The single upside of their last exchange was the amount of work she had plowed through after he’d left. Some people eat when they’re upset, some opt to exercise, some like to bake. Jenna organized. Toss, repair, sell, sell. Toss, repair, sell, sell.
Still, she’d been unable to fully purge her frustrations, most of which were at herself, for letting him get under her skin. It wasn’t like Reece had said or done anything worse than a handful of other clients’ emotionally charged relatives. Yet from him, the words and glares came with tentacles. They’d latched on and kept her reeling half the night. Pondering. Justifying. Far more people were grateful for her services, simplifying an overwhelming chore after a loved one’s passing or when downsizing to a retirement home.
Fortunately, today’s announcement had pried away Reece’s hold.
“Sorry I’m late.” Jenna scooted into the seat across from her mother. She plopped down her purse beside the mini-bucket of peanuts. “I was about to leave when I got some fun news.”
“Did you get my message?” Her mom religiously phoned the day of their monthly luncheons to confirm their date.
“Oh, I forgot to check it,” Jenna confessed. “I was on the other line with Sally—which is what I have to tell you about. Apparently, the director of the Portland History Museum was scheduled to be a guest on Morning Portland. You know, the TV show?” Reliving her earlier excitement, Jenna didn’t wait for affirmation. “The lady was slated to promote a Jackie O exhibit. But since they’re in-between curators, things slipped through and they didn’t get proper clearance from the family trust. So now there’s no new exhibit, and . . . anyway . . .” Back to the point.
“Since Sally’s the one who helped arrange the TV spot through her producer friend, she was trying to help find another guest. And turns out, they liked the idea of me doing a segment about appraising used jewelry. As part of a budget-wise series for the holidays.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic.” Her mother’s eyes shone bright with anticipation, her makeup remarkably toned down. “But, honey, about my message . . .”
“Gosh, sorry. I’m rambling.” Jenna laughed at herself, wondering if she’d taken a single breath since arriving. “Why, what were you calling about?”
The conversation broke off as a man approached their table. He was decked out in cowboy boots and a western shirt, like the rest of the themed staff, but with the added touch of a bolo tie. Maybe it denoted employee of the month.
“You must be Jenna,” he said.
He knew her name? Oh, boy. Ten minutes late, and her mother had already loaded the waiter up with too many details. Jenna hoped to God it wasn’t meant as a setup, since the guy had to be in his fifties.
She was about to ask for a minute to peek at the menu, when he slid into the booth beside her mother.
“Great to meet you finally.” He offered Jenna his hand for a shake. “Your mother has raved on and on about you.”
“Honey, this is Doobie,” her mom chimed in. “The friend I’ve told you about. From the studio, remember?”
This was what Doobie looked like? A cowboy—in downtown Portland?
Her mother fidgeted with the end of her fork, and said, “Jenna . . .”
That’s when it dawned on Jenna that she hadn’t provided him with her hand in return. “Hi,” she said, reaching out.
His palm was rough and his shoulders a bit thick, as if he’d been a football lineman back in the day. A crew cut appeared where Jenna had envisioned dreadlocks or a salt-and-pepper ponytail. Everything about his appearance surprised her—although nothing shocked her more than watching him now, draping an arm over her mom’s shoulders. His blatant coziness eliminated any possibility of mere friendship.
“I hope you don’t mind me joining you. Your mom and I were supposed to grab lunch tomorrow. But plans changed, and I need to meet my daughter, Cee Cee, to do a gift exchange.”
“I see.” Jenna tried to say more, but her lips had gone numb.
“Besides, I told Rita, here, it’s about time the two of us got introduced.” He slanted a smile at Jenna’s mom, making her giggle.
Jenna flashed back to her own reaction of first meeting Reece, and how foolish that now seemed. Meaningless. A passing attraction. No different than this, she assured herself. Since the divorce, her mother had occasionally mentioned dates that never developed into anything. Just because Doobie was the first to make Jenna’s acquaintance didn’t mean it was serious. After all, the guy already had his own family. No doubt that entailed enough emotional baggage to fill a whole pickup truck.
