Jenna sat in her car and listened as the first haunting notes of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played on the radio. She rubbed her tired eyes, feeling the music all around her as the weight of her situation sunk in.
She’d driven straight through Kansas. The state she’d sworn never to set foot in again.
“What am I doing here? I owe her nothing,” she whispered.
No matter how many times she recounted the memories of her childhood, there was still a part of her that hoped her mother would want her, would choose her, would protect her. Jenna shook her head, removing her hands from her bleary eyes and pushed the lost hopes of a little girl out of her mind.
She didn’t need saving anymore. She had a career and financial security. She had saved herself.
She tried to tell herself this was just another place on a map. But Langley Park was more than that.
Jenna had spent a few months of her sophomore year at a high school a few miles away in the quaintly named town of Village East. She wasn’t at Village East High very long, but she did have one good memory of her time there.
It had been many years since Jenna set foot in Langley Park, but from what she remembered, the town had certainly changed.
Langley Park was still a small municipality with a population of only four thousand or so, located just a stone’s throw from Kansas City. Most people new to the area didn’t even realize they’d entered the town until they stumbled upon its tree-lined streets and beautifully maintained homes built in the 1930s.
Back when Jenna was in high school, Langley Park was populated with older residents and sported a sleepy town center. But today, as she sped through town on her way to the hospital, she noticed a transformation had occurred. The former home to mainly octogenarians was now a hip, bustling area filled with boutiques, bookshops, restaurants, small art galleries, and juice bars. The actual park in Langley Park had been filled with children climbing on giant play structures in the last rays of the late day sun.
Staring up at the hospital, Jenna listened as Beethoven’s haunting piece ended and “Clair De Lune” began to play. The last few days had passed in a whirlwind of activity, and she’d barely had a moment to reflect on how quickly her life had changed.
She’d left Nick early Monday morning, hastily gathering her things and leaving without any further explanation. Nick was concerned, wrapping his arms around her, trying to get her to talk, but she couldn’t. Their relationship wasn’t built on heart-to-heart confessions. The fact that Nick hadn’t tried to call or text let her know he too understood the parameters of their arrangement, even if in that earlier moment, he’d seemed to have forgotten.
This was supposed to be Jenna’s last week at her school in Denver. After explaining to the school’s principal and the Iowa researchers that she needed to attend to a family emergency in Kansas City, all parties were understanding.
When the principal pressed her for more information, she lied and said an elderly aunt had fallen and needed help after hip surgery.
Lying made it easier. It always did when it came to her mother.
She didn’t officially report to her new school in Albuquerque until early September. During the summer, she spent her time working from home analyzing reading data, learning any new tweaks the researchers had made to the curriculum, and consulting on textbooks for educational publishing companies. Compared to the school year, Jenna’s summers were quiet and solitary, only interacting with colleagues through email.
She had planned on leaving Denver and going directly to Albuquerque. Her work provided a generous stipend for living expenses, and Jenna always rented fully furnished houses or apartments. The sum total of her possessions fit in the back of her SUV.
It was almost half past eight now, and Jenna decided to call Eric Lucero, the social worker at Midwest Psychiatric Center assigned to her mother. She needed to leave a message and let him know she’d made it into town. Although, from their last conversation, she learned she wouldn’t be able to see her mother for at least a few more days.
She’d spoken with Eric on Monday morning, just two days ago. The soft-spoken social worker had explained that, to the best of his understanding, her mother had been participating in a group counseling session at the women’s shelter when she told the group she was planning on killing herself. Then she showed them a razor blade she had wrapped in tissue. The counselor was able to stop her, but the therapists at the shelter decided her mother required more in-depth psychiatric services than they were able to provide.
“I don’t want to make any presumptions about your mother’s behavior, but as someone who’s been in this business almost thirty-five years, it sounds to me like a cry for help,” Eric explained during their first conversation.
“What happens from here?”
“Your mother is going to be with us for about five weeks. She was able to tell us she’s had issues with alcohol and drug abuse in the past, and we’re working to get her body physically stable. After that, we can start working on the issues that brought her here.”
Jenna told him she would leave immediately, but Eric had cautioned her against it.
“Take a few days to get your affairs in order. Your mother won’t be able to have visitors for at least a couple more days. Get here safely, and we’ll go from there. Do you have any questions?”
She swallowed hard. “Just one question. Am I the only person you’ve contacted regarding my mother?”
“Yes, just you. Are there other family members you’d like to involve in the process?”
Jenna’s body flooded with relief. “No, there’s no one else.”
Still sitting in the safety of her car, Jenna turned off the radio and dialed Eric’s number. She wasn’t surprised when she got his voicemail and left a message letting him know she’d made it to Langley Park. As she pressed the end call button, she let out a shaky breath.
For someone who had become regimented in her work and life, someone who was always in control and always had a plan for what came next, Jenna had arrived in Langley Park completely unprepared. She had no place to stay and no idea how long she’d be there.
She decided to drive into Langley Park’s town center. She had seen a few restaurants when she passed by on her way to the hospital and decided to stop at the first place she found and order a glass of wine and a bite to eat. It was time to get back on track, make a plan, and figure things out.
