“She does not regret that, Diane. I’m certain of that. Jen is that kind of woman. She takes care of people she loves.”
“Exactly, and it’s time she and I just enjoy this time. I need to make it up to her for some things. I see that clearly now. During that fire … it’s like … everything came into focus.”
TJ leaned back, sucked in a breath, and looked around the yard. “Why are you sharing all this with me?”
“I didn’t intend to tell you about the medication. I really just wanted to hear you say you love Jen. I guess the guilt has been eating at me.”
“I’ll tell you right now. If you want something to happen between her and me, asking me to lie is not the right way to go about it.”
Diane nodded, wiping another tear from her cheek. “I understand that. I’ll tell her. Just … give me some time.” She looked at him, her face pleading. “Give me some time with her. Yesterday was so wonderful—it was like we were a real mother and daughter. I want more of that before I get too sick. Then I’ll tell her. I promise.”
“If it comes up, Diane, I am not lying. I’ll give you some time, but you have to tell her. By the end of the summer. Or I will.”
She nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
* * *
Monday morning, TJ, Dean, and Jake via Skype—had their monthly financial meeting in the conference room at the Stag. TJ usually led these, sharing all the numbers he could to give everyone a good picture of where the business was at—both the liquor and the wedding aspects. Then they would discuss things they wanted to change or new things they wanted to try. This was also where they’d delegate who would work what wedding weekends the coming month.
So far, every month of this year had been better than the last profit-wise, so everyone was feeling good. As they were wrapping up, TJ asked the guys for another minute.
“What’s going on?” Dean asked. “Is it about Jen?”
“Actually, yes.” He looked at Dean. “Did you tell Jake about the fire?”
“Fire?” Jake replied, his voice a little tinny from the computer speakers. “Jen had a fire?”
Quickly TJ and Dean explained to Jake what had happened over the weekend at Shady Meadow.
“Damn, that’s horrible. I’m glad they’re okay.”
TJ nodded. “Exactly. Everyone got out safely. But I just wanted you guys to know that Jen is going to be staying with me for a while. And … uh, we’re kind of seeing each other.”
“About damn time is all I can say,” Jake said, grinning. “Although the living together thing has shocked me. I’ll be honest.”
“Yeah, I second that,” Dean said. “Are you sure about this? It’s awfully fast. Charlotte and I haven’t even moved in together yet.”
“You plan to though,” TJ said, feeling a little defensive. He understood their concerns, but he didn’t want to have to explain himself.
“We do, but we also haven’t spent the last ten years hating each other.”
TJ nodded. “I know it’s fast. I agree. The only reason things progressed like that was because of her living circumstances. Her mother’s insurance covers temporary housing, but Jen’s doesn’t. She has nowhere to go.” He looked at Dean. “I know you don’t want her staying with Charlotte for the next several months.”
Dean’s head jerked back. “Hell no.”
“It feels like the right thing to do. Everything she owned may be lost. We went again this morning on the way in here, and there was a hazmat crew there cleaning up the asbestos. She still hasn’t even been able to get in and see what is salvageable”
“Damn,” Jake said. “I hope her insurance covers her personal property.”
TJ nodded. “It does, but it was a very basic policy. She’ll probably only get some money for the few possessions she can prove she lost.”
They were all silent for a moment, considering that, so TJ spoke up again. “Listen, I know this is all a little crazy, living together, but it’s temporary and … so far I have no regrets.” The conversation with her mother might be one, but he kept that to himself. “I just wanted to let you all know what was going on.”
“Sounds good to me. She’s lucky to have you,” Jake said. “I hope that’s all the bad news you have. It’s too early for this kind of stress.” He yawned as the RV coffee maker was dripping behind him.
TJ frowned at the screen. “Dude, you’re in Nashville. You haven’t even left our time zone. And I’ve been at work for three hours. What do you mean too early?”
“What can I say? Sunday night at Jones’s Bar is ladies’ night. Our … products were very well received.” Jake’s crooked grin told them all they needed to know about how the previous night had played out for him. Who knew if there was a naked woman on the bed off camera? Actually, TJ didn’t want to know.
“I was afraid you were gonna say Sunday night was teen night,” Dean said with a laugh.
“Screw you,” Jake called out. “That’s you with the younger women, old man. How about you remind us how old Charlotte was the year you graduated high school?”
Dean held his middle finger up to the screen, but they were all laughing. Teasing one another was part of their dynamic, and while it was no secret that Dean had struggled a bit with the fact that he was twelve years older than Charlotte, he seemed to be over it. Or was trying to be.
When they finally finished up and disconnected from Skype, Dean and TJ left the conference room and headed down the hallway. Before TJ could walk into his office, Dean stopped him.
“Hey, man. You really sure you know what you’re doing?”
TJ appreciated his friend’s concern. But he was certain that letting Jen stay with him was the right thing. “I am. Jen needs to be taken care of for once.”
Dean considered his words and then nodded. “I agree. I hope this ends up being what you want it to be. I care about you both and want you to be happy.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
Without another word Dean headed for the distilling room, leaving TJ alone in his office doorway. From here he could hear Jen tapping away on her computer and talking on the phone.
