“Where did that come from?” I catch my breath and let go of his hands.
He winks. “A friend.”
Ben’s kiss nearly gives me the ability to float to Sara’s. His touch remains on my mind as she invites me in and pours us some lemonade.
“Did you realize you’ve been here five months already?” She sets the glass down on her Florida room table.
“When I arrived it was barely spring. Here we are looking at fall. How desolate does it get once the summer people go back to their full-time homes?”
She takes a sip. “Desolate’s a harsh word. It’s all about perspective. I think it quiets down after Labor Day, and I’m fine with that. Now Ben, he tends to get nervous, because profits dip. He’s working on remembering the ski slope customers and the needs they have. He’ll be fine.”
His kisses are more than fine.
“Do you think the bank will approve the loan?”
“I’m praying they do. I don’t want my grandson all stressed, either way. He wants to honor John’s plans, and they are good ones. Speaking of, you’re good for him.” Her eyes have a sparkle as she says the last sentence.
I feel warmth spread across my cheeks. “He’s come a long way in a short time. We didn’t quite hit it off at first.” Memories of my property incident with Carla and Ben’s outburst come to mind as I pick up my glass for a sip.
“You two remind me a lot of John and me. Both set in our ways. Passionate in what we believed in. And for each other.” She winks, and I nearly choke on my drink.
“It’s not like that, Sara. I hope you know he’s been every bit the gentleman. I don’t even know how to define us. Which makes me nervous because Trish was at the store today talking with him. What if she wants him back?”
Sara lets out a loud laugh and waves her hands. “I can’t even picture that. Honey, he only has eyes for you and the store. You’ll fight more over JB’s than Trish Maxwell. Trust me. Now, how about we plan a little barbeque of our own so when that grocer of ours gets out of work, we can have dinner ready for him?” She pats my hand and stands.
Me, like Sara Bivins?
I can think of worse things.
Sara might not call life after Labor Day desolate, but it sure feels empty around Speculator Falls now that it’s mid-September.
“Think it’s bad now? Wait another month and our numbers here will take a dive. Lots of snowbirds around here,” Shirley explains, pointing to the Beebes.
“Who else will be gone?”
Janice puts her euchre hand down on the card table. “Let’s see. Sara leaves before Thanksgiving. Bart leaves in October. Fred and I leave in two weeks. We all go to see our kids more than anything.”
Fred throws down a jack of diamonds with a smile. “Speak for yourself. As much as I love seeing Chet, Marsha, and the grandkids, I don’t miss the snow. And Jenna, you’ll have plenty of it.”
Great.
With the end of the month looming, I use the rest of their card time and Roxy’s variety show rehearsal to give the budget another look through. With the meeting a couple weeks away, I have data from other centers. Estimates on equipment the seniors suggested. Statistics on why contemporary senior centers keep baby boomers living independent and well in their own homes.
My focus on my monitor screen is so intense I don’t hear Ben enter the center.
“Knock, knock. What are you doing? You look pretty engaged in whatever it is.” He walks into my office with six white roses and hands them to me.
I grasp the bouquet and smile. “Oh, you know. Ideas to move the senior center from surviving to thriving.” I cock my head to see if I can gauge his reaction.
He reminds me of how Howard used to play cards. No reaction.
“Well, anyway, Grandma shooed me out of the store and promised to close. Told me to take a break. Thought I could take you out to dinner.” His smile reveals those dimples I adore.
“Jack Frosty’s?” I rest the flowers on my desk and start to shut down the computer.
“Nope. I know a place up north that has a bit more ambiance.” He emphasizes the last word and winks.
I stand and walk over to the cupboard in the main area where Shirley keeps the vases. “What on Earth happened to the Ben Regan I met months ago? This man is so suave and romantic.”
Ben follows me, goofy grin and all.
Roxy stops her music. “Hey, Ben and Jenna. We’re ready to call it a day. Before I shut the karaoke machine down, want to try a duet?” She waves the microphone back and forth as the other ladies turn their attention to us.
I take the flowers out of the wrapping and plunk them in the vase. “I’m up for it if he is.” I put the vase down and look to Ben.
He glances around the room, resting his gaze on the former Rockette. “Did you ever get my grandfather to do crazy stuff like this?”
She gestures for us to walk up front. “I’ll let you know once you finish.”
Ben shrugs. “Oh, Roxy. You drive a hard bargain, but okay. Fair warning, Pastor Craig’s never asked me to sing for special music. For good reason.” He takes my hand and leads me to the variety show ladies.
I take a deep breath and let out a slow exhale. Ben’s come so far in letting go of fear. Roxy might choose a sappy song to scare him away.
“Do you sing, Jenna?” he whispers as Roxy works on cueing music.
“In the car alone on long drives where no one else can hear me. Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ Perspiration sticks to the mic Roxy hands me.
“I won’t worry about it if you won’t. Whatever the song is, I promise not to end with a marriage proposal.”
He chuckles, but I can barely eke out a nervous giggle. I’m not worried about that. The closer we become, I can’t stop thinking about the possible obstacles in our path that could break us up.
