Chapter 10
Jessica
Two days later, Jessica met Lenny for dinner at Real Foods, a restaurant popular with the organic oat-milk and veggie crowd, where the Impossible Burger had replaced the bacon cheeseburger and milk and dairy were all but banned.
They sat in the back as the babble of animated conversations filled the air, almost every table taken. Guitars hung on sea-salt-gray walls, symbolizing Nashville’s reputation as “Music City”. Low-hanging contemporary fixtures gave the warmly lit restaurant a trendy feel. The scent of tasty food being cooked hung in the air.
Lenny was immaculately attired—as usual—in a long-sleeved blue shirt and crisply pressed slacks. Hair: perfection.
Jessica had hugged him tight after spying him waiting for her. But despite her brother’s company and the cheerful environment, she couldn’t help but still feel down. The debt collector from C&C had called again and she had less than three weeks to pay the outstanding money she owed.
She had some savings in her SEP IRA that could ward off the day-to-day bills for at least a month. If only she could somehow land that damn Buchanan account. She still felt the burn of losing that job. Would Paul’s scheme help? She had no idea.
“Haley let you out of prison for a few hours?” Jessica asked as they surveyed their menus.
“It’s not prison,” Lenny said, then looked at his Fitbit. “But I do have to be back by nine.”
“Sounds like prison to me,” she laughed. “And how are the little ones these days?”
“Ah, the little ones. Today, Dylan fell off a climbing bar at the park. He was way up high, too.”
Jessica furrowed her brow. “Did he hurt himself?”
“He’s okay. But he had the breath knocked out of him and didn’t cry or breathe for about ten seconds. Thank God for mulched playgrounds.”
“Oh, man.”
“I was so worried I think I turned white.”
“You’re already white, Lenny,” Jessica said dryly.
The waiter came by and filled their glasses with spring water. Lenny flashed a smile that Jessica knew all too well, signaling to her that this meeting wasn’t for nothing.
“Breaking news?” she said. She picked up a fork and wiped it clean with her napkin. “Did you win the lottery?”
“Far from it. Look.”
Lenny pulled up a picture on his phone and showed it to her. Jessica gasped. There was her father, standing beside three women. One was older and looked to be around his age, and the other two looked like they were her daughters, around college age. The older woman was a willowy blonde with short hair, a straight nose, and misshapen front teeth. They were all smiling brightly into the camera.
“Who are all those women with . . . ?” And then it dawned on her a second later, before Lenny even said it.
“Meet Dad’s new girlfriend,” he announced.
Jessica’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way. Something hot flashed across the back of her neck.
“We talked yesterday. I extracted the truth out of him. It was like pulling teeth but I finally got him to tell me. He sent me this photo and everything. Dad’s in love, Jess. Believe it or not. The man’s head over heels.”
“I’m . . . I’m floored,” was all she could say.
So, it wasn’t cancer at all. Nothing like that.
“And that’s why he’s not coming home for Christmas,” Lenny explained. “He wants to stay in London to be with his new love and her family. Her name’s Evelyn Smartt, a physician. She’s got two daughters, Alexa and Becca.”
“Why didn’t he just come out with it before?” Jessica asked. And why did her life feel like a massive crossword puzzle in which she was missing half the letters?
“He was too embarrassed to tell you, and he actually wanted to wait until he saw us in person.”
That made sense—she guessed.
“Dad, the ladies’ man.” Jessica stared at the photo, shaking her head. “My, my. I never thought I’d see the day.” She frowned. “I just hope he doesn’t get hurt.” Like me. Her feelings of protectiveness for her father rose to the surface. Who was this woman?
“He looks happy,” Lenny said. “And he deserves this. Ever since Mom left . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Mom, right.” Jessica spoke with disdain.
Lenny waved his hand in the air with a flick of the wrist, the way Mom used to do. He made his voice sound like hers. “I am leaving this family because I have to, and if I do not, I will go crazy. You do not want a crazy mother on your hands, do you?”
Jessica laughed. His imitation was spot on. “I’m surprised Mom didn’t get Drinker of the Year when she lived with us. She was just so depressed all the time.”
Lenny nodded. “Dad tried his best too.”
They’d talked about it often.
“Mom, you’re supposed to drink orange juice in the morning,” Jessica had said to her once when she was eating breakfast in her bathrobe. She’d poured red wine into the juice glass sitting next to her plate.
She’d replied with a shrug, “Oh, that’s wine, isn’t it? Oh, well. Orange juice, wine—what’s the diff’?”
“Pairing Chadonnay with Cheerios,” Jessica said. “That was Mom.”
The thing was, when she left them for her new lover, she’d stopped drinking almost entirely. In their last conversation, she’d told Jessica and Lenny that her new man “filled her up,” and she no longer craved the booze. They had driven her to drink. Jessica always felt soaked with sadness whenever she thought about it. The woman was just not cut out for motherhood, Jessica had always thought. Most were, but some weren’t.
“I was always afraid for her when she was around the knives in the kitchen,” Jessica said. “And for us, too.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I think she was practicing to be a character in some Stephen King novel for a while there. Did you like Mom better drunk or sober?”
“Good question.” Lenny pointed a finger in the air. “Drunk, at least she was funny at times. Sober? She was Ice Woman, always on the verge of melting down. She was just so fragile.”
