Home To You Page 29

  She wasn’t buying it.

  “Sullivan Industries always sponsors the fireworks and the picnic downtown. I haven’t gone in years, but I loved it when I was a kid. There’s a lot to do—we can go sailing, waterskiing, biking, tubing, hiking, or we can just sit on the porch overlooking the lake and drink.”

  “Are you sure you want us up there? Wouldn’t we cramp your style?”

  He sat back and laughed. “I don’t have a style—at least I don’t think I do.” He looked out the window, and as often happened, his thoughts drifted to Kendall, and he wondered what she was doing. He knew she’d opened her practice and was working at the hospital too, but that was the only thing he’d been able to find out. Every time he asked Jaime how she was, he’d tell him that if he wanted to know, he should get his ass out there and find out.

  “Don’t you think it’s about time you find out?”

  He almost choked on his sandwich. He didn’t know if he’d missed something or if Anne had read his mind. He wouldn’t put it past her. “Find out what?”

  “Jackson, how long have you been back in Chicago?”

  “Almost three months.” Eighty-one days, which was eleven weeks and four days, or—he checked his watch—1,950 hours, give or take fifteen minutes. “Why?”

  “You’ve accomplished what you came here to do. I think you might actually be better than you were before your . . . um, vacation. Now you’re more in tune with the people on your team. You not only have great instincts, but over the years you’ve hired exceptionally qualified people with great instincts of their own. You’ve learned the art of listening, and they feel more comfortable coming to you. Since your vacation, you’ve become more approachable.”

  “Maybe it’s the beard.” Jax watched Anne—he’d gotten to know her a lot better in the past eighty days. He’d watched her work people and knew she was using her power on him. It was a bit disconcerting. He’d seen her do the same thing with her son, Charlie.

  “Jackson,” she patted his hand. “You know I love working with you, don’t you?”

  Oh, shit. She wasn’t going to do something like quit on him, was she? “I hoped you did. Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

  “Because you’re pretty perceptive. Jackson, when you returned from vacation, you had some lofty goals, and you’ve accomplished all of them. It was an amazing thing to watch. You’ve attacked your problem with a diligence and a sense of determination I’ve never seen anyone possess. You’ve caught up to, and in some ways even surpassed, the level you’d achieved before your vacation. But the one thing I’ve noticed more than anything else is that no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you accomplish, you’re just not happy.”

  “Anne—”

  She held up her hand. “Now, just let me finish before you start arguing with me.”

  She had that same tone of voice she used with her kids; the only thing she was missing were the words young man.

  “Jackson, you remind me of Charlie. He was asked to the Sadie Hawkins dance. It was in November, I think. So he got out his nice khakis and his best shirt, and spent an hour showering and doing his hair. Seriously, it takes him more time to primp than any girl I’ve ever seen. He goes to put on his clothes, and we find out that he’d had quite the growth spurt since the last time he’d worn them and couldn’t even button his pants. And the shoes—well, the boy wears a size fourteen shoe now. I had all of an hour and a half to buy him shoes, shirt, and pants.”

  He must have looked confused.

  “Jackson, Charlie outgrew his clothes, and you’ve outgrown this.” She held up her hands to encompass his office. “Maybe the job would be enough if you had something other than this company and the few friends you’ve made, but, let’s face it: as much as we love you, my family members are not really your contemporaries—although I do wonder sometimes when you spend time with Scotty, Charlie, and Sam. You need to go back to New England. You need to find out if Kendall is as lost without you as you are without her. I know you think about her all the time. You get this secret smile on your face and you look so happy, I hate to drag you out of it.”

  “Anne—”

  “So, I’ll get you a seat on the first flight to Boston tomorrow, shall I?”

  “But I have meetings scheduled.”

  “They’re nothing I can’t handle. I got pretty good at doing your job when you were on vacation, remember?”

  “Yes, I do remember.” He knew she could handle everything here; besides, he would be only a phone call away. He was more worried about himself.

