Jed stomped muck from his boots and then entered into his parents’ mudroom, where he took them off entirely.
Dad’s voice drifted from the kitchen. He must’ve cut his business trip short, probably because of the basement flooding. And likely he wasn’t in the best of moods.
Jed strode down the hall and around the corner. He touched the brim of his hat and gave a quick dip of his head. “Pop.”
“Son. Thanks for coming out. For keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”
Jed nodded and faced his mother. “I talked to my contractor buddy about your wood floors. He said he’ll call next week to schedule a time to come give you an estimate.” The basement flooding had caused the wood floors in the half bath to buckle.
“He’ll work with the insurance company?” Mom set her towel on the counter and crossed her arms.
He nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thanks for your help.” Dad clamped a hand on Jed’s shoulder. “Now that that’s taken care of—” he glanced around “—when’s supper?”
Mom’s eyes lit. “Let’s go out to eat.”
He sighed. “Jillian, I just walked in the door not ten minutes ago.”
“Come on. When’s the last time Jed had a night off? Besides, I don’t have anything thawed.”
Dad frowned. “You’re not going to let up, are you?”
Mom grinned. “Just give me a minute to freshen up.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled into Wilma’s parking lot, where his sister and brother-in-law would be meeting them. Hopefully the conversation would remain light.
Jed glanced at the time on his phone. How was Paige doing? She was probably packing for that writing conference she was going to.
The one she hoped would somehow get her back to Chicago.
Dare he hope she’d change her mind? Stay in Sage Creek?
He’d find out soon enough.
Paige cast her mom a sideways glance and placed the last clean towel, now folded, into the hamper. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”
“You go. Mira’s your friend. I’d feel silly intruding.”
“She wouldn’t bat an eye—promise. I really think you’ll feel better if you get out for a bit.” As far as she knew, Mom hadn’t left the house in two days. Not even to visit Mrs. Tappen. Would she be okay while Paige was away at the writing conference? She was scheduled to fly out first thing in the morning. Maybe she should cancel her trip.
But she didn’t want to blow her chance at meeting some of the top magazine publishers in the nation. And what about Jed? Could she really leave him, move to Chicago or Minneapolis, or wherever else her career demanded?
Mom wrapped both hands around her steaming mug of tea and shook her head. “What I need is a good, long nap. To rest these aching bones.”
Paige frowned. Depression could make someone hurt, right? Wasn’t that what the commercials said? “You can rest at Wilma’s, and I’ll bring you back right after.”
“Quit worrying, sweetie. And tell Mira hello for me.” She smiled. “It’s so nice to see you reconnecting with your old friends.” Mom’s knowing smile implied she meant friends other than just Mira. As if she knew how Paige’s heart skipped whenever her thoughts shifted to Jed—which was constantly.
But as much as she cared for him, they still had so much to figure out. They came from completely different worlds. His parents had always hated her. Though his mom never came right out and said so, her curt tone and pinched expression had made it clear that she thought Paige was beneath him.
She was trying to be smart about all of this, but each day, with every conversation, Jed was dismantling all of her logical reasons for why they wouldn’t make it.
Though the past still stung, she’d forgiven him. Like he’d said, they’d both been dealing with issues at home, and Paige had withdrawn, from him and everyone else. She’d just been so sad. Scared. Confused.
She’d pulled away from him much in the same way Mom had pulled away from her.
How much of the ache she felt came from her breakup with Jed, and how much was from the rejection she felt from her father?
There was no sense in brooding over the past. Tonight she planned to have fun with her friend and eat ginormous quantities of junk food.
And try not to stress about her and Jed’s burgeoning relationship. And the writing conference. And her decision whether or not to return to Chicago.
Less than twenty minutes later, she sat in a restaurant across from her childhood best friend with a massive platter of nachos between them.
She scooped guacamole onto a chip. “Honestly, I feel like an idiot for going.”
“Why?” Mira sipped her sweet tea.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m chasing after a dream that, if my recent layoff is any indication, I’m incapable of.”
