“Amelia, I get it,” Nick said, cutting in. “But maybe you and Jen could continue this conversation out in the dining room. I’ve got a deadline here and I’m about to start up the saw.”
He wanted space to breathe—space away from the pressure that seemed to be pushing in around him. His daughter met his gaze with a drilling stare of her own. She was offended, he could tell. But he wasn’t about to explain himself.
“Sure, let me show you some of the art that came with the house,” Jen said. “It’s not worth anything, but one of them I really like.”
Nick watched them wander out of the kitchen and before she disappeared, Jen glanced over her shoulder toward him, her expression troubled.
He rubbed a hand over his forehead. Maybe this was the reality check he needed to make him stop flirting and get serious. Jen was the kind of woman he seemed to fall for—smart, articulate, educated and filled with ideas and ambitions that knocked ordinary guys like him out of the competition. He couldn’t keep up in that world, and he already knew it. He’d learned that in the most painful way during his marriage to Shari.
Amelia’s laughter filtered back to him.
“It was my fault,” he could hear Jen saying. “I knocked a valve or something, and we both got just drenched. I feel like a fool...”
Of course. The story that would outlive this entire trip—but he couldn’t help his grudging smile at the memory of Jen looking stunned, her hair dripping wet, hovering over him as they’d stared at each other in shock. Jen was a beautiful woman...that couldn’t be denied. And there was something about her mussed up like that, that had appealed to him.
Even though she was all wrong for him, and he’d never cross that line. Maybe it was okay to appreciate her firmly on this side of professional.
Yeah, his daughter would tease him about this for years, but maybe it was worth it for the memory of Jen drenched.
CHAPTER SIX
ONCE AMELIA HAD LEFT, Jen headed back to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame. Nick stood with his back to her, muscular, competent. His saw whined as he sliced through a piece of counter on the other side of the sink. Then the saw stopped, and he pushed his safety glasses to the top of his head.
“She looks like you,” Jen said.
Nick turned around. “Yeah, I know. But that brain of hers is from her mother.”
Jen chuckled. “And she’s going to Harvard, right? You must be proud.”
“I am,” he replied. “I honestly think a state school would have been better to prepare her for life. But she’s got a rich stepdad now, so maybe Harvard will prepare her for what she can expect. What do I know? She’s really bright, and she’s going places. I can guarantee that.”
And yet there was a lot of tension between father and daughter. Jen had seen that plainly. Amelia seemed to want a fight, and Nick looked on the verge of providing one.
“She asked me to tell her when I open the gallery. I mentioned that Scott Hedgeworth will come for a special appearance, and she really wants to meet him.”
Jen watched the complicated emotions battle over Nick’s face, then he turned away again.
“This is the first time she’s come back to Mountain Springs for about five years. And now she’s talking about coming back again for some artist. Not for her dad.” He turned back again. “Not that I blame her, exactly.”
“What happened between you two?” Jen asked. “Or is it none of my business?”
“It’s fine,” he said, then sighed. “Amelia and Shari—they’re different than I am. They love culture, ballet, theater, art... And they love learning. Constantly. They think about things in a more abstract way than I do, and hey, everyone’s different. No big deal. Except, they always make a point of calling me out for being uneducated, or beneath them.”
Her breath caught. She’d known there was a dynamic there...
“Oh...so that’s what was happening here today—the comment about you being a contractor.”
“Yep.” He gave her a tight smile. “When Shari and I split up, she went to the city and met Chris, and it was like Amelia finally got the dad she always wanted.”
Jen winced. “You can’t think that—”
“He took over paying for the stuff I said no to,” he replied. “And he gives her access to the stuff I can’t.”
“But you’re still her father,” she countered.
“Yeah, I am. You know, the funny thing is, she’s a big fan of your sister’s, too.”
“Lisa?” Jen looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t think she was that popular yet.”
“It’s not about popularity. And anyway, I think the fact that Lisa is a bit obscure makes her more appealing to Amelia,” he said. “My daughter got me to read a few of her stories.”
Jen felt a flutter in her stomach. Nervousness? Maybe. “What did you think?”
Nick looked over at her with a sober expression. “She’s good. I like her stories. They’re... I don’t know...they have some down-to-earth logic to them that appeals to me. We’re part of the same group of friends, but I don’t really talk to Lisa about that stuff.”
“What do you talk about?” Jen asked. Lisa’s writing was a pretty big part of her life.
He smiled faintly. “Movies.” He turned away again and pulled out his crowbar. “Now, if you could come hold the counter, I’m going to pry it up on this end.”
He pulled off his gloves and held them toward her. He was so big and strong, so confident in his work, but underneath it all she could see a deep sadness.
This was one of Lisa’s friends, and Jen realized that she was getting a glimpse of not only Nick’s life, but also her sister’s.
“Sure,” Jen said, accepting the gloves.