  “You have unfinished business, Jackson, and I remember you saying you needed to return in the spring and finish the project you started. You still need to shingle the cabin, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Guess what. Spring has sprung. You’ve answered all the questions you returned with except one. And you’re not going to know the answer unless you go back to Harmony.”

  *

  Kendall packed up her briefcase, bit into an apple, and held it in her mouth while she stepped out of her office and locked the door. She crunched her way to the elevator, pushed the Down button, and stared at a picture of Jack—one of the big hospital donors. Evidently, his donation to the hospital was why she had a job; it allowed the small rural hospital to expand patient services. She wondered if he had any clue at the time how much money the Sullivan Trust donated to the facility that saved his life. Probably not.

  She smiled at his picture, blew him a kiss, and headed home to Harmony. She had a lunch date with her mother and Addie at twelve thirty; patients at two, three, and five; and then a hot date with a glass of wine, leftovers, and a bubble bath.

  She’d been cooking for one for almost three months and still hadn’t gotten the hang of the single-supper routine. Finally she gave up trying to cook for one and started inviting Jaime over about once a week to help clear out the leftovers. He ate almost as much as Jack did, and, over the months, Jaime had become an even better friend than he’d been before.

  Jaime had helped her move into her little clapboard house on Main Street. She turned the first floor into a nice little office and waiting room, and she lived upstairs in a two-bedroom apartment. It felt like home—she loved her nine-hundred-square-foot slice of heaven and everything in it. The only things she kept from her old place were the bookcases and the hall table, which she used in her office.

  Jaime was always willing to lend her his truck whenever she found a piece of furniture she just couldn’t live without, so she was having a great time combing through antique stores and consignment shops. Kendall woke up every morning in a room filled with a sunshine-yellow antique dresser, vanity, and tallboy that Jaime and she lugged up the steps, and she slept on a bed whose headboard and footboard were fashioned from an intricate leaf-and-bird-covered antique wrought-iron gate she’d found in a falling-down barn.

  She also loved spending time with her parents. She and her mom took an upholstery class together and used her secondhand down-filled classic sofa as their first project. She covered it in an apple green fabric that popped against the beige walls. It was the perfect napping couch, with rolled arms that were just the right height to rest a pillow on. She found an old, metal-wheeled wooden warehouse dolly the perfect size and height for a coffee table and refinished a beautiful farm table that stood in her dining area.

  Kendall ran through her apartment into the bedroom and kicked off her heels. She tossed her business suit on the back of a chair and slid into a pair of slacks and sweater set with a pair of boots she bought on sale the last time she was in Boston. She finger-combed her hair and she ran across the street to Maizie’s Tea Room, worried she’d be late for her lunch date.

  Maizie’s was a sweet old federalist clapboard with a wraparound porch perfect for summer dining, and fireplaces in almost every room for cozy winter meals. Today was a gorgeous early-spring day—another month, and the daffodils would be in bloom. She stepped inside and waved to the ow
ner, who pointed in the direction of the back dining room.

  Red velvet wallpaper covered three walls, and where it should have been gaudy, with the twelve-foot ceilings and ornate marble fireplace, it worked. She kissed her mother’s cheek before she slid into the chair between Grace and Addie. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Both of them stopped talking and stared at her.

  “What?”

  Grace patted Addie’s hand. “Nothing, dear. How are you doing? I haven’t seen you in almost a week.”

  “I’m fine. Business is picking up now that the weather’s turning nice, so I’m running from the hospital to the office and having evening appointments too. I have three today. It’s good—exhausting but good.”

  Addie seemed to let out a relieved breath, which was weird—almost as weird as her going out to lunch on a weekday.

  Kendall raised an eyebrow toward Addie. “How did you get out of school for lunch today?”

  “It’s a half day. There’s no kindergarten, so I got out early.”

  Grace gave Kendall her signature stare. The one that made you wonder if she had superhuman psychic powers. “You look tired, dear.”

