Ellen laughed as she put the empty bowl in the sink. “Let’s be content with the haircut for now.”
“What time were you thinking of leaving?” Jase asked.
“In a half hour. You’ve got time to get cleaned up.”
Jase glanced at his undershirt and camo sleep pants. “What’s wrong with what I have on now?”
Ellen gave him a little push. “You were wearing that lovely outfit when you came over at two a.m. to make coffee.”
“I only came over because I saw the light on in the kitchen. Does Quinn know about your late night cake-eating habit?”
“You know he does. I’m married to the world’s lightest sleeper. If I breathe too loudly, he wakes up. It’s a good thing I have no plans to sneak out of the house.”
“That’ll come in handy when this child you’re carrying around becomes a teenager.”
“It won’t be just one teenager. Quinn has decided he wants four children. I told him he should talk to the plant manager before he starts making long range plans for the factory.”
“That’s right, Ellen. Don’t let him have it too easy.”
“Don’t worry. I know how to pick my battles. Go change your clothes and meet us outside in thirty minutes. Don’t forget to wear shoes. They won’t let you in without them.”
As he walked back to the cottage, he couldn’t help laughing about what she said. His brother hadn’t stood a chance once Ellen came into his life. Jase only hoped to be as fortunate in finding someone who wouldn’t just be a wife, but would also be a devoted partner and a best friend.
* * * * *
After a leisurely breakfast shared with Ambrose, Rosemary removed her new cutting board from the drawer and reached for the bag of Vidalia onions. She was peeling carrots when her phone rang. Grabbing a rag to wipe her fingers, she glanced at the name on the screen and made a face. This was the third time he’d called in the last week. One would think she was his only client.
“Good morning, Carl.”
“You sound very happy.”
“I am happy. I’m making my grandmother’s pot roast.”
“Are you happy enough to tell me where you are?”
“If you don’t know where I am, you don’t have to lie about it.” She walked over to look out the window. “Try to see it from my point of view. In the last few years, I’ve lost more and more control of Sage. My entire life has become dictated by others. I accepted it at first because I was a newbie; I had no idea how to manage my career. As long as no one touched my music, I could put up with the constant tweaking of my appearance and the purposely leaked fictitious accounts of my social relationships. But when Randall brought in another songwriter to collaborate on my new album under the guise of expanding my target audience, I decided enough was enough. He might have forgotten what made me popular, but I haven’t. If I do what everyone else is doing, I won’t be Sage.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Your next album should be and will be exclusively your songs. In the meantime, I’m going to email you the details of that summer concert series I told you about. It doesn’t start until June. There’s no hurry on a decision. It’s still in the early stages.”
“I’ll look it over and get back with you.”
After she finished with Carl, Rosemary didn’t immediately return to the vegetables. Instead she continued to stare out the window, seeing little of the tranquil scene in front of her. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt as betrayed by Randall’s interference in her music if it hadn’t been so closely followed by the discovery of his relationship with April. At this point, it mattered little. The two events were forever connected in her mind as was the painful truth they revealed. Not only hadn’t she been talented enough for him professionally, but she also hadn’t been enough for him personally. The pain of that dual rejection had cut deeply.
She felt something soft and furry pushing against her leg. Smiling a little, she bent to pick up Ambrose. “You would never behave that way, would you?” The cat licked her hand, his body vibrating with the force of his purrs of contentment. “You’re the perfect companion. You listen and don’t try to give me any advice.” Her glance returned to the cutting board. “I need to do less feeling sorry for myself and more cooking.”
Once the ingredients for the pot roast were in the crockpot, Rosemary surveyed the condition of the house. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t ready for company either. She thought of the pristine, almost-too-perfect rooms of her house in Nashville. It was a testament to her success, but by no stretch of the imagination could it be called a home. A house needed people in it, living and loving together to turn it into a home.
With Ambrose a few steps behind, she cleaned windows and dusted her few pieces of furniture. The only time her companion left her side was when she ran the vacuum. After she finished, he rejoined her in the bedroom where she stood contemplating the meager contents of her closet. Why hadn’t she brought more clothes?
“Let’s face it; there aren’t a lot of choices, but I can’t be wearing flannel pajamas when Jase arrives no matter how comfortable they are. That leaves me with jeans and either the white or the blue shirt. The pink one shrank because I left it in the dryer too long. Wearing it would definitely send the wrong message.” Grabbing the white shirt off the hanger, she stepped into the bathroom to do something with her hair.
It was sad when the only person she missed was her hair stylist. Lisa could make Rosemary’s unruly waves look like she hadn’t just rolled out of bed. After a futile attempt to spray it into submission, she gave up and pulled it into a ponytail. A light dusting of powder and her favorite pink lipstick completed her efforts.
Returning downstairs, Rosemary lit a few scented candles to help cover the smell of paint and then went into the kitchen. The meat and vegetables were coming along nicely. The pone bread she’d decided to serve with the meal could be put together closer to when they’d actually be eating. She loaded the few dishes residing in the sink into the dishwasher and mopped the tiled floor. The dining room received an inspection, but since she hadn’t eaten in there yet, there was nothing to clean. All she had to do was set the table with the newly purchased dishes.
