JENNA STOOD in the kitchen, staring out the large bay window that overlooked the side yard. If she leaned close enough to the wall, she could see Adam and Ryan stacking wood along the back fence. She’d been watching them for several minutes already, as she drank her morning coffee. After the disruption during the night, she hadn’t made Ryan get up for school. He got good grades and she figured one day off wouldn’t matter much.
“They making any progress?” Mrs. Durham came into the room and opened the refrigerator to survey its contents. She held a pad, on which she wrote various groceries they needed to purchase, but she paused to glance at Jenna.
“I think they’ve spent more time squirting each other with their water bottles. Can you hear Ryan squealing?” Jenna smiled; Ryan and Adam had been running around the yard, wielding their water bottles like pistols. Periodically they took aim and fired, only to have the other duck behind the house or shed. By the time their bottles were empty, they were both laughing so hard they could barely stand.
She felt relief—and pleasure—at seeing Ryan laugh again. He needed to do more of it. He was a sober responsible boy, a wonderful child, but Jenna sometimes worried that her problems with Dennis had made their son older than his years. To see his carefree spirit revived lifted her own somber mood, and she knew she had Adam to thank. Ryan wouldn’t be having such a grand time if he was out in the yard alone.
“Adam never could set his mind to a task and simply do it. He made everything into a game, remember?” his grandmother said.
Jenna looked away from the scene beyond the window to focus on Mrs. Durham. “I remember. But he’s not the same person now. I mean, he’s just the opposite, isn’t he? So intense…”
Mrs. Durham finished her inventory and shut the fridge. “He’s certainly driven. I don’t know what happened to him. When he was young we couldn’t keep him in school. The principal was always calling to say he’d cut class again. Once he graduated and started college, that all changed.”
Looking back at Adam, Jenna took a sip of her coffee. “I guess he decided it was time to grow up.” Grow up and leave me…
“I’m not so sure he wasn’t better off before,” Mrs. Durham muttered. “Anyway, I’m going to the store now. Anything I can pick up for you, dear?”
Jenna’s thoughts instantly reverted to the gnawing worry that had claimed her attention for most of the morning. She needed a pregnancy-test kit, but she wasn’t going to ask Mrs. Durham to get her one. She’d have to go to the store at some point herself.
“We could use some more turkey for Ryan’s lunches, if you wouldn’t mind.” Crossing to the counter where she’d set her purse, Jenna pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her wallet, but Mrs. Durham refused to take it.
“Lunch meat is part of your room and board, you know that.”
“But you pay me a good salary besides. I can’t help worrying that I’m not pulling my weight around here—enough weight for me and Ryan, that is. You and Mr. Durham always encourage me to finish my glasswork, even at the expense of my duties.”
“Nonsense. You handle all the PR, work with our vendors, take care of the bookings. We couldn’t get by without you. All I do is a little bit of shopping and the cooking on Mr. Robertson’s days off. But your stained glass is going to make you rich someday, mark my words. Louis Comfort Tiffany could do no better.” Mrs. Durham nodded toward the window, where Jenna could see Adam and Ryan bent over some new object of interest. “You don’t have to worry about doing anything extra for Ryan’s keep, anyway. It’s been too long since we had a boy in the house.”
Their boy. Adam.
“How do I look?” Mrs. Durham grabbed her own industrial-size bag. “Is the back of my hair okay?”
“You just need it ratted a bit right here.” Jenna used the comb Mrs. Durham fished out of her purse to lift the flat spot at the back of her head, just as she did every morning of the week except Thursdays, the day she went to the hairdresser. “That’s better,” Jenna said, handing back the comb.
“Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Durham retrieved a tube of bright red lipstick from her bag and liberally applied it. Then she ran a finger along each painted eyebrow, patted her nose with powder and snapped her compact shut before slipping it back into her purse. “I should be back in an hour or so.”
Jenna followed her to the door in the wake of the gardenia fragrance that trailed behind her. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. I spoke to a young girl earlier on the telephone who wants to interview for the waitress position. I told her she could come any time this morning, so you’d better stay, just in case. Now that Gayle’s moved away, she won’t be able to fill in again, and I don’t like it all falling on you. See what you think of this girl, if she shows up.”
“Okay.”
