Chapter 8
Accepting what amounted more or less to a date in front of a good portion of the town’s population was not, Jenna realized, very wise.
Especially when the date was with Starr’s Fall’s most eligible bachelor, and it wasn’t really a date in the first place.
At least, Jenna was not letting herself think it was a date, because, she told herself, she and Jack didn’t even like each other.
He was just going to be offering some business advice that she probably wouldn’t even appreciate, and then they’d go back to ignoring each other.
The thought brought equal amounts relief and disappointment, which was aggravating in the extreme.
It was also exasperating how interested just about everyone in Starr’s Fall was about the prospect of said date.
She and Jack had agreed to meet at six-thirty on Wednesday, a mere two days hence, but in those two days Jenna had more business come through the store than she’d had all month.
Everyone wanted to know what was going on with her and Jack, and Jenna decided they might as well pay for the privilege.
“I only answer questions from paying customers,” she told Zoe Wilkinson, who had come in to hear some dirt and good-naturedly bought a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk.
“So did Jack Wexler really ask you out? He was talking so quietly we couldn’t actually overhear,” she complained as she handed Jenna a twenty. “Doesn’t he have an amazing voice? So low and rumbling. Very sexy.”
“He’s old enough to be your father,” Jenna admonished, and Zoe rolled her eyes.
“Only if he had me when he was fourteen. He’s forty-two.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s called Google? His profile’s online. Do you know he made his first million when he was twenty-three? There’s an article about him in Forbes .”
“Wow, stalker much?” Jenna teased. “And no, it’s not a date.
We’re having dinner to discuss how I can keep this store going.
If he made his first million when he was that young, he’d better have some good ideas.
” Something Jenna had realized in between deciding she disliked Jack Wexler and feeling like she could flirt with him was that he actually might have some good advice.
No, he didn’t know Starr’s Fall, but he clearly knew business.
And yes, she did have a serious chip on her shoulder when it came to rich know-it-all guys, but Jack wasn’t Ryan, and she had no intention of dating him, anyway.
More to the point, he most likely had no intention of dating her.
Even if they were having dinner together.
“Well, keep me posted,” Zoe said as she gathered up her milk and bread. She gave an apologetic grimace as she glanced around the store. “This place is really kind of cute. I should come in here more, but I tend to rely on Instacart.”
“As does everyone else,” Jenna agreed with a sigh. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you. Much.”
She’d had more or less the same conversation with what felt like half the residents of Starr’s Fall, some of them asking more obliquely, others demanding to know outright.
“Can you take photos of his house?” Liz Cranbury asked as she bought some lettuce and a bell pepper.
“Discreetly, I mean, on your phone. It’s that huge place out on Bantam Lake that that famous architect built for himself but then got divorced and moved to LA, do you remember? I’ve heard it’s fantastic inside.”
“I am not taking photos of his house,” Jenna told her.
“I’m so jealous,” Liz replied. “As much of you seeing the house as dating Jack Wexler.”
“I am not dating Jack Wexler?—”
“You guys flirt by fighting,” Liz cut her off. “It would be annoying if it wasn’t so cute.” She held up one manicured hand. “And don’t worry, I won’t step in. Girls’ code and all that. But try to get a photo of at least one of the bathrooms, okay? He’ll never know.”
Somehow, knowing Liz’s penchant for gossip, Jenna suspected he would. And she was not taking creepy photos of Jack Wexler’s bathroom, although she was almost as curious as Liz to see the interior of the big house on Bantam Lake. No one had seen the inside of it.
By Wednesday evening, when Jenna was closing up the store to get ready for her non-date, she’d had enough of the speculation and suggestions.
At least she’d profited from it, she told herself as she headed to the house to change.
If gossip about her social life kept people coming to the store, then maybe she should think about having more of one.
Her stomach fluttered with nerves and more than a little anticipation as she headed upstairs.
Since this wasn’t a date, it begged the question what she should wear.
She was most definitely not getting gussied up; the very last thing she wanted was for Jack to think she’d made some kind of effort for him.
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to rock up to his door in her usual eclectic outfit, either. What to do?
A hammering on the kitchen door had Jenna stilling, one hand on the knob of her bedroom door. More hammering. And then a voice.
“Jenna Miller, open up. I walked all the way out here to keep you from embarrassing yourself, and I’m not going away without fulfilling my duty.”
