Midnight Kiss, New Year Wish

by Shirley Jump

  Stockton hefted a large insulated container into his arms, then entered the hall. Jenna hurried over to the doors leading to the kitchen, holding them open for him to pass through. It wasn’t until he reached her, and the gap between them closed from feet to inches that she realized her mistake. Holding the doors put her almost skin to skin with him. She caught the woodsy notes of his cologne, noticed the way his dark hair curled a little along the edge of his neck, the warmth emanating from his body. Everything inside her ignored common sense, and sent a hot surge of desire through her veins.

  “Thanks,” Stockton said, as if he’d been completely unaffected.

  “No problem.” Once he was in the kitchen, she stepped away, letting the door shut on her hormones.

  But not her emotions.

  Hurt bubbled over inside her, and as much as she tried to ignore it, told herself she was over him, that the kisses they had shared had been nothing more than a crazy indulgence in old feelings, still the pain of his coldness stuck. That once again, he was letting her leave.

  He carried in a half-dozen containers, all without much more than exchanging a few pleasantries with her. Hasn’t this weather been nice? How long do you think the higher temperatures will last? Surely, Eunice will love the food…

  Things like that, all impersonal. Nothing about their conversations over the last few days, nothing about the kisses they had exchanged. It was as if she was dealing with an ordinary vendor, not a man she had a personal, complicated history with. Not a man she was about to say goodbye to for the second time in her life, in just a few hours.

  After the last container was loaded into the kitchen, Stockton called out to Jenna. “Would you mind giving me a hand for a second? I’ve got some of the waitstaff coming over but I hate to waste even a second when it comes to hot food.”

  She glanced around the room one more time, ensuring the flowers were in place, the centerpieces laid out according to her plan, the linens neat and pressed. Livia would be arriving any minute to give the room a second set of eyes. Every time she planned a party, Jenna felt as if she couldn’t go over the details enough. She’d fret and stew, and pace and straighten—

  She’d be better off in the kitchen, keeping busy, so she wouldn’t get too obsessive over a simple birthday party.

  “I have a few minutes,” she said, then entered the kitchen and donned an apron. Surely she could spend these few minutes with Stockton and stay immune to his charm.

  “A little bit of déjà vu, isn’t it?” Stockton said, as he slipped on an apron emblazoned with Rustica’s name and logo. “You and me, working together. Just like two weeks ago, when you helped in the restaurant.”

  “And burned a sauce, if you remember right. I’m not exactly sous chef material.” She started pouring hot water into the chafing dish bases, so they would keep the food warm and moist once the burners underneath were lit. “You know, we worked together in a kitchen once before.”

  Stockton paused in the middle of pouring rolls into a huge glass bowl. “We did? When?”

  “Home ec. Tenth grade. We were kitchen partners for cooking class.”

  He laughed, and the light sound eased the worries in Jenna’s chest. Stockton had always been able to do that with her—make her forget her troubles and find something sweet to celebrate about her day. His lighthearted approach to things had been the perfect antidote to a girl who wanted to forget the heavy past that dogged her. “I forgot about that. Probably because it was such a disaster.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “You burned the cookies.”

  “I was distracted.” He reached for another bag of rolls.

  “That wasn’t it at all. You weren’t much of a baker, admit it.”

  He crossed to her, and for a second, she thought he was going to kiss her again. Instead, he reached past her for a container of butter. Disappointment fell like a stone in her stomach. God, she was a mess. Didn’t know what she wanted from one minute to the next. “I wasn’t much of a baker. And I was distracted.” He paused a second, his gaze locking on hers. “I still am.”

  Jenna swallowed hard. “By what?”

  “By you.” Then he backed away, and laid the butter beside the rolls.

  Her laughter shook a little. She went back to filling the pitcher with hot water and transferring it to the chafing dishes. “It looks like we’ll have close to two hundred people here tonight. A lot of people from town are coming, and Eunice’s cousin from Pennsylvania is—”

  “Are we going to talk about it or not?”

  “Talk about what?”

  “About you leaving. Every time I bring it up, you change the subject.”

  The last of the dishes had been filled. Jenna put the pitcher into the sink, then turned around and faced Stockton. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if that was any kind of barrier between them. “I’m better off in New York, Stockton.”

  “Are you?”

  She threw up her hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Are you happy? With your life? Your job?”

  “Of course I am.” But just as it had with Stockton, Jenna could hear the answer coming too fast, too pat.

  He shook his head and studied her. “I’ve known you almost all your life, and I’m telling you, you aren’t happy. You can go back to New York, go back to your business, and tell yourself this is exactly what you wanted, but I think you’re going to find the same thing I did.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That there’s a hole in your life that no amount of distance can fill.”

  It was as if he’d read her mind, and still, she resisted. She kept thinking how he was just letting her go. It was eight years ago, all over again, and Jenna could barely stand to watch the inevitable conclusion unfold. “There is no hole, Stockton. And if I seem off or whatever you think, it’s stress, nothing more.” She waved toward the room set up for the party. “Out in that room, that’s my job—” and then she thumbed in an easterly direction “—and there’s my life, several states away.”

