Chapter Six #2
Jenna agreed. “If she meant it. Sure.”
“You think she didn’t?” Dakota.
Another shrug from Jenna. “Seemed sincere. But I don’t know her. You know? Maybe she does this all the time.”
“Fake apologizes?” Ronni wrinkled her nose. “Do people do that?”
“And does it matter?” Dakota added. “Seems like she’s trying to keep the peace and be a decent neighbor. Maybe just take that?”
“I still think you should ask her out,” Ronni said, reaching for some cheese.
“And I think that is a terrible idea,” Jenna said with a laugh.
“Well, I stand by my assessment that she’s fucking hot.” Ronni finished her wine and refilled her glass, then topped off the others.
As they moved on to other topics, the thought of simply accepting Sawyer’s apology and letting the rest go stayed in the back of Jenna’s mind. Sawyer had taken steps to make their living situation a bit more comfortable. Maybe Dakota was right. Maybe she deserved credit for that, regardless.
Sawyer loved the public market but hated the crowds.
That’s why going in the fall was preferable.
True, there was less to choose from, as far as produce went—so much was no longer in season in the northeast—but part of going was simply the atmosphere.
The ambiance. Wandering rows of vendor tables, sampling different foods, sometimes listening to live music.
It was a feature of Northwood that she loved.
That Sunday morning, her mother was with her, and they strolled casually, lattes in hand, sampling different honeys at the table of a local beekeeper they’d come to know.
“Oh, this one’s a bit more…floral,” her mother said, and Beekeeper Ted smiled at her like she was his prize pupil. They each bought a jar.
They moved on down the row, sipping their lattes and carrying their honey. “How’s the new house?” her mom asked. “And when are you having us over for dinner?”
“As soon as I learn to cook,” Sawyer said with a grin.
“How about I bring over something on Monday night?” They stopped at a table featuring various cured meats and homemade pepperonis.
“Monday would work,” Sawyer said. “I didn’t know you could make pepperoni at home, did you?”
Her mother picked up a little paper tray with a bite of pepperoni on it. “You can make sausage, so I guess pepperoni isn’t all that different?”
Sawyer shrugged and popped her own sample into her mouth. “Holy crap,” she said immediately as her eyes started to water.
“What?” Her mother chewed, swallowed, and simply looked at her.
“Spicy,” Sawyer managed to say, trying to finish chewing and swallow while her mouth was on fire.
“Really? Mine wasn’t.”
“Mom. It’s the same pepperoni. Why am I the only one dying?”
“Because you’re a wimp?”
“Oh my God.” She rifled through her bag and came up with a tissue, pressed it to her eyes.
“You’re so dramatic,” her mom teased.
Tissue to her nose, she blew, glanced up, and met a curious brown-eyed gaze three tables down. The figure was blurry, thanks to all the watering her eyes were doing, and seemed to have an armload of fresh flowers. She blinked several more times, and the person became clear.
Jenna.
Choking back a cough, she finished blowing her nose, then dabbed at her watering eyes some more and lifted a hand in a halfhearted wave. Jenna started walking toward her, and there was no escape.
“Everything okay over here?” Jenna asked with an uncertain smile as Sawyer coughed a little more. “Should I call an ambulance?”
“Hilarious,” Sawyer said with a grin. “This pepperoni just tried to kill me.”
“My daughter is just a little sensitive when it comes to spicy food,” her mom said, clearly enjoying Sawyer’s misery as she stroked Sawyer’s arm as if she were a small child.
“Oh, that’s so sad,” Jenna said, her grin telling Sawyer that she, too, was finding the level of tears and snot and discomfort entertaining.
Sawyer sipped her latte, hoping the creaminess of it would help alleviate the volcano in her mouth. After a moment, she cleared her throat, wiped at her eyes again, and made the introductions. “Sorry. Mom, you remember Jenna, my next-door neighbor. Jenna, my mother, Ally Hall.”
“Ah, yes, the girl next door.” Her mom said it like she knew something neither she nor Jenna did. They shook hands and her mom asked, “How are things on the other side of the duplex?”
“They’re good.” Jenna shifted the flowers into her other arm. “Can’t complain.”
“The new neighbor okay? Not obnoxious or playing music too loud?”
“Mom,” Sawyer said, sounding like she was seven years old and being embarrassed by her mother in front of her friends.
“So far, so good,” Jenna said, her eyes shifting from Sawyer’s mother to Sawyer. “But it’s still early days.”
