“It was delicious.”
Rising, Philip stretched. His attention flowed across the backyard before returning to her. “How about a walk? I’ll clean up when we get back.”
The suggestion was a good one. They were following the rules of a typical first date, which she suspected Philip also needed. He’d skipped the usual route to adulthood, becoming a parent at an age when Jada was dating a variety of men, and building her confidence in her abilities as a businesswoman while she and Cat helped Linnie keep the Wayfair from bankruptcy. Many of those years came with too much loneliness, and big doses of frustration—the men she dated were disappointments, and the worst years of the inn’s decline brought hours of backbreaking work with little reward. Despite the challenges, she’d traveled an easier road to adulthood than Philip.
Wending around the side of the house, they strolled toward Sweet Lake Circle. The scent of lilacs perfumed the night air. Porch lights threw golden light across front lawns. The sidewalk was empty, lending the illusion they had the town to themselves.
Jada matched his strides. “Any news yet on the patio?” She considered taking his hand—a classic first-date move. She dismissed the idea as too forward.
“I’m fed up,” Philip admitted. “I never did get a straight answer from my supplier. I found another company able to deliver on short notice.”
Frustration rimmed the explanation. “There’s a problem?” she asked.
“Not a problem exactly. The price they quoted is ridiculous. Brings my profit close to zero.”
“You can’t negotiate the supplier down?”
“Been there, done that. He won’t budge.”
Slowing her pace, Jada tried not to imagine the consequences. “What about another supplier, someone out of state?” Linnie’s hopes were pinned on getting married at the inn. The excitement Jada felt over the wedding dress vanished as she imagined her best friend’s disappointment.
“There’s no one else, Jada. Not this close to the wedding.”
She stopped, stared forlornly at the street they’d just passed. “Should I go over now, tell her? I suppose we can pull something together in the ballroom. Wedding and reception both? She’s going to take this hard.”
Philip looked at her like she’d grown a tail. “Hey, I’m not crazy enough to disappoint the blushing bride, or my brother. Jada, I accepted the bid.”
“You did?” She stared at him.
“The sandstone comes in tomorrow. I’ve pulled my men off the jobs they were working in town. Most of my clients understand, but the decision didn’t go down well with Jen Petralia over on Gardiners Avenue. Her backyard will look like a moonscape for the foreseeable future.”
“Why a moonscape?” Jen and Leo Petralia owned the convenience store in town, and a beautiful Victorian house.
“We’ve taken out all the plant stock in their yard, and the lawn. Total redesign, but everything is on hold until Linnie’s job is done.” He looked pained, but he chuckled. “How well do you know Jen? I need someone to talk her out of posting a hostile review online.”
“Not well enough.” The trees rustled in greeting as they entered Sweet Lake Circle. Jada reached for his hand, drew him to a stop. Linnie hadn’t mentioned any budget change. And they’d talked about every aspect of the wedding. “Wait a second. You’re finishing the job without asking Linnie to pay the increase for the sandstone?”
Automatically, his fingers tightened around hers. With his free hand, Philip reached for her waist and steered her close. Evidently his first-date jitters weren’t as insistent as she’d presumed.
“Yes, Jada,” he said, his voice oddly calm despite the heat in his expression. “I’m allowing the highwayman to rob me blind to get the supplies on time. I’m finishing the patio. I’ll take a beating on the job. It’s the honorable thing to do.”
“That isn’t fair,” she protested, doing her best to ignore the slow, delicious caresses he spread across her hip. “You’ve worked hard to give Linnie exactly what she wants. Tell her about the increase in price.”
“I’m not telling her, or Daniel.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Linnie won’t let you work for free. In fact, she’ll be furious you even considered it.”
He weighed her outrage with one part sincerity and two parts mirth. “Have I ever mentioned you’re beautiful?” he murmured. His fingers halted their sensual journey across her waist.
Not the response she’d expected. Warmth fanned out across her cheeks. “I’m not beautiful. I’m attractive in a tall, sporty kind of way,” she said reasonably. “Cat’s beautiful. Linnie too, when she ditches the worrywart facade and cuts loose.”
