“Then I must have seen you in a trade magazine or on a talk show. I never forget a face. Or an actor in a role. I have an amazing memory for such things, if I do say so myself.”
He accepted the mug she offered but declined either additive. “I’ve never acted. I prefer to stay behind the scenes. Writing, producing, directing.”
She stirred her spoon with a dainty flare. “Cooper mentioned you the last time he was here. Funny that my mind somehow imagined you just as you are. All in black. But with soulful brown eyes. I wasn’t expecting the slightly haunted look in your eyes, though.”
He gulped his coffee—and burned the top of mouth. “Speaking of Coop, I should probably check in with him.” He reached into his pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there.
She made a placating gesture. “Oh, don’t get skittish just because I speak what’s on my mind. Life’s too short to pretend, don’t you think? Unless you’re on stage. That’s what I loved best about acting. Then I could be anybody. I don’t suppose you’re looking for someone like me to be in your show, are you? I play a mean, quirky older woman. Do you know Olympia Dukakis?”
He blew on his coffee and tried another sip. “Not personally.”
“She’s my inspiration. I tell Jenna if you ever need a role model for someone who never gives up on a dream, that’s the lady to look at. I haven’t been on the boards in years—even before Jenna’s father died I’d more or less retired—but…well, sometimes I think about Olympia and feel guilty that I didn’t try harder.”
Coop had mentioned Jenna’s mother several times when he’d been here earlier. He’d called her a character. Shane was beginning to see his point. He liked her—even if the all-knowing look in her eyes left him slightly unnerved.
“You know, I really can’t say at the moment because, unfortunately, I don’t have a script,” he said. “Coop and I are supposed to be working on one this week, but I don’t know how much help he’s going to be.”
His stomach made an unhappy sound, and it wasn’t because he was hungry. If they didn’t get something on paper this week, the network execs would probably yank control of the project right out of Shane’s hands. Not something Shane was about to let happen. People didn’t call him a control freak for nothing.
“Cooper gave me a copy of your daughter’s book of poetry. I don’t suppose she writes prose, does she?”
Bess leaned closer and said softly, “On the sly. I’m not supposed to know. She doesn’t tell anyone. Even Libby.”
“Then how do you know?”
“I’m her mother. Two women in the same house have very few secrets from each other.” He waited knowing there was more. “Plus, I might have accidentally glanced at her notebook one day.”
She wrote in longhand? He didn’t know anyone who didn’t use a computer, but he supposed that made sense to someone who grew up believing creativity was something suspect. He knew she wasn’t a Luddite. She’d mentioned making a Web site for the Mystery Spot.
“How’s the grilling going?” Jenna asked, popping her head in from the other room. Shane had heard the soft murmur of her voice on the phone and assumed she’d been able to place the order. “I see you haven’t had to resort to dental tools to get him to talk, Mom.”
“A bit esoteric, Jenna Mae. Your movie reference probably went right over his head.”
“You mean Marathon Man?” Shane asked. “Dustin Hoffman takes on a Nazi war criminal. I still get shivers picturing the moment…who was the actor who drilled into his tooth?”
Bess’s eyes opened wide. “Laurence Olivier, 1976. Oh, he’s good, Jenna. Let’s keep him. I bet we’d win every tournament.”
He looked at Jenna.
“Some of the neighbors get together during the winter to play games. Mom always chooses Trivia—the silver-screen version.” To her mother she said, “He’s only here for a week, and even if he returned this winter, he wouldn’t have time to play games.”
“Your daughter’s right about my schedule, Bess. Pretty demanding, but thanks for the compliment. One of my earliest teachers told me the best way to learn how to make a good film was by watching films—good, bad and in-between.”
Bess pouted in a way that made Shane think she was portraying a character, not her true feelings. She sipped her coffee without comment then suddenly said, “He asked about your writing, Jenna.”
“Hmm…”
“I was serious outside,” Shane said. “About hiring you, I mean. If today is any indication of how much help Coop is going to be, I’m going to be stark raving nuts by the end of the week.”
