Almost Home

by Macomber, Debbie; Duarte, Judy; Lamb, Cathy; Mary Carter

  He said that he’s living with his folks to help them out, but his mom still does his laundry, cooks his favorite meals, and packs his lunch. Do you see a problem with that?

  Tired of Being Lonely

  Every now and then, Jenn—or rather, Diana—received a letter that touched a little too close to home, one that niggled at her own fears and insecurities. And she was reading one now.

  Not that she was in her forties or dating a guy whose mom still took care of him, but last summer she’d been forced to move in with her parents, which had been humbling, to say the least. She wasn’t proud of her living situation, nor did she see any big changes in her immediate future if she didn’t pick up full-time work.

  She returned her focus to the e-mail, intending to offer some words of wisdom, as well as to suggest that Tired’s friends might be right. But Jenn didn’t want to imply that adult children living at home had issues. She certainly didn’t.

  Or did she?

  That was the trouble with issues and hang-ups. Those who had them didn’t always recognize them.

  She rolled back her desk chair, got to her feet, and made her way to the window of the apartment in which she lived, a small two-bedroom unit that had been built over her parents’ garage. She looked down into the backyard, where her five-year-old daughter played on the lawn with Sadie, the neighbor’s golden retriever.

  Caitlyn, with her wheat-colored hair, big green eyes, and an impish grin, resembled her father, a man Jenn once cared about but never should have married.

  Jason Phillips, the all-league running back at Fairbrook High, had asked Jenn out when they’d been seniors. Everyone in school thought the head cheerleader and the star football player made the perfect couple. And at that time in their lives, they had.

  Buying into the myth, Jenn and Jason had a fairy-tale wedding right after graduation, when most kids their age were getting ready to leave for college. But marriage and adulthood hadn’t been all they were cracked up to be, and over time, financial stress gave way to disillusionment, causing the stars in their eyes to dim.

  Jenn’s parents hadn’t always been a happy couple, but they’d stuck together through thick and thin. So divorce hadn’t been an option. That is, until she found out that Jason had a gambling problem and wasn’t willing to seek professional help.

  Last summer, when she realized that his obsession had not only drained their bank account but had run up their credit-card debt to the point they had to consider bankruptcy, she finally moved out and filed for divorce.

  Jason hadn’t even put up a fight, which had hurt the most.

  But Jenn had come out okay. She’d gotten a precious little girl out of the union. She’d also landed a job with the newspaper. Of course, right now it was just a part-time position, but she was working in the field of journalism, which would have been a perfect major for her if she’d opted for a college degree instead of a bridal gown.

  Okay, so being an advice columnist for the Fairbrook Times wasn’t the same as being a reporter, but she wouldn’t complain. She’d taken the only position available that allowed her to utilize her writing skills and to show the editor what she could do if he’d just give her a chance. Besides, offering advice was right down her alley. At one time, she was the one all of her friends came to when they had a problem, and her suggestions had usually been spot-on.

  In the yard below, Caitlyn, who was cuddling the neighbor’s dog, glanced up. When she spotted her mommy standing at the window, she smiled and waved.

  Jenn mouthed an “I love you” and blew her a kiss. Then she returned to her desk and got back to work.

  So what should she tell Tired of Being Lonely?

  Dear Tired,

  There are many reasons people move back home or remain living with their parents in the adult years. Some of those reasons might even be admirable and no cause for worry. But that’s not always the case, so your friends have a valid concern. As you should do in any relationship, keep your eyes open and don’t rush into anything.

  However, something else struck me while reading your letter. I hope you’re not settling just because you’re lonely. Ten years from now you might find yourself in an even lonelier place if you hook up with the wrong man because it seems like the right thing to do at the time.

  Jenn leaned back in her chair and read over the opening of her response, knowing it would need to be rounded out after she gave it some more thought. She answered each letter as though it would be one of the few that she used in the column, and so far, her efforts had met with success.

  A knock sounded, drawing her from her work.

  “Honey?” Her mom opened the door and peered into the small living area that doubled as a home office. “I hate to bother you, but I need to run to the market and thought I’d take Caitlyn with me.”

  “That’s all right.” Jenn spun her desk chair toward the doorway. “While you’re gone, I’ll head over to the newspaper and pick up my mail.” Most of the letters addressed to Dear Diana came as e-mails these days, but some still arrived via snail mail in care of the Times.

  Her mom, who’d lost about fifteen pounds in the last few months, wore an oversize pink T-shirt that hid the extra weight and the tummy paunch that still remained. “Is there anything special you want me to pick up for dinner? Spaghetti might be nice. We haven’t had it in a while, and I know it’s always been one of your favorite meals.”

  After reading Tired’s e-mail, Jenn felt a bit uneasy about the way her mom prepared most of the meals and went out of her way to make something Jenn liked. But two months after Jenn had moved back home, her parents had revealed their own plans for divorce, announcing that they’d been pondering a step like that for years. And since her mom had spent her entire life as a homemaker, it seemed to help her adjust by having someone at home to fuss over.

  “Spaghetti sounds great,” Jenn said.

