And if she didn’t get elected again, what then? Of course, she’d find some other way of earning a living, return to teaching maybe. But what would be the point of her solitary life, really? What was the point right now?
This turn of her thoughts surprised her. Maybe blue food brings on a blue mood, she joked to herself. The man from the Blueberry Association never mentioned that.
“Can we have a picture, Mayor? Maybe tasting a bite of that pie?”
Emily usually obliged such requests automatically, but this time she raised her hand in front of her face, waving Dan Forbes and his roving photographer aside. “Not right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure,” Dan said, glancing at her. She saw him tell the photographer to take some photos of another table, then he turned back to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I can refuse a photo once in a while.” She forced a smile but knew it wasn’t convincing.
“Of course you can. We have a few of you already—a great one of you crossing the finish line at the race.” Dan sat down in an empty chair. “I’ve already got the caption—‘Mayor Warwick Runs Again.’ Or maybe just ‘See Emily Run.’ ”
Emily smiled and this time it wasn’t forced. “Cute. I might have that framed for my office.”
“Are you sure I can’t get you something?” Dan sounded concerned. “Some cold water maybe?”
She considered his offer a moment, then shook her head. “Time to announce First Prize on the bake-off. I’d better get back to the stage.”
“Sophie Potter, right?” Dan prodded.
“Who else could it be?” Emily replied.
“I wish, just for one year, I could run the winner’s photo with the recipe alongside it. Just once,” Dan said in a mock frustration. “But we ask and ask and she never gives it to us. I’ve even resorted to bribes—a free lifetime subscription to the paper, delivered to her doorstep.”
“Tempting bait, indeed. The woman has willpower, doesn’t she?” Emily joked. She rose from her chair and raked her short tousled hair with her fingers. “Sophie’s writing a cookbook. Haven’t you heard?”
“She’s been writing that book since I was in grade school. I’m starting to get suspicious.”
It was a slight exaggeration. But not by very much. His observation made Emily smile.
“You’re a writer. You know how these things take time.” Emily lifted her hand briefly, waving good-bye. “See you later.”
“Of course. The show must go on, Mayor,” he said, watching her easy stride as she walked away.
JESSICA STROLLED THROUGH THE THICK CROWD IN the Village Green, and looked up at the stage in the distance to see Emily front and center. She was about to give someone an award for . . . something. Something having to do with blueberries, of course.
Jessica had seen Emily once or twice over the weekend, but her sister was so busy, they barely said hello. I’ll call her tomorrow, she thought. Maybe we can get together for dinner.
She was very aware of the fact that she wouldn’t be in town much longer, and she would miss Emily.
Jessica came to the festival that afternoon with Suzanne. They headed for the crafts fair first. Suzanne stopped to talk with another friend, and Jessica wandered on, looking at everything but unable to focus on any of it. As she strolled from booth to booth, she wondered if she would run into Sam, and what she would do if she did.
They hadn’t spoken since that awful night in his shop. She saw him around town a few times and in church when she joined Emily and Lillian for Sunday services. That was difficult, too. Jessica went to church twice and couldn’t concentrate on the sermon either time. She was totally distracted by Sam’s presence and the possibility of facing him afterward. But each time he slipped out, disappearing before she even left her pew.
Obviously, Sam didn’t want to see or speak to her. And obviously she couldn’t spend her life hoping he would change his mind. She couldn’t stay in Cape Light any longer. It was too painful.
By now her transfer to Boston should have come through. From what Jessica could tell, though, if you really want something to happen, it always takes longer than you expect. She had driven up to the main branch in Boston twice, so far, for interviews.
Each time she diplomatically avoided seeing Paul. He had called a few times since their last date and sent a couple of e-mails. Jessica was sure he was getting the message that she was no longer interested.
She had a feeling she would get the job at the main branch. But it was hard to stay in Cape Light and wait. It felt as though part of her was still waiting to hear from Sam, though she knew she would never get that call.