  Kendall squelched the squirm and scanned the menu for specials; she needed major protein. “I am tired. Just working a lot, but that’s good. The practice is doing well. I’m doing well. Mostly. Life would be perfect if David would stop calling me to chat late at night—” And if Jack would start. She’d even Googled him. The projections for the first-quarter reports for his company were supposed to be good. Other than that, she was at a loss. There weren’t even any Jack sightings. She combed the Chicago Sun-Times and had yet to see him at a charity function. There were no mentions of him in the society pages, and not even a word from her mother or Jaime—not that she’d had the nerve to ask.

  Her mother and Addie stared at her again. Then Addie leaned forward. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why is David calling you?”

  She waved away the question as if it were an annoying gnat. “Apparently the job in San Francisco didn’t work out. He’s back in Boston, in our old apartment, no less, and he wants his furniture back.”

  She wasn’t going to tell her best friend and her mother that David wanted her back too.

  Addie sipped her water and grinned. “Did you tell him you sold it?”

  “The furniture? I sure did. I even gave him the address of the consignment shop. If he wants it, he’s going to have to buy it back.” She couldn’t tamp down the smile. That would be just fine with her, since she’d get sixty percent of the take. And since the money left in her savings account was a whole lot less than half of what she remembered it should be, she didn’t have a problem with it. After all, he’d said the furniture was hers.

  Kendall looked over her menu. “Do you want to order? I’m starved. All I had today was an apple.” She wasn’t used to dealing with both her mother and Addie at the same time. If waterboarding were a sport, they’d tag team it. Now that she was sitting across from them, she wondered if let’s do lunch was code for time to spill.

  Kendall caught Addie’s glance before she could hide her angst. Kendall set her menu down. Addie seemed off—almost uncomfortable.

  Grace took Addie’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze, and then raised a subtle brow at Kendall. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Go ahead and order for me when the waitress comes by. I’ll have the Cobb salad, with blue cheese dressing on the side.”

  Kendall watched her mother disappear and then looked back at Addie. “Well, that was subtle—not. Sorry.”

  Addie looked mortified and even more pallid than usual. Khaki wasn’t Addie’s best color on a good day. Today was not a good day.

  “Okay, Addie, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

  Addie had gone from fanning her napkin to origami—bad origami.

  “Listen, whatever it is, you’d better tell me before my mom gets back, or I won’t be responsible for the fallout.”

  Addie’s cheeks faded to a sallow cream. She was probably remembering when Kendall’s mother sat them both down and told them the facts of life. She could tell by the twitch of Addie’s eye that, yeah, she’d gone there.

  “Is Jaime your new rebound guy?” Addie asked it so softly, Kendall barely heard her.

  “Did you just ask if Jaime was my rebound guy? Seriously?” Kendall wasn’t ready for that one. “Jaime? Why would Jaime be my rebound guy? He’s my mover, my painter, and my human garbage can—that boy cleans out my refrigerator at least once a week. Jaime Rouchard is a lot of things, but definitely not my rebound guy. I use him—with his permission, of course.”

  “But I saw him leaving your apartment really late Saturday night.”

  “That’s because we watched a double feature—Some Like It Hot and When Harry Met Sally . . . I made popcorn.”

  “So, you two are an item?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If Jaime Rouchard is at your house on a Saturday night, watching chick flicks, it’s got to be love.”

  Kendall felt the blood drain from her face. She wasn’t sure if it was low blood sugar or shock. Where was the waitress? Where was her mother?

  Addie slowly choked the origami swan. It looked painful.

  Kendall put her hand on the mangled napkin. “Addie, Jaime and I are just friends. We are not an item. We have never been an item. We will never be an item. I consider him a BFF with benefits.”

  “You’re using him?”

  “Hell, yeah. Who else is going to loan me his truck whenever I need it and haul my furniture up a flight of stairs? I pay him back with food. A lot of food. It’s a win-win.”

  “You mean you’re not sleeping with him?”