Jenna watched Mrs. Durham back her beige Cadillac down the driveway, then walked to the sink with her cup. She’d interviewed three people for the position and thought she’d found a good candidate, but it didn’t hurt to talk to a few more. Only the Durhams, Pamela, the maid, and Mr. Robertson, the cook, worked with her at the Victoriana. Jenna wanted to be certain that the person she hired fit in.
“Can we get a drink?”
Adam’s voice startled her. She turned to see his arms and face glistening with sweat despite the cooler weather. His T-shirt and faded blue jeans clung damply to his body.
Jenna could smell the slight tang of his sweat as he brushed past her to claim a glass from the cupboard. She tried to forget the times she’d tasted the salt on his skin after they’d been swimming in the ocean or running or…
Ryan followed Adam in, carrying a jar with a huge spider inside. “Look, Mom! Isn’t this cool?”
Stifling her initial revulsion, Jenna forced a smile. “It’s great. What kind of spider is it?”
“Adam’s not sure. It looks like a tarantula, but it’s not. See the babies crawling on its back?”
This time Jenna couldn’t quell a shiver as Ryan shoved the jar right up to her face. Inside, she could see hundreds of tiny spiders squirming on their mother’s back. “Don’t you think you should let it go?” she asked.
“I’m not going to hurt it. I just want to keep it as a pet.”
“I think it would rather be free.”
Ryan rolled his eyes at Adam. “My mom’s trying to turn me into a sissy.”
“Going soft in her old age, is she? She didn’t feel too soft last night. She nearly ruined some equipment I consider very valuable.” Adam rubbed his neck where she’d chopped him and grinned.
Glad he hadn’t put a hand to his other injury, as well, Jenna resisted the urge to smile back at him. They’d been angry with each other for fifteen years. She might be soft on children, animals, even insects, but he was a full-grown man, and she wasn’t about to go soft on him. Soft got you hurt, especially if it involved his “equipment.”
“Could be poisonous,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the jar with the spider, where, fortunately, Ryan’s attention remained.
“It can’t bite me when it’s in a jar, Mom. You’re just afraid it’ll die or something, and you don’t like to see anything get hurt.”
“Just rattle a few pans in the middle of the night and send it through the kitchen window. She’ll smash it quickly enough,” Adam said, and downed his glass of water.
Jenna narrowed her eyes. “You look pretty healthy to me.”
He cocked one dark eyebrow at her. “You haven’t seen my bruise.”
“And I’ll thank you not to show it to me.” Jenna’s quick response drew Ryan’s interest.
“What bruise?” he asked.
Adam gave Jenna a slow smile, letting her stew. “It’s right here—on my neck.”
He tugged his T-shirt down until Jenna saw more chest than she wanted to. She glanced away, but Ryan said, “I don’t see anything.”
“Just give it a few days,” Adam told him.
“Or give me one more clear shot,” Jenna muttered under her breath.
Adam hooted with laughter, but she ignored him. To Ryan, she said, “You can keep the spider for a day or two, then turn it loose in the woodpile.”
The doorbell sounded, and Jenna felt a profound sense of relief. She hated being in the same room with Adam. He kept her off balance, scowling at her one minute and teasing her the next.
At the same time she had to admit that his presence at the Victoriana excited her like nothing had in a long time.
“That must be my applicant.” She dropped a kiss on her son’s sweaty brow. “Are you all finished with the wood?”
“Yeah, but Pop wants Adam to weed the garden. There’s only pumpkins and squash left, but I said I’d help, too.”
Jenna blinked in surprise. Pop? What had happened to “Mr. Durham”? “I’m glad you’re making yourself useful,” she said. “I’d better get the door.”
The girl on the front step was young, maybe eighteen. She seemed eager enough to work, but tattoos on her arms and neck and extensive body piercing didn’t create the best impression. The Durhams were conservative, and their business was intended to re-create the aura of Victorian days. This girl’s appearance was hardly consistent with that.
Still, Jenna asked her a few questions, just to be sure she wasn’t making a mistake. As they stood in the hall talking, Adam and Ryan came past them to head outside.
The girl’s eyes rounded and her gaze stayed on Adam until the door shut behind him. Then she stared blankly at Jenna. “What? What did you ask?”
Jenna repeated the standard question about prior experience, but while she waited for an answer, her eyes strayed to her own reflection in the cheval mirror across the room. If they hadn’t known each other before, would Adam find her as attractive as this young woman had just found him? Could she catch his eye? Make it follow her across a room?
