Jess was beginning to agree. In fact, she was finding him very hard to resist.
Maybe she needed to try harder.
“Which room would you like to start on today?”
They had finished the family room/den area, Jack Whitaker’s office and several of the bedrooms. She would probably be able to wrap things up by Monday if they worked hard at it.
Usually at this stage in a job, she couldn’t wait to finish and was already excited about helping someone else. This time, she was trying hard not to drag her feet.
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to make up my mind about anything these days.”
The older woman looked pale in the morning light, Jess thought. Maybe she had had a few too many glasses of wine the night before. Or maybe she hadn’t slept well. Jess knew Eleanor suffered from insomnia, probably missing the husband she had slept beside every night for more than forty years.
“What would you suggest?” Eleanor asked.
“We still have a few more closets, the outdoor shed, the kitchen and your bedroom. Maybe we should start on Jack’s side of your closet.”
The two had a huge walk-in closet. So far, six months after Jack’s death, all of his clothing still hung neatly in his half, gathering dust.
A spasm of deep grief creased Eleanor’s features. “Not yet. I know I need to but...not yet. What about my craft room?” she suggested quickly. “I have projects in there from years ago and more material and yarn than I can ever use.”
Jess didn’t have the heart to push the matter. If Eleanor wasn’t ready to clear out her husband’s clothing, this last tangible link to the man she loved, Jess wouldn’t force her. Yes, that might mean she had to leave part of her job here at Whitaker House undone. So be it.
Like the ocean, grief had its own timetable, its own rhythm and flow.
“The craft room it is. I was thinking maybe we could donate some of the supplies you don’t want to the county women’s shelter.”
“Oh, what an excellent idea! Crafting and sewing can be so cathartic.”
It turned into truly a delightful morning. Energized by the idea of helping out the shelter, Eleanor was witty and full of stories.
After a few hours, she started to flag but pulled over her craft chair and continued helping Jess sort through the bins and boxes in the room while telling her about the amazing trip she and Jack had taken through Europe the year before his cancer diagnosis.
“He really said that to the shopkeeper in Paris?”
“She was so rude to him. Accusing him of shoplifting, just because her perfume bottles weren’t in perfect order! My husband was the most honest man you could ever meet. I wish you had been able to meet him. He would have simply adored you, just as the rest of us do.”
She smiled, touched at Eleanor’s open affection. The woman really was a dear. She would miss her so much when she left.
It wasn’t as if she might never see her again. Unlike most of her clients, Eleanor lived in a town where Jess had family ties. When she came back to visit Cody and Rachel, she could always stop here at Whitaker House and visit Eleanor.
It wouldn’t be the same as these long days they had enjoyed together since she came to town. Jess would be like Eleanor’s old friend from out of town, meeting up with her for dinner or lunch when she made it to town for one of the holidays or one of the children’s birthdays.
She tried not to let that realization sadden her.
They worked hard most of the morning and made a good start in the craft room. Jess was just about to suggest they take a break when she heard the kitchen door open.
“Hello?” a masculine voice called. Jess froze, her stomach doing idiotic backflips.
“Oh, that will be Nathaniel,” Eleanor said with a smile. “Did I tell you I texted him earlier to ask if he can help carry my old sewing machine table and all the extra bins of material for the shelter to your truck?”
“Um, no. You didn’t mention it.”
“I thought some of those things might be too heavy for you to handle on your own, my dear. I wish I could be more help, but it’s good I have a strong son to call upon.”
Jess swallowed back her protest. Her entire job consisted of lifting heavy things by herself. She had been doing this for years and was much stronger than she looked, plus she knew the value of a good hand truck and the ramp she kept in the back of her pickup truck. Still, Eleanor was the boss.
“Great.” Jess forced a smile. “I’m sure with Nate’s help, we can make short work of it.”
“We’re in the craft room, darling,” Eleanor called. A moment later, Nate poked his head through the doorway. He met her gaze first and for some ridiculous reason, Jess could feel her face heat. She had to hope neither he nor his mother noticed.
“How’s it going in here?”
“We’ve made so much progress,” Eleanor said cheerfully. “Well, Jess has made progress. I’m mostly sitting here like a lump and telling her what to do with things.”
“It looks great.”
“Thank you for coming over on your lunch hour. I know how busy you are,” Eleanor said. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you two load up Jess’s truck with the sewing machine and the boxes while I make us all lunch.”
Nate glanced at his watch. “I don’t have a lot of time, Mom. I have to get back to the library job. I’ve got three different subcontractors working there today.”
Jess again wanted to tell both Whitakers she didn’t really need help but that would sound churlish after he had made the time to drive home in the middle of the day.
“You have to eat,” his mother said. “I can have a club sandwich for you by the time you come back in.”
He looked resigned. “All right. Thanks. Where is the stuff we’re taking?”
“The sewing machine and everything stacked to the right of the hallway is going to the women’s shelter in Redding. Jess is driving it over today. They’re thrilled with the donation.”
“What a good idea.”
“Isn’t it?” His mother beamed. “I can’t claim credit. It was Jess’s idea. I never would have thought of it but it’s genius. If there are things they don’t want, they can sell it in their charity shop.”
“I’ll grab my hand truck. It shouldn’t take us long.” Jess hurried out to her pickup. By the time she returned, Nate was already on his way out of the house with his arms full of boxes.
“Am I loading them any particular way?”
“No. I’ll make two trips. Goodwill can wait until tomorrow.”