Chapter 26
Linden
I returned home to find Jasper crying in the kitchen. Elbows on the closed lid of her laptop, head in her hands, hiccup-gasp crying.
Seeing as this wasn't the first time I'd come upon Jasper crying, I could've learned something from the past rather than repeating those mistakes. Instead, I dropped a wooden crate of assorted cranberry products gifted to me from a client on the countertop and asked, "What happened?"
Jasper started, of course, popping out of her seat and flattening a hand to her chest. She blotted her cheeks on her sleeve and sucked in a steadying breath. "You scared the hell out of me. What are you slamming and yelling for?"
"I came home and you're sitting here crying, Peach. I don't like seeing that. Who did this to you? If it's that ex of yours bothering you again, he can direct his inquiries to me. I'll handle Preston from this point forward, okay?"
She tore a wad of paper towel from the roll. "It's not Preston but your vehemence is extra special today."
I set my hands on her waist and waited as she thoroughly blew her nose. "Should I keep guessing?"
Leaning back against the cabinets, she said, "I got a job offer."
"You—what? When?"
She waved with the balled-up paper towels. "This afternoon. I got a call from a candidate farm and—"
"In English, Jasper. English."
Again with the paper towel, she said, "An organization that prioritizes races and develops a roster of candidates to take out incumbents or go after historically uncontested or uncompetitive seats. They raise money to grow candidates."
"And…" I couldn't finish that sentence.
"And they want me to fly out to California to meet with their team. They want me to run the farm."
As was always the case with Jasper, several things were true at once.
She sounded happy but she was shaking, there was a proud, slightly haughty gleam in her eye but she'd been sobbing a minute ago, and she hated this stuff but clearly believed the offer was a step forward after taking a million steps back.
And she wanted me to share her enthusiasm even when this job was an airplane flight away.
"Where exactly is this job? This farm?"
"Northern California. The office is based in Sacramento but the work would include everything north of San Francisco.
" The way she said this told me it hadn't occurred to her that was the opposite side of the country.
If she knew, she didn't care. "Come on. Say something.
You can't just stand there, staring at me.
My day went from almost demolishing a bathroom—"
"You almost did what?"
"—to a political action committee wanting me to run their operation. It's been a day, Lin."
"I'm happy for you," I managed. "But, Jasper, babe, Peach, I didn't think you wanted to do that anymore."
A beat passed before she deflated, her shoulders dropping, her gaze falling to the floor. Even the hand clutching the paper towels drooped to her side.
"I have to do something."
"No, you don't. There's no reason you have to do anything. You've said it yourself. You can swing a couple more months before you make any decisions."
"Just because I can doesn't mean I should," she replied.
"Maybe it does, Jas."
"I can't—I can't sit here all day, painting and repainting walls and organizing old junk.
Okay? I can't do this. But I can go to California and raise some viable candidates.
So what if I hate it? So what? Everyone hates their job.
It's not special to me. It's everyone. And I'm good at it!
I am good at this, even if I hate it. It's the best I've got. Okay?"
I shook my head and that was not the right response, not by a mile, but I wasn't going to watch her lie to herself. "Then stop repainting walls. Do something else. Do whatever the fuck you want but only because you want to do it."
"Maybe I want to run a candidate farm. Have you considered that? Maybe I want to shake up Northern California. It's a lot less progressive than people expect."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Is that right?"
"Very much. I can't ignore the opportunity to do something important."
"It's interesting how you can't ignore this but you can ignore your own needs and interests indefinitely."
An irritable sound rattled in her throat. "Why can't you just be happy for me?"
"Why can't you stop punishing yourself?"
The look on her face—I thought I'd seen every shade of Jasper's fury but I was wrong. Irrevocably wrong. "You have no clue what you're talking about."
"No? Really? You're sure about that?" Her only response was a glare that reminded me of the day we met—and how my first impression was that she could destroy humans without breaking a sweat.
"You worked for Timbrooks to spite your backward family.
You stayed married to a guy after he left the country.
You forced yourself to stay in Midge's cottage despite the squalor over there, and you've chosen to be a victim the past few months rather than the hero everyone who's fed up with the bullshit political games thinks you are. "
"Once again, you know everything about me."
"Once again," I countered, "I know what I see. For fuck's sake, Jasper, you dressed as Cruella de Vil for Halloween because you think you are some awful devil woman."
"Would you just get over the Cruella thing? My god. I knew I should've said I was Moira Rose but I figured kids wouldn't understand the Schitt's Creek reference."
She tossed the paper towel to the table and closed her fingers around the back of a chair.
Her hair was a wreck, as if she'd been shoving her fingers through it, and her eyes were swollen.
She looked like she'd lived through something significant the same way people in hundred-year-old photographs did.
Haunted, wary—and un-fucking-stoppable. She was still standing and she wasn't going to let me forget it.
"I'm sorry. Forget I said anything about Halloween. But ask yourself, really ask, whether you want to move to California and let another job swallow your life whole."
She shook her head impatiently. "I can't just stay here forever."
"Why not?"
"Why not?" she repeated, the words climbing into a screech. "Because what am I then, Linden? Living in your house and wandering through the woods with you while I figure myself out—what is that?"
"It's exactly what you need."
"How can you say that? I mean, did you really think I could abandon my entire professional life just because I didn't love every moment of my work? Because that was never going to happen. I was always returning to that world, one way or another."
I rocked back on my heels as her words hit home. "So, that's it? This is where it ends?"
There was a moment where the stubborn set of her jaw slipped and she looked far less certain about her plans, though it was only a moment. Vanished before it truly existed. Then, "This would be easier if you were happy for me."
A lot of things would make this easier but that wasn't one of them.
"It only matters that you're happy," I replied.
"You never wanted me to be part of this equation.
My opinion shouldn't matter to you." Since another minute of this conversation was going to succeed in tearing my limbs from my body, I took a giant step back and snatched up my keys.
"I'm gonna take off. Stay here tonight or don't. It's up to you. I won't be here either way."
"Linden, don't—"
"Nope, it's good." I held up a hand to stop her because I couldn't. I couldn't live through any more of this.
I couldn't stay, not with her in my house and all these things I wanted to say to her, to beg of her.
And I couldn't survive the night with her next door.
I couldn't do any of this. I couldn't put myself through this only to watch her drive away.
"Listen, I hope you get everything you want out in California.
Your blood is probably too thin for a New England winter anyway.
But you know where I am if you change your mind.
" I backed out of the kitchen, reached behind me for the knob. "Good luck out there."
I didn't wait for a response before slamming the door.