"Why don't you give me your cane and take my arm and appreciate how young and strong I am?" he said.
"You're quite the flirt."
"Only with women of a certain age."
"It's my lucky day, then," she said, and she handed over the cane and held on to his arm. He led her through the sunroom to where the onlookers were waiting.
"Mrs. Piller," began a nurse in a sharp tone.
"Arlene has had a hard day," Connor said.
"It got better when you stripped for her," Ned quipped, and everyone laughed, even Mrs. Piller. Connor winked at her and helped her into the wheelchair.
"I suppose you want your shirt back," she said.
"You keep it," he answered. "I'll get it when I come visit you."
Her eyes, surrounded by wrinkles and sagging skin, lit up like a little girl's at a birthday party.
Mrs. Piller was wheeled away, and Connor had the impression she'd be something of a hero today, whacking the staff, streaking, flirting with a young stud such as himself.
"I can't wait to tell this story at our reunion next week," Gerard said. "Our valedictorian, slayer of hearts. Age not an issue."
Jessica handed him the top of a pair of scrubs. As usual, while everyone else was just taking up space, she'd been useful.
"That was very sweet," she said.
"Thanks." He pulled the shirt over his head.
Levi smacked him on the back. "Good job, Con. I'll fill out the paperwork on this, since you must be feeling dirty." More laughter. Connor smiled begrudgingly.
"You want a ride home, Connor?" Jessica asked.
Friends. He could do friends. "That'd be great."
*
IT WAS NO surprise to Jessica that Connor had been the hero of that little drama. He was good at things like...well...calming down drama. She drove toward his house, his wonderful cooking-and-soap smell filling her car, his arm just a few inches from hers.
Didn't manage to say a word. Then again, the drive was only two minutes.
She pulled up in front of his house.
"Thanks for the ride," he said, opening the door.
"I miss you," she said suddenly, and her heart banged in her chest. "Nothing has changed, but I want you to know that."
He looked at her for a long minute, his lashes so thick and curly that they were tangled in the corners. "Every time I think you can't break my heart again," he said, "you find a way."
The words were like a hot knife into her heart. "I don't mean to," she whispered.
"Which makes it even worse." He got out and leaned down to look at her again. "I still love you. That hasn't changed, either."
She looked at the steering wheel. Don't you dare cry, she told herself. You'll only make it worse.
"You were really great with that old lady," she said.
She could feel his eyes on her still. "Good night, Jess."
Then the door thudded closed, and she pulled away as carefully as she could, not looking in the rearview mirror, looking only ahead.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Honor asked Jessica to come into her office. As always, Jess felt her stomach clench. "Close the door," Honor said, not smiling as she looked up. Spike, her little teacup Yorkie, snored from her little bed.
Jess swallowed. "What's up?" she asked, taking a seat.
"Take a look at this," Honor said, handing over a piece of paper.
It was a press release about Blue Heron and the planned expansion to clear four acres and put in a new grape varietal--Aromelia, the first new grape to come from Cornell in a few years. There were high hopes for the grape to do well; it was a hybrid, and Jack Holland, a Cornell alum, had consulted on its development. Pru had started clearing the land two weeks ago.
Jessica had the file on Aromelia. She'd interviewed Jack in March about the grape and had all her notes in a folder, as well as a draft of an article. It was on her calendar for next week--finish Aromelia article and pitch to science editor at NPR.
This article was solid and factual, if a little dry. And the contact name listed was Honor Barlow...not Jessica Dunn.
"Marcy wrote this," Honor said.
Jess looked up. "Why?"
"I was going to ask you that. She sent it out already."
"What?"
"She came in here earlier and said you were a little overwhelmed, so she'd taken the initiative. Are you, Jess?"
"No! This is on my calendar for next week. I have all my notes and everything." She didn't like the slightly terrified note in her voice.
"Marcy said she ran into an acquaintance from the Times. Pitched him the story, said it had to be done right then and there or we'd miss the window."
"So she sent this out without asking you?" Or me?
"Mm-hmm."
Jess would never have done that. Even with her new title, she would never have let something go out without Honor's approval. NPR and the Times? They were too big without a green light from the boss.