Mira rolled her eyes. “Way to be overdramatic, Paige.”
“All right, so maybe I’m not entirely inept—”
“Far from it.”
“But writing is a competitive field. Who’s to say I’m not wasting my time and money going to this thing?”
“Is this what you really want?”
If Mira had asked her that question a couple of weeks ago, Paige would’ve responded with a resounding yes. Now she wasn’t sure.
“I need to use the restroom.” She set her napkin on the table and stood.
Mira took a sip of water. “We can finish this conversation when you get back.”
Paige smiled and made her way toward the back of the restaurant.
Halfway there, her gaze swept across a table of five, and she halted. Her heart gave a leap. “Jed.” She smiled.
His eyebrows shot up. “Howdy.” He looked first to his mom, then to his dad. “Uh... You remember my...uh...friend Paige.”
Friend? It wasn’t just the word, but the way he said it that made her tense. Was he ashamed of her?
“Of course. Marilyn Cordell’s daughter.” His mom’s features tightened, and then she slid a glance toward her husband. “Jed offered her a job at his theater.”
“Oh?” Mr. Gilbertson scooped fajita meat onto a tortilla. “That’s nice.”
His wife nodded. “You may have heard she lost her job in Chicago.”
Paige’s mouth dropped open, and her throat suddenly felt tight and scratchy.
“Mom.” Jed’s voice was low.
Mrs. Cordell dipped a fry into her ketchup. “Which reminds me, I need to pick up a few more auction items for the charity ball. Jed, would you mind asking your buddy Michael if he’ll donate some of his wonderful handcrafted items? It’s for such a great cause.”
Paige’s face grew hot. She and her mom reminded Mrs. Gilbertson of a charity function?
A cell phone trilled, and Mrs. Gilbertson glanced at her screen. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” She pushed away from the table. “Aileen, hello...”
Paige stepped back to allow her by and then offered a stiff smile first to Jed’s mother, and then to him. “Enjoy your meal.”
“I’ll call you.”
Ignoring Jed, she walked to the bathroom and locked herself in the stall to give herself a moment to calm down. To throw off the sting of rejection she always seemed to feel whenever Mrs. Cordell was around.
But she refused to allow that woman to spoil her night. She’d enjoy her time with Mira, get a good night’s sleep and have an amazing time at the writer’s conference tomorrow. Where people would evaluate her based on her skill set, not her past or where she came from.
With a deep breath, she fluffed her hair and pushed open the bathroom door.
Mrs. Cordell’s voice, drifting from the hall, stopped her. “The Cordell girl. Oh, I know. It’s so sad. Mental illness is hereditary, you know.”
Old insecurities, the ones that had plagued her throughout high school, came rushing back.
Paige shook them off, squared her shoulders and stepped out into the hall.
Mrs. Cordell’s eyes widened when they landed on Paige.
She jetted her chin. “Ma’am.”
No one could make Paige feel like trash unless she let them.
But why put herself in that position in the first place? Clearly, Mrs. Cordell felt Jed was too good for her. What would family reunions and Christmas dinners be like?
How would Mrs. Cordell treat her sweet Ava?
It was one thing to endure personal rejection; it was another matter entirely to willingly expose her daughter to it.
Once dinner was over, Jed excused himself and hurried to his truck to call Paige. She’d clearly been upset when she’d left their table, and understandably so. His mother had no right to make Paige feel so small. And knowing her with all of her five-year plans and thought processes, she was probably fretting over what she might have to endure should she and Jed merge their lives together.
He just needed to convince her that it wouldn’t be an issue.
Which meant he needed to have a firm and clear conversation with his mom.
But first he wanted to talk to Paige.
Unfortunately he got her voice mail, so he left a message. “It’s me. I’m sorry about tonight. I know you’re probably upset. And I understand why. But I’ll deal with my mom.” He released a heavy breath. “Don’t let her ugliness get between us. Please.”
Jed ended the call and prayed it wasn’t too late.