  “Eew, no!” Kendall shivered—and not in a good way. “At least not together. He slept on my couch once. It did not end well. He fell off and twisted his back. We were supposed to paint my office. It cost me a whole weekend and an entire bottle of Midol.”

  Addie stared at her with the look of the damned.

  “It’s a muscle relaxer. Duh.” Then Kendall felt her cheeks tighten. Oh my God. Had she misinterpreted Jaime’s friendship? She sat back. No. Jaime thought of her as an annoying little sister. “Oh, wait a minute!” Kendall drummed her fingers against her lips. It was all coming together now. “You’re the one he keeps grumbling about. I should have known.”

  Addie flinched. “What?”

  “He said something about angels, green apple shampoo, and tempera paint. . . . Oh, my God! You stayed over at his place. On a school day, no less.”

  Addie’s eyes widened and she started to sweat.

  “Addie, you little hussy, you. You totally did!” Then Kendall thought about it some more. “What did you do? Break his heart? Why else would he make me watch You’ve Got Mail? Twice. And, believe me, that’s not my favorite movie.”

  Addison groaned and slumped in her chair. The swan was decapitated.

  It definitely added up. “Jaime eats more ice cream lately than even I do. If you keep this up, Ben and Jerry’s is going to have to open a new plant. Jaime’s got it bad.” Kendall sat back and couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Hey, I just thought of something: Jaime’s not over at my place to help me out at all. He’s there to hide. He doesn’t want to go out, and he doesn’t want to stay home alone. And all this time I thought I was using him, but, no, he was the one using me.”

  Addie looked like she was going to be sick. She took a slug of water, and it sloshed over her shaking hand.

  “You do know what this means, don’t you?”

  Addie shook her head. “Oh no.”

  “It means it’s time for another makeover. Once Jaime sees you, he’ll go even crazier than he already is.”

  Grace strolled up to the table. “I’m back. Have you ordered?”

  Addie held up a shaking hand. “Can we get some service please?”

  *

  Jaime sat in the cab of his truck in the cell-phone lot at Logan
International Airport, grumbling. It was ten in the morning and he’d already driven 111 miles. Jax’s plane was late. Kendall had left one of her damn hair clips on his truck’s seat, and he sat on it. That woman was a real pain in his ass—literally. The thing looked like it could be used as a torture device, and he wondered if she had it out for his junk. She’d almost maimed him—twice—and to top it off, he hadn’t caught a glimpse of Addison in weeks. He was going through Addie withdrawal, and he was living on a diet of Kendall’s leftovers, ice cream, tequila, and beer. When Kendall finally finished painting and decorating her place and using him as her reach-it, haul-it, and paint-it boy and giving him a hell of a workout, he might actually have to go on a diet.

  His phone dinged, announcing a text. It was about time. He started the engine, headed for arrivals, and pulled up beside Jax. He looked good—Jaime couldn’t help but resent it at least a little bit. The dude looked like a freakin’ movie star. Jaime scanned the sidewalk and counted six women and two guys checking Jax out. Personally, Jaime could do without the male appreciation, but it would be nice to have the one woman he wanted not hide from him or fear him.

  Jax tossed his bag in the back and jumped in.

  “Took you long enough.”

  “What crawled up your ass this morning?”

  Jaime grabbed Kendall’s hair doohickey and tossed it in Jax’s lap. “That. And, let me tell you, it hurt. I swear that woman is trying to turn me into a freakin’ eunuch.”

  “Sounds like a personal problem.”

  “It’s a Kendall problem.”

  “My Kendall?”

  “I don’t know if she’s yours, man. All I know is some dude’s been calling her all hours of the day and night.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  He shrugged. “I crashed on her couch after a double feature and one too many Chunky Monkey mudslides.” He held up his hand. “Don’t even ask. It’s a hangover disguised as a milk shake. That girl’s dangerous when she starts inventing cocktails. Anyway, the phone rang at, like, two in the freakin’ morning. I thought it was you she was talking to, but when I asked, she said she’d hadn’t heard a word from you.”