  “Oh, by the way, Jessica Rawlings called earlier. She wanted to remind you that the reunion committee has another meeting tonight. She hopes you can make it to that one.”

  “I’ll talk to her when I get back.” And Jenn would tell her the same thing she’d been telling her for months: she was too busy to get involved in anything right now.

  “I’m really surprised that you’re not helping with that reunion,” her mom said. “You used to be such a social butterfly in high school, writing skits for the pep assemblies and planning dances and proms.”

  Time had a way of changing things, she supposed. “Actually, Mom, I don’t really want to attend the reunion.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you saying that because you’re afraid you’ll run into Jason?”

  “He doesn’t bother me. Besides, I’m not sure if he’s even planning to go. I just don’t want the subject of my failed marriage to come up.” And since Jenn and Jason had been the homecoming king and queen in their senior year, it was bound to—one way or another. Bottom line? She didn’t want to deal with any of it—past, present, or future.

  Of course, if she had a full-time job and if she weren’t still living at home, it might be different.

  Her mom leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms. “I can’t blame you for that. Maybe you, Caitlyn, and I can go to a movie that night.”

  “That’s an idea.”

  As her mom closed the door, leaving her alone, Jenn glanced at the bright yellow flier that rested on her desk, the one sent by Jessica and the gang as a reminder to hurry up and RSVP for the reunion. If she decided to go, she’d have to get her money in right away, but she just couldn’t seem to generate the enthusiasm and the energy it would take to write a check and address an envelope.

  She picked up the flier, reading it again and hoping to spark some kind of enthusiasm for the event most of her classmates were looking forward to.

  FAIRBROOK HIGH SCHOOL CLASS REUNION

  The Starlight Room

  Mar Vista Country Club

  Saturday, June 15th

  Cocktails—6:00 PM


  Dinner—7:00 PM

  Dancing until Midnight

  *We’re still looking for Marcos “The Brain” Taylor. If you know where to find him, contact Jessica Rawlings as soon as possible.

  Apparently, the committee had located all of the other classmates who’d been listed on the last flier they’d sent out. Why had the valedictorian been more difficult to find?

  Surely some of his friends had stayed in contact with him. Or maybe some of those he’d tutored during their senior year knew where he was. The short, gangly teen had not only been bright, but he’d also had a way of explaining things to other students in a way that made sense. And Jenn had been one of the kids who’d benefited from his help.

  She remembered the day they’d been at the library when all of a sudden something he’d said had clicked. She’d finally understood the algebraic formula she’d been struggling with all semester and had given him an appreciative hug.

  Apparently, he’d misunderstood her intention, because he’d asked her to go to a movie with him. She’d been stunned and had turned him down.

  Marcos had been sweet and kind of funny. He’d also had the prettiest brown eyes she’d ever seen, although you really had to look beyond his glasses to notice them. But she wouldn’t have dated him; he hadn’t been her type.

  After that, she hadn’t run into him much. It was almost as if he’d disappeared from the face of the earth—or at least from the ground she’d walked on.

  Still, it was too bad the class as a whole had lost contact with him. She hoped nothing had happened to him.

  If she remembered correctly, he’d gone off to college somewhere—one of the biggies like Harvard, Stanford, or Yale. As bright as he’d been, he’d probably been very successful.

  If she were on the committee, she’d do a Google search. And if that didn’t work, she’d contact the high school and see if she could get a clue as to which college he attended. Surely someone in the office knew something.

  But she wasn’t on the committee, and while she could have found time to attend their meeting tonight, she wasn’t going to.

  She dropped the flier into the trash, shut off her computer, and strode into the cramped bathroom she shared with her daughter. While running a brush through her hair, she peered at her washed-out image in the mirror and blew out a wobbly sigh.

  Deciding a little color would help, she applied some lipstick, then grabbed her purse, locked the door, and headed downstairs to begin the ten-block walk to the newspaper office.

  She could have asked her mom for a ride, but she could use the exercise. Besides, the skies were a pretty shade of blue today, and the temperature was more like summer than spring. A light sea breeze gently ruffled her hair, and the morning sun warmed her face. Still, her mood wasn’t much brighter than it had been for the past couple of years. She doubted that it would improve until her life turned around, which could take time.

  Speaking of time, she glanced at her watch and kicked up her pace a notch.

  As she approached Mulberry Park, children’s laughter filled the air. A couple of boys flew a kite, and two girls on Rollerblades zipped along the sidewalk that wove through the lawn to the cinderblock structure that housed the restrooms.

  The playground was abuzz with children climbing up the slides and setting the swings in motion, reminding Jenn how much Caitlyn loved her visits to the park. They’d have to schedule another picnic soon.

  She continued along the sidewalk in front of the community church. When she spotted Pastor George carrying a box to the modular building behind the sanctuary, she waved and called out a hello.

  He acknowledged her with a nod and a friendly smile. “How’ve you been, Jennifer? I haven’t seen you or your mom in a while.”

  “We’re doing fine. Thanks.”

  “Hope to see you in services on Sunday,” he added.

  She didn’t respond. No need to make a commitment when she’d made a point of playing each day by ear.

  At the corner, she turned left onto Canyon and walked the last few blocks to the newspaper office, a three-story, smoky-glass structure.

