“That’s what I said. Took her to the bus station this morning. She should be in Billings now, catching a flight to Connecticut.”
Luke had felt a momentary relief. “She’s gone to her parents?”
Henry, his eyes wild with despair, his gray hair tousled, his clothes disheveled, had nodded. He obviously wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any more information. Luke would have to pull it out of him.
“When will she be back?”
“Never.”
Luke scrubbed a hand across his face, feeling as if he’d entered the twilight zone. Was Henry confusing Jenny with Dolly? Had the death of his wife of forty years made the old man lose his grip on reality?
“I meant when will Jennifer be back from Connecticut?”
Henry had fixed him with a piercing stare. “Let me say this once, son, and then don’t ask me any more questions. Jennifer’s never coming back to Jester. She’s gone for good.”
“Why?”
A tortured expression racked Henry’s wrinkled face. “She didn’t give me any explanation. Just said she’d never be back.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Did she leave me a message, a note?”
“Sorry, son. She didn’t mention you at all. Now leave me alone and let me mourn in peace.”
Henry had shut the door in his face, and try as he might, for months after, Luke had never managed to extract any explanation for Jennifer’s strange departure. She had never contacted him.
No phone calls.
No letters.
Nothing.
He’d tried contacting her at her parents’ home, but they were somewhere in Europe and couldn’t be reached, and Jennifer was apparently no longer in Connecticut. He’d done an Internet search for a phone anywhere in the country in her name, but the one Jennifer Faulkner he’d located had been seventy-eight years old and deaf as a post.
Devastated by Jennifer’s desertion, he’d grieved for weeks—until his anger had kicked in and saved him.
Jennifer Faulkner, in spite of her statements to the contrary, hadn’t given a damn about Luke or being his wife. She’d played him for a fool….
Luke pulled his thoughts back to the present and shoved aside his untouched bowl of chili. His excursion into the past had killed his appetite. Jenny had disappeared ten years ago without an explanation. Now she had blown back into town, obviously unwilling to explain the past.
Or to stay.
CHAPTER TWO
THE ARCTIC WIND nipped Jennifer’s cheeks, but she pushed ahead through the snow drifts along Big Draw Drive.
She should never have returned to Jester.
Luke was right. Folks didn’t understand why she hadn’t come back to visit her grandfather. And she couldn’t explain. Without her grandfather to back up her story, they wouldn’t believe it. Even after ten years, she could hardly believe it herself.
She’d wanted to see the farm and the town one last time, though. To place flowers on her grandparents’ graves. To visit Vickie and meet her husband, Nathan, and their children. Jennifer had even hoped that running into Luke again might break the bond that had somehow remained forged between them all these years.
No such luck.
When she’d literally run into his arms outside the bookstore, she’d longed to hug him around the neck and hold on tight, feeling for the first time since her arrival that she’d really come home.
Not that Luke hadn’t changed. If anything, he’d grown more handsome with age. But she’d sensed a brittleness and a deep sadness in him that she hadn’t remembered. Maybe one of the dozens of women he’d dated, according to Vickie’s letters, had broken his heart. If so, it served him right after the way he’d shattered hers, she told herself—even though deep down she couldn’t stand the thought of Luke suffering.
Hard as she tried to hold on to that first glow of righteous indignation, she couldn’t. With dismay, she recognized that her love for Luke ran so deep, she’d rather have him married to another woman, if that’s what would make him happy, than to have him sad and lonely.
She reached the walk leading to the Perkins house and waded through the deep snow toward the front door, helped along by the wind gusting at her back.
Vickie must have been waiting for her, because the front door flew open as soon as Jennifer stepped onto the porch, and her old friend grabbed her and drew her inside. The warmth of the house and Vickie’s welcoming hug enveloped her, driving away the cold and some of the pain from her meeting with Luke.
At least someone in town was glad to see her.
Vickie released her and stepped back. “Take off your coat and hat. Let me look at you.”
