“I’LL HOLD.” Tuesday afternoon Jenna sat on the edge of her bed, kneading her forehead with one hand while clutching the phone to her ear with the other. Ryan was at Tommy’s house or on his way there by now, and the Durhams were in their bedroom, resting before dinner. No one was around to witness her anxiety. Thank goodness.
“County Courthouse. Deputy Hadley speaking.”
Jenna cleared her throat. “Deputy Hadley, this is Jenna Livingston. I was hoping you could tell me whether or not you still have an inmate there named Dennis Livingston.”
“I just came on. Let me check.”
Elevator music filtered through the phone as Deputy Hadley put Jenna on hold again. A moment later his brisk voice came back on the line. “Livingston was arraigned this morning. They set his court date for Thursday. We’re holding him until then. If you’d like to visit, our hours are—”
“No, no thanks.” Jenna hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been gripping the telephone until that moment. Easing off, she drew a deep breath. “That won’t be necessary, Deputy Hadley. I don’t plan to visit, but thank you,” she said, and hung up.
Dennis was in jail for another two days. How that had happened after what Todd had told her and Adam, she didn’t know, but she was grateful. Her ex-husband would get out eventually, and she’d have to face all her old fears when he did, but at least Todd or someone else had managed to give her a short reprieve.
Feeling better than she had in months, she stood to go downstairs and finish making the salad she’d started for dinner. Mr. Robertson only worked Thursday to Sunday, so mid-week they were on their own. The ringing of the phone called her back before she reached the hall.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Livingston?”
“Yes?”
“This is Harvey LeCourt. I own a store called Local Treasures here in San Francisco. A friend of mine visited Mendocino not long ago and acquired a window you made. I was wondering if I might see more of your work.”
“You want to see my work?” she repeated, stunned.
“Yes, I’m always looking for local talent, and I like what I’ve seen so far.”
“Wonderful.” Jenna’s mind groped for the right words. She wanted to sound professional, confident, but she was so excited she couldn’t think straight. “When?”
“I’m going out of town for a few days. Could you meet me at the store a week from Thursday, say, eleven o’clock?”
“Fine.”
“Let me give you the address.”
Frantically Jenna searched through her nightstand for pen and paper and had to settle for the margin of a book she’d just bought and one of Ryan’s dry squeaky markers. “Go ahead.”
He rattled off a number and a street name Jenna didn’t recognize, then said, “See you then.”
The phone clicked and he was gone. Jenna stared at the receiver. The owner of a retail store had requested a meeting with her, had said he liked her work. But such things didn’t just drop out of the sky to land in an artist’s lap. What piece had Mr. LeCourt seen? And who had shown it to him? She’d sold a number of stained-glass pieces the first month she’d arrived, but business had been slow since then….
Adam. Of course. It had to be him. He had The Cove with him, and he lived in the same city as this Mr. LeCourt. A little too coincidental for anyone else to be involved. But Adam was back in his own surroundings now. Why was he bothering to help her?
Going into the small office at the end of the hall, Jenna paused to close the door behind her before thumbing through the Rolodex. She couldn’t remember the name of Adam’s firm, but fortunately Mrs. Durham listed her grandson’s home and work numbers under A.
“Bernstein and Lowe,” a silky voice crooned when she’d dialed the number.
“Is Adam Durham in?” she asked, committing the number to memory without even trying.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Durham’s in court all afternoon—Wait, he just walked in. May I tell him who’s calling?”
“Jenna Livingston.”
“Just a moment.”
Jenna played with the twisted cord of the old-fashioned telephone while she waited. Finally she heard Adam’s voice.
“Hi, Jen. How are you?”
“Good. Dennis is in jail until his court date on Thursday.”
He whistled. “Todd really does have a crush on you. Are you going to have to go out with him for that little favor?”
“He’s not my type, remember?”
“Good. I wouldn’t want to bust his nose after he helped us out.”
Jenna couldn’t resist a grin. “Pretty territorial, considering we’re not even friends.”
“Who says we’re not friends? That kiss you gave me last weekend felt pretty friendly.”
Growing uncomfortable with the conversation, Jenna changed the subject. “Thanks for contacting Mr. Harvey.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“You don’t think I’m very bright, do you?”
