“Look, no one says you have to do anything that makes you feel unsafe,” Hillary said.
“That’s the thing. I mean, he touched me, but he didn’t hurt me. It was just confusing, you know.” She didn’t give voice to what had really upset her. How in that moment she’d felt a jolt of unwanted attraction.
How could she possibly be attracted to Topher Martin? How could she be attracted to a man who thought it was okay to grab her like that? Down deep, a familiar shame churned in her gut.
She pushed the uncomfortable feeling away and focused on the important thing: She was not stupid enough to be attracted to the myth of the big strong man. But she wasn’t ready to talk about the way Topher made her feel, not even to Hillary.
So she changed the subject. “It’s not just him, you know. It’s…everything.”
“What?”
Reluctantly, she told her friend about Colton’s suggestion that they give the gossips of Magnolia Harbor something to talk about.
Hillary laughed.
“You’re laughing at me? Really?”
“Yeah, but in a good way.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Honey, when are you going to realize that Colton St. Pierre checks off every box on the husband-material list.”
“Stop.” Jessica climbed out of her VW and slammed the door. “I know what you’re about to say, but you’re wrong. I’m not in love with Colton, and I’m not looking for a husband. I know you’ve found wedded bliss, but that’s not for me.”
“Sweetie, do you even know what love is?”
That stopped her. Did she know? Probably not. She’d never really been loved. And she’d never been in love. She’d had a few bed buddies, so she was no longer the little virgin who’d been sent away to a tough-love school for troubled teens. But relationships were complicated.
“Look, this is not about me being in love, okay? It’s about me trying to salvage my friendship with Colton. Just the other day, he took my landlady out to dinner, and I’m thinking I should try to encourage that. You know, find him a wife. Because once he’s married, we could lay the gossip to rest and just be friends.”
“Are you out of your mind? You want to start matchmaking?”
“Well, okay, when you put it that way, it’s kind of over the top. But if Colton checks off every box on the husband-material list, then he deserves to have a wife, right?”
“Yeah. But—”
“My landlady is single.”
“Oh, please. Don’t go there.”
“I’m serious. She’s, like, the best-looking single woman in town. And she’s got a business, and she’s nice, and she’s perfect.”
“You’re perfect.” The piercing wail of an infant interrupted Hillary’s well-worn sermon on the subject of Colton St. Pierre. “Damn. The heir is up and needs milk. Hang on a sec,” Hillary said.
“How is the darling boy?” Jessica asked.
“He weighs fifteen pounds and he’s cutting a tooth.” Hillary’s voice sounded soft.
Jessica continued into the house, down the hall, and out to the back porch. She sank down into one of the Adirondack chairs and watched the surf as it pounded the shore. She loved the back porch on her grandmother’s house.
“I’m back. So, I would not recommend matchmaking,” Hillary said, “unless you’re matching your own self up with Colton.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right about the matchmaking part. I’ll just let nature take its course on that. Kerri is gorgeous and successful.” She blew out a sigh. “And in the meantime, I’m in trouble. I may fail at this business, and I may have to sell MeeMaw’s house.”
“No, you are not in trouble. You are a strong woman making a place for yourself in the world and facing challenges you will overcome.”
“Right, and I let an overbearing jerk scare me today.”
“So go back and face him.”
“You think that’s wise?”
“My opinion doesn’t matter. Look, I don’t know the guy. If you think he’s going to attack you or hurt you or something like that, then stay far, far away. But if this was just a freak-out panic attack, then you should go face your fear.”
Jessica watched the waves for a long time. “Maybe it was bad memories of that time in the locker room. I don’t like him much. He was the quarterback of the football team who spread all that gossip about me. And he was friends with the running back who cornered me in the locker room that time and then turned around a few months later and called me a slut in front of half the student body.”
“Okay, there is that. So here’s the choice. Walk away if he truly makes you feel unsafe. Or you could just make him pay a whole lot for this house he wants.”
“He’s paying me double my regular rate.”
“Oh, honey, you should have asked for more than that.”
“You’re suggesting revenge?”
“Well, maybe. I prefer to call it justice. You could build him a lemon or something.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re the nicest person I know.”
Jessica leaned back and let go of a long breath. “I’m really not that nice. On the inside.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Oh, well, it probably doesn’t matter. He hated my design.”
“Look, sweetie, I know what you’re thinking. I know the voice that comes at you when you’re most vulnerable, telling you that you’re no damn good, will never be any good, and are destined to fail. But you know that voice is wrong, right?”
“Yeah.” She said the word, and she knew Hillary was right, but it didn’t change the way she felt.
When she ended her call with Hillary, Jessica decided not to go back to work. She didn’t have any projects now that the Martin residence had blown up in her face, and she certainly wasn’t in the right frame of mind to think about marketing.
What she needed was a hard run or a long swim, or she could just put on her overalls and start painting the upstairs hallway.
She’d finally decided on a color called “butterfly yellow,” which was rich and sunny and reminded her of MeeMaw. She hoped MeeMaw wouldn’t mind this new coat of paint. As it was, there were some things Jessica had trouble touching or changing about the house. Like the collection of Limoges figurines on the bureau in the master bedroom.
Those little porcelain figures of French aristocrats in their wigs, knee britches, and big, elaborate dresses were about as far away from Jessica’s design preferences as knickknacks could get. And yet they had been MeeMaw’s treasures, so they stayed on the bureau.
The hallway was merely a passage from one room to another, so it didn’t hold a ton of memories. A few weeks ago, Jessica had started patching and sanding the walls, and they were ready for paint.
She got to work, rolling the sunny new color onto the walls, the Zen of the work emptying her brain for a few hours. By the time she’d finished, cleaned her brushes, and showered the paint splatter off her skin and out of her hair, she was in the right frame of mind to listen to the voice message Topher had left hours ago.