  He shrugged. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.” He closed the emptied insulated containers, and carried them out the door and back to his truck.

  “It is,” she said, but Stockton was no longer in the room, and the only person she was telling was herself.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  STOCKTON HOVERED NEAR the buffet table, greeting the people he knew and refilling the dishes as needed. He could have hidden in the kitchen, but some masochistic urge kept him out here, with Jenna only feet away. The guests talked among themselves, filling in the silence because the band was late. Jenna had been on the phone, trying to reach them, her face flushed with frustration.

  “Stockton! Come on over here, young man.” Betsy waved at him from the head table.

  He crossed to Betsy, Earl, Jenna’s aunt Mabel, and Eunice, and several other members of Eunice’s family that he didn’t recognize. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Thank you for making my birthday meal,” Eunice said. “You know how I love those toasted raviolis.”

  “I do indeed.” He cupped a hand around his mouth. “And I made sure to put extras aside for you to take home.”

  Eunice giggled like a girl. “Thank you, Stockton.”

  “Anything for you, Mrs. Dresden.” He pressed a kiss to her L’Air du Temps scented cheek and wished her a happy birthday.

  “Enough about the meal,” Betsy said. “When are you going to do something about our Jenna?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You aren’t seriously going to let her go back to New York, are you?”

  “I don’t think I get a vote.”

  “Of course you do,” Aunt Mabel cut in. “If you ask me, yours is the only vote that matters.”

  “There’s Jenna’s.”

  Aunt Mabel waved a hand. “That girl doesn’t know what’s good for her when it’s standing ten feet away. Come to think of it, neither do you.”

  He chuckled. “Aunt Mabel, I most certainl
y know what’s good for me.”

  She shooed at him. “Then go get it, and quit standing around this table, moping like a puppy that’s lost his tennis ball.”

  Jenna’s aunt couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d hung up a sign ordering Stockton to propose to her niece. “Aunt Mabel, you are a terrible matchmaker.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Earl cut in. “She told me I should call on Miss Betsy here, that it’d be the best thing I ever did. And what do you know? Mabel was right.”

  “Oh, Earl,” Betsy said, feigning annoyance, but her cheeks colored with pleasure.

  Aunt Mabel frowned at Stockton. “I’m too old to have my remaining family scattered to the four corners of the world.”

  “New York is hardly the other side of the universe.”

  “It is to me, and it will be to you if you don’t get smart, young man.” Aunt Mabel pushed a box across the table to him. “Inside that box is Jenna’s grandmother’s engagement ring. Her father put it on her mother’s finger, and her mother promised her that when she was ready to get married, it would be hers. I’ve kept it all these years, waiting for the right man to come along for my Jenna.”

  “Aunt Mabel—”

  “You keep it, Stockton. Even if I was mad as heck at you for letting her get away the first time, I’ve always known you were the right man for her. Now it’s just time you and Jenna realized that.”

  Stockton put the ring in his pocket. Later, he’d return it to Aunt Mabel. For now, it seemed easier just to keep it and appease everyone. But as he walked away and felt the heft of the ring box, he wondered if maybe this was a case of his elders knowing better than he did.

  Jenna watched the exchange between her aunt and Stockton, but didn’t hear what they’d said. She thought she saw her aunt give something to Stockton, but what it was, she didn’t know. Whatever that had been about, it was all classic Aunt Mabel—interfering for the sweetest of reasons, and over the objections of the niece she had raised.

  Right now, Jenna had more important things to worry about, like MIA musicians. She dialed her phone again, and once again, there was no answer.

  Livia crossed to Jenna’s side, and handed her a revised schedule for the day. “Things seem to be going pretty well.”

  “Except for the band not showing up. Where are they? Do you think they got lost?”

  “I faxed the directions myself,” Livia said. “And it’s not like this town is so huge you can’t find your way around.”

  Jenna laid a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t think I ever thanked you enough for flying down here and helping me with this party.”

  “I didn’t do much. I was more moral support than anything else.”

  Jenna laughed. Gratitude for friends like Livia washed over her. “Well, either way, you’re getting a paycheck at the end of this. And hopefully, the success of this party will turn into more when we get back to New York.”

  Livia toed at the floor, her bell-shaped skirt making a soft swish. “About New York…” She glanced up at Jenna and grimaced. “I don’t think I’m going back tonight.”

  “Do you want to take a later flight? I can change our reservation.”

  “I meant I don’t think I’m going back…ever.” Livia’s gaze swept over the room and settled on one person. A smile curved up her face as her gaze lingered on Edward Graham’s tall, lean frame. “Seems I’ve been offered a job.”

  “A job? Where?”

  “Here.” The smile widened. “Edward said he needs someone to run the Riverbend Banquet Hall for him. And…” she let out a deep breath “…he’s asked me to do it.”

  Edward caught Livia looking at him, and he tossed her a smile back. Livia practically hummed with joy.

  A whisper of envy ran through Jenna. “That’s wonderful, Livia. Though I think he has an ulterior motive for offering you the job.”

  “And I have an ulterior motive for accepting.” Livia laughed, then sobered. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I really love working with you, but this town kind of grew on me in the last few days and I think this will be a great opportunity for me.”

