Hawthorne Harbor Box Set

by Elana Johnson

  Bennett stood back and took several moments to take in the frame. “This is gorgeous.” He reached out like he might touch it but drew back quickly. “Did you carve this?”

  “Yes.”

  He gazed at her with wonder then, and it made Jennie’s stomach squirm. With everything she’d eaten, it was not a comfortable feeling, and she turned away from him. “I’m doing silver leaf, nickel leaf, and aluminum leaf. Then I tarnish it all. I’ll probably need some help getting it out of here and over to the Mansion.”

  “I can help with that.”

  “I’m counting on it, Mister Muscles.”

  He came up beside her and slipped his arm around her waist. “You’re very talented, Jennie.”

  “Thank you.” She exhaled and turned toward the kiln. “I’ll be done with this painting tomorrow.” She led him across the room, through the mess, to the painting in the corner. It was bright and sunshiny, with a huge grove of hawthorn trees. Just in front of them, far and on the horizon, stood a bride and groom.

  “I need to do the finishing blacks,” she said. “I’ll do them in the morning, and then I’m starting the huge showpiece.” She blew out her breath, the panic of not finishing hitting her square in the chest. “I’m going to have to work constantly until the unveiling.”

  “What can I help you with?” Bennett kept his eyes on the painting as if he liked it so much he couldn’t look away.

  “Keep bringing me food?”

  He laughed and tugged her tight against his body. “I can do that.”

  “Okay.” She faced the frame again, wondering what she’d been thinking. “I don’t work super great under pressure.”

  “Well, let’s get back to it.” Bennett sat in the same chair he’d been in while eating and pulled out his phone.

  Jennie sat beside the stack of metal leafing and ignored the pull of exhaustion on her muscles and mind. She worked until her fingers hurt and she simply couldn’t lift another piece of metal leafing from the pile.

  Bennett still sat in that chair, and he’d hardly moved in the time he’d been there. She turned toward him, her heart expanding for his thoughtfulness and his kindness and his company.

  “Thank you, Bennett,” she said, drawing his attention.

  “Done for the night?”

  “I think so.” She twisted to look at what she’d done. She had made it to the corner she wanted to, but she hadn’t done any of the tarnishing. She flinched toward the bottle but didn’t pick it up.

  “What’s your last piece?”

  It still hadn’t quite come together in her mind, so she shrugged and said, “I have a vague idea, but I’m not sure yet.” Thirteen days echoed in her head, and again the panic hit her.

  “All right, I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow. I’m not going in until four, so the dogs will be with my neighbor.”

  “They’ll take Patches too?”

  “And they just got a puppy for their daughter.” He chuckled. “The Yardleys are great. You’ll have to meet them next time you come over.”

  Jennie leaned into him and closed her eyes, wondering what time it was. When she checked her phone, she startled to see it was almost midnight. “Bennett, you’ve got to be dead on your feet. Go on home.”

  He yawned. “You’re worth it.” He kissed her quick and headed out the front door. Jennie fed her cat and went to bed, but sleep took a long time to claim her, Bennett’s words revolving around in her head and keeping her awake.

  You’re worth it.

  Was she? If that was true, why wasn’t Kyle waiting for her at the altar?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Bennett rode in the passenger seat as Jaime drove the moving van that he’d brought over from Magleby Mansion. Together, the two of them had gotten all of the furniture Bennett had completed loaded up and they were on their way to the Mansion now.

  Lauren’s truck sat out front, but on this Thursday morning, hers was the only vehicle. The unveiling celebration sat only a few days away, and he felt the anticipation in the very air at the Mansion. Lauren, her foreman Gene, Jaime, and Bennett got all the pieces upstairs and put where they belonged.

  “These are beautiful,” Lauren said, standing back to admire the armoire. “Go stand over there by that and let me take your picture.”

  “Where’s that going to go?” he asked as he walked over to the piece.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Aunt Mabel will have a photographer here on Saturday. Wear your best suit.” She grinned at him and he smiled for her phone camera.

  “Send me that, would you?” He took several pictures too, thinking he could at least add them to his blog, which was woefully outdated and neglected. But he really did enjoy his carpentry hobby, and maybe he should try to get more work than that that happened to fall into his lap.

  He’d been spending a lot of time with Jennie in her studio, and he’d gone to every take-out eatery in Hawthorne Harbor over the past couple of weeks. She’d finished the painting and the pottery, and the frame, and when he and Jaime had finished with his furniture, he directed the man over to Jennie’s.

  She stood elbow deep in plaster, and Bennett just stared for a moment. The unveiling was in two days. There was no way whatever she was doing was going to be done by then. Was there?

  “Hey,” he said, refusing to say anything about her pieces. “We’ll get everything loaded up and over to the mansion. Lauren is ready to attach the frame.”

  Jennie looked like she’d be better off if an earthquake happened and swallowed her whole, but she nodded. Redness sat in each cheek, as if she’d been working really hard without a break, and Bennett added, “I’ll bring you a chicken salad from Amie’s, okay?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Bennett threw her another worried look, but she’d already gone back to work on some sort of pillar, where she kept forming and shaping the plaster. He couldn’t imagine what kind of eye it took to do what she did, though he supposed it was a lot like how he took wood and made it into a table or a rocking chair.