It sounded like Zoe Wilkinson, who was not someone Jenna would expect to come knocking on her door. She liked Zoe, and they were friendly, but Zoe was ten years younger than her, and they didn’t really hang out all that much, per se. Slowly Jenna walked back downstairs and opened the door.
“Zoe…” She shook her head slowly at the sight of the young woman standing on her doorstep, looking resolute. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping you get ready for your hot date,” Zoe replied.
“I realized you were probably going to wear your patchwork skirt and call it fancy, and I figured you needed an intervention. Not to say,” she added quickly, “that I don’t like your style, because I do.
You totally rock the I-just-got-out-of-bed boho look.
But… I feel like you need a little extra zing, when it comes to dinner with Jack Wexler.
Liz agreed, and so did Annie. Laurie and Maggie, too.
And Rhonda was the one who mentioned it first, so… I was nominated to come help you out.”
“Does every single person in town know I am having dinner with Jack Wexler?” Jenna demanded. “ And are they all really talking about my wardrobe?”
“Yes,” Zoe replied instantly. “Everyone knows about the date, anyway. Only the women are talking about your wardrobe. Are you surprised?”
No, she wasn’t, but she was flustered. She didn’t like the thought of everyone up in her business, especially her romantic business, and especially when she hadn’t had any romantic business in ten years, save for a few very dispiriting blind dates she’d prefer to forget.
“Thanks for the mercy mission,” she told Zoe dryly, “but I have no intention of making an effort for Jack Wexler.”
“Correction,” Zoe replied, “you don’t want to look like you made an effort. Totally get that. But actually make an effort? Yes, you do.”
“Well, all right,” Jenna admitted somewhat grudgingly, because she had a point. “I guess.”
“Let’s go upstairs and have a look at our options.” Zoe was already heading toward the stairs. “I’ve never been in your place. It’s so quaint, isn’t it?”
Jenna glanced around at the forty-year-old furniture her parents had bought in yard sales. “Yes,” she agreed. “Quaint.”
With great foreboding, she followed Zoe up the stairs. By the time she had, Zoe had already found her bedroom and was surveying the state of her closet, hands planted on her slim hips.
Jenna had very uncertain feelings about having anyone in her bedroom, never mind Zoe Wilkinson, who yes, was someone she liked, but not someone she knew all that well.
And who, it had to be said, had a certain style all her own.
Right now she was wearing a fitted bright purple t-shirt with an artful rip along the hem and a pair of black jeans with shredded knees.
Both garments clung to her slender figure, and Jenna wouldn’t be seen dead in either.
It was a great look for Zoe, but she really wasn’t sure this was the person to give her fashion advice. But then who was?
“So we’ve got some options,” Zoe called over her shoulder as she freely rifled through the scant items in Jenna’s closet.
“Fortunately, Liz Cranbury came through with this.” She reached down to the leather backpack she’d dropped at her feet and pulled out a Midnight Fashion bag which she thrust at Jenna. “It’s gorgeous.”
Jenna took the bag and peered inside with some trepidation. There, folded up with tissue paper, was a deep red sweater in softest cashmere. She pulled it out and examined it; it was gorgeous, but it was also very sexy. The deep v-neck, on her generous figure, would be… indecent.
“All you need is a pair of bottoms—jeans without patches, preferably, or maybe some black pants?” She peered in the back of her closet and pulled out a pair of wide-legged black pants Jenna hadn’t worn since she’d lived in New York.
“These are perfect!” Zoe ran a hand along the fabric admiringly. “And they look expensive.”
“They were.” Stupidly, Jenna found her throat had gone a little tight. They were just a pair of pants, for heaven’s sake, but they reminded her of everything she’d once tried so hard to be… for a man. She didn’t want to do that again, and certainly not with Jack Wexler.
“I think they’re a little too fancy,” she told Zoe. “And I’m afraid this sweater, beautiful as it is, is going to make me look like Jessica Rabbit.”
Zoe raised her eyebrows. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Considering this isn’t a date?—”
“I know you keep saying that,” Zoe cut across her, “but I just don’t believe you.”
“Well, you should,” Jenna replied slightly tetchily. She’d always admired Zoe’s feistiness, but less so right now. “I’m not sure I even like Jack Wexler as a person, so why would I go on a date with him?”