“For someone with a decent head on her shoulders, you sure are dumb.”
She assumed she’d misheard. “Did you call me dumb?”
“Dumb as a doorpost. That’s what my grandmother used to say. How can a woman with your brains have no awareness of her beauty?”
When she blinked, speechless, mischief sparked in his eyes. “Need another insult for a convincer?” he asked, leaning in to go nose-to-nose. “Here’s one: you’re dumber than mud.”
“Thanks, Philip.” She struggled to get free of his embrace.
He wrestled her still. “Kiss me.”
Incredulous, she angled her neck. “Why should I?”
“Because I always make the first move. You’re beautiful, you’re in my arms, and I want you to show me how much you like it.”
“Now there’s a winning strategy. Insult the woman, then ask her to kiss you.” But she wanted to comply—desperately. He’d gone boyish and playful so quickly, he’d thrown her off balance. The way he’d done a million times in the past, goading her on, urging her to strip off her sense of propriety, and chase after him.
Damn, he was good.
Rising to the challenge, she went up on tiptoes and kissed him hard on the mouth. Lusty, and full, and without reservation. She kissed him with her heart in her throat, draping her arms across his shoulders with a boldness she’d never before dared with a man. She leaned into his chest and he groaned, a deep, husky voicing of desire.
Hungry for the feel of his skin, she dipped her hands beneath the collar of his shirt. Muscles bunched in response to her touch, complying, willing. At the back of his neck, her fingers met with a jagged groove of flesh.
The discovery jolted her. Drawing her mouth from his, she rubbed the site.
“What is this?” The marred flesh felt about an inch long.
“Nothing.” He caught the concern in her gaze and added, “Old war wound.” He nipped the skin beneath her ear, and she shivered with delight. “Can we get back to what we were doing?”
“No.” She rubbed the spot, and he flinched. “Is this a scar? I’ve never noticed it before.”
“Compliments of Bodi.” Mention of his late wife doused the passion they’d stoked. He released her. Rocking back on his heels, he rubbed his forehead as if banishing a memory. “Do we have to go into this now?”
The regret in his voice seemed a warning—of heartache never before shared, of memories too dark to easily discuss. Jada feared what he might reveal. Yet she wanted to help him carry the burden of a painful secret.
“I wish you would,” she said.
“What if I’d rather not?”
“Your call, but I’d really like to know.”
His attention drifted across the shadowed green for a long moment. “All right. Might as well.” He drew a deep breath. “We were arguing. Bodi was four months pregnant.”
“What were you arguing about?”
He splayed his palms, an act of contrition for sins she was certain he’d never committed. “Jada, I’m not going into the specifics tonight. I’m not ready.” He winced. “I know you two were close, but there’s some stuff I may never be able to share. Can you deal with that?”
“Sure.” She pressed her palm to his cheek, wondered at the pain he seemed determined to hide. “I’ll take whatever you’re willing
to give.”
Philip rested his hand over hers, as if needing the comfort of her touch to proceed. “Like I said, we were arguing. Basically, an everyday event by that point in our marriage. There was never any telling what would set her off.”
“I remember,” she whispered. She recalled the first time Bodi stole cash at Gift of Garb. Jada had been in the store, sifting through the racks, when Penelope had confronted the teenager. Refusing to admit to the theft, Bodi let loose a stream of foul language. Then she’d pushed over a rack of clothes and stormed out.
“I was tired of the screaming, and walked out of the kitchen. Stupid move. Bodi came at me with a paring knife.” He laughed derisively. “At least I had the sense to grab a towel before I drove to the hospital. The wound bled like crazy.”
A clipped summation, and Jada was sickened by the telling. “She cut you deep enough to require stitches?”
“Oh yeah. Then she apologized for days. The only good thing that came out of it. At least I got a few nights of sleep before we started on the merry-go-round again.”
A loud silence descended between them. Were there other times when Bodi attacked him? Were the secrets in his failed marriage so grave, he kept the memories locked deep inside his heart? She knew he was done talking about it. At least for now.
