Blue? What the hell did that mean? Not that he believed for a second in the reading of colors.
Tristan heard the bell chime above the front door and Priscilla call out from the dining room. “There’s my boy. Come give Scilla a hug.”
“Hey, gorgeous.” The man’s voice was vaguely familiar. Maybe someone who’d been to one of the wine pairings. Or a former client. It didn’t matter. Tristan dug into his eggs and tried the hash. It was okay. Basic. Traditional. He liked his food with a bit more flair.
Breakfast wasn’t one of his usual catering meals. Brunch, yes, with elegant quiche, pastries, and ham. As far as the first meal of the morning went, Tristan preferred his straight from his kitchen, cooking barefoot, the news on in the background, and a cup of steaming coffee at his side.
A man joined him at the counter, sitting two seats over. Tristan turned to him to offer him a friendly hello shake of his head.
Him. The other guy. Carter.
Swallowing his pride, Tristan followed through. “Morning. Carter, right?”
Oh, he knew. He knew too well who the man was.
“Tristan,” Carter said in feigned indifference.
Well, two could play at that game. It wasn’t like they were really fighting over the same girl.
Lie. They were, only one didn’t know it. Or maybe he did. Maybe Tristan was the already projected loser in this game that hadn’t even started yet.
“What’ll it be, doll face? Lumberjack special?”
“Just a cup of coffee this morning.”
“That’s it? How about a muffin? You can’t keep up with your work on coffee alone.”
“I’ll take you up on the muffin. Have any cranberry left?”
“For you, I’ll make one magically appear if I don’t.”
Tristan rolled his eyes at the ridiculous flirting. Too bad Priscilla wasn’t forty years younger. Then he could tell Jenna her boyfriend was hitting on another woman.
Tell Jenna? Hell, he was turning into a tattle-telling middle schooler. He gulped down the rest of his coffee, and Priscilla was there in a flash. Muffin in her left hand for Carter and the pot of coffee, refilling Tristan’s mug.
“Thank you.”
“Gotta keep the new folk happy so they keep coming back.”
So, he was new folk, and the competition to his right was doll face. Who would be more appealing to Jenna?
“Tell me why the light breakfast today, hun. Or did you already have a feast this morning at home?”
Home. Did that include Jenna? Had she stayed at Carter’s house last night? Pretending not to eavesdrop, he took out his phone and scrolled through his business’ social media pages.
“I’m meeting Jenna for lunch today, so I don’t want to fill up.”
“Such a sweet girl. You take care of her, you hear?”
Even with his eyes fixed on his phone in front of him, he could feel Carter’s eyes on him.
“I plan on it.”
“You two a serious thing now?”
Tristan really didn’t want to hear this. He took out his wallet and left enough cash under his plate to cover it as well as a hefty tip.
“Seems so,” he heard Carter say.
“That’s interesting.” Priscilla picked up Tristan’s plate, and they made eye contact before he turned away.
“It was nice meeting you, Priscilla.”
“Likewise. Hey,” she said, stopping him in his tracks before his hand touched the door. “Do you two know each other?”
“We’ve met,” Carter said from his seat.
She eyed Carter then Tristan, her face breaking out into a mischievous grin. “It’s like a stormy cloud has moved in, but it’s not dark and gray. Rainbows, almost.”
Not caring to find out what the heck she meant by that, Tristan shoved the door open and jogged to his car.
So far operation get Jenna back had been a huge bust.
He had no idea what Priscilla knew—or thought she knew—about him.
He had no idea what the hell the yellow and blue color cloud thing was all about and was pretty freaked at her initial observation of him.
He had no dirt on doll face, only that the local community seemed to adore boy wonder.
And he really did not need to know about Jenna’s date this afternoon.
Yeah. A big bust of a day.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“How long were you married?”
Jenna didn’t like Carter’s probing. Her past was in the past, and she didn’t want her future mixed in with it.
Not that Carter was her future. He was fun to hang around with, but he wasn’t her forever guy. Most people were lucky if they could find a forever soul mate. She’d found hers, and it hadn’t panned out. Maybe they didn’t exist.
Or maybe Carter was her future.
“I wasn’t even legal drinking age when we married. Right there was a sign it wouldn’t last.” Because what high school sweethearts made it to their golden anniversary?
Jerry and Brigette. But they were a rare breed.
Jenna ripped the wrapper off her straw and stuck it in her ice water. Lunch dates with Carter were safer. He’d go back to work, and she’d go back to the house to be with Jerry.
The doctors didn’t want to release him, but he insisted. As long as he stayed hooked up to his oxygen, kept his therapy appointments, and didn’t overdo it, Jerry could go home. And Jenna promised to be by his side every minute.
When his nurses came by, he all but kicked her out of the house, telling her to have fun with friends. But he made her promise to be back by the end of each session so she could program his soap opera.
So lunch dates it had been this week. This was their third. And with each one, the atmosphere between Carter and her had changed. Gone was his easygoing flirting. Now he wanted to know more about her.
They’d entered the relationship zone. A zone she’d been avoiding. At first, because she wasn’t ready.