Lately Jessica wondered if she should just move back to Boston without a job. But it wasn’t like her to take that kind of leap—to quit one job without having another lined up. She felt stuck, forced to wait out the transfer approval, forced to endure daily—sometimes hourly—reminders of Sam.
She picked up a large ceramic bowl with a fluted edge and put it down again. The glaze was interesting, but the bowl was quite expensive and not really her taste. She had to be careful. In this state of mind she was liable to come home with just about anything.
She looked around, wondering where Suzanne had disappeared to. Her friend was a dedicated shopper and hard to keep up with at a place like this. Jessica spotted Suzanne’s orange T-shirt a few booths down and quickly went to nab her before she disappeared again.
“There you are—” Jessica lightly touched her friend’s arm to get her attention. “Find anything good?”
Suzanne turned to her with a funny look on her face, and Jessica followed her gaze. It was Sam, standing just a few feet away, talking with two women, showing them a piece of furniture. It was a piece that he built; Jessica could tell instantly by the classic, clean lines and perfect finish.
She had nearly walked into his booth without realizing it. Fortunately, it wasn’t too late to get away without his noticing her, she thought. But just as she turned to go, he looked up and caught her eye.
Jessica swallowed hard, willing herself to look away. And walk away. But she couldn’t. Did he still care? Didn’t he know that this separation was tearing her apart?
Sam’s expression was strange, unreadable. He looked shocked or angry—or maybe just confused. Jessica couldn’t be sure.
He was the first to look away, responding to a question from one of the women. Jessica looked away, too, feeling almost sick to her stomach. Without even remembering Suzanne, she quickly turned and left the booth.
What did she expect? That Sam would run over to her and beg her forgiveness? If she still had doubts, this ought to convince her. He hadn’t even said hello.
Sam would never call or try to see her again. Her hopes were all in vain. She had to leave here, the sooner the better. It just didn’t get any easier for her. In fact, Jessica had a feeling it was going to get a lot worse before it got any better.
And that vague but poignant reminder of Sam made her even sadder. . . .
ON MONDAY MORNING JESSICA RECEIVED A CALL from the Human Resources Manager in Boston and was offered the job at their branch. Her title would be the same, but the salary was a substantial increase. It seemed an answer to her prayers at first. But ten minutes after the phone call a vague sense of unease set in—as if she were being forced to go when she still wasn’t sure she wanted to.
But there was no help for it. Jessica really had no choice but to accept the offer. She had no real reason to stay in Cape Light anymore. Leaving would be hard, but ultimately it would help her get over Sam faster. Though at times she doubted that she would ever get over him. How did you get over someone who was so deep in your heart?
Taking a breath, Jessica dialed Emily’s number at work and told her the news. “I told them I would call back tomorrow. I guess I’ll accept,” she finished.
Emily was quiet for a moment. “I thought you wanted this very much. But you don’t sound that sure about it, Jessica.”
“I’m
sure,” Jessica insisted. “It’s just that I was getting used to it around here. Now it will feel like a big change again to go back.”
“I’m happy about the job—if it’s what you want. But I’ll be sorry to see you go.”
“I know, I’m going to miss you, too,” Jessica said. “Why don’t you come over for dinner this week?”
“That would be great. What night?” Emily sounded surprised but pleased by the invitation.
“You’re busier than me. You pick.”
Emily paused. “How about Thursday? Can I bring anything?”
Jessica thought a moment. “Maybe some dessert . . . but nothing with blueberries, please.”
Emily laughed. “I hear you.”
ACCEPTING THE JOB SUDDENLY MADE THE MOVE SEEM much more real to Jessica. Her new boss wanted her to start in two weeks, which meant she had to organize things quickly. She took herself out to lunch at the Beanery and found a quiet table in the corner where she started to make lists on a yellow legal pad.
She had nearly filled the page, and worked her way through half a roast vegetable and brie roll-up, when someone called her name. She looked up, not recognizing the voice. Then she saw Sam’s niece Lauren coming toward her. Jessica’s heart skipped a beat as she wondered if Lauren was with Sam. But she was with her mother, Molly, who was carrying in two trays of pastry.