Marcy hadn't felt constrained in the least.
Jessica's face was hot.
"The thing is, the Times is going to run it." Honor folded her hands.
"Oh. I-- That's great." Because yes, coverage in the New York Times was pretty damn impressive.
"I just wanted to check in," Honor said. "If you need help, or if you're swamped, I'd hope you'd tell me, Jessica. No one would think less of you."
Except of course they would. "I don't know why Marcy said that. I don't feel overwhelmed, and I never said anything to her. I barely see her. She seems very busy with her own duties, you know?"
That was certainly true. Marcy was constantly on her phone, the little earpiece like an appendage, parading down the hall with a bride or a vendor, constantly talking, talking, talking. Jess had begun playing classical music in her office to drown her out.
Jess took a breath. "What do you think about her, Honor?"
It was a risk, asking the boss about another employee. As soon as she said the words, she wished she hadn't.
Honor tipped her head. "Well...she's doing a really good job. Every event has gone like clockwork, and we've had great reviews and happy brides. There are a thousand details to keep track of, as you know, and I'm glad it's not my job anymore."
Jess nodded. Honor was way too classy to say anything negative.
"She's a little...much," she added, and Jess almost sagged with relief. "But she has a way with customers, especially brides. And I can't say I'm sorry we're being featured in the Times. But I did tell her all press goes through you. You might want to talk to her."
"Okay. Thanks."
She got up and went back down the hall, still feeling in the wrong, somehow. And shaken.
Marcy was out, probably interviewing vendors or trotting around with brides, since she was the type to micromanage... Jess had seen her at Lorelei's Sunrise Bakery the other day for a cake-tasting, and even the perpetually happy Lorelei looked a little frazzled.
But press was Jess's job.
An hour later, she heard Marcy coming down the hall. "I don't care what she says!" she was all but yelling into her Bluetooth. "If you want chrysanthemums, you've got them! Don't worry about it another microsecond, hon! I'm on it! Ciao!"
Jess opened her door. "Marcy, can I talk to you for a second?" she asked.
"Of course! I'm super-busy, but sure!" She came in and sat down, looking around her office. "You could really warm this place up, you know. I could help you if you're not good with interior decorating. It doesn't have to look like you're a temp here."
"I'm not a temp. I've been here more than a year. I just don't like clutter."
"Well, everyone has their own taste, I guess. What's up?"
Jessica sat behind her desk. "The Times piece."
"I know, right? Fabulous placement. I was so psyched, I kid you not. I mean, sure, Neil--the reporter?--he and I go way back, and the timing was perfect. Yay, Blue Heron!"
Jess nodded. "The thing is, I'm the media director he
re, and all press should go through me."
"Did Honor have a problem with the piece?"
"I don't think so. It was more how you handled--"
"So? What's the big deal? It's all good! We're all on the same team, aren't we?"
"Yes, but you don't need to do my job for me."
"Were you pitching the same story to the Times? I guess I missed that." She smirked. "Look, don't get your panties in a twist. I seized the moment, that's all. You have your hands full with that poor brother of yours."
Jessica felt her face freeze. "My brother is not poor. Nor is he any of your business."
"I'm just saying, you must be exhausted, taking care of him all the time, waitressing, all those extra jobs of yours."
Jess clenched her molars. "We're not having this conversation, Marcy."
"Fine. Sorry. Just concerned, that's all."
There was no further denying it. Marcy was a bitch.
Something occurred to her. "How did you even know about the new grape, Marcy?"
"Huh? I don't know. Ned, maybe? Pru? She and I had lunch the other day. What a hoot she is! Listen, I've got to go. I have a meeting in, like, thirty seconds." She stood up. "You're welcome, by the way. Getting a piece in the New York Times is pretty fucking amazing, in case you didn't know that."
With that, she left. Didn't close the door, either, which meant Jessica had to get up and do it, or be subjected to that voice and those exclamation marks for the rest of the day.
Jess had dealt with mean girls her whole life. Somehow, they always surprised her, anyway.
She wished it didn't make her feel so nervous. And that Marcy hadn't scored so big with her first shot across the bow.