And then when Carter had kissed her for the first time, she had been ready.
And then Tristan came along, and she retreated back to not being ready. It really wasn’t fair to Carter. She so wanted him to be the man for her.
“Are you okay?” He reached across the table and took her hand.
This was nice. He was nice. She smiled at him and nodded. “I’m sorry I’ve been a terrible date lately. I have a lot on my mind.”
Tristan had turned her world upside down by being so kind to her. What a problem to have. Two sweet men who wanted her attention. If that was really what Tristan wanted.
“How’s he doing?”
“Um. I don’t know.” It was one thing to ask about their past—which she evaded—but to ask about Tristan’s well-being was a bit much.
“Do the doctors have any new news?”
Oh. Jerry. Yes, he’d been at the forefront of her mind as well. Taking a sip from her water, she shook her head. “No. We’re making him as comfortable as possible. He’s accepted his time is coming to an end. I wish it were that easy for me.”
“He’s a good guy. A staple around town. I remember he and his wife walking around town hand-in-hand. They came to my dad’s funeral. Mrs. Bishop would bring us a casserole after church every Sunday. And when she died, my mom brought food to Jerry every week.”
“I’ve loved hearing about their romance. I wish I knew his wife.”
“You’re the romantic type, huh?” Carter teased.
“Me? No. That was always—” Tristan. Damn him for invading her every thought. “That was never my thing,” she quickly recovered. “My parents are pretty cool with each other. They don’t ever really argue, but they’re not mushy either.”
“Mushy?” He grinned at her, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“Lovey dovey. Ugh.” She shuddered. “I can’t imagine my parents like that. What about yours? What were they like before your dad died?”
“I was in middle school when he died, so I didn’t pay much attention to their rel
ationship. He was a good dad. Hard working. Brought us up right. Although at the time we thought we had the meanest parents in the world.”
Jenna loosened her hand from his and sat back when the waitress delivered their food. She picked up her turkey melt, not waiting for it to cool. She hadn’t eaten a real meal since her last lunch date with Carter two days ago and was starved.
“Why did you think they were mean?” she asked after she swallowed her bite.
“Brady and I had to get up at the ass crack of dawn to tend to the farm. Then go to school, and right when we got home, we were back at the field again.”
“And your schoolwork?”
“After dinner.”
“I imagine that ate into your social calendar.”
“We had no social calendar.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Oh yeah? What lies has my brother been feeding you?”
They were back on track to lighter topics, which put Jenna at ease. They talked and laughed like they did when they first started dating, and ended the meal with a friendly hug and a light kiss in the parking lot by their cars.
“I’ll see you soon?” Carter held open her car door for her.
“Sure.” Yeah. Way to sound convincing. “I can’t wait,” she added, hoping he didn’t pick up on her hesitation. Because she did want to see him again.
Today’s lunch was perfect. It may have had a rocky start, but it ended well. She climbed into her yellow bug and waved as she drove off.
Jerry was in exceptionally high spirits when she got home.
“I miss my ... friends. Let’s go visit them.”
By friends, he meant those at The Cove. The elderly and the nursing staff. They all loved him.
“You’ve just finished a two-hour session with Cindy. Are you sure you’re up for visiting? How about a nap first?”
“I can nap when I’m dead.” He paused as if finding the energy to keep talking. “It’s bingo night.” Another pause. “I have a score to settle with Dolores and Frank.” Jerry fiddled with the oxygen tubes in his nose and folded his hands in his lap over his wool plaid blanket as if what he said was final.
Which it was. He may not be able to walk very well, care to his personal needs, cook, drive, or operate a remote, but he still ruled the roost.
The staff was setting up for the game when they got there. They advertised it as “Bingo Night” even though they played from three to four in the afternoon. When you were geriatric, night started earlier. As did the morning.
“Jerry, you old coot. You come to take my money again?” Louis was stationed in his usual spot, seated in his wheelchair in front of the fish tank. He liked to see everyone who came and went, and the open lobby was the perfect place to people watch.
Delores rocked in the rocking chair to his left and lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw Jerry.
“You’re looking especially handsome tonight, Jerry. And you’re beautiful as always, Jenna.”
“Thank you, Delores.” Jenna leaned down to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“Where’s my smacker-roo?”
She laughed and gave Louis a kiss as well.
“Don’t go settin’ your sights on her.” Jerry paused to take a few breaths. “You know she’s mine, Louis Gavinhaul.”
“You can’t have ‘em all. When you’re gone, she’ll be my new girl.”
“Sloppy seconds,” Jerry muttered, and Jenna nearly peed her pants.
“Jerry!” she scolded, doing her best to hide her smile.
“The man’s been gunning for you ever since ... I brought you here years ago. Thinks the moment I turn my back ... he can have my girl.”
“I’ll always be your girl,” she whispered in his ear before pushing him toward the dining room.
It was where they ate, played their games, did trivia, crafts, and had holiday parties. Like a preschool classroom, they celebrated all the days often overlooked. Arbor Day, Groundhog Day, Secretaries Day, even Canada Day.