For the past five years she’d felt invisible to Dennis, and throughout her marriage she hadn’t bothered to notice any other men who might have given her some indication of her attractiveness. She’d been too busy trying to make her world right. Adam had said she looked good, but she’d been in her robe, with her hair a mess. He couldn’t have meant it.
“Mrs. Livingston?”
It was Jenna’s turn to be jerked back to the conversation. “Yes?”
“I was wondering how many days a week you need someone.”
“The restaurant is only open for dinner Thursday through Saturday, and Sunday for brunch. Boyd Robertson is our cook. He comes from a military background and runs a pretty tight ship, so we’ve always called him by his last name. He’s lived in Mendocino as long as I can remember, and his culinary talents pull in a lot of locals in addition to our guests. If we get busy, Mrs. Durham, one of the owners, helps cook, and I help waitress.”
“So how many hours would that be?”
“About twenty a week.”
The girl glanced through the front window, and Jenna wondered if she was hoping to catch a glimpse of Adam, who had disappeared around the side. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be enough. I really need something full-time.”
“You might try some of the restaurants in Fort Bragg if you can’t find a position around here,” Jenna told her.
“Thanks.” With a fleeting smile, the girl left, and Jenna decided to hire the applicant who was pushing fifty years old. The last thing she needed was a waitress who followed Adam around with stars in her eyes—not that another woman’s admiration of him bothered her, she told herself.
* * *
ADAM WHISTLED as he helped his grandfather weed, wondering why he felt so carefree this morning. An avalanche of letters and legal documents awaited him at the office, and though he hadn’t checked his voice mail, he knew it was loaded with messages. He’d told his grandparents he had some extra time this week, but in his world there was no such thing. Still, here he was, pulling out weeds with Pop as if at least thirty people didn’t need to get in touch with him.
It must be the change of pace, he decided. His work was grueling, all-encompassing, a hundred-hour-a-week investment. Mendocino represented home and family and was, in its comfortable way, refreshing.
Adam stood up and drew a deep breath of the salty air gusting in from the sea. He saw Jenna through the window, talking to the heavyset Mr. Robertson, the Durhams’ cook. She wasn’t sixteen anymore, but she looked better at thirty-two. Her body hoarded no unwanted pounds. Karate, or some other type of exercise, had kept her muscles toned, and her eyes, which had always been her loveliest feature, hadn’t changed.
Except, perhaps, for the expression in them. Now a wiser Jenna gazed back at him, instead of the romantic girl who used to love him. He wondered what her life with Dennis had been like and when their marriage had turned bad.
She caught him watching her and drew the shade, leaving him with no distraction but his thoughts.
“How’s the herb garden, Pop? Do you need me to weed that, too?” Adam asked, bending back to his work.
His grandfather leaned on his rake. From beneath a straw hat, great drops of sweat ran down his weathered face, and he wiped them away with his forearm. “Cook takes care of that. He won’t let me near the place. Says I don’t know a weed from a dirt clod—” he chuckled “—and I’m happy to let him think so.”
Ryan approached, squinting up at them from beneath an Oakland A’s hat, the gold in his eyelashes sparkling in the sunshine. He’d given up on the weeds shortly after they’d started in favor of playing with his new eight-legged pet, but he never strayed far from Adam’s side. The kid seemed starved for male attention. “Hey, what do you think this spider eats?” he asked.
“I bet it eats flies, just like most spiders,” Adam told him.
Ryan frowned. “Where can I find a fly?”
“Well, we’d have better luck if it was barbecue season, but—”
“Ryan?” Jenna stood on the porch, shading her eyes with one hand. She’d changed from the professional-looking wool slacks she’d worn all morning into a baggy pair of jeans, an oversize sweater and leather sandals.
“I have to pick up something at the store. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” she called.
Ryan nodded, still studying his spider, but Adam stopped Jenna before she could leave. “Maybe we’ll go with you,” he said. “Ryan needs something to feed his new pet.”
A frown flickered across her face. “From the size of that spider, a large rodent would do.”
“Fresh out of those, I’m afraid.”
Jenna’s smile turned devilish. “Then how about a defense attorney from San Francisco?”
As Pop cackled from his corner of the garden, Adam gave Jenna his darkest scowl. “Enough lawyer jokes already. You’re revealing your eagerness to be rid of me. It’s not polite.”
