“Yes.”
She sighed. “Why did Chief Herrin have to bring you home then?”
Jess’s dark eyes stormed, and Janey hardly recognized her son. “There were some guys spray painting on the building. But it wasn’t me, Mom. I swear.”
At least he’d told her. Adam had said he couldn’t get anything out of Jess. “I believe you.” She stood. “Come on. Do you still want to go get Dixie and go out to the farm?”
He got up and Janey noticed how tall he’d gotten. How gangly. How skinny. She brushed his hair off his forehead and for a moment, she saw the hint of her little boy. This almost-teenager was still her Jess. Her son. Almost a clone of Matt if not for Janey’s softer jaw and lighter eyes.
“Sorry, Mom.” He hugged her, and Janey held on tight-tight, hoping he’d always come to her when he had problems.
“You can talk to me, you know.” She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “About stuff.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to look at everything on your phone.”
“I know.”
“Nothing going on there? You’re being responsible with what you say and what you’re looking at?”
“Yes, Mom.” His tone suggested an eye-roll, so Janey just nodded. She’d look and then she’d know anyway.
“All right. Let’s go.”
Forty minutes later, Dixie spilled from the backseat of Janey’s Jeep, still jabbering about her day. Jess went with her, and after Dixie unceremoniously dumped her backpack on the front porch of the white farmhouse, they ran off into the lavender fields behind it.
Janey smiled, a thought flashing through her mind. She pulled out her phone and sent Adam a text. He said he did see those kids spray painting, but that it wasn’t him.
I’m glad he told you. Adam’s text came back quickly, and she wondered where he was, what he was doing, if maybe he’d like to come out to the lavender farm and talk face-to-face with her. But she wasn’t going to ask him that.
Thank you for bringing him home. She bit her bottom lip, wondering what to do with the weird, skippy pulse in her chest. She’d already asked Adam to keep an eye on Jess. That should’ve been enough. But strangely, Janey wanted to see Adam again. Hear his voice. He exuded comfort to her, like wrapping herself in a warm blanket.
She searched her mind for something she could ask him, anything to keep this conversation going. Are you getting ready for the Fall Festival?
Gretchen appeared on the porch, her gaze clearly asking when Janey would be coming in. She lifted her hand to say Just a sec and stared at her phone.
Getting the department ready, yes. Have you heard what the topic is for the cook-off?
Nope. She smiled just thinking about what he’d make this year. Adam entered the Fall Festival cook-off every year, and he’d won five times in the past decade alone. Last year he’d lost by less than half a point, and Janey had never seen him so crestfallen.
Soups.
Oh, I bet you’re good at that.
Not really. But I guess it’s better than chili. What’s your favorite soup?
French onion.
French onion? Really? Fascinating.
She giggled as if she were flirting with him. Which was ridiculous. She hadn’t flirted with a man in ages. And this was Adam.
What’s fascinating about that? She got out of the Jeep and started toward the porch, determined not to text away the whole afternoon with Adam. After all, he wasn’t her boyfriend.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, but she ignored it as she hugged Gretchen. “Hey,” she said. “Not working today?”
“I’ve got Suzie in the shop two afternoons a week now.” She turned and went in the farmhouse. “It’s nice to have a few hours to get things done.”
Her fiancé, Drew, sat on the couch, his phone a few inches from his face.
“Do you need glasses?” she asked, about a dozen other questions piling up in her mind. He looked like a lighter version of Adam, and she realized she had access to a source about the man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for an hour now. Was he dating anyone? Would he be interested in her? Why hadn’t he ever gotten married? He was successful in his career, smart, kind, a good cook, extremely good-looking.... So what was wrong with him?
“Yeah, I might.” Drew dropped his phone and looked at her. “Jess out back?”
“Yeah, I sent him with Dixie.”
“I’ll go see if they want to go out to the wishing well.” He stood, and Janey lifted her hand.
“Adam brought him home today.”
Drew paused, his eyes searching Janey’s. Gretchen joined him, a united front against Janey. “Why’d he do that?” she asked.
“I guess he was with some kids at the skate park that were vandalizing a building. It wasn’t Jess, but....” Janey sighed. “Maybe just see if Jess says anything about it and let me know?”
Drew’s surprise melted away. “Sure thing. He’s a great kid, Janey.”
She nodded and Drew left, and Gretchen moved into the kitchen. “You want some lemonade?” She pulled out the pitcher and got down two glasses.
Janey sat at the bar and accepted the glass of lemonade Gretchen pushed her way. She picked a pink straw from the assortment presented to her and looked at Gretchen.
“What if I was interested in dating again?”
Gretchen choked and slopped lemonade over the side of her glass. She wiped her mouth and goggled at Janey. “You’ve got to give me some warning.”
Janey smiled and shook her head as Gretchen turned to get a towel to wipe up the mess. She took a peek at her phone and found Adam’s response. It’s so sophisticated. I mean, not that you’re not sophisticated. I guess I just figured you’d like something more rustic. Like what they serve at the lodge. Beef stew. Or clam chowder.
