But oh, how Jenessa had loved spending time at the cottage with Aunt Lauren. That little home with its mismatched furniture and splashes of color, thanks to the very artistic bent Mom didn’t appreciate, had held more life and happiness than any one of the twenty-four rooms back at the main house.
And Jenessa—she’d somehow always felt more . . . well, herself in Aunt Lauren’s cottage.
But Mom and Dad tried. In their own way, they’d loved her, hadn’t they?
“Ms. Belville, are you even listening?”
Should she answer that honestly or . . . ?
“Mayor Milt, perhaps we should tell her the real reason we’re all here.”
It was a new voice that spoke, piping up from the back of the crowd. Leigh Renwycke? No, Pierce. Right, the woman around Jenessa’s age had gotten married just recently. They’d had one of the cutest wedding photos she’d ever placed on page 4.
Leigh worked for the city these days, didn’t she? Part-time event coordinator or something along those lines.
“You’re not here about Belville Park?” Jenessa set her empty travel mug aside, casting a quick glance through the horizontal window that peeked into the newsroom. She could just make out the girls in her office, still perched in front of her laptop. Hopefully Cade remained asleep in his port-a-crib.
What she wouldn’t give for a nap herself. She’d been exhausted when she’d dropped into bed last night, had expected to drift to sleep in seconds. But Violet had come padding to her door the moment she’d closed her eyes.
“Jessa? I’ve never slept in my own room. I don’t know if I like it.”
She’d ended up curling next to Jenessa, spending the whole night there. Jenessa probably hadn’t slept more than two hours at a time the rest of the night without waking up to a heel in her shin.
Leigh moved to the front of the group. “They—we—are here about your property. But not just because of town history.” Leigh gave the mayor a look of expectation.
His white mustache twitched. “Very well. As you know, Founder’s Day is less than a month away—October twenty-seventh. In years past, your family used to host the Founder’s Day Gala.”
Oh dear. Already she didn’t like the direction this was headed.
“Obviously in more recent years, your parents had to step away from the gala due to their health. It’s the only annual event that’s ever fallen off our calendar under my watch.”
He was being generous. Yes, Dad’s emphysema had flared up horribly before his death. And Mom’s final relapse had led to such severe liver problems there was no undoing the damage.
But that wasn’t why the Belvilles had stopped hosting the gala. Their involvement had waned more than a decade ago right after Dad was forced to withdraw from the gubernatorial race he’d spent his career building up to. Word had gotten out about the degenerative disease, how he’d tried to mislead voters, and his campaign had died before it’d even gotten off the ground.
At least that time he hadn’t blamed his public disgrace on her.
She laced her fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “Mayor Milt, I hope you’re not about to suggest—”
“It’s not a suggestion, Jen. It’s a heartfelt request. We’d like to revive the gala, and we have a specific reason for asking. We just found out Maple Valley is going to be featured in the November issue of Iowa History, so it’s the perfect opportunity to talk about Founder’s Day and our town history. We could invite the writer of the article to attend, take photos. Just think of it, your childhood home, your mother’s gardens—you could make the cover.”
“But, Mayor, you don’t understand. Those gardens—”
“Don’t you have Lucas Danby working on them?”
Wow, leave it to Maple Valley to get that news circulated in speedy fashion.
“I know it’s a nervy request,” Leigh piped in. “But you wouldn’t have to coordinate the actual event. We’re just asking to host it in your yard. Our Plan B is the town square, and we’ll all completely understand if you’d rather not—”
“Speak for yourself,” the mayor grumbled with a good-natured grin.
Leigh gave him an exaggerated look of reproof before turning back to Jen. “I’d be handling all the details. The catering, the decorations, the promotion.”
“And you’d be helping us out tremendously.” Mayor Milt hopped down from his stool. “Landing the feature story in Iowa History is a big deal. You’re a journalist, Ms. Belville. You know this. I want to make a splash.”
But to do so, she’d have to take down that For Sale sign in her yard. At least temporarily. How would it impact Lucas’s timeline? He’d said Noah was in town for four or five weeks. Could they finish their cleanup and landscaping work in a month’s time?
“Uh, Jen?” Paige ducked her head through the pressroom door. “You’re needed.”
Something with the kids? She offered her visitors an apologetic shrug and stepped into the newsroom. She halted. “Oh my word. That smell.”
Paige’s dramatic nod accompanied her crossed arms. “My brown-nosing efforts only stretch so far, boss. I draw the line at changing dirty diapers.”
That pungent smell didn’t indicate dirty. It indicated a full-on explosion. Lovely. She crossed to her office in the corner. “Sorry, Paige. You shouldn’t have been stuck babysitting in the first place.”
Hopefully she wouldn’t need to bring all three kids to work many more days. She had a meeting with the junior high principal later today, which meant Colie’s school situation would be figured out soon. And she’d set up an appointment with the elementary school principal tomorrow.
As for Cade . . . well, she’d ponder that pickle later. Preferably when it wasn’t deadline day. When she didn’t have a cluster of townspeople gathered in the pressroom.
And when she wasn’t surrounded by a deadly stench. She pulled Cade from the port-a-crib and made quick work of the cleanup. Violet was still perfectly content watching her cartoon, and Colie had a book open.
“All right, buddy,” she said as she snapped Cade’s cute little corduroys. “Now when I shoo all those people out of the pressroom, hopefully no one will pass out from the smell.”
As if he understood her words, he gave her a grin and a giggle. Man, she was a sucker for those two tiny bottom teeth of his. And the way Violet was leaned over Jen’s desk, her chin propped in her fist—just adorable. And Colie with her book . . .
Jenessa’s first official day as the temporary guardian of the Hollis children might’ve gotten off to a hectic start. She might not have any idea what to expect for the rest of the week. When she was going to find time to shop for school supplies. What she’d fix for supper tonight.
But she knew—she knew—this was right.
“Why are you staring at me?” Colie’s sarcastic voice cut in.
Jenessa felt the width and warmth of her own smile. “Because you guys make me happy, Colie. That’s why.”
For once, the girl didn’t scowl. Rolled her eyes, yes, but the lack of glower felt like progress.
Jenessa propped Cade on her hip and prepared to face the mayor and his gathered crowd once more. But she stopped in her office door, catching sight of the framed photo atop a filing cabinet—Mom and Dad and herself. Taken almost twenty-five years ago, it showed Dad still hale and hearty and Mom wearing one of her glitzier dresses. Some campaign occasion, surely, back when Jenessa had still been allowed to attend.