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My phone vibrates and I glance at the screen.We’ll be around all day, but I know you have to work until six. (By the way, I hope you’re not driving and texting!) Anyway, how about I make supper for you? The kids will be ready for bed early because we’re going to spend the day outside, and then we can talk about…it. Besides, I feel like I owe you something after Friday night.
I can’t help but smile. Jenna might come across as strong and maybe even independent, but I can see past her façade. On the inside she’s a love-song-loving, flowery-drawn-out text message sending, breakdown in my arms, softhearted woman.
And against my very best and intentional avoidance of anything personal with her for three years now because of exactly that, I’m beginning to fall for her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jenna
Iwonder who invented sledgehammers.”
The comment from Colin makes me glance up from the cupboard I’ve been trying (unsuccessfully) to lift for the past five minutes. It also garners the attention of Mazzy and Alessia, who are having just as hard of a time with the same task, but as a duo. I’m beginning to think we don’t need to refurbish the cabinets. What’s spending fifteen grand on new ones that we don’t have in the budget anyway?
“Like, seriously,” Colin continues, oddly serious about his previous statement. He’s standing by the wall the boys started demolishing a few minutes ago, simply studying the tool in question in his hand. “They basically just took a hammer, supersized it, and marketed it as a tool to break things. It’s kinda cool.”
“Uh, that’s why it’s called a sledgehammer,” Mazzy says with a slight smirk. “You know, tosledgethrough stuff.”
Colin rolls his eyes, which assures me he’s still his swaggering, over-cocky self. He just momentarily got caught up in a thought bubble like all of us do sometimes. Most of the time my questionings are more philosophical, likeI wonder if God regrets giving us humans free willorWhat would happen if the world just stopped turning?It’s very deep, sometimes very disturbing, when I get into my head. I usually try not to dwell on the questions for long because it tends to short-circuit my brain.
“Do we actually think we’re going to be able to lift these things?” Mazzy mutters, staring the cupboard down with her hands propped on her hips. “Why can’t we just paint the walls or something? Heck, I’d rather use the sledgehammer. Or paint. Why can’t we paint, again? Did I ask that already?”
“Because we’re not finished with the demo, and you know you did.” Seth walks in the back door, Luka trailing behind him, and I swear the temperature in the room just raised about ten degrees. Perhaps it’s because a hot breeze accompanied them inside and decided to descend right on me. I’m sure that’s it. I don’t think it’s because Seth is in paint-stained jeans, a T-shirt, and a ballcap, and I can’t help but relive that forehead kiss from four nights ago every time I look at him. Most certainly not. My money is on the hot breeze for sure. “Luka, Colin, I need you guys to come with me to pick up a few things for the project. While we’re gone, ladies, take a break. There’s a cooler with Gatorade and some cookies from my sister in the backyard. Help yourselves. The boys and I can take care of those cupboards later.”
Grateful for the very welcome break, I pull my work gloves off and drop them on my abandoned cupboard. Seth catches my eye for the briefest of moments before he ushers Luka and Colin out the front door, and I really do try to not let that very slight uptick in the corners of his lips affect me. I’m being honest here. I do my very best.
But ultimately, I fail.
That grin, miniscule and practically not-even-there as it was, has complete veto power over my rational thinking. It’s highly offensive on one front, but not completely unwelcome on the other. I feel like, I don’t know, something has changed since Friday. Like maybe Seth isn’t as carefully guarded and seemingly uncaring as I thought. I mean, I’ve always known he wasn’tuncaring.It’s just that he’s shown how caring he really can be since Friday.
For instance, the way he calmly explained how it might be more complicated to locate Jade than he’d hoped. I know it can’t be easy for him to be involved with anyone drug-related after what happened with his father, but he’s doing it—he does it every day, really. He told me he wasn’t about to completely kibosh the whole idea of looking for my sister. And though that forehead kiss from Friday has not been discussed nor repeated, I feel less intimidated around Seth now. Less like he’s going to freak out when I tell him about Jade.
Because I did tell him. And he did not freak out.
I select a red Gatorade from the cooler and grab one chocolate chip cookie, then sit in the lawn chair beside Alessia. This has been our little “break spot” this week—four lawn chairs and two upside down five-gallon buckets under the shade of a big maple tree in Marie’s backyard. Our time has been limited to an hour yesterday and two hours tonight, but we’re taking what we can get. Joanna told me she’d give me a few hours off on days Seth’s not working, fully paid, and I tried to tell herno. But just like with anything else after Jo’s made up her mind, my response went in one ear and out the other.
“So, how’s life been these days?” I ask, grasping for conversation. Probably not the best way to go about it, considering Mazzy’s brows lift, annoyed, and Alessia avoids my gaze like the plague. But I plow forward anyway. “I mean, work and stuff. Anything exciting?”
“My boss fired Justin,” Mazzy says with a shrug. “All of us baristas thought he was a jerk, so I guess it’s sort of exciting.”
I can’t help it; I smile at the girl’s bluntness. “There’s been a couple of those instances at Farm to Table. One time they hired this guy in the kitchen as a line cook, only to find out he was taking pictures of the recipes and sending them to his actual place of employment back in Chicago. He wasn’t kept on staff very long after that.”
Alessia’s brown eyes sparkle behind her glasses. “Seriously?”
“Yep. And it’s not even that our recipes are top secret or anything.” I shrug as I take a bite of cookie, then wash it down with Gatorade. “He was still stealing property from the restaurant. He’s lucky Joanna and Ben didn’t turn him in for it. But it probably happens often, especially in more well-known restaurants or businesses.”
“I wonder if he did it in Chicago too,” Alessia says thoughtfully, twisting the cap of her Gatorade back and forth. “Probably. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, more than likely,” I say. “But on the bright side, he and his employer must’ve found Farm to Table’s recipes both good and a threat to their own. Not necessarily a bad thing, except for the whole stealing part, I guess.”
“I’ve never actually eaten at Farm to Table,” Mazzy says quietly. She doesn’t look at me as she says it, clearly finding the hangnail beside her finger too interesting. “Dad doesn’t make enough, and Mom always blew her money on, uh, other things.”
“Yeah, other than the meeting with you guys, I’ve never been there either,” Alessia says. “Mainly ’cause my parents can’t afford it. It’s so cool in there, though.”
For a moment, I don’t know how to respond. Farm to Table isn’t nearly as expensive as a steakhouse in the city, but it’s still a classy restaurant that charges what the food deserves. I never thought about the fact that these girls have probably never been shown what it’s like to be truly cherished, though. Not just by a potential suitor (what am I, a historical novelist?) but just by a parent or friend or sibling trying to prove theyareneeded in this world.
And then, I realize with slight alarm, that I haven’t necessarily had that either. Maybe when I was younger and Dad took the four of us out every Friday downtown, but it wasn’t quite a special event. More like keeping up appearances. And other than the first few dates with Pete, he was never the affectionate nor extremely attentive type. Yes, we went out to eat plenty over the course of our relationship and marriage, but I don’t ever recall feeling particularly cherished. He’d tell me I was pretty or whatever, but that’s just it: telling someone something and genuinely meaning it are two different things.
Jadetoldme she was going to go to treatment or turn herself in or whatever, but she didn’t mean it. Petetoldme I was beautiful and took me out to eat, but were his actions genuine? On the flip side, Seth has never told me something and not followed through on it. A prime example being the situation with my sister or this project with the teens.
