by Anne Conley
Jason was afraid of what would happen to Joe’s mental state if he no longer worked with the public every day. The shop got him out of bed every morning, gave him something to do with his life. If he and Jodie shut it down, what would happen to his dad?
For the first time, Jason contemplated moving to Serendipity. What would he do for a living? He could run a graphics business out of his dad’s store, bring in some more income. Would he live with his dad? No. Not in the tiny apartment he’d just rented for him. He could stay in the living quarters above the shop until his dad’s rental agreement ran out, then if things were working out, they could live together somewhere else. By then his dad should be back on his feet, and the store should be profitable.
But what was here for Jason? Friends of his dad’s? Single church ladies? Friday nights at the local honky-tonk?
Jesus. What was he getting himself into?
He decided to table the idea for another week and then make a decision. Jodie might have a different idea.
Chapter 5
Renae hung up the phone, heaving a sigh of relief and mentally crossing one more thing to try off her list. It was Ms. Cochran, telling her she was welcome to continue coming to the quilting circle for fellowship, if she wished, but she wouldn’t be able to work on the church quilt. Mrs. Levi had ripped all of her stitches out after she’d left, and it would probably be easier for all involved if Renae just worked on her own personal sewing projects. Of course, if she needed any help, the ladies would be more than happy to oblige.
Renae didn’t have any hard feelings about it. She could tell her stitches were awful in comparison to the others’ who had years of quilting experience, whereas Renae had hours of it. In fact, she was relieved. She liked the ladies but just couldn’t really relate to them all that much. They had, for the most part, all been married for dozens of years or were recently widowed with long marriages behind them. Renae had been married fifteen years to a total asshole nearly twenty years ago.
So she sat down on her couch and curled her legs underneath her to conquer this crochet thing. She wanted to crochet a scarf for Kelly for Christmas. It would probably take her that long to do it. As she looked at the pictures in the Crocheting is Easy book she’d bought herself, she tried to wind the pretty green yarn around her fingers the way the book showed. Then, holding the hook in her hand, she managed to tangle it in the yarn and made a knot straight-aways. Sighing again, she tried once more. This time, she managed to make two chain links, then pulled it too tightly somehow, and got the hook stuck in the yarn. She was pulling out the mess when her phone rang.
“Hey there, sugar-britches. What’s going on?”
“Hi, Les. I’m having an epic battle with a yarn ball. You?”
He chuckled at her, and Renae relaxed from her yarn battle. “I’m playing a gig tonight at the Gin and was calling to invite you out to come watch.”
“You need groupies?”
“Naw… I don’t need groupies, just a friendly face or two. You in?”
She hated to encourage Les. He’d been asking her out for years, but she honestly didn’t feel that way towards him. He was nice looking and a sweet guy, but he was like a brother to her.
“I don’t know. I sort of had plans…”
“Ah Jesus, Renae. Don’t throw me over for knitting needles. Way to make a guy feel like shit.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. Besides, it’s crocheting. Not knitting. Big difference. I just wanted to be alone tonight.” Who was she kidding? She didn’t know how to be alone. If the last week had taught her anything, it was that she hated silence, couldn’t sew, didn’t know how to work out, and couldn’t stand the feel of yarn tickling between her fingers.
“You don’t need to be alone tonight. Grab the girls and come out. Better yet, I’ll call them, and they’ll make you come out.”
“You’re probably right, there.” She sighed again, her new signature sound. “Okay, fine. I’ll go. Let me call Alyssa and see if she and Dalton want to come. But this is not a hook-up night for you. You know that, right?”
“Absolutely. I will not put any moves on you. Scout’s honor.”
She knew he lied with every breath he took when it came to swearing he wouldn’t flirt shamelessly with her. She’d never known him not to.
“What time do you want us there?”
“We go on at nine o’clock.”
“See you then.”
That gave Renae a few hours to figure out what to wear. She wasn’t going to try too hard. She was only being supportive to a friend, not trying to hook up. So jeans should work. Renae had plenty of time. She rolled up her yarn ball, put it back in the basket by the couch, and went into the kitchen to make herself a sandwich.
She had finished eating and was cleaning up her mess when her doorbell rang. She answered it to her sister-in-law Alyssa and her friend Claire.
“What’s going on?”
Alyssa held up a bag, and Claire’s arms were full of clothes. A boulder crashed into Renae’s stomach.
“We’re going out tonight, and you’re not wearing jeans,” Alyssa stated simply before pushing past Renae into the living room. “First thing’s first. You go shower and shave your legs. We’ll go through your closet and see if you have anything suitable. If not, we brought some stuff.” Alyssa led the way into Renae’s bedroom where Claire started spreading beauty products out on the bed.
“What are you guys going to do? Dress me?”
“You want to do it? You have to put some effort into it. Otherwise, we’ll take over.”
“I’m not getting all dressed up for Les.”
“Please! Who said anything about Les? There will be other men there, honey, and you’re going to make them all fall at your feet begging for your attention.”
“I don’t want a man’s attention. I want to learn to crochet.”
