by Scott, Lisa
Murmurs of condolences filled the room. Jeanne just nodded.
Everyone took their seats, and Brad unwrapped the salads. This had seemed like a good idea two months ago, but now faced with the memories, he regretted taking the gig. His skin felt clammy, and sweat beaded above his lip. Working beside him, Jeanne looked paler than usual.
The group got right down to business, explaining the increase in funding the town could get for installing the light.
“It’s a no-brainer,” said one of the men.
“I know it sounds like no big deal,” Tommy said, “but folks around here like our small town feel. You might be surprised to know not everyone wants a traffic light.”
A portly man in a suit that had probably fit him a few years back adjusted his lapels. “But what about the triple fatal accident? People have got to feel strongly about that, too. Wouldn’t want to see that happen again.”
“I think people have made peace with what happened. I know I have,” Tommy said. “This is gonna stir up a lot of old memories that have been laid to rest.”
Brad glanced at Jeanne who was gripping a coffee mug.
The woman in the group shuffled through some papers. “The driver had a blood alcohol level twice the legal limit. It was a horrible wreck—the victims didn’t die on impact. From what it says here, they suffered until they died in ICU.”
Jeanne dropped the mug, her eyes wide. It shattered on the floor. Everyone in the room turned to her.
“Jeanne?” Brad whispered.
She shook her head. “They died at the scene. That’s what Aunt Betty told me. That’s what everyone told me—that they didn’t know what hit them.”
The portly man cleared his throat. “According to the report here, the drunk driver died instantly.”
“But not my folks.” Jeanne’s voice cracked.
Tommy shifted in his seat. “Jeanne, I’m sure people were just trying to make it easier on you girls.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. Brad reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “I think you should put up that light. Maybe my parents would have had a chance.”
Brad folded his arms. “My mother was drunker than a skunk. Probably would have driven right through it.” Which was another reason Jeanne deserved better than him. If they were together, he’d be a constant reminder of what his family had cost her.
Jeanne was wringing her hands in front of her. She probably didn’t even know it.
“Can you wrap things up here, Brad? I’ve gotta get back.”
“Sure.” Brad watched her slip out of the room. He turned to the group. “That woman’s opinion counts more than anyone else’s in this room. You folks put in that light.”
JEANNE SOBBED in the parking lot for a good fifteen minutes before she was composed enough to drive back to Elegant Eats. By telling her not to come, Brad had been looking out for her best interests. She should’ve listened.
Picturing her mama and father suffering hurt more than anything she could remember. But knowing how much of the blame Brad was shouldering crushed her, too.
She wasn’t going to share this news with her sisters. It didn’t change anything. And as much as she wanted to go home, hide under the covers, and cry, she needed to wait for Brad.
Two hours later, the clatter of chafing dishes told her he was back.
“Did they like the food?” she asked when he came into the kitchen.
“Oh, yeah. They all wanted one of our cards.”
“Good.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry for taking off like that.”
“I don’t blame you. That was news to me, too, about your folks. I’m so sorry.” He blew out a breath.
“You can’t blame yourself, Brad. You aren’t responsible for your parents.”
He shrugged. “I can’t remember that night, but who knows if I pissed her off, and she drank a few extra?”
“Brad …” She sighed. “Even if that were the case, she was responsible for her own actions.”
He shook his head. “I can’t ever make this up to you, Jeanne.”
“You don’t have to.”
But he left the room.
And then there’s that, she thought. Besides the baby issue, being with her would be too much of a guilt trip for Brad.
She crossed her fingers. Come on, Mr. March.
Man of the Month was making a lot more sense now.
MR. MARCH, also known as Jeff Burns, pulled out her chair at the new restaurant in Whitesville she’d been dying to try out. She smiled as she sat down and realized the first impression wasn’t bad. He was almost six feet tall, with a strong build and thick hair. Smelled good, too. Huh.
“I’ve been looking forward to this, Jeanne. You’re just as beautiful as Brad promised.” He smiled at her, and she noted his two dimples.
Didn’t have one in his chin, though. She looked down, hoping she wasn’t blushing. “Thanks.”
“Almost couldn’t make it. My babysitter got sick, but luckily her sister was able to fill in.”
She took a sip of water. “Is their mother in the picture?”
Steepling his fingers, he frowned. “She passed away two years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Brad didn’t tell me.”
“Car accident.”
Jeanne had to fight for a breath. His poor children. “I’m so sorry,” she managed to whisper.
He nodded. “It’s been tough on us all. Hard being a single parent.”
She knew exactly what he meant, but she wasn’t ready to share that chunk of her history just yet.
The waitress arrived with menus and took their drink orders.
“Do you have any children?” he asked.
Ignoring the hitch in her heart, she shook her head. “I’d love to, though.” Would a guy with kids want more kids? Because she wanted a baby of her own.
He leaned across the table and smiled. “Tell me what you like about kids.”
She sighed, remembering how good Emma felt in her arms. “They’re just so special. A little piece of you. It’s like a second chance to see the world through innocent eyes. I imagine, anyway.”