Sharing time was over, evidently, but she’d seen something a little deeper in Nick today, and she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for his pain. Whatever had gone wrong with Amelia over the years, it had broken his heart.
* * *
WHEN THE WORKDAY was over and Nick had left for home, Jen walked through the kitchen. The entire counter had been removed, as well as the rotten bottom cupboards that needed replacing. The old sink was held up on support struts, and the pipes beneath had been removed.
Strange how vulnerable a person was when a contractor was working on their kitchen. She couldn’t put this back together on her own if she wanted to.
Jen headed up the staircase toward the second floor. She had her computer set up there next to a leather armchair by a window that overlooked the snow-covered flower garden. The sun had set, and when she sank into the chair with her laptop, she could see her own reflection in the window staring back at her.
“I look tired,” she murmured aloud.
Strange, she hadn’t felt this old when she was helping Nick in the kitchen. A woman could forget something as simple as what she looked like when she was caught up with a good-looking man...and Nick had something about him that drew her in. Those broad shoulders, how muscular he was, his confidence when he worked—it was a powerful combination.
Jen flicked through Facebook and Twitter for a few minutes, catching up on some friends’ posts. When she saw a picture of Bram in his high chair that Lisa had posted that morning, she paused.
Lisa said she had some stories online, didn’t she? Jen opened a new window and searched for Lisa Dear. There were a lot of hits that had nothing to do with her sister, but on the second page, one result was for Grain Magazine, a well-known literary journal.
“Good for you, Lis,” Jen murmured, and she clicked on the link.
It was a short story and very well written. Jen scanned it, then her heartbeat sped up. This story wasn’t exactly fiction...not all of it. It was about a student who’d married her professor after a lurid affair. The woman thought her poor family was beneath her, and she loved hobnobbing with the educated elite, until one day
she realized how empty it all was, but her parents were now dead, and her relationship with her only brother was nonexistent, and she was left with a hollow life that she’d created for herself, feeling like she’d missed out on everything meaningful. The story itself was well-done—everything centered around the imagery of a pampered cat, looking out the window at the wild possibilities outside. It was impressive—definitely worth the space in a celebrated literary journal. But it was also wildly insulting.
Was that what Lisa thought of her—as one of Sam’s pets? As a homewrecker? Because she wasn’t! Sam had been two months away from his divorce being final when he asked her out. He and his wife had been legally and physically separated for a year at that point.
Jen’s heart hammered hard, and she pushed the computer aside and stood up. She picked up her cell phone and dialed her sister’s number. It rang four times and went to voice mail. She hung up. This wasn’t a voice mail kind of message.
Her phone rang, and she looked down to see it was Lisa calling her back.
“Lis?” Jen said, picking up the phone.
“Sorry, Bram had my phone,” her sister replied. “What’s up?”
“So, I did as you suggested and searched for your story online,” Jen said. “I found it...”
“Which one was it?” Lisa asked.
“‘A Cat’s Life.’” Jen paused, waiting.
“Right,” Lisa said. “I liked that one. It won a writing contest, you know.”
“Congratulations,” Jen said dryly. “The problem is, it’s about me.”
“No, it isn’t,” Lisa retorted. “It’s about a woman who marries her professor and goes on to live a miserable existence of denying who she truly is.”
“Is that how you see me?” Jen asked.
“It isn’t you,” Lisa replied. “Yes, it’s about a woman who gets married like you did, but—” She sighed. “Jen, all writing is inspired from somewhere.”
“Look, I don’t really care about your inspiration,” Jen replied. “I care about your opinion of me! And from what I can see, you think I’m a shallow gold digger who has no sense of who she is and was nothing more than a glorified pet in her husband’s home!”
“That’s not what I think.”
“It’s what you wrote.”
“Okay, you know what?” Lisa said, her voice rising. “Yes, I wrote a story about how you got married. I was furious that you married him! He was...not the right kind of guy for you. You know that now, and I knew it all along. He was a jerk. He patted you on the head. He used you like a secretary and insisted that you follow along his life track. And I used a little imagination to see how that might feel from the inside. Forgive me if I got it right!”
“So you think I married him for money?” Jen demanded.
“I exaggerated,” Lisa said dryly.
“I didn’t marry Sam for his money or his position,” she said.
“Come on!” Lisa shot back. “He’s skinny, balding and has a terrible personality! What made him attractive if not the big house, the Porsche and the way all the undergrads genuflected when he came by?”
“He’s successful, yes,” Jen snapped. “But I fell in love with him.”
“And out of love with him,” her sister said. “You can’t admit he was a mistake? Not even now?”
Jen rubbed a hand over her eyes. “He was a mistake, but my son isn’t.”
“I never said Drew was.” Lisa’s voice softened. “Jen, I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t think it would even get accepted. It was one of my first that I submitted to a serious journal. I guess there’s something that rang true in that story, and everyone loved it. If I could have edited it and changed the main character to be a little less like you, I would have...”
“Whatever,” Jen said.
