Hawthorne Harbor Box Set

by Elana Johnson

  “Our local tradesmen and artisans who worked on the wing are seated to my left.” She indicated the table Bennett sat at, and when Lauren stood, Bennett scrambled to his feet too. “You’ll be able to meet them all in the west wing, where they’ll talk about their creations and vision.”

  Bennett’s throat turned to sand. “What did she say?” he asked Lauren, but the audience was clapping once again, and the general contractor didn’t answer. They sat, and Bennett looked at Jennie. “Did you know we have to talk about our creations and vision?” He didn’t have a vision. Mabel had ordered some end tables and he’d built them.

  Jennie looked pale, and she shook her head.

  “Great.” Bennett looked back at Mabel, but she didn’t stand at the podium anymore. Waiters emerged from the stone walls and started serving dinner, and Bennett was quite happy to quell the nerves in his stomach with prime rib and mashed potatoes.

  “Maybe it’ll help me get another job,” Jennie said as she buttered a roll. “I mean, I don’t have anything else lined up.” She met Bennett’s eye, and he could see the worry in hers.

  “Did you ever find out about Seattle?”

  She shook her head. “Too busy.”

  Bennett accepted her answer, but he didn’t like it. Something screamed in his head that she wasn’t permanent, that she’d leave town as soon as this event was over. He talked himself off the ledge while managing to maintain a polite conversation with a few others at his table. All too soon, Mabel got up again, apparently ready to begin the short program.

  She started by calling Lauren up to the front of the room. Flashes bounced around the ballroom while the photographers Mabel had notified of the event took pictures, and Bennett suddenly remembered flashes from when he’d stood at the beginning of the dinner. So they already had his picture. Maybe he could sneak out during dessert.

  One look at Jennie, and he knew she wouldn’t. Which meant he’d stay too. After all, if he could get her another job that would keep her Hawthorne Harbor…. Well, he’d do almost anything to secure her spot in his life, even smile for the camera while talking about the doors on the buffet and how they were all Jennie’s idea.

  * * *

  The very next weekend found Bennett taking a shift he normally wouldn’t have worked. But he’d asked for a day off to help Jennie, so he got up on Saturday morning and headed over to the fire house, where the scent of the overnight crew’s dinner still hung in the air. And it wasn’t great, by the slightly charred scent twisting in his nose.

  He’d said good-bye to Jennie the night before, as she’d taken this week to clean up her studio and make arrangements for a trip to Seattle. She’d left that morning, having rented a car to make the two and a half hour journey.

  Bennett put his bag beneath his cot, wondering where everyone was. The fire house wasn’t usually a hotbed of activity, unless there was a foosball tournament going on, but that generally happened in the spring, around the same time as the Spring Jubilee. A pair of representatives went to the Jubilee as Fire House Two battled for bragging rights in the town’s foosball tournament.

  Sometimes they put a movie on and everyone disappeared into one of the ground-floor rooms. But Bennett didn’t see such an event on the giant calendar hanging beside the fridge. He put his lunch inside and turned to face the empty fire house.

  Both engines were in the bay downstairs, and he wasn’t sure why the place felt like the zombie apocalypse had rolled through town but left him behind.

  It seemed like even the undead would leave him behind in Hawthorne Harbor. His chest felt so tight, so tight, and he couldn’t stand to be alone in the fire house for another moment. He went downstairs and strode over to the back door to let himself out. The wind hit him square in the face, but at least it was air.

  He stood staring at the park down the hill, his chest heaving for a reason he couldn’t name. All he knew was that everything felt different when Jennie was gone.

  “You’ve done this before,” he told himself, almost dismissing his insane feelings. She’d just gone to visit her parents. Her mother, who was sick with cancer and had just had surgery. It was unfair of Bennett to miss her so much and assume she wouldn’t come back. Her departure this time was nothing like what had happened two decades ago.

  But somehow, his heart thumped and wailed as if it were exactly the same, and he didn’t know how to soothe himself.

  “There you are.” Chief Harvey stepped up to him and faced the park with Bennett.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked, glad for the fatherly comfort of the fire chief beside him. It was a very good reminder that he needed to get up the road to Bell Hill and visit his parents. Maybe that would fill some of the time he usually spent with Jennie.

  Armed with a plan and feeling much less like he was about to implode, he listened as Chief Harvey explained how everyone had gone out shopping for their big weekend stew cookoff.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Jennie had not driven in a very long time, but she managed to make it to Seattle without causing or getting into an accident. Her parents had gotten a simple apartment only a couple of blocks from the hospital, and Jennie parked in the underground structure before realizing she couldn’t get in the building without a code.

  And her father wouldn’t answer his phone. He’d always been the hardest to get ahold of, but Jennie didn’t dare disturb her mother. She could be napping, as her dad had indicated that her mother did that quite often, especially after her chemotherapy treatments.

  She’d just had one on Thursday, and Jennie honestly had no idea what to do, or what to expect.

  After waiting about a half an hour, she tried calling her father again, this time getting him on the line. “Dad,” she said. “I got in the parking garage, but the elevator needs a code.”