The thought sobered Jenna’s mind. “So, you have kids.”
“Just one daughter. About your age, actually.”
“Were you married before?”
“Sure was.”
“How long?” Jenna pressed on.
“Oh, a smidge over ten years.”
“What broke the two of you up?”
Her mother snapped, “Jenna.”
Maybe a business mode of appraising wasn’t appropriate. Jenna hated to dull her mom’s enthusiasm, just as she didn’t enjoy informing clients that their perceived “treasure” was worth less than a jelly roll. But in their best interest, someone had to be objective.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Doobie said, smiling. “When Cee Cee’s mom started dating Gary—that’s her husband now—I hear my daughter grilled him for hours.” He laughed, visibly relaxing Jenna’s mother, before he addressed the question.
“My ex and I were friends all through high school. Probably should’ve kept it that way. Good news is, we get along better nowadays than when we were married.”
Jenna grappled with his answer. What was he saying? They might reunite as a couple one day? She was tempted to ask, but her mom intervened.
“Speaking of good news.” Her segue came off forced and awkward, a direct reflection of this surprise meeting. “Jenna, tell him about the morning show.”
The guest spot. A deflated topic.
None too soon, a waitress arrived with three mason jars of water. “Sorry for the wait, folks.” She produced an order pad from the half apron over her jean skirt. “Are y’all ready?”
Jenna didn’t know what she was ready for. But she did know she needed space to organize her thoughts. “You two go ahead and order.”
Worry creased her mom’s features. “Honey, you aren’t leaving, are you?”
An empty raft on the Titanic couldn’t have been more appealing.
Doobie gently patted her mom’s hand. The gesture, to Jenna, was equally sweet and terrifying.
“Of course not,” Jenna replied, pasting on a smile. “I just need to go to the restroom.”
The server moved aside as Jenna slid out.
Relief spread across her mom’s face and lowered the shoulder pads of her sweater.
Jenna wove her way toward the bathroom, enticingly close to the exit. Again, shells crunched beneath her soles, the sounds like glass—like the memory of her life, her mother—shattering.
This man could be the nicest guy on the planet, but if things didn’t work out, what would happen to her mom? One more rejection, one wrong step, and crack! Would there be enough pieces to put back together?
Chapter 9
“Hello?” Reece hollered again from the base of the staircase.
No answer. No creaking on the floor above. Had he misremembered? He was sure his grandmother had said to stop by on his way to work, that her ring would be ready for him by then.
It’s not as if he was on a deadline to propose. All the same, it was better not to lose momentum. “Grandma, are you home?”
She had to be around here somewhere. He strode through the dining room and on to the kitchen. Maybe she’d moved back into his parents’ house already. But why leave the front door unlocked?
Oh, yeah—Monday. Jenna and her crew would be here soon. It was something he didn’t like to think about. A call to his mom would confirm his grandma’s whereabouts. With no working landline,
he’d have to use his cell. Then he remembered: He’d forgotten his mobile at home.
Great.
He turned for the hallway before he heard a voice, faint and strained. It came from the laundry room. A whisper of fear brushed over the back of his neck. He rushed in and found his grandmother slouched on the floor in her bathrobe, leaning up against the dryer. A load of damp laundry lay across her lap.
He knelt beside her, his pulse pounding in his head. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“It hurts . . . in my chest.” Her breaths came sharp and choppy. “My arm, I can’t feel it.”
Oh, God, a heart attack. Like his grandpa.
“I’ll get some help. You’re gonna be fine.”
No phone. There was no phone to call. Damn his father! And damn himself for forgetting his cell!
The hospital. It was less than ten minutes away.