Jennifer tugged off her cap, raked her fingers through her hair, shrugged out of her coat and handed her garments and book bag to Vickie, who placed them in the entry closet before pulling Jennifer into the cozy living room. With its creamy yellow walls, furniture upholstered in a muted yellow-and-blue plaid and bay window filled with lush green plants, the room appeared filled with sunshine, even though the storm raged outside.
“I should have known,” Vickie said with an exaggerated frown, offset by the twinkle in her eyes. “You’re as slender as you always were. Don’t you ever gain a pound?”
“And you’re as pretty as ever,” Jennifer said, meaning every word.
Vickie’s eyes were the same midnight-blue as her brother’s, and her long, thick hair, tied back by a Hermes scarf, the same deep ebony as Luke’s. About an inch shorter than Jennifer, Vickie had been trying to lose her “baby fat” as long as Jennifer could remember, but she carried the few extra pounds well, dressing with a sense of style that the girls in Jester had emulated during her high school days.
Judging from the flattering cut of Vickie’s jeans, the sheen of her hand-tooled boots and the elegance of her burgundy twin set, Jennifer guessed her friend was still setting the fashion standards for the town.
“Motherhood agrees with you,” Jennifer added.
“You’d think the little darlings would run these extra pounds off—” Vickie patted her hips for emphasis “—but no such luck.”
Jennifer glanced around. “Where are they?” The only sign of children was the wicker chest overflowing with toys beside the fireplace.
“Taking a nap. With any luck, we’ll have time for coffee and catching up on all the news before they wake up. Come on back to the kitchen.”
Jennifer followed Vickie down a hallway into a kitchen with sunny-yellow walls, gleaming maple cabinets and French-blue countertops. “Your house is gorgeous. You really have an eye for decorating.”
Vickie flashed her a grateful look. “Do you really like it? It’s been fun fixing it up, but now I’ll be starting all over again.”
Vickie poured two mugs of coffee, waved Jennifer onto a high-backed maple bench in the breakfast nook, and settled across from her.
“Starting over?” Jennifer glanced at the showcase room. “But everything seems perfect as it is.”
“Perfect, but too small. With three kids and only three bedrooms, we’re cramped for space. Otherwise, I’d have invited you to stay here.”
Jennifer smiled. “No problem. I’ll enjoy the company at Gwen Tanner’s boardinghouse.”
Vickie’s gaze scanned her face. Then, apparently satisfied that Jennifer was content with her arrangements, she continued. “Nathan’s using part of our Big Draw winnings to build a new house.”
“That’s great. Congratulations, by the way. I saw you both on the news with the other Main Street Millionaires. I’m really happy for you.”
“It’s been fun,” Vickie admitted. “I’m having a ball buying things for the kids, the new house and for myself.” She touched the scarf that tied back her hair. Then her expression sobered. “I’m so sorry about your grandfather.”
Jennifer nodded, unable to speak past the sudden knot in her throat.
“It’s a shame you didn’t get to see him before he died.”
Vickie’s eyes held a question, the same one Luke had asked, but unlike her brother’s censoring gaze, they held no condemnation.
Unable to explain, Jennifer changed the subject. “So where’s this new house going to be?”
“Closer to Nathan’s clinic and the school. On Lottery Lane.”
Jennifer almost spat out her mouthful of coffee. “Lottery Lane?”
“Pretentious, isn’t it?” Vickie said with a grimace. “Mayor Bobby Larson’s got this wild hair up his behind. Wants to rename the town ‘Millionaire.’”
“You’re kidding!”
“Wish I were. He’s also trying to talk the town council into building a big hotel where the park is.”
“A hotel? What for? Nobody ever comes to Jester. Present company excluded.”
“You should have been here a couple months ago. We were inundated with reporters and camera crews after the lottery drawing. Since then, Bobby’s had this grandiose scheme of turning Jester into some kind of tourist attraction.”
“What’s to attract? Don’t get me wrong. I loved it here. But unless things have changed, events in Jester are about as exciting as watching paint dry. Can’t imagine the tourist buses pouring in for that.”
“Nothing’s changed—except for the lottery win. But that was enough to have Bobby renaming the streets and putting on airs. Calls himself Robert now.”
