An After-Hours Affair

by Barbara Dunlop

“That part’ll be fun,” Emily responded with determined cheerfulness.

  Jenny didn’t disagree. Shopping for new clothes with Emily had been a lot of fun. Of course, shopping for every single possession a person needed in life was a little more daunting.

  She told herself she was lucky. The circumstances of her childhood made very little of her life irreplaceable.

  “At least there are no homemade quilts. No heirloom jewelry,” she reminded Emily.

  “That’s a good thing,” said Emily. Then she gestured to the fire. “At a time like this.”

  Emily knew all about Jenny’s complicated upbringing. Her parents had gotten married because her mother was pregnant with Jenny. The marriage was a mistake, and after five rocky years, her father had left them for good. After the breakup, her mother’s psychological and emotional issues had grown worse, making life chaotic for young Jenny.

  Just then, a section of the carport caved in, landing with a resounding crash on top of her car. She started at the sound, blowing out a breath.

  “Gonna need a new car, too.” Emily’s voice was hoarse.

  “This is unbelievable.” Jenny struggled to keep her equilibrium. Her possessions were disintegrating in front of her eyes.

  She caught a glimpse of Mitch where he stood next to the fire truck. He seemed to sense something, turning to scan the crowd. When he came to Jenny and Emily, the scan stopped. He looked directly into her eyes for a moment before returning to his conversation with the fire chief. Meanwhile Cole and the teammates looked on, obviously ready for action, and just as obviously frustrated by their inability to pitch in.

  “Do you think this is a sign?” Emily asked.

  Jenny dragged her gaze away from Mitch. “A sign of what?”

  “That it’s time to start a new life?”

  “You mean leave town?” Leave Royal, the TCC, Mitch?

  “No. No. I was thinking that when you rebuild, you could go sleek and modern, instead of boxy and practical.”

  “You didn’t like my house?” Jenny was surprised to hear that. It was… Her gaze fixed on the flames once more. Well, at least it had once been very functional and livable. It had everything Jenny needed, and the mortgage was very nearly paid off.

  “I’m just saying, maybe something that goes along with the new clothes, the new hairstyle, the new makeup and, soon, the new man.”

  Jenny pondered the suggestion.

  A fresh start. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d been telling herself she needed? Was the universe trying to help her out?

  “The TCC is awash with both professional and amateur architects,” she noted. “The building project is bringing everyone with a drafting table out of the woodwork.”

  “Anyone have a style you particularly like?”

  “A couple, for sure.” Jenny nodded. There were some incredibly creative people living in Royal.

  “There you go. Think about it. Maybe do something completely different, fun, exciting.”

  “You suppose there’s something wrong with us?” Jenny took a step back as the flames grew hotter on her face.

  “Not a thing,” said Emily.

  “We’re standing here planning my new house while the old one burns.”

  “It means we’re practical,” Emily stated with conviction. “Practical and realistic. Those are both very admirable traits.”

  Jenny watched while a fireman doused the oak tree overhanging her living room roof. The roof was blackened, and sagging at an unnatural angle. She couldn’t help picturing the armchair that sat in front of the bay window. She’d bought it last year on sale over in Westbury County. There was a tear on the back now, and she’d never been really crazy about the plaid pattern.

  Truth be told, she’d also been thinking about replacing her television set. Though, in this day and age, maybe a larger computer monitor made more sense.

  “You must be getting cold.” Mitch’s voice startled her, and she realized he’d moved up next to her in the darkening night. The lights seemed to flash brighter now, the flames more vivid, though she knew the fire was coming under control.

  “I’m hot,” she responded, wiping her damp hands across her fire-warmed cheeks.

  “The fire will be out soon. And you’re still soaking wet.”

  “So is everybody else.” She couldn’t help stealing a glance at Mitch’s bare, glistening chest. She was still wearing his T-shirt, and he looked magnificent, somehow all-powerful standing amidst the chaos.

