CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jill
Friday Morning
From the kitchen, a clatter and garbled voices—as if sifting through the neck of an hourglass—startled Jill, the yesteryear plaint of Ruby morphing into the stilted accents of Borka and Magda in response to some small commotion. Following the briefest of showers, Jill, wet-headed and puffy-eyed, fell into step with them. While refilling 202’s coffee, she was more than a little surprised to look up and find Ruby pressing a map of local antiques shops into the hands of a guest.
Pot in hand, Jill followed her mother through the hallway and back to her post at the front desk.
“Good morning, Mom. You’re up earlier than I expected.”
Seated at the check-in desk, Ruby dovetailed her fingers in front of her. “What are you talking about? I always start at seven.”
“It’s just, after last night, I thought you wouldn’t feel up to it.”
“I feel fine.”
And she looked it, too. Her knee-length navy skirt was pressed, her lilac blouse was tasteful and summery, and she appeared rested and composed.
Confused, but reluctant to break whatever mood or caprice Ruby was enjoying, Jill backed away. “Three checkouts, if I’m remembering correctly.”
“A breeze,” Ruby said, her hands still clasped.
A breeze, Jill thought, walking away, could be heat’s welcome respite or a storm’s harbinger. She hoped for the former.
Late into the breakfast service, Jocelyn shambled into the kitchen and dropped her boxer-clad butt into a chair. Within moments, Borka, practically genuflecting, placed a steaming mug of black coffee in front of her. Jill had to stop and firmly plant her feet to support her openmouthed gape. Borka had been known to grumble at a paying guest’s request for a fork to go with their eggs.
“Thanks, Borka,” Jocelyn said, drafting the piping hot aroma toward her flared nostrils with a fanning motion.
“Anything else we can get you this morning?” Jill asked, finishing with a chiding glance at Borka. “Foot rub, bowl of grapes?”
Borka slunk off to join Magda clearing dishes from the dining room.
“If you’re offering, I’ll take the lowdown on last night,” Jocelyn said.
“You mean Mom getting drunk?”
“She got a little tipsy. So what? Hester’s death had her stressed out.”
“I don’t know . . . I have a weird feeling. I think we should keep an eye on her.”
“I saw her a minute ago. She looks okay to me. Anyway, I was asking about you and Keith. How did the reunion go?”
“It was a wake,” Jill said, refilling her own mug of coffee.
“Not between you and Keith, it wasn’t.” Jocelyn drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, perched on the chair as if bracing for something interesting.
Jill poured a healthy measure of heavy cream—the real stuff, locally produced—into her cup. Jocelyn’s antics of the previous night weren’t too subtle, nor was this morning’s probe. Dr. Jocelyn—the pheromone-sniffing relationship savant—had her shingle out and was open for business. “You’ll be disappointed.”
“Why?”
Jill took a seat at the table across from Jocelyn. “Because it’s pointless.”
“Pointless how?”
“For many reasons. The first thousand are the miles between here and Boston. Then there are the responsibilities keeping us on our sides of that divide. He has a restaurant and I have an inn, not to mention a daughter and, at times, a drunken mother who needs putting to bed.”
“Minor details,” Jocelyn said, swatting at the air.
“Hardly. More like major roadblocks. And kiss or no kiss, I’m not trekking out onto a minefield.”
“You kissed?”
“Yes.” Jill groaned the word. “But don’t read anything into it. I stopped it, thank goodness, except . . .”
“Except what?”
“I’m pretty sure Fee saw us through the window.” Jill rubbed at her forehead. “God knows what she thinks. Normally I’d have woken her up by now, but today I’m in no hurry.”
“So are you going to see him again?”
“No. Definitely not. I told you, it’s hopeless.”
Jocelyn lowered her legs to the ground. “You’re something else. So damn stubborn.”
“I’m not stubborn; I’m realistic.”
“You’re an ass is what you are,” Jocelyn said, scrambling to a stand. With annoyance, she wrenched open the refrigerator. “So, tell me, are last night’s leftovers up for grabs?” There was a bite to her tone.
“Help yourself.” Jill was only slightly reassured when Jocelyn lifted the corner off a Tupperware container and fished out a cream-cheese-stuffed roll of salami.
“And for the record,” Jocelyn said, her body half hidden behind the industrial-size, stainless-steel panel, “I think you’re making another karma buster of a mistake.”
Jocelyn’s posture was a coincidence. Her choice of words, however, were not. They were a deliberate reminder of that fateful summer.
Jill poked her head around the door, hiding her body from view. It was Keith. He was obviously fed up with leaving messages on the answering machine.
“Jill. Thank God. I’ve been so worried. No one answers your phone.” He was tan from his three months at sea and his brown curls had taken on a few golden highlights. “Didn’t you get my messages?” His eyes were bright and his tone urgent. “I’ve been back for almost a week now. What’s going on?”