“Well, you did marry Dennis—”
“All right. Enough of that. Anyway, I just called to thank you.”
“Does that mean you’ll visit me when you come to town?”
Jenna paused. She was trying to keep an emotional distance from Adam, which was virtually impossible when there wasn’t a physical one, as well. “I don’t think I’ll have time, but if I do, I’ll stop by.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised.
That was exactly what frightened her. The way she felt about Adam, she’d rather spend the afternoon with him than eating caviar and drinking champagne at the finest restaurant in the world. “Mr. LeCourt said he’s going out of town for a few days. He wants me to meet him at his store at eleven o’clock a week from Thursday,” she said to fill the awkward silence.
“Perfect. We could do lunch. I know some great places.”
“Does that mean you’re not coming back here this weekend?”
“Did I say I would?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“Ryan’s been badgering me to go to the Schwinn dealership, but I don’t know anything about mountain bikes. What should I buy?”
“I’ll pick him up a bike. You worry too much, Jen. And you have no confidence in me whatsoever.”
She laughed. “I have more confidence in you than I do in me.” Who knows what I might concede if I’m around you too much?
“Sometimes you’ve got to trust your instincts.”
“Exactly,” Jenna said, and hung up.
She wouldn’t visit Adam when she went to San Francisco, she told herself, sitting back in Mr. Durham’s leather chair. It was too dangerous. She’d be out of her element and away from Ryan, whose very presence reminded her why she had to be sensible. She wasn’t about to turn her life upside down for any man, least of all a guaranteed heartbreaker. Not when she and Ryan had come this far.
She rubbed her abdomen. And not when they still had so far to go.
* * *
DENNIS LIVINGSTON studied the gaunt face of the district attorney as his public defender conferred with her in a corner of the small Fort Bragg courtroom. Suddenly the hum of their voices stopped, and the skinny bitch sent a meaningful glance his way. Then she nodded. Evidently they’d reached an agreement, but it had sure taken them long enough.
The lawyer the court had appointed to defend him ambled back to where Dennis waited, several rows away from the judge’s bench, and leaned over the chair between them. In the background, the judge dealt with another case, and several other unlucky bastards waited for their turn before the bench.
“I’ve got good news, Mr. Livingston,” he said. “Because you have no prior convictions, the DA’s willing to go for twelve days’ jail time, one-third off for time served, if you stay away from Ms. Livingston and have no contact with her.”
“Jail time!” Dennis felt a flicker of panic. “You call that good news? I’ve already been in for five days. You told me violating a restraining order was only a misdemeanor.”
The lawyer shrugged. “It’s also a court order. Judges can take it quite personally when someone disregards their orders. And the arresting officers filed an affidavit stating that they think you’re a serious threat to your ex-wife.” He stood and straightened his tie. “I recommend you take the deal. You plead guilty, you’ll be out in a week.”
Dennis stretched his neck. Since the police had picked him up, he’d had little sleep and less peace, and he wanted a drink so badly he’d have lapped it up from the floor like a dog if he could. Seven days sounded like an eternity, especially when he was certain Adam Durham was screwing his wife. His wife, dammit! How could some paper filed by a lousy attorney who didn’t know either of them change thirteen years of marriage? How could Jenna leave him and never look back, deny him the right to see his own kid? He’d thought she’d stand by him….
No, he’d always known that in her heart of hearts she loved Adam. She’d denied it for years, had lain beneath him when he’d made love to her and pretended to enjoy it, but Dennis knew how it really was. And now Adam was back and Jenna was gone, and someone was going to pay for destroying his life!
“Mr. Livingston?”
Taking a deep breath, Dennis rubbed his hands against the orange jumpsuit the police had given him when they’d booked him into the Ukiah jail, an hour and a half away from Fort Bragg and Mendocino. “I just wanted to see my kid,” he complained.
“That’s beside the point, Mr. Livingston. You violated a court order. Will you take the deal? If you don’t, you could spend a year in county jail, receive a thousand-dollar fine, or both.”
The attorney glanced at his fancy gold watch.
“What? You got somewhere you’d rather be?” Dennis snapped, knowing his lawyer didn’t give a shit if he spent the rest of his life behind bars.