*
JOHN HOLLAND DROPPED in later that day, his baby grandson in his arms, Faith's golden retriever on his heels. "Say hello to Jessica, Noah," he said, making the baby wave at her.
Jess stood up. "Hi, handsome boy." The dog, thinking he was the handsome boy, came over and nudged her hand. Blue was something of a fixture here, and the dog had a point. He was as pretty as they came.
"Doesn't this baby look just like Faith?" Mr. Holland said. Jess smiled; this baby was a clone of Levi, and Faith was the first one to say it. "Your mommy was the most beautiful baby in the world," he told the infant. He looked at Jessica, his perpetual smile as much a trademark as the Blue Heron logo. "How are you, dear? I hear your father's back in town."
"He is, Mr. Holland."
"You can call me John, you know."
"I don't think I can, but thank you." She smiled. She wasn't sure if she was glad or not that he knew. Small town, though. No secrets.
"Is everything going all right on that front?"
"Seems to be." Keith had come over for dinner just last night. Ned had stayed home as backup, but everything had been fine, Keith engaging Davey about what movies he liked, if he liked working at the candle factory, what his favorite desserts were. He'd offered to stay and help clean up, but Jess had turned him down, and he'd left without a problem.
"If you need anything, let me know," Mr. Holland said. "Give him my regards."
The words were innocuous, but it was a threat. Gentle John Holland, making sure Keith Dunn knew he was being watched.
What would life have been like if Jess had had a father like this man, who was now blowing raspberries at his grandson? It was impossible to imagine. "Thanks, Mr. Holland."
"Are you going to the high school reunion tonight, Jess?" he asked.
Ugh. "I'm not sure," she said.
"Oh, you should! Everyone will be so happy to see you. Mrs. Johnson and I are babysitting so Levi and Faith can go." Noah started to fuss, and Mr. Holland turned him so he could pat his back. "All right, little boy. Let's take a walk so you can see the grapes, how's that? Come on, Blue. Have fun tonight, Jessica dear."
On the short drive home, Jessica thought about the reunion. She'd bought a ticket; Theresa DeFilio was in charge of it, and no one could say no to her. She was just too nice.
But if she went, there'd be the Jessica Does references. The mean girls giving her looks and whispering, same as high school. The guys, checking her out, irritating their wives.
More than half her class had moved away after graduation. Some had gone off to college and jobs, and then come back--Faith, Levi, Colleen, Connor, Jeremy, Gerard, Tanner Angst. That type had seen her a lot these years, waiting tables at Hugo's, doing the home health aide work in the winters, and most recently, at Blue Heron. They'd seen her taking care of her brother, seen her move from the trailer park to the rented house.
But the others would still see her as Jessica Does, class slut. Trailer park trash.
"Ah, screw it," she said aloud. "I'm going."
Ned was happy to stay home, since she deducted his babysitting fees from his rent; besides, Sarah had finals and had warned him not to come anywhere near her, so he had no problem watching Thor 2 and making popcorn with Davey.
Jess opened her little closet and pulled out the best dress she had--a simple sleeveless white knit. She'd worn it to the Black & White Ball last year, and Honor said she looked like a supermodel. Black high heels. Little gold hoops. She put her hair up in a French twist, brushed on some blush and took a look at herself in the mirror.
In another year, she'd own a house. She'd have a front porch with hanging baskets bursting with petunias and sweet potato vine and lobelia. There would be pretty ceramic tiles featuring the house number. She'd have a porch swing, damn it. She'd already come a long way from West's Trailer Park.
"You smell nice," Davey said as she kissed him good-night.
"I would also like a kiss," Ned said. She smacked his head instead and drove across town.
The gym looked and smelled the same as all gyms in all high schools across America, more or less. Low lights, a few tables with candles, a DJ in the corner.
"Jessica!" Jeremy Lyon said, kissing her on both cheeks, as if she hadn't just seen him at Hugo's yesterday. "What have you been up to since graduation?"
"I invented Facebook," she said, grinning. "And you?"
"I'm a gay." He pulled a face, then put an arm around his boyfriend. "See?"