  “Oh, of course. Right. Just a second.” She heard the rustling of paper coming through the line. “The owner left it here somewhere….”

  “Where do you park, Dad?” she asked. He didn’t have the elevator code memorized?

  “Oh, we’re in the lot,” he said. “But we walk most places, and the front door has a key, not an electronic keypad.”

  “Okay, well, just come down and let me in the front door.” She started walking up the ramp she’d driven down.

  “Here it is. Three-four-seven-one. And our apartment is four-seventy-one.”

  Jennie changed directions and went back over to the elevator, saying, “Thanks, Dad. Be right up.” She hung up without asking how her mother was doing, if today was going okay or not, so she still had no idea what to expect on the other side of the door at apartment four-seventy-one.

  She knocked, and several moments later, her father opened the door, a smile on his face. “You made it.”

  “I made it.” She stepped into his embrace and held him tight. He seemed bonier than she remembered, and it had only been a few weeks since they’d left town and she’d shown up at Bennett’s with the request to watch a new dog.

  “How’s Mom?” She stepped back and readjusted her purse on her shoulder, trying to peer past her dad to get an idea of what kind of condition her mother was in.

  “She’s sleeping right now,” he said, stepping back and letting Jennie in before closing the door. “She’s had a rough time the last day or so. Can’t keep anything down.” He gave her a sad smile and moved back into the tiny dining room, where he’d clearly been sitting as two books were spread before the seat he took.

  “Coffee? Tea? How was the drive?” He closed one of the wordsearch books and looked at her like he really wanted mile-by-mile details.

  “It was fine.” Jennie sat without getting herself any tea. “The unveiling was magical.” She spent several minutes telling him about the event, absorbing the pride and love in his eyes as he listened.

  “Do you have pictures of your pieces?”

  She swiped open her phone and showed him the ones Bennett had taken on Saturday morning, explaining her inspiration for each piece
all over again. The unveiling had indeed been magical, and she’d enjoyed herself immensely as she presented her hawthorn log sculpture and then the pottery collection.

  Even Bennett had done a great job of talking about the buffet and how the carved doors mirrored the patterns on her pots, bowls, and vases. Once the official tour had ended, the guests had been allowed to linger, chatting near their favorite pieces. Jennie had spoken to at least five reporters, posed next to her pots alone, and with Bennett as his buffet and her collection really did flow together seamlessly.

  She hadn’t seen any of the articles yet, but most of the reporters and photographers that had come were from small towns around northern Washington, and they didn’t publish all that often. Mabel said she’d make sure everyone was notified when something came available, but Jennie hadn’t heard anything yet.

  “Well, I have an appointment with a gallery in a half an hour,” Jennie stood, her stomach growling too. “Should I bring back lunch for all of us?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you think Mom will be awake?”

  “Even if she is, she’ll drink one of the shakes in the fridge. It has all the vitamins she needs, and with how little she eats, it’s important to get in as much as possible.”

  Jennie honestly had no idea what her father had been through, or what her mother needed. She’d been so preoccupied with her art and the unveiling. Guilt hit her hard, making swallowing difficult.

  “Surely you eat,” she said. Maybe she’d only be able to snack in private, away from her mom so she didn’t feel bad.

  “Sure, bring me back something from wherever you go.” Her dad moved to the couch, settled his reading glasses on his nose, and looked at a piece of paper he’d picked up from the sidetable.

  Jennie took a few extra moments just to watch him, his undying devotion to his wife and the quite strength he had to be here, in this life in Seattle when all he’d ever known was down the road a few hours.

  She ducked outside, because she didn’t want to be late for her meeting with Jacque LeRange, the curator of one of Seattle’s premier art galleries. She had her pictures, and she had the program from the Magleby Mansion unveiling. Not only that, but she had credentials in another big city, and she hoped her position of artist-in-residence at the San Francisco Gallery of Art would win her some points.

  She stepped out of the wind and into the gallery, struck by the sculpture only feet inside the door. Made of soda cans, it stretched impossibly high by tiny aluminum strings. Or so it seemed. Jennie gazed up at it, vaguely aware that someone had approached her.

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  Tearing her gaze from the structure that looked like it belonged in a Dr. Seuss book, she met the light-colored eyes of another woman. She was exotic and beautiful, and she wore a smile that spoke of kindness.

  “I’m Nancy Petitt.” She extended her hand.

  “Jennie Zimmerman. I have an appointment with Mister LeRange.”

  “Yes, he told me.” Her smile didn’t slip, but her eyes took on a new emotion Jennie couldn’t quite name. “I’m afraid he won’t be able to make the meeting. He sends his apologies and has asked me to show you ‘round the gallery.”

  But Jennie didn’t necessarily need to be shown around. She wanted the time with the curator, and she’d been counting on the personal connection so she could work her charm and show him her work.

  So the whole hour was a waste of time, and by the time Jennie had seen the whole gallery, she hadn’t shown Nancy one picture. She’d learned that Nancy was the artist behind the soda cans, and as she walked away from the woman and back into the main show room, foolishness raced through her. She’d been smiling and nodding for sixty straight minutes, and she really just wanted a big plate of pasta and a pair of pajama pants.