Jenna shrugged. “This is your home, not mine.”
“For the moment it looks like we both live here. So how about it? Will you give us a ride to the store?”
The expression on Jenna’s face said she didn’t want them to go, but her reluctance only made Adam push harder. “Well?”
“Actually I was going to walk. My van’s in the shop,” she said, and winced visibly when Ryan added, “It’s a junker. My dad bashed up one whole side of it.”
Adam leaned his rake against the nearest tree, acting as though this piece of information didn’t surprise him—but it did. After Dennis’s call, his grandparents had admitted that his old friend had become an abusive alcoholic, but Adam couldn’t picture the somber boy he’d once known beating up on Jenna. Dennis had been so lovesick he’d dogged Jenna’s footsteps all through high school. His infatuation with her had destroyed his and Adam’s relationship—and they’d been friends since Little League. It was difficult to believe someone as devoted as Dennis had been could turn on the object of his affection. Had his drinking really gotten that out of hand? And if so, how badly had Jenna and Ryan suffered?
Adam peeled off his gloves. “We can take my car,” he told her. Nodding at Ryan, he added, “As long as arachno-lover here doesn’t mind sitting on your lap. There’s no back seat.”
Ryan’s eyes lit up. “We get to ride in your car? Cool!”
Jenna fidgeted with the strap of her purse as though she was about to protest again, but Adam didn’t give her a chance. “The spider stays behind,” he said, taking the jar from Ryan and setting it under the tree next to his rake. With a hand on the boy’s neck, he guided him to the parking lot on the other side of the house.
Jenna met them at the car. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sleek contours of the black Mercedes coupe, but she made no comment.
“Isn’t this great, Mom? Have you ever seen a car like this?” Ryan asked.
“Only on Miami Vice,” she muttered, sliding onto the black leather seat when Adam opened her door.
“Miami what?” he asked.
She chuckled. “Never mind. It was before your time.”
Adam climbed in and started the car. “Don’t pretend you’d be more impressed if I drove a station wagon,” he said.
Jenna threw him a playful look, reminding him of the girl he used to know. “If you really want to impress me, you’ll let me drive.”
He dropped his jaw in mock surprise. “This from the person who wrecked my friend’s motorcycle in high school?”
“Mom wrecked someone’s motorcycle?” Ryan echoed.
Jenna’s delicate brows drew together, creasing her forehead. “You can’t still hold that against me. It happened more than sixteen years ago.”
Adam pinned Jenna with a level stare. “I’ll let bygones be bygones if you will,” he said softly.
Jenna turned toward the window, but Adam could see the stubborn tilt of her chin reflected in the glass. “I didn’t want to drive, anyway,” she said.
* * *
A FEW LOCALS milled about the grocery store eight miles up the coast. Mrs. Trumbill, the chiropractor’s receptionist, looked over the painkillers and allergy-relief medicines. Mr. Francis, the town pharmacist, thumbed through the latest issue of People. Jenna acknowledged them both on her way to the produce aisle, wondering what she was going to buy, now that she couldn’t purchase her pregnancy test.
“What is it you need to get?” Adam asked, hefting two good-sized oranges in his hands. Jenna watched his fingers curl around the fruit and remembered his touch on her body. He’d driven her crazy with those hands, those lips…
Making an effort, Jenna pulled her gaze and her thoughts onto safer ground and picked out six golden delicious apples. “Just some fresh fruit for Ryan’s lunches.” Although Jenna had carefully timed her departure from the Victoriana so that Mrs. Durham would be finished with her shopping and on her way home, she couldn’t calculate the other woman’s movements with any accuracy. She was afraid they’d run into Adam’s grandmother and then Mrs. Durham would say something about the teeming drawers of fresh produce they already had at home.
“It’s not like Gram to run out of that sort of thing,” Adam said.
Jenna glanced at him, but his face held no suspicion. He bagged the oranges and dropped them in the basket as Ryan tugged him toward the ice-cream aisle.
“Hey, do you think we can talk Mom into buying us some ice cream?”
Jenna knew Adam hadn’t dampened Ryan’s enthusiasm for treats when they came back with ice cream, fudge and caramel toppings, M&Ms, a container of popcorn and whipped cream.
“We’re going to make sundaes and watch movies tonight,” Adam explained when Jenna raised a questioning brow.