Jenna walked the rest of the way into the room. She still wasn’t smiling. “I don’t know how to write a script.”
“I don’t expect you to. That’s my job. I need someone to bounce ideas off and give me feedback on characters. Make sure they talk and act like people who might live in Sentinel Pass. You know the local language. And the history. That’s the kind of stuff viewers can relate to.”
“Jenna,” her mother exclaimed. “This is the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”
“It is?” Jenna looked from him to her mother and back. “I don’t actually think screenwriting ever entered my mind as an aspiration, but thank you, anyway.”
“Jenna Mae Murphy, I will disown you starting immediately if you don’t take this job.”
Jenna’s lips twitched at her mother’s theatrical threat. “Really? Does that mean I don’t have to open the Mystery Spot this year? Because I really don’t see how I can do both, Mom.”
Her mother frowned. “Oh. I forgot about that. What if I work mornings, while you and Mr. Bernes—um, Shane, write?”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open in obvious shock. “You? Lead tours?”
“Why not? I bowed out of active duty when you took over, but not because I forgot my lines.” She cleared her throat and sat forward, back straight. “Step right up, dear guests, and explore the eeriest spot on the planet, where Earth’s magnetic fields hold no power, and gravitational forces run contrary to accepted theory.”
She sounded so much like an old-fashioned carnival barker, Shane clapped. “I can’t wait for the full tour.”
Bess smiled triumphantly. “See? I’ve still got it.”
Jenna didn’t look convinced, but he could tell she was running out of excuses. Spending every morning with her was a personal risk he was willing to take to save his butt where the show was concerned. And he’d insist she take the outrageously large salary he had in mind. A win-win, as Coop might say. But was it the right thing to do where his peace of mind was concerned?
He could only hope.
CHAPTER FIVE
“TELL ME YOU BROUGHT the talking stick,” Jenna demanded of Libby the moment she appeared at her door.
“Hello to you, too. I had to go back for it, but I remembered,” Libby said, handing Jenna a vase of bright yellow and purple tulips. “It’s in the car. Here. Take this. My contribution to the book.”
Jenna smiled. Leave it to Lib to remember the smallest detail, even when her life was gyrating in every different direction. This month’s book for discussion was Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan. The second section of the book discussed how the cultivation of tulips had changed the map of the world.
“I’m impressed,” Jenna said, her voice lifting as Libby had already dashed back to her vehicle. “When did you find time to cut flowers? I figured Cooper would want every spare moment of your time.”
Libby, who was dressed in a pretty skirt of gauzy material and a teal T-shirt with a scalloped neckline, looked feminine and self-assured. The dark smudges that she’d been sporting under her eyes for the past couple of weeks were gone.
“He was so sweet. Waited on me hand and foot all day,” she said hurrying up the steps. “We found the tulips at Gran’s. How’d your day go? When I dropped Coop at Mrs. Smith’s house a few minutes ago, Shane said you showed him around.”
Jenna closed the door behind Libby, glad to have a few moments al
one before the others arrived. “Not exactly. He was at the Mystery Spot when I got there. I’ll tell you all about what happened later, but guess what?” She reached out and touched Libby’s arm. “I knew him in college.”
“Seriously? Did you date?”
“No. Nothing like that. He was in one of my classes. He was ultracool—sort of the avant-garde artsy type—and I was a hick kid from the Hills. I thought he was intriguing. I may have fantasized about him, but I never went out with him.”
Libby looked over her shoulder. “Where’s your mom?”
“Upstairs. She’s watching season two of Deadwood on DVD. Why?”
Libby lowered her voice. “Cooper was talking to Shane on the phone while I was getting dressed. I only heard Coop’s side, but I got the impression your mother was one of the people Shane was interested in seeing test for a part. Did he tell you that?”
Jenna motioned Libby to follow her into the kitchen. “I need to chop chives for Kat’s soup. She called earlier and said the deer ate hers.”