Ultimately, their mother’s leaving the family felt like more of a landslide of emotions than a black hole. They’d all known it was coming, the way animals sense earthquakes. It was in the wind and on the ground.
Their mom sent them cards and phoned every once in a blue moon, promising to re-establish herself with her children one day. But that day had never come. Jessica had learned to accept it, though deep inside, she was still hoping for contact and, truth be told, she still missed her mother in ways that she couldn’t quite define.
When Jessica gave the waitress her order, Lenny smiled. “I’m impressed by your restraint. Matcha tea? No alcohol? That’s quite a difference for a party girl like you.”
He ordered a pomegranate margarita.
“I’m trying, Lenny,” she said. “After my Turkey Trot scenario, I really am.” She hadn’t given alcohol up entirely, but she had cut back dramatically. “And I’ve decided to work out on my own.”
“And how’s it going?” Lenny asked.
Jessica looked away. “Not good. I’ve been looking at some yoga YouTube videos, though.”
“Great. Pushing the buttons on your remote must burn at least two calories. How about push-ups? Jogging? Lifting? Biking? Stretching? Sweating to the Oldies?”
“None of the above, I’m afraid. I’m just too busy. Damn.” She clenched her jaw thinking about her business. “I feel like I could kick something right about now.”
“Try kickboxing class.”
She shot him a skeptical look. “Right.”
Jessica felt another one of those little stop-start heartbeats—a skip and a stutter. Once, twice, three times. The doctor said she might still have small episodes from time to time, but even so, she didn’t understand why. She’d taken her medication this morning. Couldn’t they just fix the problem?
“Any news on the dating front? Inquiring minds want to know,” Lenny said a minute later, a smile gracing his lips.
“Huh? Oh.” Jessica shook her head. “That? None at all, actually.”
Her brother peered at her. She returned his gaze with a blank expression. He punched a button on his high-tech watch, which, for some reason, beeped three times. Was it saying he needed an oil change?
“I was thinking by now you’d be making at least a little headway, you know? I hope you’re still not wallowing over Adam. Please say no.” He furrowed his brow. “And why are you blushing like that?”
“In all honesty, Len,” Jessica said, folding her arms across her chest, “I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to start over in the relationship business anytime soon. And I’m not wallowing. Tearfully regretting would be a better way to put it.”
“So, no one new then? Nothing on the horizon?”
“Not at all.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because.” Jessica took a long breath. “I’m still getting over all the pain that Adam caused me.”
Ever since Adam had left, Lenny had been overly concerned about Jessica’s love life. She knew he felt sorry for her, protective, worried even, but still . . . must he be so focused on it? The memory came surging back, Adam’s resolute expression that crazy morning in early May.
“So, you are wallowing,” Lenny said. “It’s been, what, five months?”
Jessica swallowed. “Six. And, no, I just said I’m tearfully regretting, Len. Big difference.”
“Hmm.” He pressed his lips together. “Sounds like wallowing to me.”
“Plus, I’m always working anyway.” She tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ears, then waved an arm in the air. “Marketing, creating new accounts, managing.” She shook her head. “I don’t have the time.”
Right now, she had at least fifty unread emails in her inbox.
“But, if you must know . . .”
“Yes?” Lenny leaned in closer.
“I am going on a fake date,” she said with a sordid smile.
Lenny froze in the act of picking up his pomegranate margarita.
“Say what? ”
“That trainer guy I met at the race, the one who carried me off to the medical tent? We’re going on a fake dinner date,” she said.
“Will there be fake food?” Lenny asked.
“I hope not.”
Jessica laid out the scheme Paul had planned, the ins and outs of their covert operation. Yesterday, Paul had texted her the time and place he’d arranged with Mr. Buchanan and his wife, two days from now at a restaurant in the Gulch. It was crazy, ridiculous, and exciting all at once. She smiled inside at the prospect of going through with it. She hoped she could convince Mr. Buchanan to at least consider her company, and that her acting skills were enough to pull it off. Trouble was, what acting skills?
When she was done, Lenny said, “Wow. That’s an interesting take.” He took a long sip of margarita and narrowed his eyes. “Man. That’s so lucky he knows him, and so kind of him to set it up.”
“Absolutely,” Jessica agreed. Maybe Paul was right. If she could just get a chance to meet Mr. Buchanan and talk to him . . .
Finally, their waitress took their order.
“I’ll have the teriyaki quinoa bowl,” Jessica said to the waitress, feeling virtuous about her order.
“The Korean noodle bowl for me,” Lenny said. “And, oh hell, a second margarita, if you don’t mind.” He held up the empty glass, and Jessica stared at it longingly.
“I don’t mind.” The waitress smiled.
When the food arrived, Jessica tore into the quinoa bowl with gusto. “You know what I miss most of all, dear brother?” she asked, chewing thoughtfully.
“What? Bacon-wrapped cheeseburgers from Whataburger? Or the KFC you like to devour?”
“Yeah, of course, that. But what I really miss is my pinot noir nightcap. Plus, buttery, salty popcorn and—”
Her phone dinged. As she read the words, her heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest.
“Look at this,” she said, showing Lenny the text, palms sweating now.
“Oh my God.” Lenny’s eyes went wide.
Hi Jessica! Taking off to Memphis, my father is ill. Would love to come to Nashville and see you!
Jessica flinched as a sudden coldness swept through her. Her appetite disintegrated into thin air. She had deleted the contact, but she had no doubt who the message was from.
Adam.