He’d liked her riding into town with him. Liked that they’d be driving home together. He knew his friends were right to be hesitant. But right now, he felt good about it. He’d feel even better after they dropped Diane off at her new temporary, furnished apartment this evening.
Nineteen
Jen still wasn’t used to sleeping in a comfortable bed, even though she’d been doing it for a week. She didn’t know how badly she’d been sleeping until now. At TJ’s she was up with the sunrise most mornings, even on this beautiful Sunday.
Sitting up, she glanced over at him. Out cold, an arm thrown over his head. She smiled, remembering the previous night as he’d entered her body slowly, making love to her like he wanted to do it forever, and then holding her as she fell asleep.
She’d made a vow to herself not to become too used to this. They hadn’t made promises or talked about the future. If she was wise, she would start making a backup plan. Tara would come back to work, TJ would eventually get tired of her mooching off him, and then where would she be? This was a temporary fantasy, but that was okay. She’d enjoy it while it was good, but she’d do well to start thinking about the next step.
Quietly she left the bedroom and headed downstairs to the kitchen, her favorite part of the house. Jen had always considered herself a fairly utilitarian girl. When it came to hair, makeup, and such, she loved to be a little crazy. But only the basics were necessary for her living conditions.
Or so she thought.
It was becoming obvious that her belief had been born of necessity, or to save herself from disappointment, because spending the past week living with TJ’s kitchen had taught her something: She liked nice things.
TJ had mentioned to her that he’d had help from an interior designer on the house, and whoever that genius was, they’d obviously put much of their effort into the kitchen. Qu
artz-counter island, glass-tile backsplash, and custom white cabinets, which even had tiny lights underneath. It was so lovely, she almost couldn’t believe the house belonged to a man. She wondered what all he’d had a hand in choosing. She needed to ask him.
Was the big porcelain farmhouse-style sink something he’d always wanted? Or was it like the claw-foot tub in his master bath, a suggestion by the designer to favor the style of home? Jen would never have guessed this very traditional house was her style, but man how she loved it. It was homey and warm, and it made her wish some grandmotherly figure would come around the corner and start making her pancakes.
But since dreams were only dreams, Jen decided to make breakfast herself. This was their first lazy morning since she’d moved in, so she thought it would be a nice gesture to show her thanks.
She located all the ingredients, surprised to find TJ kept a decently stocked pantry and fridge. The basics anyway. Made her wonder if that was a byproduct of him recently having been in a relationship, but she pushed those thoughts aside and got busy making coffee.
It wasn’t long before she was sipping French vanilla brew out of a Stag mug, waiting for the griddle to heat up on the stove, and scrolling through Facebook on her phone. She snarled at a photo of another high school friend’s new baby, but still responded by liking it with a heart, because that’s what you do on social media. Seemed like everyone she knew was married, having babies, or going on luxury vacations. She was 0 for 3 these days, and would be for the foreseeable future.
It was tempting to take a selfie in this beautiful kitchen. Pass it off as hers. Why shouldn’t she? She sighed, imagining what the real caption might read: “Shitty-ass apartment burned down, so I’m screwing my boss and cooking in his awesome kitchen! #winning”
The thought made her laugh as she loaded the griddle with batter, held up her Stag mug in front of it, and took a shot of her provisional awesome life. She uploaded the photo and captioned it “Domestic AF.” Post. It got three likes within seconds. She grinned. Maybe she could manifest this life into existence.
Footsteps on the stairs got her attention, so she put her phone down and braced herself for TJ’s reaction to her making herself comfortable in his kitchen. She flipped one pancake, then the other, when she felt his arms go around her waist and his face nuzzle into her neck. He really liked doing that, and she really didn’t mind one bit. She smiled as he kissed her cheek. Maybe this manifesting shit worked.
“This is a nice surprise.”
He let go and stepped over to the coffeepot.
“Hope you like pancakes,” she said, plating up the first stack.
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“They should.” She turned, holding out the plate, just as he walked back up to her. “Here you go. Hope they’re good.”
“I’m sure they are. They smell great.”
She frowned. “Shoot, I didn’t check for syrup. You may not have any.”
He walked over to the pantry, stepped inside, and came out holding some up. She sighed in relief and poured some more batter. Once the next couple were done, she plated them up, grabbed her plate, coffee, and phone, and joined TJ at the breakfast table.
“These are really good,” he said, already two-thirds of the way finished.
“Thank you. It’s the least I could do for a place to stay.”
He turned to her. “You don’t owe me anything for this, Jen. Remember that.”
She nodded. “I was just thinking this morning about what I’m going to do next.”
He sat up straighter, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I have a temporary full-time job, a temporary living arrangement. Possibly even a temporary mother. I need to stop shitting around waiting for life to happen and figure some things out.”
He stared at her for a moment and then finally went back to his breakfast. “Well, don’t think you need to hurry. Wait for the right thing to come along.”
Jen wasn’t sure why his response left her feeling … unsettled. It was a fair and kind thing to say. She wasn’t even sure what she’d hoped his response would be.