“What are you? Ninety?” Claire’s voice was laced with disbelief, and Renae rolled her eyes. Hadn’t Dalton said the same exact thing? Maybe she needed to start listening to her friends. Claire and Alyssa were both transplants to Serendipity, but Renae considered them both really good friends, especially since Alyssa had loosened up so much after meeting and marrying Dalton. In fact, aside from Jessie, they were really the only close friends she had.
“No. I want to make Kelly a scarf for Christmas.”
“I’ll buy Kelly a scarf for Christmas. Get your ass in the shower.” Claire slapped Renae on the butt, so she scooted.
Following directions had always been Renae’s forte. She washed her hair and shaved her legs, which was already more than she’d ever done for Les. She couldn’t believe her friends were doing this to her. She had planned on going out. There was no reason for all this hoopla, but they were hard to say no to. It was easier to just go along with them.
When she came out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel, Claire was holding up a microscopic minidress.
“No. Absolutely not. I will not go out wearing Kelly’s clothes to pick up men.”
Claire’s face fell, and Alyssa held up a pretty white skirt with ruffles on it with a tight red top.
“All right, let me see something…” Renae rummaged around in her closet, until she found a shirt that went with the white skirt, but wasn’t as revealing. “Will this work?” She held it out.
“Try it on. Let’s see.”
She tried on both pieces, and while the top was off the shoulder and a little low, which was why she’d never worn it to work, it looked really good with the skirt, which fell just above her knees but wasn’t too short. She pulled the towel from her hair and shook out the shoulder-length auburn curls. She caught herself getting into the spirit of the evening.
“Okay, who can blow dry this hair and not make it look like I should be housing birds in it?”
Claire jumped at the task, as she had a similar hair type.
“I’ll do your makeup,” Alyssa announced.
They all perched in her b
athroom, Renae feeling a little goddess-like, being pampered the way she was. She smiled at the idea of a night out with the girls. When Claire had finished with the blow dryer, she had a curling iron and some sort of gel stuff and was playing with Renae’s waves while Claire spread some sort of lotion all over her face.
“So, how’s life in the fast lane?” Alyssa asked.
“Les has asked me out twice, and by the way tonight is not a date. I’ve been kicked out of the quilting circle at church.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “Oh yeah, Mr. O’Niel is in a wheel chair because he broke his foot, and he wants me to meet his son who’s in town. I think that’s about it.”
“Mr. O’Niel is crazy,” Claire declared.
“Shut up. He’s a sweet old coot. His son’s probably cute. Mr. O’Niel isn’t bad for an old fart. Can you imagine what he used to look like?” Alyssa blew on the brush she had just loaded up with blush. “Suck in your cheeks for me.”
“When are you going to take off your wedding ring?” Claire’s eyes were glued to the simple gold band that Renae had been wearing half her life.
“I don’t know. Do you think I should?” Renae twisted it, without realizing what she was doing.
“Are you still loyal to the unfaithful scumbag who robbed your daughter of a life with a dad?” Alyssa asked.
“Wow. Way to put it bluntly, ‘Lyssa.” She didn’t even know the half of it.
“I’m just saying. I wasn’t around when it all happened, but Dalton’s told me. And you’ve been a wonderful role model to your daughter. I hope I can be like that with my own kids. But you’ve done enough for that man’s memory. It’s time to make some of your own. That’s all I’m going to say on the topic.”
Renae was silent for a while, while the girls made her up. It was true. She hadn’t ever told Kelly the entire story of how her father died — in a drunk driving accident where he was the drunk driver. She just never had found the words to say. She preferred for Kelly to think of her father as someone who she could love and respect, not the asshole he really was. Renae hadn’t found out until two days after the accident there had been another woman in the car when he’d died. Somehow, in the fog of grief, she had missed that detail. Kelly was two when her dad died, and Renae didn’t see the need to share all that with her. She would someday.
Alyssa was right, though. She was living for herself now. She didn’t need to play the part of the grieving widow anymore. She was learning to live by herself, so she needed to take off the ring.
Slowly, she slipped the slim band of gold off her finger, a white indentation on the finger marking the spot.
“It feels funny.” She rubbed where the band went.
“You’ll get used to it. I’m sure everything feels funny to you right now. When’s the last time you got dressed up and went out for a night of fun?”
“I can’t remember?” Probably her senior prom, but she wasn’t going to admit that. She’d been out with the girls a time or two when they had girls’ night out, but she’d never really gotten dressed up for it.
“Well, tonight will definitely be a night to remember, Renae Stanford. You look hot!”
Renae looked at herself in the mirror. She did look hot. The thought that she’d taken off her wedding ring was leaving a funny taste in her mouth. She’d worn it for more than half her life, even if continuing to wear it after Cody’s death had felt farcical at times.
“Thanks guys. I do look good. What are y’all going to wear?” They looked at each other and smiled.
“We’re dressed!” Claire’s eyes gleamed with mischief. Renae looked at their jeans with disapproval.
“No. I’ll look so overdressed next to you guys in this. Y’all have to change!”