  “I talked to the chief,” he continued. “They think the lightning fried your entire electrical system and started a bunch of smaller fires inside the walls. There’s really nothing more you can do here tonight.” His gaze shifted to Emily. “Is Jenny going to stay with you?”

  “Not unless she wants to swell up like a blowfish.”

  Mitch’s brows went up in an unspoken question.

  “My cats,” said Emily.

  Jenny’s nose twitched and her sinuses tingled just thinking about Powder and Puff, Emily’s long-haired Persians. She was good for a couple of hours at Emily’s. But she’d never be able to sleep overnight. “I guess it’ll have to be a hotel.”

  The Family Inn by the highway had kitchenettes, and their rates were reasonable. She struggled not to feel overwhelmed by the logistics of the next few days. There’d be necessities to purchase, insurance forms to fill out, and soon, very soon, she was sure the magnitude of her loss would hit her.

  “Why don’t we all head for my place for now,” Mitch suggested, his broad hand coming down on Jenny’s shoulder. The gesture felt far too comforting, so she quickly shrugged it off. She couldn’t let herself depend on Mitch.

  “We’ll get everybody dried off,” he continued, clearing his throat and letting his hand drop to his side. “We can have something to eat and figure out your next steps.”

  “Good idea,” Emily quickly agreed.

  Jenny followed up on Emily’s agreement with a nod. The chill of the night air was setting in as the bright flames turned to billowing smoke, and the mist from the fire hoses mixed with the steady rain coming down on them.

  Jenny couldn’t stay here and stare much longer. She had to get started on the logistics of the rest of her life.

  Since Jenny’s entire wardrobe had gone up in smoke, Mitch had asked Cole to stop at the Quick-Mart and pick her up a pair of sweatpants and a warm shirt that would fit. He’d offered her his shower, then put a barbecued cheeseburger directly into her hands, making sure she had a comfortable place to sit and an opportunity to collect her thoughts.

  Now, with the barbecue finished and cleaned up, and a friendly poker game underway in his dining room, he watched Jenny wander out onto his deck alone. She stopped at the rail to gaze across the lights of the golf course. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, and the moon was peeking out from behind the dissipating storm clouds.

  Mitch waved off an invitation to join in the game and followed her outside.

  Her feet were bare on the damp deck, since Cole hadn’t thought to buy socks or shoes, and hers were still in a heap in Mitch’s laundry room. Mitch briefly glanced to where the fleece pants covered her rear end and wondered if Cole had thought to buy underwear. But he quickly squelched that picture, admonishing his wandering imagination.

  If there was a scrap of a gentleman inside him, she needed it right now. He made himself promise to provide her with support, not lust.

  “Hey,” he offered softly, padding across the cool, smooth deck, his own feet also bare after he’d changed from wet clothes to a pair of faded jeans and a well-worn Tigers T-shirt.

  She turned her head to profile, mustering up a weak smile. The hoots and good-natured ribbing of the poker game faded behind him.

  “You okay?” His voice was gentle as he came to a halt next to her at the rail.

  She shrugged her slim shoulders, turning her attention back to the view. For some reason, she looked particularly delicate beneath the oversized navy hooded shirt. “I’m fine.”


  He didn’t believe that for a minute. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m really fine.”

  “You’ve just lost everything you own.” Mitch couldn’t imagine every treasure and memento of his entire life, his childhood trophies, the faded football jerseys, certificates, photographs, letters, gifts from his parents’ travels around the world, going up in flames before his eyes.

  She turned to look at him, tone going a bit brittle. “Thank you so much for pointing that out.”

  “Jenny.”

  “No, really. I’d almost forgotten.”

  He set his jaw. He could take this. She deserved to be upset. And if she needed to rail, it might as well be at him.

  But she fell silent.

  “Go ahead,” he invited.

  “What?”

  “Get it out. Yell at me.”

  Her tone had returned to normal. “How would that help?”