I do like clam chowder, she typed out as Gretchen sat beside her.
“You’re texting him?”
Janey didn’t look up as she finished her text. And they serve French onion at the lodge. That’s where I first fell in love with it.
“What are you talking about?”
Janey waited to send the message. “Soup. It’s the theme for the Fall Festival cook-off.”
Gretchen sipped her lemonade, one eye still on the text. “Soups, huh? Seems like Adam could win that pretty easily.”
Janey’s stomach tossed and turned. “Am I crazy if I want to go out with Adam?” By the time she finished speaking, her voice had dropped to a whisper. She tilted the phone so Gretchen could easily read the texts. “Should I ask him if he wants to come up to the lodge and try the French onion soup?”
Her whole face heated in the few seconds it took for Gretchen to read the brief text exchange. She lifted her lemonade and gulped it, trying to cool off.
“You both grew up here,” Gretchen said. “It would be easy to invite him up to the lodge without making it sound like a date. Then you can feel him out.”
Nothing Adam had ever said or done had ever sent Janey the message that he was interested in her. In anyone, really. Not that she’d really paid that much attention to him and his dating habits, who he went out with, or anything to do with his love life.
She sent what she’d already typed out and continued with You should come up to the lodge and try it. It’s good.
She showed it to Gretchen. “Good?”
“Totally good. It’s not an invitation to eat it with you.”
“I work at the lodge.”
“No, you work as a ranger at the lodge.”
Janey rolled her eyes. “Same thing. I’m on the premises.” Janey worked with guests at the lodge one day a week, giving tours of the nearby forests and the lake. She taught environmental classes and took groups out to the tallest trees in the Olympic National Forest.
As part of her job, she also collected samples, both water and organic, kept track of the wildlife in the park, and wrote reports on the impact of humans on the environment. She loved her work at the lodge, and she’d put in many years
working information desks before she’d been promoted to more of a environmentalist and researcher than a ranger who worked with the public.
When’s a good time?
She read Adam’s text out loud and looked at Gretchen with wide eyes. “What—? How do I respond to that?”
Gretchen laughed and swiped Janey’s phone from her. “You’ve been out of the dating game for a while. Let me.” Her fingers flew over the screen, and Janey thought she’d at least get to preview the message before Gretchen sent it. But nope. She touched her thumb down in the bottom right corner of the screen, and said, “There,” before handing the phone back.
Janey’s heart bumped and thumped as she read. The lodge is open seven days a week for lunch and dinner. If you wanted to eat with me, I’ll have to consult my schedule.
She blinked, sure the words hadn’t been ordered properly. “Gretchen,” she said, a slight whine in her voice as her phone buzzed again.
I want to eat with you. When’s a good time to do that?
The breath left her body. Her fingers didn’t seem capable of holding her phone any longer, because they dropped it. “He’s just being friendly,” she said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Gretchen picked up the phone and read the message. “It is hard to get the true feeling in a text. If you could see him, see his eyes, hear his voice, then you’d know.”
“Know what?”
“If he was interested in going out with you as friends, or as more.”
More.
The word haunted Janey for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. She still hadn’t answered Adam by the time she sent Jess to bed and then changed into her pajamas. Her book called to her, as did the snack mix she kept concealed in the top drawer of her nightstand. Her nightly ritual of reading and snacking on pretzels and chocolate chips had been disrupted by her churning thoughts.
“Just tell him,” she said. “Get it over with. Silence the phone. Read until you fall asleep.” Her usual routine anyway, minus the texting with a handsome man she’d been friends with her whole life.
I don’t work Wednesdays or Mondays, she typed out. I’m not usually at the lodge during dinner either, but we can go back up one night if you want.
Surely he didn’t want to. He worked long hours, and she imagined him to be the kind of man who went home to his dogs and his kitchen, happy to have a couple of hours to himself before falling asleep.
How about Friday night?
Her heart fell right to the bottom of her feet.
Friday night was date night. So he must not have a girlfriend. But what about Jess? She couldn’t just leave her son home alone at night. Completely out of her league as to what to do, Janey fired off a text to Gretchen to find out what she should do.
It seemed to take forever for her friend to answer, but when she did, Gretchen had said Call him. You’ll know then.
“Call him?” Janey’s voice sounded like she’d inhaled helium.
Taking a deep breath, she navigated back to Adam’s text chain and pressed the phone icon at the top of the screen.
Chapter Four
Adam stared at his phone as it rang once, then twice. Then reason took over and he swiped on the call from Janey. “Hey,” he said, his voice gruffer than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat, wishing he’d thought further ahead than a greeting. The texting had been going well. He could ask her out easily that way. But talking to her? His heart danced in his chest like it was trying to tango it’s way out. And his brain seemed to have decided a vacation was in order.
“Hey,” she said. “So I thought it might be easier to just call.”
“All right.” How that was easier, he wasn’t sure. He reminded himself he was nearly forty years old and could certainly talk to a woman.
“So when you say Friday night, you mean like a date? And do you want me to bring Jess, or should I get someone to stay with him?” The words poured out of her in a rush, and he couldn’t tell from the tone of her voice if a date with him was desirable or disgusting.