With a half hour to spare, she went into the living room and sat down on the couch. Reaching for her laptop, she opened the email from Carl. As she scanned the tour stops, one in particular caught her eye. Providence, Rhode Island. Her father had grown up in nearby Cape Cod. His parents had died when he was in college, but his sister still operated a bed and breakfast in Barnstable.
Her family had spent every Christmas there from the time she was old enough to remember until she was ten. On what would be her last trip to the northeast, she got her first experience with snow. She’d been fascinated not only by the world of white it created, but also by the beauty and complexity of the snowflakes. Her father’s words floated through her mind: Just as each person is different and beautiful in their own right, so too are the snowflakes. No two of them are the same.
The passing of her father and her mother’s subsequent remarriage had broken the link with her aunt, uncle, and cousins. Her stepfather’s family had been inserted in their place. Rosemary had never felt accepted by them. She was always referred to as “Jeannie’s daughter by her first marriage”. Would it have killed them to say her father’s name?
Into these somewhat melancholy thoughts came the rumble of an engine. A sensation close to nervousness settled her in stomach as she walked to the foyer. “Snap out of it, Rosemary,” she muttered under her breath. “You’ve sung in front of stadiums full of people. You’ve dealt with nosy, obnoxious members of the press. You can handle a few hours alone with a man.”
In the silence that followed her words, the doorbell rang. She took a deep breath and slowly counted to three. It was what she always did before she went on stage. As she reached for the handle, she realized she’d forgotten to put on shoes.
Jase was pocketing his sunglasses when she opened the door. He looked up and smiled.
It was the same boyishly sweet smile he’d given her on the plane. Given the effect it was having on her pulse rate, it should come with some type of warning label.
“Hey, Jase.”
“Good afternoon, ma’am. I hear you’ve got a faucet that needs fixing.”
She laughed as she stood aside to let him in. “You heard right.”
His eyes moved from her ponytail down to her pink and white polka-dot socks. “You look very comfortable. Pretty, too, but then that goes without saying.”
And he looked more gorgeous than any man had the right to. She pointed to the toolbox he carried. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”
“Necessity is the mother of invention. When I was in college, I shared a house with three other guys. It was one of those pre-fab homes built in the sixties. Our landlord wasn’t very quick or eager to spend money on it. If we wanted something fixed, we had to do it ourselves.”
“Can I get you anything before you get started?”
“No, thanks. Just point me in the right direction.”
She waved a hand toward the narrow hallway behind them. “It’s the bathroom sink. First door on your left. While you’re doing your thing, I’ll go get started on the bread.”
“Sounds good.”
The making of the batter didn’t take long. Once the bread was in the oven, Rosemary left the kitchen to fix the forgotten shoes problem. When she came back downstairs, she heard Jase singing along with a song he was listening to on his phone.
“Wouldn’t you agree? Baby, you and me, got a groovy kind of love. Anytime you want to, you can turn me on to, anything you want to, anytime at all. When I’m in your...”
The music and the singing stopped abruptly when his phone rang.
“Hey, Quinn. What’s up?”
“The day after tomorrow is Halloween? How did I miss that?”
“Yes, I know there’s a calendar app on my phone.”
Rosemary had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Jase was hilarious, and his voice wasn’t half bad. She didn’t recognize the song he was singing, but she liked it.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take her.”
“Not at all. I never complain about getting free candy.”
“I can stop by there on my way home.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.”
“I learned it all from you, big brother. See ya later.”
The music resumed, but Jase didn’t resume singing. She heard the clanking of tools being put away. Was he finished already? She needed to get back to the kitchen. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she’d been eavesdropping on his performance or his phone call.
* * * * *
After checking to make sure everything was functioning properly, Jase went to put Quinn’s toolbox in the foyer. He found Rosemary in the kitchen, putting ice cubes into glasses. Her jeans and fitted shirt made the most of her sweet curves and mile-long legs. The addition of the familiar pink tennis shoes brought a smile to his face. She hadn’t been wearing them when she answered the door.
“I have battled and emerged victorious. Your sink is no longer leaking.”
She swung around to face him. “That was quick. Thank you so much for fixing it.”
“You’re welcome. It was the washer, like I thought. They wear out after a while.”
“What can I get you to drink? I’ve got soda, tea, and coffee.”
“Is it sweet tea?”
“I’m from Georgia. What do you think?”
He laughed. “I’ll take the tea. Do you still live in the Atlanta area?”
She reached into the refrigerator and removed a glass pitcher. “No, I live in Nashville. My family is still in Kennesaw, though.” The timer sounded on the stove. She turned it off, grabbed two oven mitts and removed a pan from the oven. “Now we can eat.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“You can take our drinks into the dining room while I dish up.”
When she joined him a few minutes later, he said, “Everything looks and smells great.”
“Let’s hope it tastes great, too. I’m a little out of practice.”
He put his napkin on his lap. “I noticed that you’ve been painting. Are you redoing all the rooms?”