“Poor Kat. She tries so hard but has the worst luck with gardens.”
And life, Jenna thought, but didn’t say so out loud. She certainly wasn’t one to compare green thumbs, and her social life was even worse off. At least Kat had a couple to kids to show for her mistakes.
Jenna snipped a small bunch of shiny, fragrant reeds from one of the small pots her mother kept on the window ledge above the kitchen sink. “By the way, she also said she’s picking up Char, but they’re running late.”
“As usual,” Libby said, not unkindly. They both knew how hectic their friend’s life was. “So, tell me what Shane said about your mother.”
Jenna worked carefully to avoid cutting herself. “He was very patient—even when she brought out her scrapbook. But you should have seen how intense he got when she told him about her dog idea.”
“What dog—” The question was cut short by a knock.
“Will you get that? I just need to finish—”
Libby was already on her way to the door.
Jenna was sorry she and Lib hadn’t had more time alone. She didn’t feel comfortable telling the others about Shane knowing in her college because she didn’t want to answer any questions about why she dropped out of school.
“Hi, Jenna,” Kat called, hurrying in with a loaf of bread under her chin and a slow cooker in her arms. “Sorry I’m late. Potato soup. No famine for this group,” she said with a laugh. The cultivation of the potato and its impact on Ireland—and the world—was yet another section of the book.
Char Jones, fourth member of the group, shuffled into the room, wearing beaded moccasins that were easily two sizes too big. She had a plastic grocery bag over one wrist and was carrying a glass pie plate. Deep reddish-purple syrup glistened in a number of spots outside the golden crust. She slid the dish to the counter then hefted a six-pack of glass bottles to the counter. “Hi. It’s my fault we’re late, not Kat’s. I forgot the beer. It’s hemp. Kat bought it special, but I was storing it in my refrigerator and we drove off without it and had to go back.”
Jenna spun around and burst out laughing. “Hemp. That’s too funny. I wondered what you were going to do to get around the marijuana part of the book. Aren’t you the clever one?”
Kat brightened at the praise, but she made a so-so gesture. “My partying days are so long ago and far away. And I even brought a root beer for Libby,” she said, whipping out a bottle from the cloth book bag slung over one shoulder.
She twisted off the cap and offered it to Lib, who blushed a pretty shade of red.
Char, who had been busy opening the other bottles, passed them around, then held out hers to toast. “Kat told me the good news on the way over, Lib. Here’s to a new baby in our midst. Life is interesting.”
“Thank you, everyone. But that’s only part of my news.” She paused then grinning broadly added, “I—”
“Will tell you all about it after we eat and discuss the book,” Jenna said, butting in. “You know this group, Libby. If we get off topic too early, we’ll never get back to the book.”
They all agreed with just a minor bit of grousing.
“Everybody grab a chair and sit. There’s tea and some delicious-looking pie for dessert. What kind is it, Char? Did you bake it?” Jenna grabbed a ladle from the drawer and hustled her guests to the dining room table, which she’d set after Shane left.
Char hooted. “Are you insane? I don’t cook. Zelma Broken Feather baked it. The filling is wild chokecherry. I was going to order apple because of the Johnny Appleseed chapter, but then I tried a piece and couldn’t resist. And if you like it, it fits with next month’s theme of eating local.”
“Remind me what the next title is?”
“Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver.”
“What’s the date?” Kat asked. “I checked out the book from the library but haven’t had time to read it.”
Jenna tapped the neck of her beer bottle with her spoon. “Q and A next. First, a quick toast. Here’s to Libby and Coop. Now, dig in while it’s hot. We can talk about life stuff after we discuss the book.”
They feasted, talked book and argued. Some were more impressed by the author’s efforts than others. Libby had fallen in love with the author’s writing and had already ordered another title of his from the Internet.
“It’s called The Omnivore’s Dilemma. If I like it, I’ll probably suggest it when it’s my month to host again.”
“We’ve really been focusing on serious topics lately,” Char said. “I’m tempted to change my choice, but I kinda like this food theme. Kat, the soup is delicious.”