“I’ve got you now.” He fought the tremble in his tone as he picked her up. One of her hands gripped his shirt. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Carrying her toward the entry, he kept a cautious pace, all the while wanting to break into a run. He was nearly at his SUV when two cars pulled up and parked along the curb. Jenna Matthews jumped out and raced over in a panic.
“What happened?”
“She needs a doctor.”
“Is there something I can do?”
He glanced into his passenger window. Work files and empty water bottles littered the front seat. “Open the back door,” he told her, which she did in a blink.
“Here, I’ll help you.” Jenna hopped inside and guided Mrs. Porter onto the backseat. “Go on and drive. I’ll stay with her.”
Reece agreed and closed the door.
The instant he started the engine, he reversed out of the driveway, past Jenna’s stunned coworkers. He shifted gears and took off as fast as he could.
“Slow down,” he heard from the back. The same warning Tracy had given on the mountain. This time he would heed it.
“That’s it, just slow your breathing,” Jenna soothed, and Reece realized she hadn’t been talking to him. “There you go, Mrs. Porter, that’s better.”
In the rearview mirror he connected with Jenna’s eyes. Everything’s going to be fine, she seemed to tell him, her arm around his grandma’s shoulders.
He hardly knew this person. Two days ago, he’d treated her like the enemy. Yet here she was, once more, coming to his rescue.
Back and forth, back and forth. Seated in the waiting area of the emergency room, Jenna watched Reece pace the tiled floor. He’d paused solely to phone his family, right after a nurse wheeled his grandmother off for examination.
“Why don’t you sit down for a while,” Jenna encouraged, as much for her own sake as his.
He stopped and glanced up at the wall clock. Relenting, he perched on the chair beside her. There were only two other people in the room, relatives of a man who had fallen from a ladder while stringing Christmas lights.
“I should’ve listened,” Reece murmured.
He didn’t elaborate. Was that her cue to prod?
Eyes unseeing, he shook his head. “My dad said she needed someone around to watch her, but I wouldn’t listen. And here I’ve been acting like a kid. How stupid is that? It’s just a damn house.”
Jenna thought of his baseball and pennant, displayed in a room he’d probably known since birth. All those objects tied to positive memories. “It’s not stupid,” she insisted. “That house is part of who you are.”
Her words were merely meant for assurance, but once out there, to Jenna’s surprise, it dawned on her that she actually believed them.
Reece answered with a marginal nod, and began a nervous tapping on his knee. The sound turned the heads of the other couple, who already appeared to be on edge. Jenna gently touched Reece’s hand to calm the movement. Although it worked, she hadn’t planned on his fingers wrapping around hers in response. He looked at her with genuine warmth.
“Thanks for staying,” he said.
Jenna had no real ties to Estelle Porter, yet here at Reece’s side, she felt as though they were facing this crisis together.
Of course, in actuality they weren’t. They were business acquaintances, which he too seemed to recall before he drew his hand away and broke from her gaze.
For several minutes they sat in quiet, save for occasional noises from the hallway. The squeaking of shoes, the rolling of a hospital bed. In spite of her desire to stay, perhaps it was appropriate she leave.
As Jenna debated on how to slip out politely, a tall man in blue scrubs entered the room. Her chest tightened as he walked closer. Reece bristled in his seat, right before the doctor passed them to reach the people in the corner. The three spoke quietly, then left to go visit their patient.
Reece sank forward, elbows on his knees, intense with worry.
Jenna clasped her hands on her lap, resisting the urge to reach out again. “Your grandmother’s a strong person. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
He released a breath, resonant with doubt. “Ever since my grandpa died, she’s needed someone to take care of her. I should’ve seen that and been around more.”
At that moment, Jenna suspected he too had no idea of the woman’s secret. A confession rose inside, fueled by a need to alleviate Reece’s guilt. Or perhaps, more than that, to defend Estelle, a woman much too capable for pity.
“Did you know she was in the army?” Jenna blurted.
Lines formed on Reece’s forehead. He stared as though she’d spoken in gibberish. “Who?”
