“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“Hi, there, baby girl!” she chirped in what I privately called her be-cheerful-for-Jenna voice. “Whatcha up to?”
Sarcasm threatened. I often wanted to answer her flippantly: Oh, just lying around, juggling razor blades. But that would be cruel, and I’d already put my parents through too much. I choked back the words and answered her honestly.
“On my way back to the office. I met with the contractor out at Oak Groves—ouch.” I hit a particularly deep bump and my teeth rattled.
“Really? How did it go?” The ever-present worry hid just behind her bright tone.
“Fine. His name’s Lincoln Turner, and he seems like he’ll do a good job on the restoration. And I think working with him should be pretty easy, too.”
“Is he . . . how old is he?”
I frowned, not sure where she was going with this. “Uh, I don’t know. He has an almost twelve-year-old daughter, so I guess . . . early thirties?”
“Oh, he has kids. Well, that’s nice.”
“Yeah, they just moved to town.” I sighed a little in relief as I pulled out onto the paved road. “Anyway, I’m excited to get going on this. Can you even imagine how great it’ll be to have Oak Grove restored?”
“I can’t wait to see what you do with it, honey. You always did have an eye for making things pretty.”
I rolled my eyes, confident in the knowledge that she couldn’t see me from her desk at the veterinarian clinic. “It’s not a dollhouse I’m decorating, Mom. It’s going to be hard work. I have hours, if not days, of research ahead of me, and months of construction.”
“I know it’s more than just decorating, Jenna.” My mother came closer to snapping at me than she had in a long time, and I winced in surprise. “I’m just saying that you have a knack, that’s all. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”
“I didn’t.” The denial was automatic and instantaneous.
“Hmm.” She was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, she sounded calmer, and I hated it. Those few seconds of annoyance were the most genuine emotion I’d gotten from either of my parents in two years. “It’s going to be wonderful to have Oak Grove restored and open again. It was always in ruins as long as I’ve known it, but my grandmother could remember when the Bennett family still lived there. She used to tell me stories about the grand parties they’d have at the holidays.”
“I wish I could talk to her about it. Our oral history file about the plantation is woefully slim. I think anyone who was alive when it was still occupied is probably long dead. The last family member passed away in the 1940’s.”
“You know, you might think about visiting Miss Rachel over at Rolling Hills. She’s over a hundred now, and she just might remember something.”
“Is she . . . does she have her wits about her?” I couldn’t think of a more delicate way to ask if the elderly lady was still sharp enough to help me at all.
“Most of the time, yes. The Daughters of the South went out to visit her at Christmas, and she remembered all of us.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Mom. This could be a tremendous help.”
I could hear the pleasure in her tone. “Well . . . I’m glad. Listen, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? I have a pork butt in the slow cooker and I bottled barbecue sauce last weekend. I’m doing pulled pork with coleslaw. And I’m going to stop by Kenny’s for your daddy’s favorite pie.”
I didn’t answer right away. All I really wanted to do was go back to the office, finish up my work for the day, and then go home for a long soak in a cool tub. But I hadn’t gone over for my weekly dinner yet, and I decided I might as well do it tonight.
“Okay, Mom. What can I bring?”
“Not a thing, baby girl. Just your smiling face. Your daddy’s going to be so tickled that you’re coming. You can tell us more about the plantation and what you’re planning to do . . . it’ll be fun.”
“Sure. I’ll see you about six?”
“That’s perfect, honey. You drive safe, now.”
I swallowed another sigh. “You, too, Mom. Tell Reenie and Smith I said hey, okay?” I knew both of the vets who were my mom’s employers.
“I’ll do that.”
I hit the end button, turned the air conditioning up a little higher, and then I focused on my driving until I’d reached the historical society office.
“WELCOME TO BURTON, LINC.”
Around a long wooden table, a bunch of men raised their mugs of beer to me. There was a murmur of agreement before we all drank deep, and then those murmurs were replaced with hums of appreciation. Mason had given us his best tonight, and it tasted damn good. The fact that my mug was filled with root beer didn’t change my appreciation. Mason hadn’t even blinked when I’d chosen the soda over the alcohol; he hadn’t pushed or asked questions.