“Making an enemy out of me isn’t going to help you. Will you take the deal or not?”
Dennis looked at the district attorney, the judge and the face of his own indifferent defender, and wanted to tell them all to go to hell. But it was Jenna’s fault. She’d been out to get him for years, and now she had that cop on her side. But her old pal Todd wouldn’t do her any good, not in the long run, because they couldn’t hold him forever. A week. That was what the man had said.
Then Jenna would be the one to pay.
“I’ll take it.”
* * *
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Adam sat in the parking lot of Bay City Bicycle Works and waited for Cheryl to meet him. He hadn’t talked to her since the previous Sunday, the night she’d wanted him to come over and he’d finally called back to tell her he couldn’t. She’d accepted the news in silence and hung up, but she hadn’t returned any of his calls since. He was hoping she’d respond to the invitation he’d left on her answering machine to come today, as proof she’d forgiven him.
He checked his watch. If he put off his bike-shopping much longer, he’d be stuck in traffic for hours by the time he left his house for Mendocino. Evidently Cheryl wasn’t going to soften up and let them continue as friends, which, after ten years, was a pity.
Still, Adam didn’t know how he could have handled the situation any better.
Stepping out of his car, he pushed a button on his key ring that locked the doors. He still wore his suit, but he’d loosened his tie, having no intention of returning to the office. He’d already put in a long week, but planned to take a few files with him to work on over the weekend.
“Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”
Adam turned to see Cheryl in her white Ford Taurus pulling into the parking lot. “Are you kidding?” he called back. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”
She rolled her eyes, parked and got out of the car. She was wearing jeans and a pink sweater, and she was alone. Adam had expected her to bring her son.
“Where’s Jason?”
“A friend invited him to stay the night.”
Putting an arm around her, Adam gave his old secretary a casual squeeze, hoping to defuse the sudden awkwardness between them. “What made you decide to forgive me?” he asked.
A sheepish smile curved her lips. “I realized you were right. Hearing what you had to say about this Jenna person would have hurt a lot more in the morning.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “Things like this happen, or we wouldn’t have half the good movies, songs, poetry and books we’ve enjoyed over the years. What I can’t understand is why you wanted me to meet you at a bike store in the middle of the afternoon. Why aren’t you at work?”
“The temp the agency sent over drove me away. She cooked fish in the microwave for lunch and stunk up the offices. She clicks her nails whenever we have a conversation. And I don’t think she’s ever seen a computer. The work is backing up.” He sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want your old job back?”
“Yes. Are you sure you’re not saying all this just to make me feel better?”
“Did I mention she snorts when she eats? I’ve never heard anyone make more noise over a chocolate-chip cookie.”
“Okay.” Cheryl laughed. “No one could make that up. I should’ve given you two weeks’ notice, but I just couldn’t take one more day. And I’m not coming back. I’m going to move closer to my parents and get a job there.”
“I’ll give you a letter of recommendation, of course.” Adam sobered. “In the meantime, do you have enough to get you by?”
“I’ve put some money aside. We should be all right.”
“I know, you’ll help me, which is another reason I couldn’t stay mad at you. You’ve got a good heart.”
“Don’t let that get around.” He opened the door for her to precede him inside. “Let me know when packing time comes, and I’ll help you move the heavy stuff.”
“If you’re not in Mendocino.” She gave him a playful punch in the arm and turned to study a shiny blue bike hanging from the ceiling. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing here, but I have a sneaking suspicion it’s got something to do with the woman you mentioned on the phone, this Jenna you want a second chance with.”
“Nope, not her. Her son. I’m taking Ryan on his first mountain-bike ride tomorrow and he needs a bike. I thought I’d buy Jason one at the same time, as a sort of going-away present to the two of you for giving me ten long years of your professional life.”
“You should’ve told me! I would have brought him.”
Adam raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t speaking to me, remember?”
She grinned. “I respond to bribes.”
A skinny young man sporting bleached-blond hair and four earrings in one ear, a Sex Wax T-shirt and pants big enough to fit the infamous fat man who had to be buried in a piano box, approached Adam. “Help you, dude?”
