“Well, this is a surprise. What brings you by, Kyle?” I fixate on his whiskers.
He smoothes the wrinkles in his white dress shirt before sitting in a chair on the other side of my desk. “Money. You’re an active member of our community, and I want to encourage you to keep up your enthusiasm. I heard something about a prom and renovations to the center?” He picks a piece of fuzz off his sock, looks up, and continues. “I want to learn more about it and offer our corporation’s help. I’m staying in Speculator Falls all summer. Father and I decided to invest my time and talents in the people and places of this town. I thought I’d make my second conquest with you.”
I furrow my brows, and my gaze leaves his facial hair and meets his dark pupils. “I don’t understand.”
He returns to his sock. Once he finishes pulling on it, he looks up, a forced smile across his face. “Forgive me, business conquest, of course. I want to give you money for the center. Name the amount, and I’ll make it happen on behalf of Swarthmore Enterprises.”
Ben’s words come back to me. They have a history, but Ben’s fears regarding Kyle seem well-placed. Looking at Kyle’s smirk, I have a feeling his offer comes with strings I’m not willing to pull.
I give a faux grin of my own. “That’s generous of you Kyle, especially since you’ve already helped the center. But I want to go through the proper steps for all my projects, especially the bigger ones.” I put my elbows on the desk and lean toward him. “Why the interest in all things Speculator Falls if your hometown is in New Jersey?”
Kyle leans back in his chair and flexes his hands to rest behind his head. He’s not going anywhere soon. “It’s no different than with you, is it? I see an amazing opportunity, and I want to take it.”
“I see. You felt God asking you to leave the safety net of your parents and put your faith in Him?”
His smile fades. “No, I’d like to think I left that phase of my life after high school. I have history here. We spent summers here. With the economy the way it is, I feel the need to spread the wealth and share my interests. Our family has the means to help these country places out.”
His grin returns. “Church offerings. Giving money to Jack Frosty’s. Those kind of things.”
I tap my fingers on the desk before rising, hoping my move signals the end of the meeting. “I appreciate your interest and passion for the area. I love that. But I have to go through the right channels. Which reminds me, Ben’s moving ahead on plans to add to JB’s. I’m excited for him.”
I’m walking on a thin limb. Kyle doesn’t share my joy. In fact, a scowl replaces the grin.
“Ben’s wasting his time. He’ll never have financial means on his own and doesn’t have leadership skills to take that Ma and Pa store into the future. I’m surprised, Jenna, that someone as citified as you, believes in a place like JB’s.”
I tap my right shoe wishing I wore twelve-inch heels so I could pound into his fancy loafers.
“Ben Regan and JB’s have exactly what you’re explaining. He’s got history, family, and in time, the resources. Since we’re both champions for Speculator Falls, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to see JB’s thrive.”
Kyle stands and extends his hand. “My door is always open for you and the center. Let’s leave it at that. Good day, Jenna.”
He races out of my office, not bothering to close the door. I groan and decide to greet the seniors.
Howard walks by, massaging his temple. He grumbles so loud the entire center can probably hear. “That Swarthmore boy’s an idiot. You could do better.” He drops his hand to his side and moves toward the tables needing set up. “And you know it.” He turns toward me and winks.
I love my seniors.
It’s time to make decorations for the prom, and I put the seniors to work. Dora unfolds a musty fabric from the supply closet.
“Give me an hour or two and I’ll make this into a gorgeous backdrop for the stage.” She places the cream material on a table and a layer of dust rises.
Shirley waves her hand back and forth. “I’d rather go to Wells and buy fabric than have you shake that old thing around all afternoon.”
Sara walks over to the table and caresses the fabric with such care it looks like she’s handling satin. “This is washable. Let Dora work with it. It’s nice outside Shirley. Come help me spray paint. You bring the stencils, and I’ll meet you past the picnic tables.” Sara’s on the move before Shirley can argue, so she finds the stencils and follows the village matriarch outdoors.