Kat beamed. “Thanks. It’s my first mother-in-law’s recipe. She used to say, ‘Eat potatoes. Potatoes cheaper.’”
Everyone laughed, then Libby observed, “Jenna, I was sure you’d jump all over this book, but you’ve been freakishly quiet. Did you read it?”
Jenna pushed aside her mostly full bowl. Although she usually loved rich and creamy soups, her stomach felt like a small army had set up camp inside it. Maybe her mother’s acid reflux was contagious. Or maybe her problem was due to the man with the serious brown eyes she couldn’t stop thinking about. The man she not only found personally tempting, but who tempted her to put her business aside and follow a ridiculous old dream.
“I read it a month ago. I meant to skim through it again, but so much has been happening around here I ran out of time. Sorry.”
“I assume you’re talking about Cooper and the big to-do last night,” Char said helping herself to another scoop of soup. “I can’t believe I missed the meeting, but, boy, everybody who came into the store today has had something to say about what happened. No offense, Lib, but those Hollywood guys have some nerve assuming we’re going to welcome them with open arms after what Cooper did to you.”
Libby set her spoon down and looked at Jenna with a question in her eyes. Now?
Jenna waited for Char to finish eating then she pushed back her chair and stood. “If everyone is done, let’s move into the living room. Libby, if you take the talking stick, I’ll put the water on for tea. How are you doing for time, Kat?”
Kat tossed her blond ponytail and looked up as if thanking the heavens. “Both boys are with their respective fathers tonight, believe it or not. Whatever cosmic forces came together to save me the cost of a babysitter I don’t know, but I sure do appreciate it. Finances have been tight lately. I even agreed to do henna tattoos during the bike rally. That’s how desperate I am.”
They’d all heard the story of how Kat wound up with unfortunate husband number two when she applied a henna tattoo of a serpent that wrapped around his back to his front. Nine months later after her second son was born, she vowed to give up the art. But she still operated a booth at craft fairs when money was tight.
“I understand,” Jenna said, before heading into the kitchen to fill the electric kettle. “With the Mystery Spot closed for two weeks, I’m going to have to make an extra ef
fort to get bikers to come this way. Dad never believed in catering to one specific group, but things have changed since the Sturgis rally first started.”
While the others discussed the social and financial impact of having thousands of motorcycle enthusiasts descend on the Hills for two short, intense weeks each summer, Jenna dropped tea bags in individual cups and sliced the pie. As she joined them, she spotted Libby checking her watch. Her friend was anxious to go. She had someone to go to. The realization left a bittersweet taste in Jenna’s mouth.
“Okay,” she said, clapping her hands. “Let’s get the big announcement out of the way. Libby…”
Libby blushed but lifted her chin and said, “Cooper asked me to marry him and I said yes.”
After three hugs and overlapping questions, Libby pounded the talking stick on the floor. “Let me answer, you guys.” Her smile said she understood their excitement and surprise. “He wanted to talk last night after the meeting, but I was too wiped out. Gran had had a bad reaction to some new medication yesterday and…oh, it was so scary and sad.” She took in a breath. “Thankfully, Cal was there. He seemed to know what to do to calm her, and was able to get her to bed. She’s much better today. I took Cooper to see her and Gran remembered him.” They could all see how much that meant to her.
She bit her lip as if embarrassed to say more but added, “Coop went down on one knee and asked Gran for my hand.”
All three women heaved a collective, “Ohh.”
“It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. And Calvin offered to let us have the wedding in his garden. We hadn’t talked specifics, then suddenly—” she snapped her fingers to make the point “—it was all decided.”
“How soon?” Kat asked.
Libby swallowed. “This coming Saturday.” She held up the talking stick. “I know. I know. That’s fast. But…well, the fact that I’m pregnant is a big deal to Coop.”
Char frowned. “For a guy who started out prepared to trade sperm for a share in a gold mine, he’s really done an about-face. Are you sure about this, Lib?”
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