“I don’t think you’re a gold digger,” Lisa said quietly. “I think you got duped by a very self-centered man who used his position and his wealth to blind you, and you lost sight of who you really were. That’s what I think.”
Was that any better?
Jen sighed. “I was married to him for fourteen years, Lis.”
“And you have a beautiful son,” Lisa said. “Don’t lose sight of that.”
“That’s why this old house and the art gallery matter so much to me,” Jen said quietly. “Because even before I met Sam and even when my marriage was falling apart, I had a passion that was mine alone. And I’m proud of it! I’m proud that I have an eye for art, and I understand that world. It’s something that excites me, and makes me feel alive.”
“I’m glad,” her sister said, but there was something in her voice that sounded off.
“What?” Jen said irritably.
“You had a whole life before you left for college,” Lisa said. “You might not have liked it much, but it’s a part of you. I think you cut it out of you and moved on. Or tried to.”
“You know what?” Jen said. “I’m not going to feel guilty for not wanting to be poor, or for developing new interests, or for wanting some financial security!”
“Then don’t,” Lisa said. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad about yourself. I’m just pointing out that you created this whole different version of yourself when you left, and it doesn’t include your childhood. How would you feel if Drew did that?”
Jen shut her eyes. “I’m doing my best for him. He’ll never be hungry like we were, and he’ll have opportunities—”
“Do you think Mom and Dad tried any less hard?” Lisa asked.
“I know...”
“You erased them,” Lisa said.
“I didn’t erase them!” Jen snapped. That was crossing a line. “I was in contact with them every week!”
“You erased what they gave you,” Lisa said. “And they really thought that they’d given us a beautiful life. We had a close-knit family, they raised us with faith in humanity and they wanted us to take care of each other.”
“I’m trying to help—”
“I’m not talking about you taking care of me,” Lisa said with a sigh. “What I’m saying is, you don’t have to be so embarrassed by where you came from.”
That was something to think about. Who had she offended, Lisa, or her entire family? She’d thought her parents were proud of her—glad she’d gone beyond what they’d been able to provide. But had she hurt their feelings, too?
“I’m tired,” Jen said. “I think I’m going to get going.”
“I’m not trying to fight,” Lisa said tiredly. “I’m just saying what I think.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jen said. “It’s fine. I’ve got something to think about, too, I suppose. Have a good night, Lis.”
Jen hung up the phone, wishing she could have said a whole lot more. But one thing was certain—for all of Jen’s mistakes in her sister’s eyes, it was Jen’s life that had been inspiring enough to write about. That story all the editors loved hadn’t been about the cautious sister who stayed at home, had it? At least Jen had done something worth writing about.
When Jen was a little girl, her grandmother had given her that silver ball of mistletoe. Her grandmother told her that one day she’d find her own true love, and after that, Jen would look at the little ornament and dream of her future happiness. One day she wanted a man to kiss her under mistletoe and make her feel complete. When she’d married Sam, it had been for all those romantic, heart-swept reasons. She’d wanted her own happily-ever-after so badly, and she’d wanted it as far from this mountain town as possible...
So Lisa was wrong—deeply wrong. But so was Jen, because she’d looked to a man to rescue her and complete her, and that had turned out to be the exact wrong choice to make. That ornament was in the box of Christmas decorations, wrapped in a little cloth to keep it from getting scratched. Did she still believe in finding her own true love? She wasn’t so sure anymore.
Her ph
one rang again, and she looked down to see her son’s cell phone number, and she felt the anger seeping out of her, replaced with relief. Drew had been so busy with his dad lately that he hadn’t been calling as often as she’d hoped.
“Hi, sweetie,” she said.
“Hey, Mom,” Drew said. “How are you?”
Jen sank back into the chair to chat with her son. Drew was the one who made this entire mess worth it.
* * *
THAT EVENING NICK ate a roast beef sandwich over the sink, eyeing the dishes his daughter had left. She’d cooked some pasta for herself—no leftovers. She was ticked off with him, apparently, because no one was that good at cooking pasta portions.
“I didn’t know when you’d be back,” Amelia said.
“Yeah, no, that’s fine.” He took another bite and glanced over at the dog’s bowl. He saw a noodle in the bottom of her dish. At least Goldie had gotten a treat out of it.
“What was with you today?” Amelia asked. “We were having a perfectly nice conversation before you got all touchy.”
“I get tired of the condescension,” he replied.
“What did I do?”
Nothing that she hadn’t done a thousand times before, and that was the problem. He should have stopped this a whole lot sooner.
“Forget it,” he said.
“I’m serious, Dad. What was the problem? What offended you there? We were talking about—” she shrugged “—law and art.”
It was hard to nail it down now, after the fact. It had always been that way—hard to argue his point with a lawyer.
“You make it pretty clear that you look down on my profession,” he said.
“I don’t.” She shook her head. “Dad, I’m sorry if I came across a little dismissively, but that doesn’t mean I don’t value your work.”
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