The center hums with activities.
Dora pedals her sewing machine and manipulates the cloth.
“Oh, not again.” Janice returns her glue gun to the table and shakes her index finger for the third time. “I keep burning my finger trying to glue these plastic flower pieces together.” She gives a quick grin before lowering her head and returning to her task.
Fred’s working on my laptop, creating a prom to-do spreadsheet. I have the original list attached to my clipboard, ready to read the tasks to Fred so he can type them in. I brush an errant hair out of my eye and clear my throat. “Okay, well, we have the place, thanks to Pastor Craig talking to the school superintendent. That’s good because we don’t have enough room here.” A mix of gray, white, and bald heads nod before I continue. “Will’s working on lumber donations and agreed to construct different props to depict the decades.”
“What about food?” Fred keeps typing.
“Let’s see.” I tap my pencil on the paper. “I know Wendy from Jack Frosty’s offered food, and her family volunteered to help serve.” We need deli trays, but I don’t have the opportunity to tell Fred.
Shirley flings open the door and stands in the entryway. “Umm, Jenna, I see a familiar truck pulling in the lot.” She holds the door with one hand and gestures for me to come closer.
“I think you want to see this.”
It’s tempting to make a remark about her vision, but the seniors distract me. Dora, Fred, and Janice stop working and crane their heads toward the door. They’re still and staring past Shirley.
The whole scene is curious, so I move forward, picking up my pace the closer I am to the door. Barely past her, I drop my clipboard and pencil.
Ben waltzes toward the center with a bouquet of flowers. His JB’s logo black polo and jeans make me think he just came from work. He wears a look of relief when he sees me outside the center.
“Hey. Are you lost?” Nice. He finally attempts to conquer his fears, and I mock him.
He waves to the crew before Shirley and Sara sneak back inside and close the door.
Once close to me, he thrusts a bouquet of red carnations into my hands.
“Actually, I’m not. I’m taking grandmother’s words to heart for a change.”
“Did these come from the store?” The plastic wrapping has a JB label right in the middle. Could I botch this any worse?
He smiles and points to a picnic table. We walk side by side toward it. Then I cross one leg over the bench.
“I’m working on my whole fear thing. I want to trust God and get over myself. I appreciate you explaining the Lake George thing, that you weren’t with Kyle as I feared.”
I swing my other leg onto the wooden seat.
He sits next to me, and our thighs touch. I’m almost positive we trade sparks. “So…to combat the senior center fear I thought I’d help with the prom. I also thought I’d work on an important friendship, too. So, Jenna, do you want to go to the prom with me?” He cocks his head to the side, waiting for my response.
I move a misplaced piece of hair behind my ear as I pray how to answer him. “Oh, Ben, you’re doing a great job seeking God.”
He shares a dimple-full grin. “It’s not easy, as you know.”
“I understand.”
His head remains tilted, and we’re close enough that if I wanted to fix an AWOL hair in that otherwise awesome style of his, I could do it. Nevertheless, I keep my hands to myself and sigh, finally standing to put s
ome distance between us. “I can’t be your date. I’m sorry, but no.”
Chapter Eighteen
“What do you mean you turned down Ben’s invitation? Did the hair color fry your brain?” Carla gulps and gives me an I-can’t-believe-you-did-this-stupid-thing look. “Look, I’m already jittery from tasting your iced coffees. You’re driving me crazy, girl.”
I pat her shoulder. “Okay, settle down. My mistake on the drinks. I should’ve recruited more volunteers. I thought about serving these at the center, but not going to happen.” I laugh. “You’ve tasted three back-to-back. You’ll have enough energy to build another deck on my cabin.” I reach forward in hopes of making a sly grab for Carla’s current mug. “As for Ben, I had to say no. He made it clear we have to keep business separate. The prom is a work event for me.”
Carla seizes her cup, bringing it close to her chest and out of my reach. “I could slap you right now.” She takes a long sip then rests my faded Youngstown Senior Center logo mug back on the counter. “Do you have any idea how hypocritical you sound?”