Steering her hand from his cheek, he kissed her lightly on the brow. “We should get back,” he said. “Fancy will be home soon.”
Chapter 11
In the dream, Millicent waited on the golden sands of Sweet Lake.
Tiny needlelike leaves pierced her feet. The pungent fragrance reached her nose—rosemary. She bent down to inspect the herb mixed in with the sand when a roar of wind reached her ears. A tornado cut a swath across the beach, wiping the clouds from the sky.
She stood calmly, as if the angry tower of air posed no danger to her—or to Penelope Riddle, standing twenty paces off in the surf. Penelope called out as she pointed at the churning waters of the lake. The tornado followed the same path, whipping across the lake with howling fury.
The scream of high winds jolted her from sleep. Swinging her feet to the floor, Millicent gulped down air. The oak floorboards were cold; a serene quiet enveloped the room. Through the window, the first threads of daylight fingered the treetops.
Twenty minutes later, she was dressed and glad to reach the inn’s lobby. This early in the morning there wasn’t a soul in sight, with the exception of the pretty brunette clacking on the keyboard behind the front desk. Outside, the first blush of dawn spread across the grounds.
Unable to calm herself, Millicent swallowed down the bitterness in her throat. A nightmare? Night terrors were the provenance of children. They weren’t meant for an old woman with too much time on her hands, who’d spent too many days eating homemade puddings and cakes in the Wayfair’s kitchen. Forbidding tornadoes notwithstanding, she ought to dream about her next physical—that was scary. Dr. Healy would read her the riot act for gaining more weight.
With a nod to the girl behind the front desk, Millicent strode toward the veranda. A healthy dose of fresh air would shake the dream from her blood.
Rosy light crept across the rocking chairs and wicker seating arrangements. Millicent’s attention drifted to the charcoal shadows draping the veranda’s farther reaches.
Glad for the seclusion, she chose a rocking chair deep in the shadows. Rocking slowly, she tried to sort herself out.
“Norah, you’re a miracle worker.” With wonder, Jada appraised the fabrics draped across every available space in Penelope’s living room.
In each bundle, the Sirens had purchased two yards of cloth. The grand total was enough to make the perfect flower girl frock and a closetful of dress-up clothes for one excited girl. Gleaming satin in pale pink and rich purple, tulle covered with silver sparkles, chiffon in a rainbow of colors and georgette as shimmery as fairy wings—the selections placed before Fancy gave proof that the women in her life most assuredly viewed her as a big girl.
Fancy hefted the purple satin into her arms. “This one, Norah?”
“For the entire dress, or only the skirt?”
“Can I pick something else for the top part?” Fancy patted her chest.
The Siren toyed with a lock of her long silver hair, which she’d made distinctive with plum streaks. Deep in thought, she moved around the room considering one fabric after another.
Jada reached for the sparkling tulle and held it to Fancy’s waist. “This would look pretty over the satin skirt,” she suggested. “How about a neutral for the bodice?”
“What’s neutral?” Fancy asked.
Approaching the couch, Norah tapped a polished finger against her crimson lips. “A neutral is a color that will not shout at the top of its lungs.” With an appreciative glance at Jada, she picked up a bundle of satin in pale taupe. “This one. Fancy, do you agree?”
The first grader recoiled. “Dirt colors are for boys.”
“Child, the color taupe is the backbone of a well-dressed woman’s wardrobe. Now, wait. You haven’t seen the best part.” With a lion’s grace, Norah prowled across the room. She paused by the stack of shoeboxes Penelope was setting out on the cut-out between the living room and the kitchen. “Which one is the Chanel? We’ll start there. I dread how much time we’ll spend prying the faux jewels from their settings.”
Curious, Jada joined them. “Chanel?” Today, the Sirens were full of surprises.
Penelope removed the lid of the box she held. “This is Norah’s fashion jewelry, from when she was a model. Most of the jewelry has been stored in her attic. She’s letting Fancy add sparkle to the bodice of her dress.”