Sawyer’s mom laughed at what Sawyer wasn’t sure was a joke. “And that adorable dog of yours?”
“Oh, he’s great.” This time, Jenna’s smile was big. Genuine. “He’s the best. Spoiled rotten, as usual.”
“As it should be,” her mom said. Her eyes lit up, followed by a little gasp, the way they always did when she thought she had a good idea that often…wasn’t.
No.
“I have a fabulous idea.”
Oh no.
“Are you busy Monday evening?”
Jenna blinked rapidly several times, and Sawyer could tell she’d been taken off guard. “Um…it’s actually my day off so…no?”
“Excellent. I’m ordering dinner to have at Sawyer’s. You’ll join us. Anything you don’t eat?”
“Um…no?”
“Great. It’s settled. Come by around six thirty. And bring that adorable dog of yours.” Sawyer’s mother was far too pleased with herself. “So good seeing you, Jenna. I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Same,” Jenna said, lifting a hand as Sawyer’s mom continued down the aisle.
Sawyer mouthed “I’m so sorry” as she passed by Jenna, sniffing and still dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
But Jenna was smiling, little crinkles at the corners of her eyes, and said very quietly, “Don’t be.”
And something about those two small words caused a flutter of butterflies low in Sawyer’s abdomen. Then she turned and followed her mother. She waited until they were plenty far from Jenna so she was sure she wouldn’t be heard before she hissed, “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?” her mother asked, all innocence, flipping through a bin of small plastic bags filled with dried herbs.
“I barely know her, and now she’s coming to dinner?” Sawyer kept her voice low and made surreptitious glances down the aisle. She could still see Jenna, but she was far away.
“I can’t think of a better way to get to know someone than to have them over for dinner, can you?” They moved on to the next table.
Sawyer shouldn’t have been surprised. This was how her mom operated, and it wasn’t for any other reason than she wanted to help.
Telling her she was butting in or her opinions were unwelcome never went over well and always ended with her mom either in tears or feeling very insulted or hurt, or both.
The best thing Sawyer could do now was let it be.
Her mom meant well. She always had Sawyer’s best interests at heart, even when she went about things the absolutely one hundred percent worst way possible.
When she saw Jenna at home later, she’d just tell her it was totally okay to bow out, that she was under no obligation to come to dinner. No pressure at all.
“Why would I want to bow out?” Jenna asked, her key halfway into her front door, one of the bouquets of flowers she’d purchased earlier cradled in the crook of her arm.
Sawyer stood half in and half out of her own door and blinked at her.
She must’ve been watching and waiting for Jenna, because the second she was on the porch, Sawyer’s door had been whipped open, startling her enough to make her jump.
“I, um, it’s just my mom kind of ambushed you at the market this morning, so I wanted to let you know you could totally cancel, and I won’t be offended. At all.”
“Do you want me to cancel?”
Sawyer’s brow furrowed adorably under her glasses. “Do I want—no. No, of course not. I just want you to know that there’s no obligation. My mom can be a bit of a bulldozer. But she means well. She just doesn’t get how she comes across, all pushy.”
Jenna twisted the key in the lock and turned her head to meet Sawyer’s uncertain gaze. She was nervous, Jenna could see that. Squirming on the inside, which she found amusing. “No, dinner sounds nice. I was planning to come.”
“Oh. Well, good. Okay then.”
Not the response Sawyer was expecting, that was clear, and Jenna rolled her lips in to keep from smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
“Night,” she said, then let herself in and shut the door behind her.
Then she leaned back against the door and laughed quietly.
Why did seeing Sawyer uncomfortable give her a little jolt of adrenaline?
She wasn’t proud of it, but she could admit it was true.
At the vibration of the door closing, Arnold jumped off the couch and ran to her, tail wagging like crazy, and she squatted down to lavish him with kisses and love.
Surprisingly, she found she’d like to learn about Sawyer Hall. Get to know her. Those were the facts of the matter, and with Sawyer’s mom there as a buffer, she might actually get some information.
Business had been decent today; weekends usually were.
Her time at the market earlier had been her break, and Delia had held down the fort until she showed back up with the fresh flowers she’d bought, one bouquet for the shop and one for home.
She took them into the kitchen, let Arnold out the back door, and fished in the cupboards for a vase.
When she found one the right size, she set to trimming the stems and arranging the flowers so they looked pretty.
The full vase went onto the center of the dining room table, and the flowers gave the room a lovely pop of fall colors.