“Jess can come.” He pressed his eyes closed, wishing he hadn’t said that. He liked Jess a lot. Just looking at him was like looking at Matt. Was Adam selfish to want some time alone with Janey? Without a reminder of her late husband and his best friend?
“Or we can just go. It’s up to you.” He didn’t want to make things hard for her. He’d spent the last twelve years since Matt’s death trying to make everything in her life easier.
Is that why you’ve never acted on your decades-old feelings? The thought had just enough time to flood his mind before she said, “Oh, Jess hates the food at the lodge. He loves the lake and the forest, but I can’t get him to eat there.”
“So just me and you.” Adam’s hopes pinged around the living room like he’d just won the lottery.
“On Friday night.” The way she drew out the words made them seem like a question.
Adam took a deep breath and decided to lay a card or two on the table. “You can call it a date if you want,” he said. “Or not. I’ll follow your lead on that.”
Several long beats of silence filled his ears. Then her musical voice said, “I’ll let you know on Friday night.”
He chuckled, not really caring what label she put on the meal. The fact was, he had a scheduled activity with a woman—not just any woman, his mind screamed—on Friday night. No more frozen pizzas because he was too tired to cook by the end of the week. No more sitting on the couch while whatever sport happened to be in season played on the television.
They said good-bye, and Adam relaxed into the couch, a smile on his face that he couldn’t wipe away.
The next day found him directing traffic while the public works department repaired a stop light near the junior high. He wore the neon green vest and waved his arms like he was bringing in military airplanes, not making sure men and women could get to work and the grocery store.
With such a mundane chore, he was free to think through some things. As if he hadn’t spent most of the night doing that as well. He’d promised Matt he’d look after Janey and Jess if anything happened to him.
Adam could remember the conversation as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Matt and Janey were three days away from saying “I do” and Matt and Adam had gone to Seattle with a few other friends. Not really a bachelor party, as Matt liked to have a good time, but not with women and alcohol.
They’d gone bowling and seen three science fiction action movies and headed out on a friend’s sailboat.
Before anyone else had arrived, Matt and Adam had gone to dinner, and Matt had made Adam promise to take care of Janey and any family he might have if he should pass away.
Adam felt the same confusion now, waving a blue minivan through the intersection, as he had then.
“What makes you think something’s going to happen?” he’d asked.
“I don’t think that.” Matt had eaten an entire order of fried cheese by himself. The man loved junk food, and Adam made the fried cheese sticks every year on the anniversary of his friend’s death.
“Then where is this coming from?”
“You know Janey,” Matt said. “I just want to make sure someone’s there, taking care of things if something happens to me.”
So Adam had promised. The other men had shown up soon after that, and the weekend had continued as normal.
But when Matt died only a year later, Adam couldn't help wondering if Matt really had known something. Felt something. A premonition, perhaps. It didn’t matter. Adam had promised him he’d take care of Janey, and he had.
Every time he asked if she needed something, she said no. So he’d stopped asking in the first six months. After that, he simply took a meal, a package of diapers, or a gift card to the superstore over to her house and left it on the front porch.
As Jess grew, the offerings Adam had left changed too. A scooter on the boy’s fifth birthday. A baseball bat and mitt and ball on his eighth. He thought he’d done a decent jo
b acting surprised whenever Jess or Janey told him about the gifts left by their “anonymous angel,” as Janey had been calling him for a decade.
His chest tightened. If he was going to have a real relationship with her, he’d have to tell her he was the angel. Tell her about the promise he’d made to Matt. Tell her about his crush on her in high school—and beyond.
Are you ready to do that?
He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing: He was ready to do something different. He preached to his men about not passing judgment on those they came in contact with. That everyone had bad days and everyone made stupid decisions sometimes. That there was always the chance to fix things, do better the next day, try something new.
His phone buzzed in his front pocket, and he finished motioning a stream of cars through the intersection before checking it.
Trent, one of his officers, had said, Sarah wants to know what you want for lunch from the Anchor.
His stomach growled, and he wondered how much longer the public works guys needed to get this stoplight working.
“The whole ham,” he dictated into his phone while waving one arm to get a red sedan to keep moving. “With those vinegar chips.” He could put in an extra ten minutes on the beach tomorrow morning. The dogs never minded, and Adam sure did love a bag of vinegar chips.
He didn’t really care if he gained weight or not. It was public perception that mattered. And the people of Hawthorne Harbor wanted a Chief of Police that was big, brawny, and bold. Adam was determined to be the man the citizens wanted him to be; he would not let them down if there ever came a time when he needed to use his physicality to keep someone safe.
“Twenty more minutes,” one of the public works men yelled from his position next to the utility truck.
Adam nodded to show he’d heard, deciding all this arm-waving counted as the additional exercise he needed to eat vinegar chips.
“Come on, guys,” he said the following morning. Friday morning. Which meant Friday night was only a few short hours away. He cleared the smile from his face. “Trent wants you with the crew today.” The dogs jumped into the cruiser, filling the entire back seat.