“You’ll destroy French costume jewelry to add glam to Fancy’s outfit? It’s too beautiful to destroy!”
Norah dipped her hand into the box. “Either we offer up Chanel on the altar of Fancy’s obsession with glitz, or she’ll pick lime green for the bodice. I will not have her traipsing up the aisle dressed like a cabaret singer from 1930s Paris. We’ll add the jewels to the bodice when we sew the dress.”
“Thank you, Norah!” Fancy hopped up and down. “May I put all the jewelry on the floor? Look through everything before I pick my favorites?”
Norah sighed heavily, but Jada caught the merriment in her eyes. “Fine, dear. Penelope and I will help you spread the necklaces out.”
They were carrying the boxes to the center of the room when the front door slammed. Linnie waltzed through the kitchen, stopping short on the threshold to the living room.
“What’s going on?” she asked Jada.
Seated on the floor, Norah and Penelope were handing off necklaces to the feverish child. With each pass, Fancy leapt up, accepted the gift, then scampered to the center of the rug. She’d already laid out ten necklaces in a haphazard row.
“Sifting through Chanel,” Jada replied.
Linnie did a double take. “Like, the real deal from France? Or a knockoff?”
“The real deal. From Norah’s modeling days.”
“I love the Sirens. They always come through.” Linnie noticed the coffee and the plate of shortbread cookies left out in the kitchen. Pouring two cups of coffee, she nodded toward the backyard. “Break time?”
“Definitely.” Jada accepted the steaming cup. “I’ve been on my feet since dawn.”
The backyard of the Riddle home resembled a whimsical haven for magical creatures. Stained glass butterflies rode above the pink, white, and yellow tulips wagging in the flower beds. Wind chimes sang out from tree limbs. Porcelain figurines—toads, chubby elves, a dragon, and even a large swan of cut glass—were tucked in among the pansies and the azaleas. Wedges of limestone painted in colorful designs nestled in the thick green grass.
Wending down the path, Linnie offered a playful glance. “How was last night?”
“You tell me.” Jada slowed, took a sip of her coffee. “Did you talk to Fancy on her level?”
“I did my best. I doubt I’m anywhere near her favorite girlfriend
, especially since you’ve already won the grand prize.” Linnie gave her a small nudge, and Jada yelped as her coffee sloshed to the rim of her cup. “Stop stalling. Did you and Philip enjoy the alone time? I was afraid you’d veto the idea of dating him.”
“I needed his assurance that, no matter what happens between us, my relationship with Fancy will stay on steady ground. She’s never had a mother, and I’ve loved playing stand-in.” Jada allowed her restless gaze to roam across the sunlit garden. “I also can’t help but wonder if I . . .”
A sharp ache went through her as she broke off. Shame followed. Or guilt over the private code among women Jada feared she’d broken.
“Hey. What is it?” Linnie reached up, brushed a curl from her brow. Her touch eased the tension Jada was trying hard to manage. “What do you wonder about?”
“Bodi, and our friendship. By dating Philip . . . am I dishonoring her memory?”
“Jada—no. Absolutely not.”
“Are you sure?” The ache squeezed her heart. Behaving honorably mattered to her—it always had.
Shaking her head, Linnie steered her onto the small stone bench tucked between the flowers. When they were seated, she said, “Listen, it’s great you and Philip are dating. You aren’t dishonoring Bodi by doing so. You’ve known each another forever, long before Bodi came into the picture. She’s not the one he was supposed to be with. In fact, he’s been crazy about you for a long time. Daniel clued me in. He says Philip has been searching for a way to ask you out. Like for years, Jada. He held off because he wasn’t sure how you’d react to the idea.”
“I am nervous.”
“He’s not a stranger. You know what you’re getting into.”
Beside the bench, a stand of pink tulips sparkled with dew. Brushing her fingers across the soft petals, Jada collected her thoughts. Yes, she understood—more so after the discovery she’d made last night.
With a close friend’s sixth sense, Linnie rubbed her back. “Is there something else weighing on you? I’m getting the feeling there is.”
The Season of Silver Linings Page 15