Roxy beams as she claps for attention. The card players and her entertainment volunteers look up. Shirley’s buggy eyes widen when she sees me next to the karaoke machine with Ben.
“As we finish up our day here at the senior center, I give you a fun tune from the seventies. Ladies and gentlemen, Ben and Jenna singing Elton John and Kikki Dee’s, ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.’”
“See, not too sappy. No pressure.” Ben nudges my arm.
Why do I feel like the song is prophetic?
An hour later we’re seated in the Harmony Lounge Restaurant with dusty rose linens and candlelight. Despite our silly song together where our voices cracked, Ben remains in a good mood.
“I know I mentioned awhile back about keeping our business separate. Can I break that rule tonight?” He looks like a kid on Christmas morning.
“I guess so. What do you want to talk about?”
Please let it be that you’ll find money for the center. Love my ideas.
“Not so much talk as show. Will showed me a 3D computer program and I used it to map out the expansion. I thought I’d share the unofficial blueprints.” He takes a paper scroll out of his inside jacket pocket and unrolls it, laying it on the table between our plates.
“This looks fantastic. You thought of everything. DVD rental rack. Shelves for books. A deli counter.”
He beams. “I’m excited. The waiting is getting to me, but Fred said we should hear any day now.” Ben takes my hands, causing the paper to roll back. “Thanks for seeing beyond my fears. You saw potential I was afraid to. I feel like God’s opened so much opportunity for me.”
I squeeze his hands. “I know what it’s like to love and lose and to not want it to happen again. But your plans are exactly what Speculator Falls needs.”
And please, at our business meeting, say the same thing to me.
After the dinner we drive back to Speculator Falls to the Sacandaga Pathway behind the town offices and recreation fields. The wooden trails are all wheelchair and stroller accessible taking us deep into the woods.
We pass by Kunjamuk Creek where Ben takes a couple minutes to help a pair of canoeists get their boat
out of the water to make it back to their parking lot before dusk. I stand back and observe my knight in shining armor.
Ben jogs back to me, wiping his forehead. “Sorry about that. I know what it’s like to run out of sunlight before getting to the car.”
“It’s okay. I like watching you help others.”
“We should get back. All I need is to lose the senior center director in the woods.” The generic mention of my job title reminds me of the woman who held the job before me. Did Ben and Trish take these trails? Canoe together? Stay out too late in the woods? Ben gives me a look out of the corner of his eye.
“Trish Maxwell would have nothing to do with anything outdoorsy.”
“How did you know I was thinking about her?” I stop, hands on my hips.
He stops, too. “As soon as I said senior center director I saw your face sour, kind of like how mine looked when I found you, your car, and my grandfather’s broken flower box.”
“Oh no, you can’t compare those looks. You looked homicidal. I thought for sure if anyone was going to run me out of town, it was going to be you.” I drop my hands and pivot, ready to move when Ben pulls me toward him in a move so swift and sure it’s like he’s piloting the boat again.
This time, I’m not sick, but dizzy with the kiss he initiates.
I reach for his neck and hold tight as he unleashes an avalanche of feelings through a touch that can’t be taken back or mistaken. I’m absolutely lost in the woods, his touch, and the moment.
He retreats half a step before moving forward once more for three more short kisses that say just as much as the first one did. When he steps back for good, he holds onto my left hand. “I have to confess, I don’t want to go back.” There’s a playful tone in his voice.
“I wish we could press pause. This has been one of the best nights of my life.”
“Mine too.”
Our walk to the lot takes twice as long with the stops we make along the way.
It’s dark when he drives me back to my house and walks me to the door.
“When will I see you again?” As soon as he asks, my motion light clicks on.
I reach for the door handle then turn to him. “The town council meeting.”
His expression doesn’t seem to change. “Right. Want me to pick you up?”
I nod as he leans in for one more kiss.
Once I walk inside and close the door, I lean against it.
I’m in love with Ben.
And scared to death.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Okay, Jenna. You aren’t speaking in front of Congress. Calm down.” My little mirror pep talk did little to settle my growing nerves. It’s the first time I’m giving a report asking for money, and a lot of it.
Ben picks me up, still wearing his JB’s customized black shirt and jeans. “Ready?” He smiles.
How do I answer such a simple question?
I nod and follow him out to the vehicle. “Did you have a good day today?”
He starts the truck and shrugs. “I thought I’d hear from Albany today. Instead, Kyle came into the store.” He doesn’t expand, and I feel like I’m not meant to ask. Thankfully, the drive takes less than five minutes.
We walk in together but immediately separate. Ben sits at the makeshift head table with a bent leg, and I sit among the two rows of chairs meant for the audience. I look at my leather folder that contains my copies and see my hand print. “Stop sweating,” I mutter and notice someone takes a seat next to me.
“Talking to yourself, Jenna?” Shirley smiles. “Don’t worry, honey. It’s going to be okay. You worked hard for this meeting. Everyone’s raving about you.” She pats my hand.
“Thanks. Why are you here? Is there a village issue you’re here to support?” I glance at the agenda. Nothing jumps out at me.
“Yes. I’m here for you.”
I’m so glad she’s a senior center volunteer.