“Yeah, those baby years are wonderful. Now at four and seven, well, I’m usually just Dumb Old Dad.” He tilted his head. “I’m having all sorts of problems with my son, Eddie, the seven-year-old. Talks back all the time. Tells me he hates me.”
“Ugh. I know it’s not all sunshine and roses. That must be tough.”
“What would you do if your child told you that?”
She blinked, thinking about it. “I don’t know. Tell them it hurt my feelings to hear that, but they’re entitled to their feelings?” She’d never really thought that far ahead. She’d been quite focused on the baby scenario.
“What about discipline? How would you handle that?”
“Oh, time outs, for sure.”
He nodded. “Good, me too. What do you like to do with kids? Play games? Color?”
She shifted in her seat. “You know, I’ve never really had that much experience with kids. My older sister doesn’t have any, and my younger sister has a three-month-old.”
He frowned and nodded, and the waitress arrived with the drinks then took their orders. Jeff continued talking about children and questioning her about her views on raising them. It seemed like personal questions for a first date, a blind date nonetheless, but she’d never been out with a father before. Maybe he wouldn’t want to waste any time on a woman who had different child rearing views. Why even start up something when there were huge differences?
Luckily, he sprinkled in some funny stories, too, and talked a bit about work. He didn’t ask her a whole lot of questions besides those concerning kids, but he also didn’t rush to the emergency room or leave her with the check.
Jeff paid the bill, helped her into her coat, and escorted her out of the restaurant to her car. “That was really nice, Jeanne. Would it be okay if I called you?”
Her heart didn’t jump, but it didn’t sin
k, either. Maybe that’s how it was going to be for her, a slow-growing burn instead of an instant, hot flash in the pan. “Sure, that would be nice,” she said. She felt him coming toward her and turned her cheek to him, where a soft kiss landed. Again, zero reaction from her heart.
She climbed into the car, and he watched her drive away. When she dove into bed in her comfiest jammies and thought about Jeff calling her, she felt—nothing.
BRAD SET DOWN the apple he had been peeling when Jeanne walked into the kitchen, but he held on tight to the peeler. Her threats to use it on him after the disaster with Sam had seemed pretty serious. He crossed his arms and widened his stance.
“So, how was it? Did I do better this time?” Part of him was hoping things had gone well, so he could say See? I was right. And another part was hoping for another disaster story.
Jeanne set her things on the island in the kitchen of the banquet hall. “No allergic reaction. And he paid.” She shrugged.
He let out a breath and set down the peeler. “That’s an improvement.”
“Yeah, well no sparks, either.”
“Give him a chance. Are you going to see him again?”
“He said he was going to call.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I’m not excited, so don’t you get excited either.”
“I’m not excited.” He threw up his hands and knocked the bowl of cinnamon apple batter off the counter and right down his shirt.
“No, not at all.” She laughed as her cell phone rang. “I better get that. Could be business. Just hope it’s not for an apple strudel.” She grabbed her phone. “Hello?”
He tried wiping off his shirt, but it was soaked, so he pulled it over his head.
Jeanne blinked at him. “Uh, hi, Jeff.” She sounded surprised.
Damn. Her blind date was calling already? He tossed his shirt on the counter.
“This Friday?” She ran her hand through her hair and stared at Brad. “Yeah, sure that sounds good.” Her eyes snapped away from him, but she kept glancing back, so he gave her a big smile and a thumbs up.
“Abs,” she said staring at him. “Absolutely.”
“Told you this would work,” he whispered.
She frowned and put her hand over the phone while Jeff kept talking on the other end.
“Put on a shirt,” she whispered, “or at least my apron.” She untied it and tossed it to him before turning back to the phone call. “Um, yeah, you can pick me up. That would be great.” After giving him her address, she hung up. “Looks like I’ve got another date this weekend.” She frowned. “Didn’t quite catch where we were going.”
He pulled another spare shirt from under the counter. Wasn’t the first time he’d had a wardrobe malfunction at work. “Hot damn. Another date. See? My plan was genius.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. A second date isn’t enough to call this a success.”
“Fine. But I’ve got a good feeling about this. Now, we’ve got work to do. Rita just upped her standing order for three pies every other day, thanks to your wonderful desserts.” And how many pies would it take to pay the rent this month, since the residential center deposit wouldn’t be doing that?
“Yeah, and you gotta make another apple strudel. Try to keep your shirt on this time.”
Chapter 10
JEFF DIDN’T CALL the rest of the week, but that was fine with Jeanne. She’d only caught half their conversation when he’d called, that’s how distracted she’d been by a shirtless Brad. Jeff’s call had actually come at the perfect moment. Not that she would’ve been upset if she never heard from him again. She wasn’t exactly dreading Friday’s date. At least she knew what she was getting in to. And hey, maybe if they went out a few more times, Brad would cancel Mr. April. That brightened her mood.
She spent a few moments picking out something in her closet that looked halfway decent. And while her heart wasn’t thumping, she didn’t have dread coiled in her belly, either. Heck, at least she’d have a good meal. Food was an excellent motivator.