  In the parking lot, the driver of a silver, late-model BMW climbed from his car and reached for a briefcase. He was about her age—late twenties—and was dressed in a dark blue sports jacket and dark wash jeans that suggested he was laidback under an expensive exterior.

  He wasn’t especially tall, but he carried himself with assurance. But why wouldn’t he? His vehicle, his clothing, his demeanor all shouted success.

  She couldn’t help but study the handsome man whose dark hair and olive complexion suggested Latino roots. As their eyes met, he flashed a crooked grin that caused her heart to flip-flop. For a moment, a sense of déjà vu settled over her, but she quickly shook it off.

  There was no way—no way at all—Jenn would have ever forgotten meeting a man like him before.

  She forced a casual smile to indicate she was a friendly soul and not gawking at him for any reason in particular.

  As he reached the entrance of the building, he opened the door that led to the lobby, then waited for her to step inside.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” A deep baritone voice strummed over her the way a classical guitarist’s fingers moved across taut, well-tuned strings.

  She couldn’t remember the last time a man had turned her head like that. But then again, she’d gotten married just days after her eighteenth birthday and had been wearing marital blinders for as long as she could remember.

  And quite frankly, she wasn’t looking forward to the whole dating scene. The rules had changed now that she was an adult, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to jump into the midst of it.

  As the handsome stranger turned toward the reception desk, Jenn headed down the hall to the elevator. Still, she couldn’t help taking one last peek over her shoulder, only to have his gaze meet hers.

  Suddenly she was sixteen all over again and awed by a rock star who wouldn’t know her from one of a thousand other dreamy-eyed teenage girls. Crimson heat warmed her cheeks, and she averted her eyes as gracefully as she could.

  She jabbed at the elevator button, signaling it to open for a quick escape. No way did she want to run into that guy again, not when her interest had been so obvious.

  And not when she doubted that even Marcos “The Brain” Taylor would find her attractive these days.

  Chapter Two

  Marcos knew that by moving back to Fairbrook he was going to run into Jennifer Kramer sooner or later, but he hadn’t expected it to happen his first week in town. Nor had he expected his heart rate to spike the moment he laid eyes on her, just as it had ten years ago when he’d passed her in the hall.

  With long blond hair, big blue eyes, and a surfer-girl shape, Jenn had been the ultimate teenage crush back then, and Marcos had noticed everything about her. Like how she used to pluck a daisy from the bush near gym class every day after P.E And how she would scrunch her face when she struggled with an algebra problem in the library, and nibble on the top of her pencil. How her eyes lit up when she finally got the answer.

  He also knew that she favored a pair of butterfly earrings and that she usually chose them when she had on that light blue sweater or the yellow blouse. And he always knew whether she was wearing anyone’s class ring at any given time.

  Apparently, old habits never died, because just moments after spotting her in the parking lot, he’d zoomed in on her left hand, which bore no jewelry at all.

  She’d gotten married right after graduation, so why wasn’t she sporting a wedding band?

  When he opened the lobby door for her, he assumed that she’d recognized him. But once inside, it was clear that she still didn’t know him from Adam, which really shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d changed a lot since high school, including his last name.

  “Can I help you?” a matronly receptionist asked as she returned the telephone to its cradle and scratched out a memo.

 
“I’m Marc Alvarado. I have a meeting with Frank Bagley.”

  “Give me just a second,” she said as she continued to write, “and I’ll let Mr. Bagley know you’re here.”

  Marc took the requested second to steal one last glance at Jenn, only to find her looking at him. His first thought was that she’d finally placed him, but a flush on her cheeks and an immediate break in eye contact suggested that her interest had nothing to do with spotting an old classmate and everything to do with physical attraction.

  Now there was a twist. Ten years ago, he’d been the one sneaking peeks at her, the one who’d flushed at being caught gawking.

  But a lot had happened since high-school graduation.

  When Marc had left Fairbrook, headed for college, he’d been a scrawny little geek, but over the summer, his lagging growth hormones had finally kicked into gear. Over time, he’d earned a couple of college degrees, and a dream position in a prestigious software firm had opened up. Before long, an idea for a brilliant new business venture had blossomed.

  Now he was back in Fairbrook, sporting new contact lenses and sitting on an impressive investment portfolio and more cash in the bank than he’d ever imagined.

  “Mr. Bagley?” the receptionist said into the telephone receiver. “Marc Alvarado is here.” She waited a beat, then added, “I’ll send him right up.”

  After Marc had been given directions to Frank Bagley’s office, he took the elevator to the third floor.

  Minutes later, he entered the editor’s office, a glass-enclosed room that provided a view of busy reporters, some at their desks and others coming and going.

  Frank Bagley, a stout man in his late forties, reached out his hand in greeting. “I’m glad you were able to make it this morning. The Times has always been supportive of the businessmen and women in our community, and we’re glad to welcome Alvarado Technologies to Fairbrook.”

  Marc returned a firm handshake. “Thanks.”

  Bagley indicated a chair in front of his cluttered desk, then took his own seat. “I hear you’ve leased out the top floor of the professional building across from Mulberry Park.”