“So is this some kind of club? Tell me I don’t have to run naked through town or something even worse for initiation.” I glanced over at Sam Reynolds, who was staring deep into his drink.
“Nah.” Flynn Evans set down his beer with an audible thump. “Nothing that official. It’s more of a survival tactic. The ladies—that’s my wife, my sister, his wife—” Flynn hooked a thumb toward Sam. “—and Mason’s wife . . . they insisted on having girls’ nights every once in a while. We decided that means we get boys’ nights, too. The women couldn’t complain, because it was their idea first.”
Mason chuckled. “Yep. So on the nights they get together, we run herd on all the kids. And then we get our own night, when I close down a little early so we have the run of the place.”
The place he referenced was his bar and night club, the Road Block. Mason was a hometown boy who’d moved to Nashville, made it big in the music business as a talent agent, married a rising star . . . and then lost her in a tragic accident. I could definitely relate to that.
Left alone with a baby daughter, Mason had moved home to Burton and opened up his own bar, where he continued to showcase both up-and-coming talents and provide the locals with a place to drink, dance and hang out. Along the way, he’d also found a new love, apparently, since he was married again and had added a son to his family.
“Well, I appreciate you including me. Thanks, Sam and Alex, for inviting me. And I’m grateful to Meghan and Ali for taking the kids tonight.” I took another long swig. “Even though I’m not a local. Nor do I have a woman participating in girls’ night.”
The blond guy to my right elbowed me. “Hey, no problem, Linc. I’m not a local anymore, and I for sure don’t have any woman. At girls’ night or anywhere else.” Alex Nelson smirked.
We all laughed, and I shook my head. “I’ll give you the woman part, Alex, but you’re a Burton boy, even if you are just in town for a visit. I’ve been to your parents’ house. The whole living room is wall-to-wall Alex Nelson, from birth to last week. There’s no escaping it.”
“He’s not wrong.” The man next to Sam nodded. I was pretty sure I’d heard him called Smith, but I hadn’t yet figured out if that was his first or last name. “But I’m definitely not a local. Hell, I’m not even a Southerner. I’m from Boston.”
“A fact we have graciously decided to overlook.” Alex leaned in close to me, muttering in a sotto voce that went real South real quick. “Our grandfathers are rolling in their sacred graves at the idea that we are consorting with a damn Yankee, but we have evolved, you see.” He laid on the accent extra thick, and I had to laugh.
“Aww, there are no labels.” Will Garth, a tall rangy dude who ran the town’s newspaper and printing service, spread his hands over the table. “No rules. When it comes to the Road Block hang-out, it’s anything goes.”
“He’s right.” Sam spoke at last. “Nothing formal. Just fun.” He drained the last of his beer and slid the mug down the table. “Mason, want to hit me again?”
I thought I noticed a momentary twinge of concern in Mason’s eye, but he snagged the mug without missing a beat. “Sure thing, Sam
. Anyone else need anything while I’m up?”
“I’ll take another, too.” Alex lifted his mug. “I’m not behind the wheel tonight, in case you were worried. Flynn is playing designated driver for both Sam and me.”
“Which means this beer was my one and only.” Flynn gave a long, exaggerated sigh. “So just an ice water, if you don’t mind, Mason.”
“Got it. Hey, Linc, mind giving me a hand with these? I’ve been working behind the bar so much, I’m out of practice with serving tables.”
“No problem.” I stood up, holding Alex’s empty glass, and followed Mason across the rough-hewn oak plank floor to the bar. While he busied himself with Flynn’s ice water, I eased onto a stool.
“So how’s it going over at Oak Grove?” Mason cast me an assessing glance. “I heard construction started a few weeks back.”