  A phone rang from somewhere to her left, further in the gallery, around the corner and down a hall Nancy had said led to her studio and a few offices.

  “Jacques LeRange,” she heard in a deep male voice, and Jennie’s feet froze to the smooth, unmarred floor.

  He was here?

  He’d lied to her to get out of the meeting?

  Not only that, but Nancy had gone along with it.

  Jennie’s whole face grew hot, and her fingers curled into fists. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind, rage at him that she was worth one hour of his time because she was a talented artist.

  At the same time, she absolutely could not let him see her. She spun toward the door, her long hair whipping around and hitting her back as she nearly broke into a run to get out of the gallery as fast as possible.

  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she ducked right and pressed her back into the smooth, gray building. She sucked at the air, trying to get the humiliation out of her system. But it wouldn’t go.

  Her stomach grumbled at her that she still hadn’t fed it, and she wiped her eyes. Focusing on her basic needs drove out the irrationality streaming through her. She walked away from the gallery, her heels making entirely too much noise. She went through the line at a local deli and went back to her parents’ apartment to find her mother was awake and sitting at the dining room table.

  With only two seats, Jennie once again felt like an outsider trying to elbow her way into something which she wasn’t quite part of. She leaned over and gave her mother a kiss, noting the gray quality of her skin.

  “How are you, Mom?” Jennie peered at her as she handed the Reuben sandwich to her father.

  “Feeling a little better this afternoon.” She took a sip of her nutrient shake. “It’s so good to see you. Tell me about the unveiling.”

  Jennie didn’t want to go through all of it again, but she didn’t want to dwell on the events of that afternoon either. She thought of Bennett and what she’d tell him about the visit. She wanted to have good news for him, but she felt like a complete failure.

  So she relayed the happenings from last weekend’s unveiling, watched a movie with her parents, went and grabbed dinner when it was time, and ignored her phone when Bennett called later that night.

  * * *

  “I’m looking for a big change,” Jennie said, looking at herself in the mirror at the salon. “I want it cut. Most of it. All the way off.”

  The blonde woman who Jennie had looked up online eyed her hair dubiously, and then met Jennie’s eye. “You’re sure? You have beautiful hair.”

  But Jennie didn’t need beautiful hair if she didn’t even recognize herself when she looked in the mirror. She hated this feeling, like she didn’t know the woman looking back at herself. She wished she didn’t keep coming back to mirrors and wondering who she was. She’d thought that maybe, just maybe, her time in Hawthorne Harbor had solidified what she wanted in her life, but now, sitting in a beauty chair somewhere in Seattle, Jennie thought maybe she didn’t belong in her hometown.

  Her heart wailed, but she’d stopped making decisions with her heart twenty years ago, the first time she left Hawthorne Harbor.

  “I’m sure,” she said to her reflection. “Give me something short, sassy, and sexy.”

  The woman reached for her scissors. “If you say so.”

  Jennie did say so, and she hoped this would be the first decision of many that would bring her the happiness she couldn’t seem to grasp.

  She closed her eyes as the first snip of the scissors sounded, and her mind immediately conjured up an image of Bennett. She hadn’t had the heart to speak to him at all since she’d arrived in Seattle, and she owed him some sort of explanation for her radio silence for two straight days.

  But it sounded stupid to tell him she was still drifting, still searching, still trying to decide who she was and what she wanted with her life. She’d be forty-two by Thanksgiving, after all, and women half her age seemed to have more figured out than she did.

  Later that evening, when Bennett’s name lit up her phone, she escaped out of the apartment and said, “Hey,” hoping the sigh passing through her body didn’t come through in her voice.
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br />   “Hey,” he said, a measure of surprise in his voice. “I thought maybe I’d have to drive up there myself and make sure you were still alive.” Of course he wasn’t happy about being ignored for almost seventy-two hours.

  “I’m still alive.”

  He sighed, and she imagined him to be releasing his frustration with her. “Well, tell me all about it. The gallery tour. Your mom. Everything.”

  Jennie felt so, so tired. “I cut my hair,” she said instead. He didn’t need all the nitty gritty details of her mom’s illness, or the failed studio tour from Saturday, or the lazy Sunday she’d spent strolling around the city and feeling guilty she wasn’t back in the apartment with her mom who threw up everything she swallowed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bennett could hear something off in Jennie’s voice though she talked just fine and even laughed a few times. But something was definitely wrong. He wanted to push her, but he felt rather lucky to get her on the phone at all, so he put up with her secrets, which she obviously didn’t want to tell him.

  Her mom was not doing well, but the surgery had been a success and the side-effects to the chemotherapy were normal and to be expected.

  Jennie had said nothing of the gallery tour, which meant it hadn’t gone well. She’d spent the time on the phone talking about her new haircut and some of the markets she’d wandered through the day before.

  “So what about the gallery?” he asked. One of the major reasons she’d gone to Seattle was to figure things out with her future in art.

  “It didn’t work out,” she said with a heavy dose of nonchalance in her voice.