  He’d been stewing about something to make for Jennie, and as he followed Jaime back out to the moving van, he stalled in her living room. He hadn’t asked her again if she’d be staying here in this house or if she’d buy a place of her own, maybe with a studio in the back yard instead of the home. She had everything she needed, and he came up blank with an idea of what he could make for her from his shop.

  He went out to the van and worked with everyone at the Mansion to get everything in place.

  “Lauren,” Mabel said as she entered the west wing. “Tell me where we’re at.”

  Lauren started leading her through everything from light fixtures to baseboards, and she pointed to the large corner in the first room with, “Jennie’s last piece goes there.”

  “Do we know where she is on it?” Mabel looked at Lauren and then Bennett, and his heart started pounding, hard. He knew Mabel didn’t have any kids—had never been married—but somehow he suspected she could see right through a lie.

  “I haven’t heard,” Lauren said.

  “She’ll have it ready,” Bennett said. “I’ve seen it, and she’ll have it ready.”

  “She’ll still need help with the install, right?” Lauren asked.

  “For sure. And the use of that van to get it over here.”

  “It better be done tomorrow then,” Mabel said, and they moved through the doorway and into the next room. Bennett didn’t need to go with them, but he did, because he enjoyed this tour from the other side of the veil. He knew by Saturday night that this place would be completely transformed, even though it already was.

  He grabbed the salad for Jennie on his way back into town and hurried into her studio to find it empty. “Jennie?” he called, moving back into the hallway. Her bedroom sat down a bit and across the hall, but he wasn’t going to check in there.

  She wasn’t in the living room or kitchen, but he caught a swatch of pink fabric through the window and found her sitting on her back steps.

>   “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to her.

  “I can’t finish it,” she said. “There’s no way. Not enough time for it to dry.” She sniffed and wiped her nose.

  Bennett handed her the plastic bowl with the fork balanced on top. “What can we do?”

  “It has to be completely dry for me to paint it,” she said. “I waited too long.” She shook her head and popped the lid off her salad. She squeezed dressing onto it and stirred and stirred and stirred.

  “I have an industrial dryer,” he said. “It’s for wood, but we could try that.”

  “I have the heat up,” she said. “I can’t get it to dry.”

  “What about a blow dryer? I could hold it right where you need it.” Bennet’s mind started sifting through the appliances he had at his house. “I’ve got two pretty big fans too. I’ll go get them. We can get it dry.”

  Jennie put her first forkful of lettuce in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, we have to try,” he said. “I’ll call in tomorrow. I’ll help you get it done.” He hadn’t seen the piece inside, but he’d only checked for her and left after a moment. She took ten minutes to eat, remaining silent.

  Then she stood, exhaled, and said, “All right. If you really will help, let’s go see what we can get done.” She led the way back inside, and Bennett followed her, his thumbs moving over his phone quickly to send a message to Chief Harvey about getting tomorrow off.

  That’s fine, his boss said. But you’ll have to take the next weekend shift.

  No problem, Bennett texted back. He’d work every weekend if it meant he could help Jennie with this project.

  The heat inside Jennie’s studio was intense, but Bennett stood next to her, listening as she outlined how she had to mold the plaster while wet. It was going around a hawthorn trunk about ten feet tall. At the top, she’d sculpted trees around the front two-thirds already, and she indicated where the roots would drip down, where crest would go, and then finally where the name MAGLEBY would land.

  Bennett felt overwhelmed, and all he had to do was get things dry. “Okay,” he said when she finished. “And you need the plaster dry enough to paint by tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll go get everything I have at my house, and I’ll dry as soon as you finish sculpting.”

  Jennie pressed her lips together and nodded. “I’ll get back to sculpting.” She didn’t waste another moment, but started mixing up more plaster. Bennett hurried back to his house, made sure the dogs had food and water, and loaded up his fans and the dryer. He wasn’t sure what the wood dryer could possibly do, but he’d have it just in case.

  Back at Jennie’s, he got the fans plugged in and running, which added a bit of relief to the dry heat from her furnace. He ran an extension cord from the wall over to the structure and plugged in a blow dryer. If he stood on a chair, he could aim the steady stream of air at the top portion Jennie had already sculpted.

  “Not too hot,” she said. “I don’t want it to weep or start to melt the plaster.”

  “Not too hot.” Bennett looked at the blow dryer, trying to figure out how to make it not hot.

  Jennie said, “Switch that top button to one.”

  He did, and the air cooled. He moved it back and forth in sweeping arcs, thinking his arm was going to get tired really fast. With the three fans blowing and the hair dryer, the noise level seemed like standing in an airplane hangar with jet engines about to rev up.

  Talking was impossible, but every once in a while Jennie would look up and say, “That section is done. See how chalky it is? See how white?”

  Bennett learned what to look for, and he eventually could move down the sculpture without Jennie telling him. His arms ached, and this boredom was akin to what he experienced at the fire house. But there was no camaraderie, no good food, and no dog to keep him company.