With a steady hand, I grab the drink, pivot, and empty the rest of the contents in the kitchen sink before she can have another drop. “I’m not afraid, if that’s what you think. It’s best if I remain dateless and pay attention to the seniors.”
Carla rolls her eyes and reaches for a cup she tested earlier. “Amateur.” She raises the java with a mock salute. “You’re a horrible liar, and you sound like Trish.” Another sip. “Give Ben a signal that he has a chance and then follow up with a rejection.”
I am not like his ex-girlfriend. “He’s fine. I asked him twice, and he assured me he was. He’s even providing a cold cut donation that night. So, let’s talk about you. Can you be at the prom, and will you ask Will to be your date?” I’ll do whatever it takes to avoid sharing my growing feelings about Ben.
She empties the dregs into her mouth, and with a shaky hand, puts the cup on the counter. “Jenna Anderson, you’re impossible.”
I look at the wall calendar above the lunch table and count the red circles—five days until the prom. I grip my clipboard.
Sitting below the calendar is Howard, and he’s bellowing at Will. “Shut the door, Marshall. The lunches you deliver give me reflux as it is. I don’t need flies landing on our food that will make me even sicker.”
Will closes the door. “All set, Howard. Can I see if Jenna needs any help before I get back to work?”
Howard waves him off and takes a bite of his sloppy joe.
Will flashes a grin and gestures toward my office. I’m barely three steps in when the mountain of yellow sticky notes on my desk reminds me how much work I have ahead of me.
Will picks up a family of papers stuck together. “I see you finished packing the centerpieces. That’s good.” Will’s pudgy index finger leafs through my pile of banana-colored slips. “There seems to be something missing, though.”
“I have to write everything down or it doesn’t get done. What are you talking about?” I scan my own notes plastered across my clipboard.
He returns his stack to my desk. “Your dress. Do you have one picked out?”
Will’s words sound like a faraway tin can phone conversation. Dress? I flip through scrap pieces of paper and attempt to find something, anything that would prove I’ve planned my wardrobe for the biggest night of my Adirondack career.
I gulp down my words.
“Carla and I went into Northville for a tux rental, and she found a pretty pink dress.” Will’s endless stream of chatter grates on my already tense nerves. He takes a breath. “She says it’s salmon, but when I hear that word, all I think of is a fish, and Carla doesn’t look like any dinner I’ve caught in Lake Pleasant.”
Will Marshall is lucky I’m too busy scanning notes, or I’d slap him with his own hunting cap.
“I didn’t write it down. I don’t have anything to wear.”
He scratches his goatee. “Wow, that’s not good. The World’s Greatest Department Store has clothes, you know. The place next door to JB’s, but I don’t think they can get a fancy dress in time. You can’t go to Northville, can you? Looking at that clipboard, you have a lot to do.”
“I need to think, and you’re not helping. Hey, wait a minute…this is a through-the-years event. I should wear something vintage. I bet Sara has something. I’ll ask if I can raid her closet.” I hug my wooden organizer, satisfied with my idea.
Will tips his hat and starts for the door, before turning back to me. “Just don’t choose anything salmon.”
A frantic call to Sara and forty-five minutes later, I knock on my landlord’s door. Before I can drop my hand, she opens it and draws me inside. "Just in time. Let's go to my closet."
Sara drags me down the hall to her bedroom. "Here's where most of my clothes are. Just a few belong to John. The rest I've worn for the last seventy years.”
I trace my index finger past several dresses for the silky fabric feel. “This is incredible. Every dress here plays right into our theme.”
Sara beams. “They all have a story, trust me. Take your pick. Maybe you could have multiple costume changes, like the award shows.” She winks.
I pick up a red number that looks like something Rita Hayworth could have worn. The color isn’t me, but I know I want something from the forties. Sara disappears under a huddle of dresses, coming up for air with a royal blue tulle cocktail dress. It’s perfect for summer, yet professional looking.