A restaurant called Park Tavern came into view as she drove into the heart of the town center. Parking on the street, she grabbed her purse and laptop and walked toward the entrance hoping they’d have decent WiFi.
“You’re not a little girl,” she said, repeating her mantra. “Go inside and get organized.”
She entered the restaurant and took a seat at the bar. The tavern wasn’t very busy, just a few couples having drinks and a group of men in their early twenties laughing and doing shots at a table in the back corner.
Taking a closer look at her new surroundings, Jenna noticed that the old-fashioned bar was made of gleaming dark Cherrywood. Bottles of spirits were stacked in tidy rows set in front of a mirrored wall. Lit from behind, the bottles gave off an almost luminescent effect as the warm light made the spirits glow in shades of brown and gold. The establishment had a comforting warmth, and Jenna relaxed as she settled in, taking out her laptop.
“What’ll we be having tonight?”
She looked up to see a hulk of a man with a friendly smile and a mop of curly, auburn hair. He wore a gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing some very nice ink.
Jenna gave the man a tired smile as she glanced at the menu. “I’ll have the veggie sliders and a glass of red wine.”
Nodding, the bartender turned toward a cash register and put in her order. He looked over a few bottles of red, selected one, and poured a small amount for her to sample. “You look like you’ve had a long day. Try this cabernet. It’s from Washington state, and it’s one of my favorites.”
Jenna took a sip. “Mmm, this is mmm,” she moaned, instantly flushing pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I sound like an idiot. This is just…”
“Just what you needed?” he asked, pouring more wine into the glass.
Jenna took another sip.
“My name’s Sam Sinclair. I know most everyone in town. Are you new here?”
“I’m Jenna,” she replied, wringing her hands.
Sam eyed her hands. “I think there’s a story here, Jenna.”
The door to Park Tavern opened, and Jenna looked over to see a large group coming in, taking Sam and his questioning eyes away.
“Saved by the bell,” he said, giving her a playful wink before heading toward the group.
She spent the next hour finishing her sliders and a second glass of cabernet while looking online at nearby hotels and some not very appealing vacation-rental-by-owner options when a waitress came over holding a mixed drink with a look of exasperation etched on her face.
“The guys in the back wanted to send this over to you,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Not wanting to give anyone the wrong impression, Jenna glanced toward the men, then she turned to the waitress. “Listen, would you mind telling them no thanks?”
The waitress nodded, a resigned expression on her face as she looked at the table of rowdy men. Business had picked up, and the restaurant was now buzzing with patrons. Jenna could tell this was the last thing the server wanted to be doing, but she smiled tightly and headed back to the table, drink in hand.
About ten minutes later, the waitress named Addison—Jenna now knew her name thanks to her name tag—walked back over. “They want me to send you a drink every five minutes until you accept. Those guys are total Mission Springs d-bags.”
Jenna had to laugh. It was the first time she’d laughed in days. As a teenager, she remembered passing through the nearby Mission Springs neighborhood, marveling at the sprawling estates.
“Can you tell them I’m trying to work?” Not exactly the truth but close enough.
Addison nodded, then headed back to return the drink.
Moments later, Jenna heard a roar of laughter and turned toward the rowdy group. One of the men was pouring her returned drink on the floor as Addison stood by, frozen with panic.
Jenna shook her head, rose to her feet, and headed toward the addled waitress. She placed her hand protectively on Addison’s arm. “All right boys, you’ve had your fun. Let’s let Addison get back to work without any more of your shenanigans.”
“I told you she’d be feisty.” The table erupted with hoots and laughter.
A frat boy type with eyes that seemed a bit too close together barked out, “Not into guys? I could change that.” He grabbed his crotch for emphasis.
“I’ve got this,” Jenna said to a bewildered looking Addison who scurried through a door leading back into the kitchen.
After Addison’s departure, Jenna set her gaze on frat boy. “No, I’m not into guys. I prefer men, and unfortunately, I don’t see any at this table.”
Jenna was still watching frat boy as his friends slapped him on the back and hurled crude insults his way. All the while, frat boy’s gaze remained trained on Jenna; only he wasn’t laughing. “Have a nice night,” she added over her shoulder, walking toward the restrooms. She needed to calm down.
Feeling better after splashing cool water on her face, Jenna exited the ladies room and was surprised to see her frat boy, jaw clenched, standing right outside the restroom door. His body filled up the narrow hallway, and he blocked her way back to the bar.
He was drunk. Jenna could smell him from a mile away, and he was also bigger than she had expected.
“You need a man to teach you a lesson. Pull that stick out of your tight ass.” His words were clipped as if holding back a river of fury as he moved toward her.
Jenna’s arms went up instinctively, and he grabbed her right wrist. She could smell the cigarette stench on his breath as he pulled her in closer.
“You need to stop,” she said, trying to keep her voice firm.
Her mind raced as she looked down at his hand wrapped around her forearm. Oddly enough, his grip on her arm reminded her of Aaron Sanchez, a fifth-grade student she’d worked with back in Denver.