Her phone rang, surprising them both for so early on a Sunday morning. She read the caller ID. “Chicago. That’s odd.”
“Do you know someone in Chicago?”
“Not that I can think of.” She let it continue to ring.
“You’re not gonna answer it?” he asked, bite halfway to his mouth.
“Eh, nah. Probably a telemarketer.” More like a bill-collector was her worry, but she wasn’t going to say that. Broke-ass people did not answer phone numbers they didn’t recognize. “If it’s someone important they’ll leave a voicemail.” A moment later, her voicemail dinged.
TJ, now finished with his breakfast, raised an eyebrow at her. The last thing Jen wanted was to listen to a voicemail tell her how behind she was on her credit card, so she just turned her phone over and went back to her pancakes. She could feel TJ looking at her, so she decided this was a good time to ask him about how this kitchen was designed.
Turns out he had a lot to say on the subject, and they talked about it for over an hour. Jen was fascinated by the process, and loved hearing how he’d made the decisions he did about the counter, the sink, and even the location of the electrical outlets.
“I would have never even thought to consider where I would plug in my toaster,” she said.
“Neither would I. Luckily I had help.”
“Did your mom come over and give you any advice?” she asked, somewhat teasing him.
He shook his head. “Not really. My parents have only been here once. Right after I moved in.”
“Once?”
He took a sip of his coffee, which they’d now refilled twice as they talked. “We’re not that close, really.”
“Well, yeah. You mentioned that before. But … that surprises me.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I honestly don’t know where things went wrong with my parents. It’s like they hit their capacity for love and attention with kid two. I get the leftovers. Especially my father. Mainly, my father. I’m not giving my mother enough credit, she’s loving most of the time. But with him, nothing I did was ever good enough. He’s just a cold, selfish, prick who treats my mother like an afterthought. My siblings are self-absorbed and self-righteous, and my poor mom copes with it all by drinking too much and pretending none of it’s happening.”
Jen stared at him with her mouth open for a long moment, and then an awkward laugh escaped her lips. “Good lord, Trevor James. That was some messed-up after-school-special shit right there.”
He laughed. “It was. You’re right. I’m not usually much of a sharer.”
“You’ve shared some with me. But not much. And I usually over-share.”
“Sometimes. But not usually when it comes to your family life. But I’m glad you’ve been sharing it with me.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. She let him.
“We’re hopeless,” she said, smiling.
He returned it, giving her fingers a squeeze. “No. Not hopeless. We have each other.”
* * *
That afternoon, TJ shocked Jen by going outside to mow the yard. She teased him about not having a landscaper, but he replied that he enjoyed using the riding mower, which she had to admit, was a lot different than a push mower. She was also enjoying her frequent peeks out the window to see him riding around shirtless, sweaty, and so damn sexy.
She’d cleaned up their breakfast dishes, made the bed, and taken a shower while he did his yard work. Sitting down to look at nonsense on her phone, she remembered the voicemail from earlier and decided to listen to it.
Her stomach always bunched into knots when she had messages from callers she didn’t recognize, but she braced herself and hit PLAY.
“Hey, Jen, my name is Erin Kingman. I’m a friend of Anthony’s. We went to college together. I happened to see the video he posted on Facebook of the two of you singing a few weeks ago. It was
… quite amazing. I reached out to him and he told me you’ve taught voice and drama. It kind of seemed like fate, so he gave me your contact info. I’m in Chicago and I work at the Uccello Canoro Academy. We specialize in drama and voice for children three to eighteen, and we’re looking for a voice teacher. I know it would be a big move, but Chicago is amazing, so I couldn’t help reaching out to you. You never know, right? Anyway, I’d love to chat if you have a few minutes.”
Jen listened in shock as Erin recited her phone number and urged once more for Jen to call. Her heart skipped in her chest as she listened to the message one more time to be sure she hadn’t imagined it.
It was out of the question. Her mother was sick, she had no money, and Chicago was … so far.
But oh God. The thought of being asked to do such a thing was exhilarating. Teaching voice again to children would be everything to her. She’d loved her job at Maple Springs Community Theater so much. She would love nothing more than to do something similar again.
The sound of the mower shutting off caught her attention, and she walked over to the window to see TJ walking toward the house. Jen looked down at her phone and closed the voicemail screen.
When things seemed too good to be true, they usually were.
* * *
TJ pushed the cart down the dairy aisle of the supermarket, unable to take his eyes off Jen. Something was bothering her, no mistaking that. He’d spent enough of his life trying to analyze this woman, so he knew when her mind was on something. Trouble was, he was almost afraid to ask her what it was.
There was a good chance he wouldn’t like the response. Or he’d feel like he needed to share what he knew, which he did not want to do. Several times he’d considered showing up at Diane’s new apartment and insisting she put an end to her charade, but then Jen would go over and spend some time with her mom. She’d come back happy, talking about Diane’s change in attitude. How they’d gone to dinner. Talked. Basically, she was acting like this fire had given her the mother she’d never had, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin that. Not yet, anyway.
Maybe This Time--A Whiskey and Weddings Novel Page 19