“This is the one. Go on. Try it on. I’ll wait.” Sara insists. I slide into the dress and walk up to the mirror.
I swirl around, watching the fabric dance with my moves. This is a winner.
Sara gasps, her eyes fill with tears.
“This reminds you of John, doesn’t it? I’ll take it off.” I head back to her closet to change, but she catches my arm.
“Don’t you dare. This dress is perfect for you, and it’s a wonderful memory.” She lets go of my arm. “It’s time to make new memories. Please wear it. It would mean a lot to me.”
“You’re sure, Sara?”
She pats the same arm she had a hold of. “I’m sure, sweetheart.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “Thank you.” I release her hand. “I’ll change out of the dress. Be right back.”
I’m nearly finished putting the outfit on the hanger when I hear Sara.
“Hoping to catch you and my grandson in a slow dance.”
At a loss for words, I turn to leave, but I trip exiting the closet.
Sara chuckles. “Don’t worry, dear. Ben has two left feet like you apparently do.”
Once in the Bronco, I glance down at my trusty clipboard in the passenger seat. So much to do.
When I arrive at the center a few minutes later, Howard and Fred are finishing up a round of pool. “Hey, Howard, would you be comfortable being my go-to guy for the prom?”
He gives a firm nod. “Does it mean I get to go back and forth and barely be a part of this fluffy nonsense?” He tries to look gruff, but I detect a smile.
“Not totally, but enough that you should be happy. For you, that is.”
“Good.” He gives a firm nod. “I’m going home to take a nap. Have a bit of a headache. I think I’ll sleep it off.” Howard marches off.
I turn to Fred. “Have you ever seen Howard in a great mood?”
He nods. “In school, when he was dating Janice.”
My clipboard falls to the ground. “What? Your wife dated Howard in high school?” I bend over and grab the scattered papers. “That’s like putting Barbie with Oscar the Grouch.”
Fred chuckles. “Stranger things have happened.” He points out the window. “Like you and the young man getting out of the truck.”
I peer out and see Ben carrying a square box. Heading for the center. Could it be he’s ready to come through the front doors on his own terms?
“Excuse me, won’t you?” I jog past the pool table and navigate toward Shirley.
“What’s on fir
e?” she cracks.
I don’t respond right away, waiting to see if Ben knocks on the door and waits for me to join him, or if he conquers that fear and crosses the threshold.
“Is there a director here that would like a box of chocolates?” Ben strides inside as if it’s a daily routine.
What’s on fire?
My heart.
Chapter Nineteen
Shirley pulls a whistle out of her purse. “Let the prom preparations begin!” She spits out three short bursts, then returns the noisemaker to her pocketbook and points in my direction.
I clutch my ever-present clipboard. “It’s going to be a long day, but I believe a great one. Thank you, everyone, for your help. Shirley, do you have the volunteer assignments?”
Shirley nods and walks to her makeshift office and taps a stack of papers. “I also have walkie-talkies for you, Howard, Fred, and me.” She leans over and produces two of the devices in her raised hand.
I smile at my amazing assistant. “Okay then, I think we’re set. Grab your lists and give me a call on one of the walkie-talkies if you have a question.”
Shirley scurries back to my side, hands me a radio, and extends one to Howard. He’s next to me, head lowered on the table. It’s almost a prayerful position.
“Hey, Howard? Shirley has your walkie-talkie.” I squeeze Howard’s shoulder. “You okay?”
He lifts his head and nods, reaching for the device. “You just worry about important things, like your cold cuts not rotting, missy.” A small, teasing-like smile escapes.
“Okay, then. See you there.” I head to the Bronco.
An hour before prom, I shuffle a 360 in the middle of the high school gym. The transformation from smelly gymnasium often reeking of socks and teen perspiration to formal dance area with streamers, flashing lights, and stations decorated with each era as a backdrop is astounding.
Entrusted (Adirondack Surrender Series Book 1) Page 11