With her dark eyes and thick lashes, Lauren resembled her uncle so strongly, it was almost hard to look at her. Jessica made herself smile anyway. “Hi, Lauren. What’s up?”
Lauren shrugged. “School, shopping. We’re going to the outlet stores at Southport.”
“That sounds like fun,” Jessica replied.
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Mom never gets me anything I really like. She always says, ‘No way, that style looks too old for you,’ ” Lauren said, doing a perfect imitation of her mother.
“Well, maybe you’ll be luckier this time,” Jessica said.
Outlet stores or not, buying new school clothes for two kids had to really cost, Jessica thought, feeling an unexpected moment of sympathy for Molly.
“How is your cat? Are the kittens ready to leave her yet?” Lauren practically whispered.
Jessica didn’t understand the sudden need for privacy, but found herself whispering back. “Yes, quite ready. They’re eating me out of house and home. I’m moving in a couple of weeks, and I need to find homes for all of them.”
“Sam asked Mom if we could have one,” Lauren said. The sound of his name spoken out loud gave Jessica a secret pang. “But every time we ask her, she says we’ll talk about it later.”
“Oh . . . well, I don’t think that’s such a good sign,” Jessica said sympathetically.
Just then Molly appeared beside her daughter. “Come on, Lauren. We have to go.”
She looked at Jessica but seemed too uncomfortable to say hello.
Jessica felt her own resentment of Molly ebbing—why hold a grudge when she was moving? “Hi, Molly,” she said. “How are you?”
“In a rush, as usual.” Molly gave her daughter a parental glare, but Lauren ignored her as she tugged on Molly’s arm.
“Jessica’s moving, Mom, and she has to get rid of her kittens. Right away.” Lauren had a flair for drama, Jessica noted, putting a critical spin on the situation.
“You’re moving?” Jessica couldn’t help enjoying Molly’s unguarded look of surprise. “When?”
“In about two weeks.” Jessica set her pen down on the pad. “I’m moving back to Boston.”
“Oh . . . I hadn’t heard that.”
“I just found out for sure this morning.” Jessica paused, wondering if she should say more. Why not? Her imminent departure made her bolder—bold enough to call Molly Willoughby’s bluff. “I’m sure you’re happy to hear the news.”
Molly blinked hard, then had the grace to look embarrassed. “I guess I would be . . . if my brother didn’t look so miserable.”
Sam looked miserable? Over her? Is that what she was saying? The tidbit was definitely something to tuck away and take out later, for closer inspection, Jessica thought, feeling her spirits lift a notch.
“Mom . . . can’t we please take a kitten?” Lauren hung on her mother’s arm with a plaintive expression. “Jessica might have to give them away to a place where they destroy animals.”
Molly shook her head, her expression half-annoyed, half-adoring. “This one is going to law school,” she told Jessica. “Even I can’t win an argument with her.”
Lauren’s eyes danced with excitement. “Then we can have a kitten?”
“All right, we’ll take one,” Molly relented. “But you guys have to take care of it. I mean it.”
Lauren hopped up and down and clapped her hands. “Yes! Thanks, Mommy. Thank you, thank you . . .” Lauren’s words were smothered as she hugged her mother.
Molly looked down at Jessica over Lauren’s dark head. “Want to trade—two cats for one thirteen-year-old girl?”
“Take three cats and it’s a deal,” Jessica replied.
Molly’s sense of humor seemed so familiar—undoubtedly a trait that ran in the family. To Jessica it was yet more proof that she was making the right decision. She had to leave Cape Light, where everything and everyone made her think of Sam.
THE DISH SEEMED EASY ENOUGH WHEN SAM MADE IT for her. He just chopped some onions and mushrooms and peppers and . . . stuff. She remembered him cutting the chicken in chunks and browning it. Then he added rice. But had he cooked the rice in the same pan or cooked it separately? Jessica now wondered. It wasn’t at all the right color, she noticed. Did he add something when she wasn’t looking?