The doorbell rang, and she checked her hair before answering it. Jeff looked great in his suit, and she wondered if she’d be seriously underdressed. She hadn’t caught exactly where they were going, just that he was picking her up at five-thirty.
“Am I dressed all right?” she asked.
He looked her up and down, and one corner of his mouth turned down. “I just hope you don’t get dirty.”
Her eyes widened at that, and she tried to imagine what he had planned. Maybe one of those Japanese restaurants where they cooked right in front of you, and the chef lobbed shrimp at the customers? Could be fun.
Settling back in her seat, she tried to kindle the tiny glimmer of interest in her tummy into something more, but it just wasn’t happening. No giddy, gut wrenching nerves shaking her like she’d felt with other guys. Well, with Brad, anyway.
“I’m so glad you were able to make it tonight,” Jeff said. “I was desperate, really.”
She tilted her head and bit her lip. Desperate? Not exactly what a girl wants to hear on Date Number Two. Maybe he meant desperate to see her again. Yeah, that must be it. But why weren’t sparks flying at that news?
“I’m glad you called.” Because you stopped me from running my fingers across my best friend’s abs …
“Well, we’ll see if you change your mind by the end of the night.”
Now she was getting nervous. Were they going to a medieval Renaissance dinner or something? Was she going to be jousting? She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t been listening one hundred percent to their phone conversation—how could she have been, with Brad stripping? She’d just have to wait and see what Jeff had planned.
He turned down a residential street and pulled into a driveway.
“Is this your house? Did you forget something?” She was confused.
He narrowed his eyes, equally confused. “No, this is where my kids are. Don’t worry. Like I said, I’ll be back by ten, eleven at the latest. These business dinners sometimes drag on.”
She froze, her hand on her seatbelt. “You’re leaving me here? With your kids?”
“That’s usually how babysitting works, isn’t it? I suppose I could take them to your house, but they’ll be ready for bed before I get home.” He checked his watch and climbed out of the car to open her door for her.
He hadn’t asked her out on a date. He’d asked her to babysit. Good golly, she couldn’t admit she didn’t know what she’d signed up for. She took a deep breath and forced a smile when Jeff opened her door. “Remind me again how many there are?”
“Two. Max and Zach.”
“And how old again?”
He pressed his lips together. “Seven and four.”
“Wow. Seven and four.”
“I’ve got pizza being delivered at six, so you don’t have to worry about cooking.”
“That’s a good thing.” This guy wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a nanny.
He led her up the stoop of a cute little brick Colonial, and she could hear the ruckus inside even before he opened the door. “Who’s watching them now?”
“Mandy, their usual babysitter. Only she and her sister both are going to a dance tonight. Remember, that’s why I had to ask you?”
“Yes, yes, that’s right.”
“They’re already in their pajamas, so all you have to do is feed them and get them into bed.”
Two little dark heads bobbed up and down on the couch, giggling and shrieking. A teenage girl with a long braid slipping past her shoulders grabbed her backpack and dashed out the door—after pocketing a ten-dollar bill from Jeff—before Jeanne even got inside.
“Guys, I want you to meet Daddy’s friend, Jenny.”
“Jeanne,” she corrected him.
The little heads kept bouncing.
“Guys! Max, Zach!”
They stopped and peered over the top of the couch—two scruffy mops of hair perched over big, brown eyes.
One little head popped up from behind the couch. His eyes widened, and he stared her down. “We didn’t like the last lady you brought.”
Jeanne turned to Jeff, and he just shrugged like a toddler busted making off with an extra cookie. “Max, say ‘Hi’ to Jeanne,” Jeff instructed.
Jeanne flapped her hand at him. “Hi there, cutie.”
His freckled face scrunched up, and he stuck out his tongue and disappeared again behind the couch. “I am not a cutie, and we want Mandy!”
“Yeah, we want Mandy!” a squeakier voice called out from behind the couch.
Jeff groaned. “They’re really quite fond of Mandy.”
“Apparently.” But why hire Mandy when you can get your dates to do it for free? She shivered, feeling a bit dirty.
“But you said you loved kids, and I sure was glad to hear that.” He glanced at his watch again. “I’m really going to be late if I don’t get going. I’m sure you guys will do just fine.” He kissed his sons on their heads, warned them to behave, and squeezed Jeanne’s hand before breezing out the door.
“Perfect,” she said under her breath. This is almost like another blind date getting to know these two. Maybe they’d get her off the hook for April and May.
“So,” she clapped her hands together and took a deep breath. “What do you want to do tonight?”
“We told you—we want Mandy!”
She rubbed her neck and wondered if she could pay Mandy triple Jeff’s rates to ditch her dance. “I know, but she’s not here. So, let’s have as much fun as we can. Pizza is coming, and we can play a game while we wait.”
“Mandy lets us do whatever we want.”
“What do you want to do?” She kicked off her pretty but painful shoes, because what was the point of pinching her toes together for the primary school set?
Max popped back up from the couch and pointed his finger at her. “Shoot you.” He bent his thumb forward like he’d just pulled the trigger.
Stunned for a moment, she shrugged and then dropped to the floor like she was dead. She peeked one eye open to see the two boys peer over the couch at her, giggling.