It didn’t surprise me that he knew. I’d already figured out that the Road Block afforded its owner the opportunity to catch all the hottest news in the area. Most of our crew hung out here on Friday nights, spending some of their hard-earned salary, and I was sure they talked about what was happening on the Oak Grove project.
“Yeah, we’re underway. Took us a little while to clear out the driveway, but now we’re moving along. All the plaster on the first level is out now, and we’ve secured the second floor so we can start up there. The plumbers arrived today, and we’ll be working on insulation, too.”
“Uh huh.” Mason nudged another root beer in my direction. “And everything’s been going smoothly? With the locals and with the historical society?”
“Sure.” I frowned, confused about why he was asking. As far as I knew, the society was happy with our progress so far.
“And with Jenna?” Mason didn’t meet my eyes as he wiped the top of the already-pristine bar. “She’s doing okay, too?”
Understanding washed over me. In the five weeks I’d been in Burton, an unusual number of people had subtly and not-so-subtly inquired about Jenna Sutton. Some asked if she was handling the job well, while others used pointed questions that made me curious about why some in this town seemed to view her as so fragile and unstable.
I’d been working closely with her since our first walk-through of Oak Grove. I knew that she was nervous about the project being the first one she was running on her own, but she was handling those nerves with admirable ease. I myself didn’t always feel completely confident about being the contractor; I’d had way too many sleepless nights, worrying that I’d made the wrong call or was forgetting something crucial.
We’d shared our anxiety from the beginning, with Jenna teasingly referring to us as building virgins whenever neither of us was certain about something related to the job. I liked that she was willing to ask me questions when she wasn’t sure about something. I’d dealt with my share of arrogant, know-it-all owners and consultants, and it was refreshing that what Jenna and I had was evolving into more of a partnership.
“Jenna’s doing more than okay. She’s handling this restoration like a pro.” I took a drink, wiped my upper lip and cocked my head. “Want to tell me why you asked me that?”
Mason shrugged one huge shoulder. The dude was seriously ripped. He reminded me more of a linebacker than a musician, although I’d been assured by more than one person that he was a talented guitar player and singer.
“Just wondering. You know Jenna is Rilla’s cousin, right?”
I chuckled. “Pretty sure everyone in this town is related to everyone else. But yeah, now that you mention it, I think I heard Jenna talk with some of our guys about her cousin being married to the owner of the Road Block.”
“Yeah. Well, Rilla’s protective of her. And so am I. We all want her to do well with this. She needs a win, you know? A real strong one.”
“I feel like I’m missing something here.” I leaned back a little, studying Mason. “Is there anything you want tell me?”
He crossed his arms. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything yet. You know small towns. Everyone talks about everyone else.” He paused for a moment, and I sensed he was debating with himself.
“I’m not comfortable with gossip. But I also think you need to be aware of some of Jenna’s history, if only because eventually, some less charitable busy-body will end up telling you her version, and it might help to know the truth before that happens.”
“Okayyyyy.” I drew out the word. “Not sure I’m following you, Mason.”
He bent over, resting his elbows on the bar and dropping his voice. “Couple of years ago, Jenna was hung up on a guy. Now that doesn’t sound like such a big deal, but you gotta understand—Jenna’s the youngest of four girls, and she was maybe just a little bit spoiled. A little immature. When she decided she wanted—this guy, I think she figured he’d fall into her lap like everything else in her life.”
“That doesn’t sound at all like her.” The Jenna Sutton I knew was serious to a fault and meticulously responsible. She never even mildly flirted with any of crew, and she had an air about her that discouraged too much familiarity, even while she was pleasant and friendly. I couldn’t imagine her chasing after anyone.
“No, she’s changed pretty radically. One of the reasons was that the man she set her sights on wasn’t looking for anything serious or even the least bit permanent. He was a real player in those days. Now, he’s changed quite a bit since then, too, but back then, he was a real love-‘em-and-leave-‘em dude.”
The picture was beginning to be clearer. “So Jenna was one he left.”