She let the concoction cook awhile, then tasted it. It wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t terrible, either. Actually, it wasn’t nearly as bad as some of her other culinary attempts. But it didn’t taste like Sam’s. And she couldn’t call him to help her figure out the missing ingredients.
Jessica was dressing the salad when Emily arrived.
“Do you mind hanging out with me in the kitchen while I finish up?” she asked, pouring them each a glass of iced tea.
“Not at all,” Emily assured her.
“Good,” Jessica said. “Here, taste this.” She offered her sister a spoonful of the entree. “I think it’s missing something.”
Emily took a taste. “Mmmm . . . this is good. What is it?”
“Ummm . . . it’s called Chicken Warwick,” she said quickly, “but that’s sort of a joke.”
“A private one?” Emily guessed. “That’s all right, don’t explain. It tastes delicious, whatever you want to call it.”
“But doesn’t it need something?” Jessica asked, tasting a little again. “Maybe some salt or pepper?”
Emily shrugged. “You’re the expert.”
“A little more of both, I think,” Jessica replied, adding more spices. She stirred it around and tasted again.
Of course. That was it. It was just right now, but somehow getting the flavor right made her even lonelier for Sam.
When they sat down to eat a few minutes later, Emily asked Jessica all about her new job in Boston. Despite her sadness about moving, Jessica was determined to be positive. She hadn’t asked Emily over to listen to a lot of whining. She wasn’t going to mention Sam, either, she decided. What good would that do?
But Emily was the one who brought his name up once they had finished their dinner.
“Does Sam know you’re moving?” she asked quietly as Jessica cleared away the dishes.
“He might by now. I ran into Molly a few days ago at the Beanery. So she knows. And Molly has always been very reliable at getting information back to him quickly,” Jessica added with an edge to her voice.
Emily shrugged. “Well, Sam probably does know by now, if Molly knows.”
“I’ll tell you something funny. She told me she would have been happy to hear it, too, ‘if her brother didn’t look so miserable,’ ” Jessica said. She glanced at Emily. “Do you think that means Sam i
s sorry?”
Emily picked up the empty salad bowl and followed Jessica to the sink. “It sounds as if you’re both sorry—and both too stubborn to admit it.”
Jessica turned to her, about to reply, then felt her lip tremble and her eyes fill with tears. “I just . . . really love him” was the best she could manage. She pressed her hand to her forehead and sniffed hard.
Emily folded her into her arms. “I know you do. But you have to tell him that. Not me,” she said gently.
“How? I saw him at the green on Sunday. He won’t even look at me.”
Emily stroked her sister’s hair. “I think you just need to pick up the phone and call him. Let him know you’re leaving and give him one more chance.” Emily paused, her words sinking in. “Finding someone you really love is an astounding thing—such a precious blessing. You have to fight for it. Fight for him . . . and yourself,” she urged in a low, determined tone. “Didn’t you ever hear the expression ‘Love has no pride’?”
Jessica shook her head and wiped her nose. “I guess so . . . but I never understood it until now.”
She sighed and looked up at her sister. “It’s not just my pride. I’m scared,” she confessed. “He might say he doesn’t have any feelings for me anymore. I’m scared of that, of course. And if we do get back together, I’m afraid I might not really make him happy. Or someday he won’t be happy with me.”
Jessica felt a fresh wave of tears overtake her, her face crumpling up despite her will not to give in. Emily rubbed her shoulder but didn’t speak for a long time.
Finally she said, “I don’t think Sam is waiting for a woman to come along and make him happy. I think he’s content with himself and his life. He knows who he is and what he wants. I think he’s just looking for someone to share all that with him, to be his true partner, come what may.”
“I want to be that person . . . but I’m not sure that loving him makes me the one.”
Emily watched her for a moment, then quietly asked, “Have you prayed about it?”
Jessica glanced at her, surprised that her sister had noticed her halting, fledgling faith.
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