Adam smiled. Apparently casual fashions had outdistanced him. He could see nothing appealing in wearing his pants belted around his knees. “We’re looking for two mountain bikes, one for an eight-year-old boy and the other for—”
“A ten-year-old,” Cheryl finished for him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked Adam as the salesclerk directed them through racks of sportswear to a row of smaller bikes along one wall.
“Would you rather have something else?”
“No, Jason’s been wanting a bike for a couple of years, and now that we’re moving, he’ll actually have a place to ride it.”
“Then it will serve as the thank-you I want it to be.”
Taking Adam’s arm, Cheryl pulled him to a stop, regardless of the salesclerk bouncing ahead of them. “This Jenna is one lucky lady. I hope she knows that,” she said.
Adam grinned. “Maybe I could use you as a reference.”
* * *
THE DOOR HADN’T even slammed shut when Ryan rushed in from school and hollered, “Has anyone heard from Adam? Is he still coming?”
On the phone Jenna covered the receiver and called to her son to keep his voice down and to join her in the kitchen. He breezed through the swinging door with a gust of youthful energy, flung his backpack into a chair and went straight to the refrigerator, where he stared inside as though he was seeing his favorite cartoons, instead of several cartons of milk.
“I’m sorry, Todd. Ryan just got home from school. What were you saying?” Jenna asked.
“Todd?” Ryan interrupted. “Who’s Todd?”
Jenna put a finger to her lips to indicate silence and turned her attention back to the police officer.
“I said I appeared for Dennis’s court date. He got another week,” Todd said.
“I’ll bet that went over big.”
“Actually he looked rather contrite.”
Contrite? In fact, Jenna had seen Dennis contrite a number of times. Problem was, his humility only lasted until the next drinking spree. Knowing Ryan was now listening to the conversation and had no idea his father was in jail, Jenna amended what she would have said. “Good. Maybe this situation has given him some time to think.”
“We were lucky he had Judge Rubio. He takes domestic violence pretty seriously. As things stand, I’d say a week in jail would give any normal man second thoughts about violating a restraining order.”
Should she explain that Dennis had checked out of “normal” more than four years ago?
“Mom, can I have this?” Ryan held up a soft drink, and Jenna shook her head.
“Fruit,” she mouthed, then spoke into the mouthpiece. “I called the courthouse in Fort Bragg the day he was arraigned.”
“I know. Hadley said you had. That’s why I haven’t gotten back to you sooner.”
“Thanks, Todd. Let’s hope our, um, friend has learned his lesson.”
“I’m sure he has, but once he gets out I’ll drive by the Victoriana occasionally, just to make sure everything’s okay.”
When Jenna hung up she faced her son’s scowl over being denied a soda in favor of an apple.
“Why can’t I have both?” he whined.
“Because one is good for you and the other isn’t.” Jenna put down the pen she’d been doodling with and stood.
“Where’s Mr. Robertson? He always has a snack for me on Fridays.”
“He’s running a little late today, but he’ll be here soon. Don’t tell me he’s giving you soda before dinner.”
Ryan frowned. “Only if I eat some fruit or vegetables first.”
“Great. Eat some carrot sticks. I’ll scrape them for you if you want.”
He let loose an exaggerated sigh, relinquished the can of pop to the refrigerator and snagged an apple. “Is Adam still coming?”
Jenna opened her mouth to say she thought so when Mrs. Durham entered the room and answered in more certain terms. “He called this morning to say he’ll be here for dinner.”
“He did?” Jenna and Ryan spoke at the same time, and Mrs. Durham chuckled.
“It would be interesting to know which one of you is more excited,” she said as Ryan dashed outside, no doubt to keep his eyes peeled for the black Mercedes.
“I’m not excited,” Jenna protested. “I’m relieved. I was afraid he’d disappoint Ryan.”
There was a twinkle in Adam’s grandmother’s eyes as she started taking food out of the refrigerator and placing it on the counter. “Well, I, for one, am glad to have him back. We haven’t seen Adam twice in one week for years, so we must have something new to attract him.”
“An endearing eight-year-old boy,” Jenna volunteered.
“And his attractive mother.”
“Pregnant mother,” Jenna corrected, but Mrs. Durham shrugged her words off with a laugh.
“We’ll see who interests him more,” she said, and started dinner.