Paige trudged up the Chicago O’Hare Jetway, carrying her computer bag on one shoulder and her carry-on on the other. As she neared an airport coffee shop, the rich scent of fresh roast and cinnamon baked goods made her empty stomach rumble. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and checked the time. Just after eight o’clock, which allowed her nearly an hour to buy her caffeine-and-sugar fix, grab a taxi and make it to the conference center.
Was this a mistake? What if she was no good, and that’d been the real reason the magazine had let her go?
Then this whole trip would be a waste of time and money. She felt guilty enough, and even a little irresponsible, considering the state of her bank account, blowing round-trip airfare for a one-day conference that could easily amount to zilch.
But she refused to become her own limiting factor by paralyzing herself with doubts. She had more important ways to keep her brain occupied, like presenting herself well.
Standing in line in front of the bakery counter, she pulled a typed slip of paper from her computer bag and reviewed her bio.
She inhaled a deep breath and mentally rehearsed what she hoped to say to the editors she’d encounter. Hopefully they still had appointment openings. Apparently, Paige had registered later than most of the other writers. The online form said appointment registrations had been closed, but that attendees might be able to sign up for last-minute openings the day of. In other words, Paige really needed registrants not to show or to change their minds.
If any of them were experiencing the same preconference jitters as she was, she stood a reasonably good chance of that.
She practiced her article pitches a few more times in the cab ride to Juliet, then again as she waited outside the cavernous appointment room. All of her ideas felt...bland. Ordinary and overdone. But they were all she had.
“You going in?”
She turned to see a tall bald man standing beside her.
“I...um... Is this where we make appointments to meet with editors?”
He nodded. “Go on in. The tables have signs showing who’s where and sheets on them listing available time slots. Mr. Edwards from Ink Splotch won’t be here until this afternoon.”
“Thanks.” She turned back to the room and then froze. Ardell Dannheim was walking toward her, looking at her phone. If Paige moved fast, she could dart away before her former boss saw her.
Or she could hold her head high and act like the professional she was.
Before she’d made a decision, Ardell glanced up, and her steps slowed. A deep groove formed between her pencil-thin eyebrows. “Ms. Cordell, good to see you.”
She swallowed. “You, as well.” How could Chic Fashions magazine send a representative to a conference designed to connect editors with writers after having just laid off a quarter of their staff?
“How have you been?”
“Well. Staying busy.”
“That’s good to hear.” She paused. “I heard you moved.”
“I am on...an extended vacation of sorts. Helping my mom out in Texas.”
“I see.” She shifted her briefcase to her other arm. “Who are you meeting with?”
She glanced past her, toward the open appointment room. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“Come by my table. I’m representing East Coast Bling.”
Paige blinked. “You left Chic Fashions?”
Ardell cracked a wry smile. “Writers weren’t the only ones to get the boot.”
“Wow. I didn’t know, Ardell. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It happens. Poor business planning and financial management hurts everyone.” She looked up as a stream of writers dressed in slacks, blouses and blazers hustled past her. “Looks like it’s that time. I’ve got a class to teach. If you want to learn how to turn passé story ideas into editor-grabbing queries, join us.”
“I just might do that.”
She watched the woman she’d once blamed for her layoff hurry down the hall, suddenly looking...human. And potentially like someone who could help Paige restart her journalism career.
With a burst of hope and renewed confidence, she turned back to the appointment room, which was now practically empty.
Her phone, set on silent, vibrated in her back pocket. She glanced at the screen and sighed. Jed had called again. She wasn’t ready to talk to him—about their relationship, his parents, what their future might look like if they were together...
Where Paige would be a year or even a month from now was hard to say.
Could she commit to something permanent with Jed, the man she loved, knowing his parents might forever hate her? If she did, how long would it be before the tension began to tear them apart? How long before she began to resent him, or he her?
And what about her poor, sweet Ava?
She played the voice message.
“Hey. It’s Jed. I know today will be busy for you, but can we talk when you get a chance?” He paused. “About the restaurant last night and...my mom?”
She shot him a quick text. Soon. Then she tucked her phone into her back pocket.