Jennifer giggled. “That’s quite a handle for a good-old-boy.”
Sitting in the bright kitchen and gossiping with Vickie like old times eased the band of hurt Jennifer’s encounter with Luke had tightened around her heart. Maybe, if she could just avoid him for the rest of her stay, coming back to Jester wouldn’t have been a total mistake, after all.
“Have you seen Luke?” Vickie asked.
Jennifer composed her expression, unwilling to reveal how much that meeting had distressed her. “I literally ran into him outside the bookstore.”
“And?”
“He was breaking up a fight between Will Devlin and Amanda Bradley.” Jennifer pounced on the opportunity to change the subject again. “What’s the problem with those two?”
Vickie clucked her tongue and shook her head. “It’s a long story.”
Jennifer nodded toward the snow blowing against the window. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well, about eight years ago, Dev decided it was time for him to settle down, become respectable.”
“Devil Devlin, the original bad boy?” Ten years older than Jennifer, Dev had been legendary for his wild and reckless youth. “Did they ever replace the screen at the cinema that he punctured with a bottle rocket?”
Vickie laughed. “They occasionally replace the duct tape they used to mend it. Anyway, Dev bought the Heartbreaker Saloon from his worthless uncle and has turned the place into a fairly respectable business, as saloons go.”
“And Amanda?”
“She received the other half of the building in her mother’s will. About two years ago, she opened Ex-Libris.”
Jennifer nodded. “I never expected to find such a complete selection of books in Jester, of all places.”
Vickie took a sip of her coffee. “Too bad Amanda doesn’t have a larger clientele. If it weren’t for Finn Hollis’s recent addiction to collecting rare books, which he can now well afford with his lottery winnings, Amanda would have gone out of business long ago.”
“It’s a great little shop, especially the comfy leather chairs in the sitting area.”
“And the ever-present teapot and pastries provided by Gwen Tanner. The kids and I love it,” Vickie said, “but it doesn’t have much appeal to cowboys and farmers. Most of them are too busy earning a living to have time to read.”
“And when they do find time,” Jennifer added, “I suppose they spend it at the saloon. Is that the sore spot between Amanda and Dev?”
“In a roundabout way. Dev’s business is good, and he wants to expand. He’s tried to buy Amanda out with his lottery money, but she won’t budge. She’s determined to make her bookstore a success. And she claims the riffraff who frequent his bar are driving her customers away.”
Jennifer got the picture. “Amanda had a Mozart CD playing while I was there, but I could barely hear it over the noise coming from next door. ‘If I hear that jukebox blasting through the wall one more time,’ Amanda said, ‘I’ll go stark raving mad.’ She asked Irene Caldwell to wait on me. Then she marched out onto the street without even stopping for a coat. The next thing I knew, I could hear Dev and Amanda having at it, even over the wail of the country-and-western song from the bar.”
“And that’s when Luke showed up?” Vickie asked.
“Apparently alerted by Wyla Thorne.”
Vickie frowned. “That busybody. Her nose has been out of joint ever since she declined to play the lottery the week they won.”
Jennifer could feel the tension draining out of her in the warmth of the kitchen and the glow of Vickie’s friendship. She’d successfully avoided talking about Luke, and was enjoying the town gossip. She felt almost as if she’d never left Jester.
“So—” Vickie leaned forward and skewered her with a glance “—did you talk to Luke?”
Jennifer squirmed. She should have known her friend wouldn’t let her off that easily. “Briefly. He didn’t seem particularly glad to see me.”
Vickie reached over and covered Jennifer’s hand with her own. “What happened between you two? Ten years ago, I’d have bet the farm that you’d be together for the long haul.”
Jennifer took a deep breath to stop the tears that threatened to well up in her eyes. “You’ll have to ask Luke.”
Vickie knitted her eyebrows. “He won’t talk about you.”
“Guess he’s too busy playing the field, like you said in your letters.” Jennifer leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, wishing for a way to change the topic. Talking about Luke hurt. Thinking about Luke hurt. And she feared that being so close to him again after so many years was going to hurt even more.
