learned the hard way not to follow emotions over logic. Snowmobiling at Mount Hood had taught him that. With Tracy on the backseat, they’d been cruising along, having a great old time, when adrenaline lured him into an impromptu race with a guy on the next snowmobile.
“Reece, you’re going too fast,” he’d vaguely heard her say. Wind and snowflakes blew at his ears, at the mask over his eyes. Tracy clung to his middle as they approached a curve. If he cut the corner around a tree, no doubt they’d take the lead.
A Winter Wonderland Page 32