  But he wanted to be there. Wanted to help Jennie.

  “No, Bennett.” Disappointment and frustration filled his name.

  He looked up from his phone and jerked the hair dryer away from the piece. “What?”

  “That section isn’t done yet.” Jennie exhaled like he’d just shattered the whole thing and wiped the back of her hand over her scalp. Her hair wisped everywhere, and she looked exhausted.

  Bennett was exhausted too. And hungry again, as he stomach growled, reminding him of how many hours he’d been standing in this studio, waving a blow dryer back and forth. He felt sure he’d never get the sound of these fans out of his ears, and he wondered if police officers used this type of noise as a way to break criminals.

  Because Bennett felt dangerously close to breaking. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought it was finished.” She’d done the roots and the crest, and he’d simply followed her progression toward the bottom of the piece as she got everything pinched and smoothed.

  “I needed to do the details.”

  “Well, you didn’t say anything.”

  “I didn’t think I needed to.” Her eyes flashed, and exasperation filled Bennett.

  “Obviously, you did.”

  “Obviously.” She put her hands on her hips, not backing down.

  “I’ll go get us some dinner.” He would’ve never left a project this huge for the last three days before it needed to be seen. Never.

  “I’m not hungry.” She picked up the plastic container of water and started running her fingers over the part of the crest he’d just dried. He couldn’t stand there and watch her undo his hard work.

  “Fine.” He started for the door.

  “I don’t need you to come back,” she said. “I’ll finish up tonight.”

  No thank you, Bennett. No you’ve saved me, Bennett.

  He’d already taken tomorrow off of work—just to be beside her and make sure she finished this piece on time. And she didn’t need him now, because he didn’t know every knob and line in the Magleby family crest?

  He didn’t need a lot of praise, honestly. But he didn’t need to be blamed for drying something when he’d dried eight feet of plaster singlehandedly.

  “I’ll get you a salad anyway.” He left the studio before she could protest or say anything else. Out in the front yard, without the constant sound of the fans and the dryer. He breathed in deep, deeper, enjoying the silence.

  His head pounded, and he hadn’t even realized it. He kept the radio off in the truck as he drove into town, realizing that it was quite late by the lack of people and traffic. Or maybe it just seemed that way because the sun was going down sooner and sooner, and there was no moon.

  No matter what, he felt a sense of foreboding hanging in the air, and it made him cranky.

  Duality was always a bright spot, and he went inside to get as much food as he could carry. And a salad. Instead of going right back over to Jennie’s, he sat in the parking lot and ate his way through a pizza pocket and two containers of tater tots.

  He went home and checked on the dogs, telling them to come with him and load up in the back of the truck. Driving was one of Gemma’s favorite things to do, and Bennett took the long way around town to get back to Jennie’s.

  Even being gone for an hour, he sat in the truck, trying to convince himself to go back inside. Gemma and Patches wouldn’t be able to come in, but they’d stay in the back. Finally, after sitting out front for five minutes, Bennett gathered his courage and went inside.

  He knocked on the front door as he opened it and called, “Jennie?”

  The low sound of the fans hit him square in the face, but he walked toward it anyway. The light in the studio was still on, the fans still going, but Jennie wasn’t there.

  Bennett gripped the plastic container of her salad and examined the structure in the middle of the room. In the time he’d been gone, she’d fixed the crest—not that he could tell—and finished the name at the bottom. She’d moved the fans closer and apparently left everything to dry.

  So maybe she’d get the piece finished after all, t
hough he had no idea what she had in mind as far as the painting went.

  He turned away from the studio and went back into the kitchen. Jennie wasn’t sitting on the back steps either, and Bennett pulled out his phone to text her. I brought your salad. Where are you?

  She didn’t answer right away, and he felt uncomfortable being in her house and yard without her there. Worry needled him, and he checked her car port for her bicycle. It was there, leaning up against the house, so she hadn’t gone anywhere.

  He entered the front yard, wondering where he should go and what he should do. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he found Jennie’s name on the screen.

  I went to bed.

  That was all. No explanation. No thank you for the food.

  What time should I come in the morning?

  You don’t need to come.

  “Jennie,” Bennett rolled his eyes and the ridiculousness of her statement. He suddenly heard Mabel telling him not to let Jennie push him away. But what was he supposed to do? Bang down her front door and demand she eat the salad he’d bought?

  In the end, he took the salad and himself and the dogs and went home, wondering if he’d go to Jennie’s the next day or not.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jennie knew she needed to apologize, but she didn’t know how. The pressure around her chest and radiating down into her legs was indescribable. She shouldn’t have left this project to the end, even if she didn’t have every piece in place. She could’ve sculpted the tree and the roots two weeks ago, and she hadn’t.

  And Bennett had given up his entire day to stand in her overheated studio and sweep a blow dryer in a near circle.

  Jennie honestly didn’t know how to sort through her feelings, nor how to juggle everything going on in her life. She hadn’t been able to get up to Seattle and see her mother the way she would’ve liked, and while the surgery had gone well and her mother was recovering, Jennie would’ve liked to have been there.