"Hi, Patrick. Yes, I seem to remember you coming out, since I was at your unwedding."
"So you were. You probably remember it better than I do. It was a blur of terror for me."
Shockingly, there were actually people who hadn't heard about Jeremy "turning gay," so that was one story making the rounds. Faith, who'd been engaged to the guy, was also squealed over by those who didn't know she'd married Levi.
Other stories were Tiffy Ames, who'd left the military and invented a computer program that did something so complicated that Jess would need another master's degree to understand it. But she and Tiffy hugged tight; they came from the same place, and Jess was truly happy for her old friend.
"What's your house like?" Jess asked. Once upon a time, when they were kids playing in the creek behind the trailer park, they'd talked about where they'd live someday.
"It's on the water in Santa Barbara. Jess, you have to visit me. Please, please visit me."
"I would love that," she said. It was hard to imagine going to California, but what a nice visual!
"What about your place?" Tiffy asked.
Jess shrugged. "It's on Academy Street. We're getting there. Renting now, plans to buy next year."
"You'll invite me over when you're in, won't you?" Tiffy asked. She looked fantastic; no longer too thin, better dressed, her hair no longer bleached white-blond.
"Of course I will," Jess said. She held out her phone and took a selfie of the two of them. "Look at us. We're awesome."
"We are!" Tiffy said. "We should be the trailer-park poster children. Speaking of that, there's Levi. I gotta go squeeze those biceps." She laughed, then went to say hi to their old friend.
Jess sipped a glass of wine from a plastic cup and hung back a little, just watching. Funny, how things never changed that much. Colleen, the mos
t popular girl in high school, was the most popular girl at the reunion. Her stomach was getting a lot of pats, and Lucas, who'd graduated with them but had only moved to Manningsport in their senior year, was having his back slapped a lot. Levi and Jeremy were still best friends. Bryce Campbell, the class pretty boy, was dating Paulie Petrosinsky, who'd worshipped him back then. Theresa DeFilio was still taking care of everyone, making sure people had wine, talking to the caterers.
People whipped out their phones to show pictures of their kids, bragging about their jobs or glossing over things they didn't want to discuss.
And yes, some people--women all--shot looks her way. She returned the looks steadily. Not everyone had aged that well; Tanya Cross had gained at least a hundred pounds, and Carleen Krasinsky had dyed her hair black and gone the "too big for nature" breast implant route.
But she couldn't see Connor anywhere. She hoped he hadn't stayed away because of her.
The DJ was playing "Rock Your Body" by Justin Timberlake, and a fair number of people were dancing, Faith and Jeremy taking up lots of room, since Jer was a terrible dancer and flailed like he was being electrocuted. Colleen and Lucas were looking far better, Colleen's pregnancy only making her look more beautiful. Bryce and Paulie were laughing. So cute, those two. Theresa DeFilio and her nice husband, slow dancing despite the up-tempo song.
"Jessica Does!" boomed a voice, and Big Frankie Pepitone put his arm around her.
That fucking name. "Hey, Frankie," she said.
"You still are incredibly hot," Frankie said.
"Since last week when I saw you last?"
He gave her a one-armed hug. "Remember the time we did it in my rec room?"
"Barely. Is your wife here?"
"Nah. She'd be bored. So what's up, Jess?"
"Hey, Jess," said someone else. Jake Green, one of the ones who'd left and never come back. He hadn't been nice back in high school, and he still looked like the entitled brat he'd been back then.
Yes, she'd slept with him, too.
"We havin' a party over here?" Chris Eckbert, who'd been like a puppy dog to Jake. "Jess! Good to see you. Happy, happy memories."
And she'd slept with him, too.
Mark Renner came over, too, looking much the same as he had in high school. Another football player, and yep, him, too. "How you doin', Jess?"
"Mark. Nice to see you again."
Her charms, for lack of a better word, had worked on Frankie and Mark. They'd befriended Davey, and with two giant football players calling him buddy, Davey hadn't been picked on as much. Most guys had been good investments. Tanner Angst and Chris had been mediocre. And Jake...not at all. He'd been a waste, and one of her few miscalculations.
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