Aaron wouldn’t participate in class, and his teacher said she was concerned he’d never learn to read. Working with Aaron during their first session, Jenna found him as despondent as his teacher had reported.
At the beginning of their second session, Jenna had an idea. She asked Aaron to describe his favorite activity. She was fascinated to hear him talk animatedly about helping teach Jujitsu and martial arts at the local community center.
By the end of that tutoring session, Aaron had agreed to start working with her as long as she allowed him to teach her how to execute a cross-grab wrist lock. After only a few months, Aaron was reading at grade level, and Jenna had learned a cool martial arts move.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jenna said, trying to turn away from her assailant.
Frat boy gave her a sadistic smile. But before he could move an inch closer, she pushed into him and, like Aaron had taught her, placed the thumb of her free hand on the hand that was grabbing her arm. Then she reached her fingers around frat boy’s wrist and twisted into him, placing him into what looked like a very painful wrist lock.
“Fuck! Jesus! Fuck.” The words flew out of frat boy’s mouth as his face contorted with pain.
Holy cow. It worked.
Jenna looked up and saw patrons turning their heads in her direction as Sam rushed toward them. She released her grip as Sam grabbed onto frat boy’s shoulder.
“That’s it, Hadley. It’s time for you and your band of miscreants to leave.”
“Jesus, Sam! That bitch nearly broke my fucking wrist.”
“Hadley, you moron, I can see down this hall from the bar. I saw you go for her.”
Jenna was light headed. Had the whole exchange lasted only moments? It seemed like hours.
Sam turned to her. “Do you want me to call the police?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said, still amazed the move worked.
Hadley broke free from Sam’s grasp and stormed past them. He joined his friends, who, sensing the night had gone awry, were throwing money on the table and heading for the door.
“Sam, what’s going on?”
Jenna looked on as a concerned brunette walked up to them and put a hand on Sam’s forearm.
“Hadley. Something is not right with that kid.”
Jenna watched as the door closed, breathing a sigh of relief. She was thankful Hadley and his friends had left without further incident.
“Thanks for your help, Sam. I don’t think I hurt him too badly.”
“Just his pride,” Sam answered, frowning and shaking his head. Then his expression changed, and he looked at her, a bit of wonder in his green eyes. “Are you some blonde, ninja black belt?”
“No, I’m a teacher. One of my students taught me how to do that. I just never thought it would really work.”
“Hadley wasn’t expecting it. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Jenna nodded, then stole another glance at the woman still standing by Sam’s side. There was something familiar about her.
“Where are my manners?” Sam said, his gaze darting back and forth between Jenna and the petite brunette. “Zoe Stein, this is Jenna. She’s new in town.”
“Of course, it’s Jenna,” the woman replied.
3
Jenna couldn’t believe her eyes. “Zoe Stein?”
“The one and only.”
“You look so…”
“Put together? Adult-ish in appearance?” Zoe asked with a sly grin. But then her expression became more serious. “Are you really all right? That thing with Hadley looked pretty intense.”
“I’m fine. Hopefully, he’ll think twice before trying to put his hands on a woman without permission.”
Jenna and Zoe glan
ced over at Sam who had become very quiet. He was standing stock-still as if he couldn’t believe what was going on right in front of him.
“Earth to Sam,” Zoe said, snapping her fingers to break his trance. “Remember that year I spent in Iowa at Gwyer College?”
Sam nodded.
“To make a little extra cash, I waited tables at this hole in the wall Mexican joint near Gwyer. Jenna saved my ass more than once trying to help me keep that waitressing job,” she said with a laugh, but Jenna detected something not so jovial in her eyes.
“Somebody let her carry other people’s food? On plates?” Sam asked, directing the question to Jenna but eyeing Zoe doubtfully.
“Hey! Waitressing just wasn’t in my skill set.”
“As I recall, you and the giant serving tray were not on friendly terms,” Jenna added.
The women laughed, and Sam shook his head. “Times haven’t changed. How many plates have you dropped at my place?”
Zoe gave him a swat on the arm, and then she turned to hug Jenna. “Jesus, Jenna Lewis! How are you? What are you doing in Langley Park?”
Jenna was surprised by Zoe’s warm reception. Despite her waitressing debacles, everyone had loved Zoe at the restaurant. Truth be told, Jenna didn’t even expect Zoe to remember her, let alone greet her so enthusiastically.
Sam looked toward the crowded bar. “Duty calls. Grab a booth,” he said, then he turned to Jenna. “I’ll send a server over with your laptop and some drinks.”
“On the house?” Zoe asked, batting her eyelashes.
Sam threw her an exasperated look, but the hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
Jenna and Zoe found a U-shaped booth and moved toward the center to talk.
Zoe settled back in the seat. “It’s so great to see you. I’ve wondered how you were doing all these years.”
Jenna never contemplated that anyone from her past wondered about her. She always kept to herself and assumed that others had forgotten her.
Her college days weren’t spent partying or dating. She was either studying, working as an education research assistant, or spending nights and weekends waiting tables at Santiago’s Mexican Cantina.
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 2