“Your grandma. She served in World War Two. At some kind of field hospital.” Right or wrong, Jenna’s business or not, the truth was out there now.
“A hospital? She’s never said anything—”
“I found a box, Reece. Inside it was a Bronze Star and pictures of her in uniform, from serving in the Pacific.”
“But—that can’t be right,” he said, processing. “The other day, she even told me, she’s never been to that area.”
Jenna suddenly remembered the corporal in the photos, and a slew of deep-reaching theories returned. But that’s all they were. Conjecture. And this certainly wasn’t the time to detract from the situation.
“I only brought it up so that you know she’s a fighter. I imagine she’s survived a lot worse.”
Taking this in, Reece nodded slowly, then again with more surety. His eyes gained a mark of hope.
“Mr. Porter?” Another man in scrubs entered the room, spurring Reece to stand. Jenna also rose, praying Estelle’s bravery had seen her through.
“Is my grandmother all right?”
The doctor’s expression gave away nothing. “We’ve done an EKG and a chest X-ray. We’re still waiting on test results to rule everything out.”
“What kind of tests? Are they for her heart?”
“Some standard blood work. We want to be extra sure, but she appears to have simply suffered an inflammation of the lining of her lungs. Usually brought on by the flu, or even a common cold.”
“So—not a heart attack?”
“That’s right.”
“But she was having problems breathing.”
“From what I can tell,” the doctor said, “it was just anxiety from what was happening. That’s not uncommon.” His mouth curved upward, a kind smile Jenna wished he had worn as he first approached. “At this point, she’s been monitored. All her vitals are stable. We’ve given her a little something for the pain, so she’s resting easy now.”
Reece blew out a breath, a slight sheen in his eyes. A wave of relief flooded the air and washed over Jenna.
“A nurse will come see you in a few minutes. She’ll take you over to your grandmother.”
As the doctor departed, Reece looked as though he might burst from joy. Instead, he swung in Jenna’s direction and wrapped her in a snug embrace.
“Reece, I’m so relieved.”
“Me too,” he whispered against her neck. The heat of h
is breath traveled over her skin. Her body tingled, as if every nerve had risen to the surface. She savored the feel of his heart beating, the faint scent of his earthy cologne, and found herself hoping the moment would last.
But then his grip loosened. He drew his head back and stared into her eyes. Mere inches separated their lips.
At the sound of voices in the hall, Reece stepped away. His parents had arrived. A glimpse at Mr. Porter’s face indicated he was questioning the scene. Given the situation, Jenna imagined how terrible this had to look. She edged backward, wishing she could disappear into the tan walls.
“Honey, is there any news yet?” Sandy asked Reece. Before he could relay the update, a nurse came to lead them off. Sandy, noticing Jenna’s presence, perked with surprise, then seemed to understand what had brought her here. She gave Jenna’s arm a grateful squeeze on her way out, her husband leading the way.
Reece turned back with an awkward glance. “Thanks for your help.”
“Sure,” she replied.
Left alone in the waiting area, Jenna picked up her coat from a chair. Every movement took conscious effort as she gathered her bearings.
“Excuse me,” a woman said. Beneath the bangs of her braided black hair, her striking blue eyes shone with concern. “The receptionist told me a family was waiting in here—the Porters. Did you happen to see anyone come by?”
She had to be Reece’s sister. The resemblance was clear. “They just went to Estelle’s room. She’s doing great, by the way.”
The woman sighed, hand over her chest. “I’m so glad.”
In the beat that followed, her blue eyes clouded with confusion. “I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but—who are you?”
It was a reasonable question, considering the family update Jenna had supplied.
“Sorry about that, I’m Jenna Matthews.” She thought better of describing her professional role, this not being an ideal time to discuss an estate sale. “I take it you must be Lisa,” she said, flipping the spotlight.
“Me?” A small laugh. “Oh, no. I’m Tracy Graniello.”
A Winter Wonderland Page 34