“Great.” She didn’t ask who made up the “we.” At the moment she didn’t care. She was too busy looking for things to put in her cart that would constitute more than a waste of money. She managed to remember the new toothbrush she’d been wanting to purchase for at least a month, but when they got in line at the checkout, she still didn’t have what she really needed. And that was when she decided to get it.
“Adam? Would you mind taking Ryan to pick out a package of lunch meat? I forgot to get some,” she said.
A refrigerated section at one end of the store contained lunch meat. Shelves at the opposite end displayed feminine hygiene products. With any luck she’d have just enough time to grab a pregnancy test and have it rung up and bagged before the two of them returned.
Fortunately Adam agreed to do as she asked. Unfortunately, by the time Jenna retrieved what she wanted and raced back, another customer had engaged the checker in conversation.
“Are you going out of town for Thanksgiving this year, Mrs. Jones?” the checker was asking an older white-haired woman dressed in an expensive velour jogging suit.
Having already paid, Mrs. Jones paused in wheeling her groceries away. “Not this year, Karen. We usually go to a cabin at Lake Tahoe, but I think I’m ready to have the family out here. The grandkids are getting older, so I don’t think it’ll be too hard on me. Say, did you ever try that stuffing recipe I gave you?”
The checker propped a freckled arm on the back of her booth. “No, but I tried one off the bag of bread crumbs I bought here, and it wasn’t too bad. I thought this year I’d add a bit of celery, even though my husband doesn’t really like celery. It’s my Thanksgiving, too, and my mother always put celery in her stuffing.”
Jenna’s toe tapped, and her eyes darted from the cash register to the pregnancy test. It seemed to be lying on the conveyor belt, screaming, “Jenna thinks she’s pregnant!” She craned her neck to see down the aisle and, just as she feared, spotted Adam and Ryan on their way back.
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry…um, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”
The checker smiled with forced tolerance. “Sure. I’ll be right with you.” She pushed away from the back of the booth. “Well, Mrs. Jones, tell your husband I said hello. And maybe I’ll try that stuffing recipe of yours this year.”
By the time Mrs. Jones said her goodbyes and the checker turned her attention to Jenna’s purchases, it was too late to ask her to ring up the pregnancy test separately. Adam and Ryan were within hearing distance, and the sight of it, right there in front of them both, was almost enough to give Jenna heart palpitations. She didn’t want Ryan to get his hopes up about having a sibling unless it was true, and she didn’t want Adam to know, period. He’d already made her feel like a fool, appearing out of nowhere in his flashy car and his expensive suit, while Dennis had ruined their credit and lost them their 1996 Oldsmobile, which wasn’t much of a car to begin with, as well as their house.
Besides, the whole thing might be a false alarm.
Jenna’s eyes flicked over the pregnancy test again. Maybe Adam and Ryan wouldn’t notice it, she prayed, but lost all hope of that when the checker tried to run the thing through her scanner and it wouldn’t beep. Holding it almost at eye level and frowning, she said, “I wonder why this isn’t in our system.” She brought the microphone to her lips. “Johnny? Would you get me the price of the First Choice Pregnancy Tests? Aisle nine, I think.”
Jenna took a gulp of air and held it as Adam’s jaw dropped and his eyes flew to her face. She gave an uncomfortable laugh. “Where did that come from?” she asked. “That’s not mine.”
The checker blinked at her. “You don’t want this?”
“No, it’s not mine.” Jenna could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she tried to act as natural as possible. “Maybe it belonged to the person in front of me,” she said, because there was no one behind her.
“Mrs. Jones?” The checker scoffed outright. “She must be sixty-five. I don’t think so, honey.” She shoved the pregnancy test off to one side, where the smiling woman on the box stared at Jenna.
The next few minutes stretched into what felt like an hour. Jenna kept her eyes on her checkbook until it was time to pay, then Adam gently nudged her aside and threw two twenties on the counter. She didn’t fight him. She only wanted to get out of the grocery store and away from the First Choice box as soon as possible.
“Thank you, sir, and come again.” The checker smiled at Adam, her thick makeup creasing as she handed him the receipt.
Adam gave the lighter bag to Ryan and carried the other out himself. He didn’t say anything as they walked back to the car, but Jenna didn’t have to look at his face to know he wasn’t smiling.