“Nope. We’re picking up Dalton and Max. They get all freaky jealous if we get too dressed up in public. Maybe Jessie dressed up for you, but probably not. You’re going to shine tonight. We don’t want to eclipse you with our awesomeness.” Claire was teasing, and Renae hugged her friend.
“You guys’ awesomeness could never be eclipsed. Thanks. I’m feeling better.”
“Just remember that when you’re holding my hair later. Come on, I’m ready to get my drink on,” Alyssa declared before leading the women out the door to Renae’s minivan, the only vehicle that would fit everybody.
Chapter 6
Jason couldn’t remember being so nervous before a performance. It was probably because it had been forever since he’d actually been in front of an audience, even if it was busking for quarters on street corners in college.
There was something different about tonight though, and he didn’t know what it was. Anticipation jangled his nerves like never before. It might have been because he could see this being his foreseeable future if his dad didn’t improve, and he hoped to God this wasn’t a bust.
He’d paid special attention to his appearance, not really knowing what the crowd here was like. When he’d arrived, though, he’d immediately gone to the bathroom to loosen up a little. Next to Les’ worn jeans, and the drummer’s t-shirt, his sport coat and buttoned up shirt looked ridiculous. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons and lost the blazer, then rumpled up his hair a little, going for sexy business casual. He hoped he could pull it off.
When he pulled out his horn, though, the pearls under his fingers felt so natural that he relaxed immediately. He had no idea if jazz was this crowd’s thing, but he loved to play it, and they would hear it whether they liked it or not. He climbed on stage next to Les and Brandon, the drummer, and watched as a wiry woman pulled the mic off the stand in front of Les.
“Ladies and Gentlemen. I hope you’re ready for a treat tonight. If not, I don’t owe Les anything. We’ll be even. So put your hands together for Les Paul, Jason O’Niel, and Brandon Whitcomb!”
Les immediately opened with the chords for their first song, and Jason felt the tension melt away completely. When his soulful tones came in over the guitar, Brandon jumped in with the rhythm and it sounded like they’d been playing together for years, not days. His fingers caressed the keys of the sax while his breath coaxed music from it. He sent the tones soaring over the heads of the front row of tables in the bar, over the brunette in front with the steely gray eyes that were focused on him alone.
They were playing a blues song, one of Jason’s favorites to play, and Les’ voice was the perfect accompaniment. It allowed the focus to be off Jason for a bit so he could survey the audience, but his roaming eyes kept colliding with the woman on the front row. Her long auburn hair fell past her shoulders in waves, and her porcelain skin shone radiantly through the hazy air. Her lips caressed her straw as she took dainty sips of her mixed drink, and her smile shone when she laughed with her friends. He was smitten.
When he realized who she was, he pulled out a measure to catch his breath.
She was the woman who’d nearly run him over.
He continued watching her when he resumed playing and saw when the recognition dawned on her slate-colored eyes. The desire in them was a measurable entity in the smoky room, followed quickly by guilt, as her eyes dropped to her lap. She couldn’t seem to keep herself from looking at him, though, as she eventually peered at him from under lowered lashes. And they were long, thick lashes he could see from the stage. After the song was over, he flashed her a smile, which she shyly returned.
Les went straight into the next song, a rolling beat from the drum-set and sultry tones from the sax, but Jason’s eyes never left the woman. He watched as she sipped the shots her friends bought her, whispered in the man’s ear next to her, and laughed with the group of people who seemed to be friends of Les’. He would have to ask him about her.
Jason continued watching the woman, reliving the day of the accident. When he’d come to, she’d been straddling him, and damned if he’d been too mad to enjoy it. So much had happened since then. He’d nearly forgotten about it with all the shit with his dad. But he used this time playing his sax to think about the woman and how she�
��d felt on top of him.
Les led them into a cover of an old Stan Getz song, one that typically had a female lead, Girl from Ipanema, the guitar plucking the vocal parts while Jason played the melody. It was a fun little song, and Jason pretended it was about her. Long and lovely and tan… she seemed to fit, especially in that white dress. She glanced up at him again, and her body stilled as he held her gaze. Something melted inside him at that moment, and all he could focus on was her, meeting her, talking to her, and apologizing for being an ass about the wreck. She lowered her eyes first, looking down into her lap, when her girlfriend on one side whispered in her ear. She shook her head, tucking a curl behind her ear, before the girl waved over a waitress and handed her some money.
A short while later, the waitress made her way up onto the stage and passed out shots to the group. They were between songs, and the waitress told Jason, “From the woman in white. She says to dance with her on your break.”
Jason looked back over at her and noticed she most certainly had not said that. She was gesticulating wildly at her friend, her voice almost audible over the din of the bar. In fact, she looked pissed. He heard Les laughing next to him.
“If you can get her, good luck. I’ve been trying for years.”
“What’s her name?” Jason asked.
Instead of answering, Les spoke into the mic. “Renae, thanks. This next one’s for you. I think Jason’s gonna start asking instead of me…” He murmured something under his breath and turned to Jason. “Can you work your way around Let’s Do It?”
Jason grinned at him good-naturedly. “Cole Porter? I think I can manage.” Truth be told, he loved that song and had memorized most of the horn parts and melodies on sax at an extremely early age.