Jill had been dreading this encounter. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t talk right now.”
Keith pushed his foot into the small opening that she’d allowed. “Jill, you’re acting strange. You’ve got me worried.”
It took half Jill’s strength to keep him from pushing into the foyer, and the other half from throwing the door wide open and rushing into his arms. “Please don’t worry. We’re fine. We’re just dealing with some things right now. Still deciding what to do with the place now that Dad’s not here.” She heard a rustling in the hallway behind her. “Sorry, but I have to go.”
“I don’t understand.” Keith’s eyes were wild. “Jill, it’s me. Why won’t you let me in?”
“We’re just . . . We’re just not taking any visitors right now.”
“Visitors? Visitors? Is that what I am? A visitor?”
“I can’t explain other than it’s not a good time.”
“I think you should try. I think you owe me that much.” Keith’s tone had drifted from concerned to offended.
“It’s just . . .” Jill knew she was being rude. Keith deserved better. He would never have treated her like this. She also knew there wasn’t anything she could do, at the moment, to remedy the situation.
“Is there someone else? Did you meet someone while I was gone?”
“No.” She answered quickly, hoping to dispel any concerns in that area.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
“Then what is it? Help me out here.”
“I really can’t say other than it’s not a good time.” She tried desperately to sound firm. “I really have to go.” Jill would never forget the look on Keith’s face as she kicked his foot from the door. A withering look so dry, she knew in that instant she’d done irreparable damage. She swallowed hard, thinking there’d be worse to come.
Jill shut the door and turned to find Jocelyn sitting on the stairs, just a few feet away.
“We’re making a huge mistake,” Jocelyn said.
“No. We’re not.”
“Yes. We are. A karma-busting mistake. And hurting someone in the process.” Jocelyn stood and blocked Jill’s attempt to ascend the stairs. “He really cares for you. And there’s some weird, tangible, destiny-filled magnetism between you two. I’m sorry I was so mean and green with envy about it, but it’s true.”
Jill heaved and felt her shoulders sag. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“It should.”
“So then are you going to stay?”
Jocelyn’s face flushed pink. “No.”
“We’re back where we started, then, aren’t we? I’m doing this. I’ve made up my mind. So just stick to the plan, will you?”
“And what if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll ruin everything.” Jill felt a thread of panic dragging through her voice. “And I really can’t handle any more at this point.”
“I’m sick of being stuck here day in and day out.” Jocelyn kicked the banister with her foot. “It’s not normal. I need to go out, get some air. If I can’t work, then let me at least go on the next shopping run. You’ve done the last two.”
Jill hesitated. Even though Jocelyn had agreed to the plan, Jill really had no right to keep her under lockdown. It was, however, important that neither one of them be seen in town for the next few months. Twice now, Jill had driven an hour each way to a grocery store so as not to run into anyone she knew. Even sporting a ball cap and sunglasses, she had been a nervous ninny that someone would recognize her. She wasn’t so sure Jocelyn would head quite so far out of town, or take the same pains not to call attention to herself.
“Fine,” Jill said, “but we’ll go together. And it’s an hour each way, so no complaining.”
“Earth to Jill,” Jocelyn said, stabbing her finger at a Post-it note stuck to the surface of the table. “Mom just walked this in. It’s a message from the bank.”
“Thanks. I’ll call them in a bit.”
“Any problems?” Jocelyn asked.
“No,” Jill said. “Routine business. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Jocelyn tilted her head. “Mom said he didn’t seem too cheery.”
“He’s a banker, not a game-show host.”
Jocelyn eagle-eyed Jill before turning and declaring, “Good enough. I’m off to shower.”
Jill stood, peeling the baby-pink note from the table, and looked out the window of the home that had defined four generations of her family. Most of the time, the very bones of the house filled her with conviction that she was preserving the honor and history of her family, that she had done the right thing. Her recent actions, however, had put the entire property in jeopardy. The new roof and plumbing were necessary, but she should have waited on the floors, windows, and room decor. How had she let that weasel of a mortgage broker talk her into such a stupid loan? He had sat at her kitchen table and assured her, repeatedly, that should interest rates spike, she could simply refinance. He made it sound about as easy as converting water to ice, or water to steam, neglecting to mention that a long, punishing drought was on its way. And with the increased monthly payments, she’d had to cut back drastically on advertising. She still owed Midwest Touring magazine for four months of print ads. When she’d spoken with them a month ago, they had given her a deadline of two weeks before they turned the debt over to a collection agency.
And what would Jocelyn, Fee, and her mother’s response be to this financial mess? It wasn’t like the house was hers to do with as she pleased. It technically belonged to Ruby, who, when cosigning the loan documents, was reassured by Jill that it was just “boring paperwork.” Ruby’s current will left everything shared equally among Jill, Jocelyn, and Fee. Fee: who had yet to make an appearance that morning. Jill pocketed the message and went in search of sleeping beauty.