  Now, he was the one feeling frustrated. “Quit being so damn logical and analytical. You do what you have to do.”

  She glanced down at the baggy clothes. “What I have to do is go shopping. I may be a little late for work tomorrow, boss.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I meant emotionally. You deserve to be angry, to rail at the universe. Let it out, Jenny.”

  Nobody, not even logical, practical, two-feet-firmly-planted-on-the-ground Jenny could go through a disaster like this and not feel distraught.

  “There’s nothing to let out,” she told him.

  “Yes, there is.”

  But instead of answering, she got a faraway look in her green eyes. Moments ticked by. But, finally, she spoke. “I know you must find it odd.”

  Since he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about, he waited for her to elaborate.

  “Emily said I should rebuild.” Jenny leaned back, holding herself steady with a firm grip around the top rail. “That sounded good to me. I rather like the idea of starting from scratch, building a life that reflects who I am today, and not…” Her voice trailed away.

  He waited.

  “What must I find odd?” he finally asked.

  “I hear what you’re saying.” She seemed to wander off on yet another conversational tangent. “A normal person would be a little upset that everything she owned had just turned to ashes.”

  “A little upset?”

  Jenny did have a gift for understatement.

  “Thing is,” she continued. “I don’t really care.”

  “Of course you care.” Clearly, the woman was in shock. Or maybe she was in denial. Was there something he ought to do about either of those conditions? Or did they simply work themselves out over time?

  She shook her head. “I don’t care. It’s stuff, Mitch. I can get new stuff.”

  “It’s not the stuff itself,” he felt compelled to point out. “It’s stuff as the representation of your life, your achievements, your milestones.”

  “I guess I have no achievements.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  Jenny was one of the most accomplished people he knew. The TCC couldn’t run without her. Mitch wouldn’t even want to try.

  She gave a little shiver. “Maybe this isn’t the best time—” Then she laughed. “Or maybe you’re not the best person.”

  He reflexively reached for the propane heater switch, flicking it on, causing three tall, strategically placed heaters to glow to life. He sure didn’t like thinking that he wasn’t the best person to help Jenny.

  “We should drop it,” she told him.

  “You have dozens, maybe hundreds of accomplishments,” he told her. “Ask ten other people in Royal, and they’ll tell you exactly the same thing.”

  “You’re not dropping it,” she pointed out.

  “Because you’re not making sense.”

  “My house just burned down. I’m allowed to not make sense.”

  “Are you in shock?” He scanned her face. She wasn’t pale, and she wasn’t shaking. In fact, all things considered, she looked remarkably calm.

  “Just because I don’t have a stash of silly little life mementos that are vulnerable to loss or destruction, doesn’t mean I’m in shock.”

  Mitch tried to figure out what she meant. “Everybody has mementos.” Whatever they were, she had to be upset at losing them.

  She gave a cold laugh. “Hard for the all-American kid to understand, huh? We didn’t all live that storybook childhood, Mitch.”

  Mitch hadn’t lived a perfect childhood. Far from it. “Are you angry with me?”

  “No. I’m not angry with anyone.” She backed away from the rail and plunked down on one of the couches. “Let’s talk about you instead.”

  Mitch hesitated. But he knew people reacted to stress in different ways, and he should probably humor her. He took the chair across from her. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about your mementos. What would it absolutely kill you to lose in a fire?”

  Besides Jenny?

  Not a good answer.

  He gave it some thought. “My Fitzpatrick Trophy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’re hard to win. And it’s the rookie of the year award. It’s not like I’m ever going to be a rookie again.”

  “So, it reminds you of something good?”

  “Yeah.” Well, sort of. It mostly reminded him of his hard-ass dad, and how Mitch had finally stuck it to the old man by proving that he wasn’t a complete screwup. Still, who wouldn’t hate to lose the Fitzpatrick in a fire?

  “Winning it was immensely satisfying,” he said to Jenny.