Mason nodded. “Yeah. In a big, bad, hurtful way. Now don’t get me wrong. He didn’t do anything without her consent. She went after him, and from what I hear, he tried to put her off, but what young guy is going to keep turning down a pretty girl who so clearly has the hots for him? But what happened after, that was on him. Jenna expected roses and declarations of love. Instead, he made it clear she was just the latest in a long line of easy fucks.”
An unexpected and unreasonable anger bubbled up in me. I’d known guys who didn’t care where they were sticking their dicks as long as it was under a skirt, but I’d never been one of them. I’d been with Sylvia since we were in high school, and after she’d died, my love affair had been with a bottle, not the unending stream of ready pussy that was offered to me nightly at the bars I frequented. I couldn’t understand men who treated any woman that way.
“This asshole lives around here?” I tried to think of anyone I’d met who might fit this profile. Mason had said the jerk had changed, but I couldn’t think he could be that different. What was that saying about tigers and stripes?
“No.” Mason waved his hand. “He moved away. What happened with Jenna shook him up, and it made him a different man. A better man. So at least something positive came from her breakdown.”
“Wait a minute. Breakdown? She fell apart over a guy blowing her off? That sure doesn’t seem like the Jenna I know.” Not that I knew her that well, of course; our interactions were strictly business, even if they were friendly. We weren’t braiding each other’s hair and telling secrets, but I did feel like I had a sense of who she was.
“Like I said, she wasn’t the same back then. I don’t think anyone realized how devastated she was until—well, it all ended up to be okay, and she got some help, and she’s turned things around. But that kind of humiliation in an everyone-knows-everyone place like Burton isn’t easy to bounce back from. People talk too damn much, and other people’s shit is their favorite topic. So she’s not the same girl anymore. She’s closed off, she’s quiet and she keeps to herself—a lot. Hell, before all this, she was at my house as much as she was at her own, because she and Rilla were close. She babysat for us all the time. Now, we’re lucky if we see her once a month.”
“So you needed to check on her with me because you and your wife feel like Jenna’s cut you off?”
Mason hesitated. “In a way. It’s more than that, though. I guess . . . I feel responsible for what happened that night, with T
r—with the man she slept with. See, it happened here. At the Road Block. On my watch, you could say.”
“Here? They . . . uh, hooked up here?” I knew it happened. I’d heard my crew talk about some of their adventures, sometimes trying to one-up each other on the most public place they’d nailed a chick, in their words. But I couldn’t imagine actually doing it, and I definitely didn’t see Jenna down for that kind of action. Yeah, maybe she’d changed a lot, but no one changed that much.
“Well, maybe not technically here. They connected here. He took her home from here. Still, I let it happen. I can’t help feeling like it’s partly my fault.” He looked unhappy, his mouth tight and his eyebrows drawn together.
“Uh huh. How old was Jenna then?” I was trying to do the math in my head. I knew she looked young, but I wasn’t sure of her exact age. I’d figured mid-to-late twenties, based on the job she had and how efficiently she did it. I assumed she was just one of those people who had a baby face.
“She was twenty-one. It was actually her birthday that night.”
“Okay, so she was of age. She was an adult. She’s not your daughter. She made her own decision. That means it wasn’t your fault, Mason.” I shifted on my barstool. “And while I’m pointing out truths, maybe you and the rest of her family aren’t giving Jenna enough credit. Maybe you’re not seeing who she is now. Because from what I can tell, she’s a lot stronger than you think. She might be different than the girl you remember from before—and I’m not claiming that I know her better than her family and friends—but one thing I can say. Jenna’s not as fragile and breakable as you all seem to think. Did you ever think that treating her like she’s made of glass might not be helping her?”
Mason stared me down for the space of several moments, and it occurred to me that if I didn’t know him at all, this dude could be seriously intimidating. Then he sighed, closed his eyes and slumped. “I kind of want to hit you right now, you know that? I’m thinking it would make me feel better. But there’s another part of me, the part that might arguably be the more rational side, that says maybe you might have a point. Maybe you’re onto something.”
Always Our Love Page 8