“Lots of people go on dates with people they’re not sure they like,” Zoe replied, the voice of reason. “That’s why they go on the dates.”
Jenna just shook her head. She wasn’t about to argue the point yet again. She’d done that enough over the last two days. “Not the pants.”
“Okay.” Zoe put them back. “Fair enough. What about a pair of jeans?”
Jenna sighed. The sweater was soft, and beautiful, and she realized she didn’t want to rock up to Jack’s big house on Bantam Lake looking the way he’d expect her to—like a colorful mess. But did she want to look sexy?
“Just own it,” Zoe advised, as if she could read Jenna’s whole thought process. “Stop worrying about what Jack Wexler thinks.”
“I’m not worried about what Jack Wexler thinks,” Jenna retorted automatically. Zoe arched a skeptical eyebrow, and Jenna sighed. “Fine. I’ll try on the sweater.”
Since Zoe didn’t seem interested in giving her privacy, and Jenna told herself she wasn’t a prude, she pulled off her t-shirt right there and grabbed the sweater. As she pulled it over her head, she savored the softness of the cashmere, even as she acknowledged it was pretty snug.
“ Va-va-voom ,” Zoe remarked in appreciation as Jenna pulled it down over her hips. “You look amazing. And yes, a bit like Jessica Rabbit, although that reference is a little dated, but it’s a good look, trust me.”
Jenna eyed her reflection doubtfully. If even her references were dated, was she too old for this?
The sweater was tight, although not as tight as she’d feared.
She wasn’t showing yards of cleavage, just a generous hint of it.
With a pair of normal-looking jeans, she supposed it wasn’t an outrageous outfit, but would it look like she was trying to impress Jack?
“Don’t overthink it,” Zoe advised. “And remember, Jack is not that dude back in New York or San Francisco—or wherever—who was obviously a douchebag.”
Jenna jerked her gaze from her reflection to stare at Zoe in shock. “You know about him?” She had never told Zoe about Ryan. She hadn’t told anyone about Ryan, except for Rhonda, and Annie, and a little bit to Zach. Okay, three people was clearly three too many.
Zoe shrugged her assent. “I know the basics. I think everyone does, Jenna, to be honest. You remember this is Starr’s Fall, right?”
“I know, but…” She shook her head slowly. She’d thought she’d kept her private life private, but clearly she’d been fooling herself. Why wouldn’t people know about that old heartbreak, when they seemed to know everything else? “What do you know?” she asked Zoe, steeling herself for her reply.
“Only that you dated some rich guy who led you on and then broke your heart. Typical city slicker.” She shrugged, her eyes alight with interest. “You can tell me the details, if you like. I won’t pass them on.”
“No, thanks.” Jenna had no intention of imparting those painful details to anyone. Zoe, and apparently the rest of Starr’s Fall, knew enough, and while she knew everyone would be sympathetic, she still didn’t like them knowing. “It was a long time ago.”
“Exactly, and your date is in less than an hour. You’re going to wear the red sweater?”
Jenna glanced at her reflection again, torn between wanting to be exactly who she was and no one else and needing to show Jack Wexler—and everybody else—that she could in fact be different.
She was overthinking this, she decided with exasperation.
It was just a sweater, after all, and a very nice one at that.
“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll wear the sweater.” It had been very generous of Liz to gift it to her, after all.
“Great. Now we can move on to hair and makeup.” Zoe reached for her backpack. “I’m thinking understated and sophisticated, barely there but beautiful. We’ll style your hair in glossy waves and do a tiny bit of contouring and lip. What do you think?”
Considering Jenna never wore makeup or did anything with her hair, that sounded like a lot.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on.” Zoe withdrew a set of straighteners from her bag. “You have the most gorgeous hair, Jenna. With a little styling, you’ll look like Julia Roberts. One look at you and you’ll be able to knock Jack Wexler over with a feather.”
Now that was a prospect that had some appeal.
She’d like to surprise Jack, Jenna realized.
She’d like to show him how he’d underestimated her.
Suddenly, this whole evening took on a different complexion—not one of her being prickly and defensive, doubling down on what she’d already said and done, but bowling Jack over with how different she could be.
“All right,” she told Zoe recklessly. “Bring it on.”