  She gazed at him for a long moment. “What else?”

  “I don’t know. The usual stuff. Pictures, certificates, ribbons, my college diploma. Why are we talking about me?”

  “Because it’s more fun than talking about me.”

  “No, it’s not.” Mitch would rather talk about Jenny any day of the week. In fact, now that the subject had come up, he found himself with a burning curiosity. “What, exactly, did you lose tonight?”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t any rookie of the year trophy,” she finally offered.

  “Other things are just as important as sports trophies. Pictures of your tenth birthday party, for instance. Or that stellar report card I just know you got in first grade and every other grade after that.” He’d be willing to bet that even back then, Jenny had been pretty much perfect, always punctual, always neat, all work complete and in on time. In short, a teacher’s dream.

  He smiled encouragingly, but Jenny’s eyes had clouded to jade. Had he just reminded her that she’d lost all her childhood photographs?

  What a complete cad.

  Impulsively, he moved to the couch beside her.

  “No tenth birthday pictures,” she said.

  Not anymore. Mitch could have kicked himself.

  “No report cards.” Using both hands, she raked her fingers through her damp hair. “Funny thing about my mother.” She leaned back and tipped her head against the couch.

  Mitch wanted to reach out to her, but he forced himself to stay still. Something important was obviously going on inside her head.

  “She liked to clean,” said Jenny.

  Okay, that wasn’t what he’d expected. “Clean?” he prompted.

  “A lot.” Jenny stifled a small laugh with the back of her hand. “You’ve heard of hoarders?”

  “Of course.”

  “Mom was the opposite. It was some kind of an obsessive-compulsive disorder. She’s on medication now. But, well, let’s just say I’m pretty accustomed to starting over when it comes to worldly possessions.”

  Mitch found himself moving closer. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying she got rid of things. Every year or so, in a fit of psychological confusion, she would throw out every single thing in my bedroom.”

  Mitch was struck silent.

  “I tried so hard when I was l
ittle,” Jenny continued, a faraway look coming into her eyes. “I thought if I kept everything in my room just so.” She gestured with both hands. “Neat as a pin, dolls lined up by size, their clothes ironed, pictures alphabetical, socks in the top drawer, underwear next, pajamas, tops and skirts and slacks.” Her voice faded away.

  “You ironed your doll clothes?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his tone.

  “It didn’t help. She cleaned them all out anyway.”

  Mitch felt as though he’d been given an astonishing window into Jenny’s makeup. “Is that why you’re so meticulous and efficient?”

  “In small doses, it’s a good thing.”

  “But do you like being meticulous and efficient?” It had never once occurred to him that she might not. Did she get satisfaction out of running a tight ship at the office, or was it a leftover compulsion from her childhood?

  Laughter wafted out from the raucous poker game, as Emily accused Cole of being a jinx.

  Jenny didn’t answer, and Mitch realized he didn’t know her nearly as well as he thought he had. Was she unhappy? Did she struggle emotionally?

  “You can change, you know,” he told her.

  “I have changed.”

  “I don’t mean putting on a sexy dress for a wedding and getting all gorgeous—”

  She laid her index finger across his lips, but it was too late. The image was already coursing through his brain. And the touch of her finger put a physical element into the fantasy.

  He was going to kiss her again.

  Unless lightning struck him dead, he was going to lean in, capture her lips and drag her into his arms all over again.

  From the poker table, Cole gloated in triumph, reminding Mitch that they were in full view of five other people. But he didn’t even care.

  He captured her hand, holding it tight against his cheek. When he spoke, his voice was strangled. “What am I going to do about you, Jenny?”

  A beat went past.

  “Take me to a hotel.”

  For a split second, he misunderstood and desire roared to life. But then he got it. “You meant without me.”

  Her cheeks flushed bright, and her lips flattened together, her entire body stiffening with anger. “It’s not fair for you to send me mixed signals like that. What is it you want, Mitch?”