She swallowed, willing her scrambled thoughts into some kind of order. “Sure.”
“You mentioned your aunt a minute ago. You brought her up at the cottage yesterday, too. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard you talk about her before the past few days.”
“My Aunt Lauren lived in the cottage when I was a kid. She was kind of like a second mom to me. A best friend, really. I spent a ton of time in that cottage with her.” Even after she’d left, Jenessa had found herself escaping to the little house out back.
Until the day Mom had found her out there, messing around with Aunt Lauren’s old camera. She’d taken away the camera, made Jen come back to the house. And the next time she’d gone out to the cottage, the lock had been changed.
“She left when I was twelve,” she went on. “I never knew why. Or where she went.” Only that something had happened. Something that had caused her dad to yell and her mother to sob in a way she’d never heard before.
But in the days that followed, it’d all been swept away. Her parents had refused to talk about whatever had happened. They’d avoided her questions, waved off her emotions. “Stop overreacting, Jen. Lauren’s always been flighty. She’s on to her next whim. Enough with the tearful theatrics. Don’t be so emotional.”
Mom had done the verbal scolding, but Dad’s constant expression of irritation had been just as potent. She’d done her best to save her tears for nighttime. But months later, without so much as a single call from her aunt, she’d broken down during one of Dad’s campaign events.
“She’s a liability, Granger.”
Her fingernails dug into her palms as she willed the memory away. She lowered to the balcony floor, moving to the edge and letting her legs dangle through the openings between railings.
“You haven’t seen her since then?” Lucas sat beside her.
She shook her head. “I found her years ago. Wasn’t hard. But no matter how many times I’ve tried reaching out, she apparently doesn’t want anything to do with me. Of course, I’ve never gone so far as to show up on her doorstep or anything, but . . . I just don’t get it. We were so close. I really thought . . .”
That she loved me as much as I loved her. Maybe even needed Jenessa. They were the same. They were the family members who didn’t quite fit in with their austere surroundings.
“She was really artsy and had like a dozen hobbies. Photography, sculpting, painting, she could do it all.”
“Oh, that explains the table at the cottage. It’s got dabs of paint all over it.”
She remembered that table. Remembered it well. So many days spent sitting beside her aunt—doing crafts together, eating sugary snacks Mom never would’ve allowed if she’d known.
“Is she the one who painted the shutters that bright blue?”
Jenessa nodded with a wistful grin. “Mom and Dad were not exactly happy about that.” But Aunt Lauren had insisted the cottage needed the color. Had even tried talking Mom and Dad into painting the trim of the mansion in the same shade. Her grin faded. “Anyway, I tried one more letter recently. I thought surely she wouldn’t be able to ignore a handwritten letter. But it came back. Return to sender. That was Friday.”
Understanding brushed over Lucas’s expression. “The day you decided to sell the house.”
“I guess that’s the real reason I put it off for so long. For years I let myself think that she’d return someday. That maybe . . .” But she was done with that particular someday, that unlikely maybe. Her parents might’ve been the ones to push Aunt Lauren away, but the fact remained that Jenessa wasn’t reason enough for her to stay. Or return. “Anyway, now I’ve let the mayor talk me into stalling again.”
She’d explained the whole situation to Lucas earlier—the promise she’d made to Mayor Milt not to sell the house until after Founder’s Day, to let him revive the gala and host it here at the end of October.
“If I know you, Jenessa Belville,” he said now, “and I’m pretty sure I do, I think there’s probably a piece of you that doesn’t entirely hate the thought of having some big party out on the back lawn, complete with lights and a working fountain and fancy little appetizers.”
She slid him a glance. “Is that what you think?”
“I think you might even like the idea.”
Perhaps there’d been a minute when Mayor Milt was talking this morning that she’d started picturing the gardens as they used to be—lush with autumn flowers and hardy plants, solar lights tracing the walking path, and lanterns hanging from brushed-nickel stands scattered throughout.
“You do realize that by me agreeing to this, I’ve put your backyard mission on a timeline?”
“Lucky for you I work all the better under pressure.”
It was lucky for her. Everything about Lucas Danby’s presence in her life lately was an unexpected gift.
“I’m really glad you didn’t go back to Mexico this fall, Lucas.”
He didn’t reply. Didn’t move his eyes from whatever far-off point in the moonlit landscape they’d latched on to.
Until a pair of headlights cut into the dark, turning into the drive of Belville Park.
“He came back,” he murmured, rising, turning to the window.
And Jenessa couldn’t help wishing Noah had waited just a little longer.
Lucas trod through the garden, ignoring the pathway, not bothering to sidestep the ropey, limp sunflower vines. He kicked a tipped bush out of the way and marched to the cottage.
He could run away from Jen, but he couldn’t escape the impact of her words.
“I’m really glad you didn’t go back to Mexico this fall, Lucas.”
Sam was right. He was going to hurt her, wasn’t he? She assumed because he hadn’t left when he usually did, it meant he was staying long-term. But no, he was going to leave and the same pain that she’d felt when her aunt had abandoned her would needle her again.
Except not the same. Whatever his own feelings, he and Jen were friends. Only friends.
She and her aunt—they’d had some kind of special bond. He’d heard it in her wavering voice as she’d talked. Now he understood why she didn’t bring her up more often.
He passed his truck, parked at a careless angle in front of the cottage, and barged through the front door.
Noah was sprawled on the couch, a McDonald’s bag next to him. “Hey.”
Lucas stopped a few feet in front of him. “Hey? Hey? You disappear for the whole day and that’s your greeting now?”
“I got extra fries in case—”
“Did it occur to you that I might need my truck? That I was waiting on those saw blades? That even though I have very little reason to like you at this point, I might’ve been worried?” He combed his fingers through his long hair as Noah simply stared at him. What could he say to get through to the guy?
Noah stuffed a fry in his mouth.
“I don’t know what your deal is, Noah. I don’t know what you’ve been through and I sure as heck don’t know what you need.” He towed off his sweatshirt and held out his arms. “But if you think you’re the only one who’s been through something horrific, take a good look at me.”