  “I think it will, too,” Jenna said, then drew Livia into a hug.

  “You’re going to do great when you get back home. I know you will.”

  Home. The word didn’t seem to hold the same meaning it once did. Jenna told herself it was only because she’d been away from her apartment for so many days. That once she stepped back into the busy city, everything would be fine.

  Wouldn’t it?

  She looked around the banquet hall, filled to brimming with a lifetime’s worth of friends in Eunice’s life. It took living in the same place, year after year, to build up this kind of close circle. In her neighborhood in New York, there were people who had known each other for decades, and surely, some of the same kind of relationships as Eunice had here.

  The difference? Eunice had lived in Riverbend all her life. She was the quintessential small-town girl. As Jenna watched Eunice laugh and chat with person after person, she realized their memories wrapped around Eunice like a blanket. A part of Jenna, a part she had always shushed, craved that blanket for herself. Her mind went back to Tammy, to Father Michael, to the people she had seen working together for the common good, and wondered if maybe she was looking in the wrong place.

  Her cell phone rang, jarring her out of her reverie. In a halting, apologetic voice, the drummer of the missing band confirmed Jenna’s worst nightmare. She sighed and hung up the phone, then turned to Livia. “The band isn’t going to make it.” God, this was just like all the mistakes she’d made in New York. Was she ever going to get out of this rut?

  “I thought you had them booked.”

  “They were, but apparently the band double-booked. The band leader didn’t tell the guitarist that they had other plans already, and the guitarist went ahead and made an agreement with someone else. Right now, they’re in Indianapolis, playing at someone’s wedding.”

  “Oh, no. That stinks.”

  Jenna paced in a circle. “I can’t believe I did this again. I double-checked with them, but I should have triple-checked. Quadruple-checked.”

  “This one’s not your fault. They double-booked, not you.”

  Jenna waved toward the head table, where Eunice sat with her closest friends and family members, waiting for the music to start and her birthday party to get fully underway. “Tell that to Betsy. She’s just been waiting for me to screw up. She told me this was the most important day of Eunice’s life and I had to get it right.”

  “But you did. Everything is arranged as it should be, and it all looks great.”

  “Except it’s a bit quiet in here.” Jenna paced again, tapping her phone against her chin. “I need to fix this. Now.”

  “In a town this size, where are you going to find a band on such short notice?”

  Jenna flipped out her phone, and dialed another number. “I have an idea.”

  Ten minutes later, Betsy was marching across the room, her face a mask of anger. “Why is there no music?”

  “I’m taking care of it. Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Betsy let out a frustrated gust. “I hired you to provide a perfect party for my sister’s birthday. And now…” She threw up her hands.

  “It will be perfect, I promise.”

  “Your aunt said you were the best. If you ask me, this is far from best.”

  “Now, Miss Betsy, not all of us can meet your high expectations.” Stockton’s voice was quiet, cajoling. “Everyone in Riverbend knows if they want someone who goes above and beyond, they need to stay at Betsy’s Bed and Breakfast.”

  Her chin jutted up. “Of course. I run my business very efficiently.”

  Jenna glanced at Stockton and wondered where he was going with this. “That you do,” Jenna agreed.

  “And yet, I’m sure even you have had days when things didn’t go as planned,” Stockton went on. “Guests who arrived unexpectedly or a dinner that didn’t turn out quite
as you expected.”

  “Or the plumbing breaking at the worst possible time,” Betsy said with a frown at the memory. “Right in the middle of a family reunion, too. Goodness, what a stink. Literally.”

  “Exactly,” Jenna chimed in, with a grateful smile for Stockton. “And I’m sure all you wanted your guests to do was relax, enjoy themselves and give you a minute to rectify the situation. Like call another band to come in and replace the one that couldn’t make it.”

  It took a moment, but the anger washed from Betsy’s features, replaced by understanding. She nodded. “I’ll go back to the table. Get Eunice to share her top five memories with the guests. That should be enough time until the music arrives.”

  “Thank you,” Jenna said. “That’s all I need.”

  Betsy patted Jenna’s arm, and in her eyes, she read something more than agreement. She saw acceptance, warmth. “We all have little glitches,” Betsy said.

  “We do. And in the end, I think it will all work out fine.”

  Betsy considered Jenna again for a long time, then nodded and smiled. “I have no doubt it will. No doubt at all.”

  Twenty minutes later, the band was on the stage and launching into a bluesy-jazz mix of oldies but goodies. Across the room, Jenna saw Eunice nodding with the music, clearly pleased with the choices. The guests chatted and laughed, and she overheard several comments about the excellence of the food, the cool factor of the decorations, and the memories seeing Eunice’s photographs had evoked.

  The party was a success. She’d done it—and she’d done it well. It was going to take some hard work, but she could bring her business back from the brink of disaster. In her pocket, she patted her plane ticket, and told herself she’d be back on top in no time.

  As she made her way through the room, checking and double-checking that the food was still hot, the photographs still in the right order and the guests happy and fed, an odd sense that she was missing something filled Jenna. At first, she thought she’d overlooked something for the party. Forgotten a place setting or the guest book or some other detail.