“Eventually. My goal for this trip is the downstairs. I want to restore the house to how it was when I used to stay here. So far, I’ve done the foyer, hallway, and dining room. The living room is up next. Before I can paint, I have to get that dark paneling off the wall.”
He took the basket of bread from her. “That won’t be an easy job. I’ll be glad to help you.”
“That would be worth more than dinner. I’d have to pay you for your time.”
“I have a strict policy. I never charge money for taking down paneling. However, you could come trick-or-treating with Winnie and me on Wednesday evening. Her parents are still out of town, and my brother Quinn and his wife have to work late.”
Rosemary reached for her glass of tea and took a long drink. “The company I hired to paint the outside of the house is coming on Wednesday. I’m not sure how late they’re going to work, and I’d like to be here while they’re doing it. Can I let you know later?”
“Sure thing. Remind me to give you my number before I leave.”
“When will Winnie’s parents be back?”
“Saturday morning. I think the only reason Isobel agreed to be gone so long was because Quinn’s a pediatrician.”
“Isn’t your father a doctor, too?”
“You’ve got a good memory. I’m surrounded by medical people. My sister runs the lab at the hospital, and my mother is a retired nurse. Then there’s me; a lowly writer, contributing nothing of value to society.”
“That’s not true. Without authors, there wouldn’t be any books. What kind of books do you write?”
“Historical fiction. I’ve self-published three, and I’m working on the fourth.”
“It’s always nice when your work is something you love and are passionate about.”
“Being able to write full time is a dream come true. It would never have been anything else if it hadn’t been for Quinn. It was his encouragement and unwavering belief that kept me writing in spite of the pile of rejections from publishers.”
“Having someone who believes in you makes all the difference in the world, doesn’t it?” She indicated his empty plate. “Would you like seconds?”
“I’d love some. This pot roast is as good as Quinn’s.”
“Thank you.” When she returned with his food, she said, “I expected you to say it was as good as your mother’s.”
“My mom is a fantastic cook, but Quinn makes the best pot roast on the planet. Before he got married, I lived with him. He did all the cooking, and I did the dishes. After he got married, I moved out and Ellen moved in. They invited me to eat with them, but you know how newlyweds are; always staring into each other’s eyes and kissing after every bite. It was very disruptive to my appetite and made it nearly impossible to keep a conversation going. We found a way to compromise: they bring me the leftovers, and I eat at home.”
“You must live close by.”
Jase chuckled as he helped himself to another piece of bread. “You could say that. I live in the guest house which is about twenty feet from their back door.”
“That’s convenient. It’s also an indication that you have a good relationship with them.”
“Ellen’s a sweetheart, and there’s no one I respect more than Quinn.”
“You make me envious. I have a brother, but he’s only eight.”
“Nashville’s only about four hours from Atlanta, isn’t it? You should be able to see your family fairly often.”
“I get down there two or three times a year. It depends on my schedule.” Rosemary started clearing the table. “I have banana pudding for dessert. My neighbor made it.”
He rose to his feet to help her. “I couldn’t eat anything else right now.” As he foll
owed her into the kitchen, he said, “If you put away the food, I’ll load the dishwasher.”
Rosemary laughed. “You’re a very accommodating guest.”
“I’m hoping to be asked over again.”
Because she had her back to him, Jase wasn’t able to see her reaction to his remark.
“Won’t your girlfriend mind?” she asked after a moment.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, remember. I was replaced by a nine year old. What about you? Is there someone special back in Nashville?”
She turned to face him, her brows slightly puckered. “Not at the moment. My situation is similar to yours except I was replaced by a twenty-three year old.”
Jase shook his head. “Your ex-boyfriend must be out of his mind.”
Her smile had a cynical twist. “The worst part wasn’t finding out he didn’t love me. It was realizing that he used me to further his career. I thought I knew him better than anyone, and yet I didn’t really know him at all.”
“I’ve never been through a really bad breakup, but I’ve seen the results. You lay your heart on the line and hope it doesn’t get trampled on.”
She looked up from putting the bread into a plastic bag. “Or torn into so many pieces that you don’t think it will ever be whole again.”
Jase closed the dishwasher and dried his hands. “Love, like other things in life, reinvents itself. Broken hearts can mend and learn to love again. My brother and Ellen are proof of that.” He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “You mentioned that this guy used you for his career. Do you still work with him?”
“Not anymore. Randall and I were what you’d call business partners. The woman he got involved with worked for me. It was humiliating on many levels. That’s what happens when your private life leaks into your work life.”
Before he could say anything else, he heard what sounded like meowing. Rosemary walked over and opened the back door. A large, black cat sauntered inside.
“This is Ambrose. He came with the house.”
“Wow! He’s almost as big as my mother’s dog.” Jase crouched down beside the purring feline. “Hello, Ambrose. It’s nice to meet you.” Ambrose rubbed his head against Jase’s knee a few times before going to sit by a metal bowl. “I think he’s hungry.”
Love at Last (Finding Love Book 6) Page 4