“He dates a lot,” Vickie admitted. “You remember how women were around him? Well, his appeal hasn’t changed. But none of them make him happy. Not like you did.”
If I made him so happy, why didn’t he ever contact me?
“That was a long time ago,” Jennifer said with all the casualness she could muster. “People change.”
“Well, Luke certainly has.”
“How?” The question erupted before Jennifer could remind herself that she’d wanted to talk about something or someone else.
Vickie shrugged. “He’s harder, somehow. Takes everything so seriously. Something—” she cocked an eyebrow and considered Jennifer “—or somebody has wounded him deeply.”
Jennifer held up her hands and struggled to keep her voice light, without bitterness. “Don’t look at me. I haven’t been here. Must have been one of his bevy of beauties.”
“Maybe,” Vickie said thoughtfully. “Anyway, the only time he’s his old self is when he plays with the kids. You know he’s always wanted a houseful of his own.”
Jennifer’s heart lurched with pain. She and Luke had talked about children—how much they were looking forward to having them, how many they wanted, what names they would give them.
A sleepy face poking around the hall door saved her from more heartbreaking thoughts. “Speaking of kids—”
Vickie turned toward the door. “Hey, baby. Come meet your aunt Jennifer.”
“Hi, Caitlyn,” Jennifer said softly. “You’re a sweetheart.”
The toddler, clutching a well-worn teddy bear by its arm, streaked toward her mother and buried her face in her lap, then turned and peered toward Jennifer with one big brown eye.
“Caitlyn’s shy,” Vickie explained.
“Brown eyes, blond hair,” Jennifer observed. “Must get her looks from Nathan.”
“They all do,” Vickie said without a hint of regret, “and I couldn’t be more pleased.”
“You’re a lucky woman.”
A strange expression flitted across Vickie’s face. “I really am. So much so, it scares me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have Nathan, three wonderful children, and now we’ve won the lottery. I’m afraid I’m tempting fate.”
“Nonsense,” Jennifer insisted. “I like to believe that good things come to good people.”
Vickie laughed. “Then something extraordinary is coming to you, Jennifer, because as far as people are concerned, I’ve always considered you one of the best. I’m so glad you’re back in Jester.”
“But only for a short while.”
Vickie’s face fell. “You’re not staying?”
Jennifer shook her head. “Never planned to. I came to meet with Hank Durham, Grandpa’s lawyer. Then I’ll list the farm with a real estate agent and I’m outta here.”
Vickie cocked an eyebrow again and the corners of her perky mouth lifted with interest. “You have somebody waiting for you back in Chicago?”
With distaste Jennifer remembered Brad Harrison and what a loser he’d been. “I’m not going back to Chicago.”
Picking up Caitlyn, who settled into her lap with her eyelids drooping, Vicki considered Jennifer over her daughter’s silky curls. “Moving again? When we were kids, you always talked about putting down roots in Jester.”
“It’s great being here with you, Vickie, but—” Jennifer shrugged “—with my grandparents gone…”
Vickie sighed. “Where to this time?”
“I’m leaning toward somewhere warm. Maybe Arizona. Or even Florida.”
Jennifer didn’t know why she’d chosen those states. The milder climate had its charm, but she really didn’t mind the cold. She had a bundle of fond memories of Christmases and spring breaks at Cottonwood Farm, snowbound with her grandparents, when Vickie and Luke had hooked up the McNeil horses to a sled and braved the elements for a visit.
“You’re a little young to retire,” Vickie said, “although since you’ve inherited Henry’s winnings, I suppose you can if you want.”
Jennifer searched for words to give voice to the restlessness and dissatisfaction she felt, but she couldn’t find them, as much as she longed to share her feelings with her friend. She was looking for something, but she didn’t know what. Or didn’t want to admit, even to herself, that she was longing for a love like she’d once shared with Luke. She feared, however, that that love had been a once-in-a-lifetime experience, one she wouldn’t be lucky enough to encounter again.
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