Carla comes in before the meeting starts and behind her are the two paramedics I remember from Howard’s accident. She takes off her hat, throws it in the empty row ahead of me and then sits next to me.
“You okay?” I whisper, as Fred pounds the gavel.
“It’s Wayne. I feel like I’ll be punished for the rest of my life for one sin that I’ve repented of years ago,” she’s replies in a low voice, but her words are laced with anger.
“Did he say or do something to hurt you or Noah?”
“No. He’s giving me money to help out. I never asked for it. I wish he’d move out of the picture again. Life was less complicated when he wasn’t around.” She spits out her reply, and then Fred bangs the gavel one more time. She clears her throat and looks straight ahead.
“Thank you, everyone, for being here on time. I look forward to this being my last official duty before heading south for a few months. First, the minutes from our last meeting should be in front of you. Take a couple minutes to look them over.”
The clock ticks while pages turn. Finally Fred speaks, “Is there anyone who will make a motion to approve the minutes?” He looks around, and the meeting is underway.
The old clock on the village conference room wall ticks with what seems like increasing volume. Zeke and Wayne give a responders’ report. Dora starts a healthy discussion when she shares her historian’s report and idea to fundraise for a county historical society. Carla explains the latest statistics in her calls. The volunteer fire chief has an update.
“What a full agenda we have tonight. I guess we haven’t met in a few months,” Fred announces after the highway superintendent speaks. “We will take a five minute break and return with a report from our new senior center director, Jenna Anderson.”
Ben remains seated, elbows bent and in deep discussion with Fred, Pastor Craig, Trish’s dad, lawyer Jay Maxwell, and another member that runs the maple syrup business. It’s my cue to turn on the PowerPoint so I’m ready to share graphs and charts.
“I have to go. Noah has homework I need to check. Have a good meeting.” Carla reaches for her hat and heads out.
I take a cleansing breath and hear Fred call my name.
I clear my throat and rise to my feet, folder in hand.
“Members of the council, I have copies of what I’m about to share for each of you, and I’ll distribute them shortly. I’d like to start by thanking you for your support. The senior center is a healthy organization with purpose beyond people age fifty-five and older having a building to enjoy activities.” I place my first graph on the screen. “The busy mind is a healthy mind, and my goal is to prolong wellness in our seniors and to keep them living independently as long as possible.”
“I’m all for that,” Shirley jokes.
Chuckles fill the room.
“Statistics show that baby boomers are living longer, and they are a majority of our population here in Hamilton County. They deserve the best programs and quality equipment.” I hold up a picture of the center’s interior.
“Shameful.” Someone behind me shares an opinion.
“The building is over forty years old. It’s cramped and in need of more than an overhaul. It needs complete updating. And I think our senior citizens are worth it.” My dry mouth disappears. “Over the last few months I’ve polled the current seniors to learn their needs for the center. I’ve researched other centers with similar demographics and found others across the country have contemporary buildings and equipment. With that, I present to you the center’s current operating budget, as well as a proposal to expand the center.” I open the organizer and hand out copies to the members.
Ben reaches for his copy and immediately starts studying it.
Fred rustles through the papers. “There is a lot to look at here, Jenna. How about we take a few minutes to review this, have a discussion on it, and table a final vote until our next meeting? That way we can continue to look your proposal over and be fully informed.”
Now there’s a frog lodged in my throat.
“Sounds good.”<
br />
The time they take feels like hours, although the loud ticking clock assures me it has only been a matter of minutes.
Pastor Craig lifts his head and smiles. “Jenna, it’s obvious you’ve spent a lot of time on this.”
“I have. Thank you.”
“Your own statistics show that not everyone qualified to use the senior center does. Do you have a plan to reach these neighbors, to make full use of the building you envision?” Pastor asks.
I move to the wooden podium so I can put my moist folder down and rest my trembling hands on something solid. “I have ideas. A few of them, actually.”
He nods. “Good. I’d like to see them in writing before the next meeting.”
I try to swallow. And fail.
Fred folds his hands together and looks at his colleagues. “Anyone else? While we have Miss Anderson here, let’s ask her any questions before we table this and adjourn.”
Ben looks up, and our eyes lock for a brief moment.
“How do you propose we pay for this? You’ve noted potential grants, but they don’t even cover half the cost, and that’s if you won every proposal.” He seems to stare right through me.
“I would need some help. From the village.”
His brown eyes now look ablaze. “There’s no way the council can afford this. These are grand plans I’d expect in a big city. Not here.”
Every word feels is a stab.
“Do you expect it through a tax increase? Help us understand. Do you have a mission statement to back up your vision? A three-year plan? Five? Ten? When do you expect all this—” He holds up my proposal. “To be completed?”
I look around and sense every eye on me. “It’s not a big city plan, Ben.” My words catch at the same time tears pool at the edge of my eyes. This feels so personal.
“Well, it looks like you need big city money.” His tone softens.
Fred stands. “With that, I propose we table this item until we all have time to look it over and receive more information from the director. Anyone?”
“Aye.” Of all people, Kyle has to be in the room to witness my debacle with Ben.
Entrusted (Adirondack Surrender Series Book 1) Page 16