Jenna helped the staff wheel those confined to chairs to their spots, and helped those with walkers from their rooms to the table. While the staff called out numbers, she worked her way around the table, moving bingo chips for those who had dexterity issues, and pointing out numbers to those who couldn’t see too well.
She avoided Louis’s grabby hands when he reached for her behind and stood next to Delores.
“So it’s true. You have a thing for older men.”
Turning around, she gasped. To say she was shocked to see Tristan standing so close to her would be the understatement of the year.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought soup.”
“You’re cooking for The Cove?”
“More like donating. They’ve been short staffed, and I had extra soup.”
“You can’t just bring your leftovers here. There has to be some sort of health regulation.”
She had no idea what she was talking about or why she was upset that he had food for the people here.
“I’m not some stranger off the street trying to poison these good people.”
“Why haven’t I seen you around here before?”
“I’ve been by a few times in the past two weeks. Started as a donation. Now I’m a regular.”
“Jenna. I need your help.” She hardly believed he did, but she humored Louis and picked up a chip for him.
“What number was called?”
“I have no idea. My memory is fading. You should stay by my side to help.”
“I call your bluff,” Jerry croaked from two seats down. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
Behind her, she felt Tristan’s chuckle. Yes, felt. It made its way to her chest, tickled her belly, and warmed her toes. A man’s chuckle shouldn’t do such a thing.
“Tristan, dear. I could use some help.” Kaye Merriweather waved her scrawny chicken arm at Tristan, who dutifully came to her rescue.
The game seemed to last forever until finally Gail Messer and Finnigan McDougal won.
“Dinner will be served in twenty minutes, so don’t stray too far,” the program director said unnecessarily from the head of the table as she cleaned up.
Jenna stood off to the side, letting Jerry mingle with his friends. He didn’t need her hovering over him twenty-four-seven.
“I didn’t know you were so popular with the in-crowd.” Tristan joined her by the bay window. They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the slow-moving—if not unmoving—crowd.
“Sounds like they know who you are as well.”
“I make my rounds when I stop in.”
“Why?” She didn’t mean to ask that out loud. Really, she wanted to know why he had to be so good. Not like he wasn’t a good person before. But it would make things much simpler if he could at least be a jerk. Maybe if she brought up Carter, he’d go all unattractive macho on her.
“Because they’re nice people. Do you know how many of them never have visitors? Some families only come by on holidays while others have family visit every day. I feel bad.”
And there went that plan. Her traitorous heart beat erratically as if it would rather beat for Tristan than for her.
Or for Carter.
Jerry started coughing, and on autopilot Jenna dashed over to him, tamping on his back. “It’s okay.” She fixed his oxygen and rubbed his back as his coughing settled down. The fluid in his lungs wasn’t getting any better. He needed to rest.
Heck, he needed to be in the hospital with an IV and better care than she could provide. She’d told him this a dozen times, and a dozen times he’d said he preferred her over a stuffy degree.
“Let’s get you home, big guy.”
“Delores says there’s soup. Good soup.” He took a few breaths and continued. “I want to mooch a meal ... so you don’t have to cook.”
She highly doubted it was to give her a break. Jenna would need to eat anyway. Although, after a big lunch, she didn’t need much more than soup for dinner.
<
br /> “She said,” Jerry breathed out his words in slow succession. “That you ... made it.” He was growing more tired by the minute.
Tristan pulled up a chair next to him and straddled the back of it. “Just a little something I whipped up.”
“I like soup.”
“Me too. Especially with the days getting colder.”
The kitchen staff came out with their serving cart and trays, and Tristan got up to help them serve.
“You two,” Jerry sighed.
Jenna waited for him to say more. He didn’t. She didn’t need to blow on the soup, it being served at room temperature, and lifted a spoon to his lips. She dabbed his mouth with a paper napkin and fed him some more.
When everyone had their food in front of them, Tristan returned.
“What do you think?” He returned to his chair, making himself comfortable on the other side of Jerry. Too comfortable.
“Good.”
“I’ve got connections. I can sneak you a Tupperware of it home if you’d like.”
Jerry smacked his lips, and new light shone in his eyes. “You can show”—he took a few more breaths, struggling for words—“Jenna how to ... make it.”
“I think leftovers are just fine.” She dropped the spoon on the tray and wiped his mouth again, wishing she could wipe away the smirk that appeared on both of their faces.
“Your cooking skills haven’t improved with age?”
“Are you calling me old?”
“No.”
“So you’re calling me a bad cook.”
“You weren’t terrible in the kitchen.”
“Gee. Thanks.” She adjusted Jerry’s oxygen to give her hands something to do other than slap Tristan.
“How I recall it, you enjoyed grocery shopping and making dinner requests. Cooking was never your favorite thing to do.”
“My lasagna wasn’t bad.” And she’d perfected it over the years.
“Your lasagna was good.” Tristan crossed his arms over the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling as if deep in thought. “And brownie sundaes smothered in peanut butter cups. You and Duncan Hines and Reese’s had a healthy relationship.”
“An ice cream sundae isn’t complete without a gooey brownie on the bottom and a peanut butter cup on top.”
Finding Our Way Back (A Well Paired Novel) Page 15
