Chapter Eleven #2
She had a childish urge to shut the door on him, but the muffins were her undoing. She could not imagine Jake Hartman at a task as domestic as baking. Opening the door wider, she let him in.
“I would’ve offered to help with the move, but I just got back from a trip to Missoula to pick up those new linens I’d ordered for the lodge.”
“That’s good.” She knew her words sounded wooden. She couldn’t help it. Inviting him in had been a mistake. They had nothing to talk about. Besides, with boxes everywhere, she couldn’t ask him to sit or even offer a coffee to go with the muffins.
Not that she had any intention of doing either. She wanted him gone, the sooner the better.
Since their dinner at the Mexican place he hadn’t asked her to play tennis once. Nor had he called her to discuss any business issues. So why was he being all friendly now?
He passed her the basket, which was warm. When she lifted the corner of the napkin, out wafted a delicious apple-cinnamon aroma. “Did you really make these yourself?”
“Yup. First time I ever baked anything. I used the lodge’s pastry chef’s recipe. You know, I might just do it again. It was kind of fun.” The grin he gave her was almost endearing. She had to force her heart to harden against him.
“Go ahead,” he urged. “Give ’em a try.”
She selected one and held it up for inspection. It was oddly shaped.
“The oven heat was too low,” Jake explained. “You see, the dough rises faster than it cooks and so it ends up in that peculiar cone shape. And when you break into one, you’ll see these air tunnels. That’s because I overmixed…you know, when I added the dry ingredients to the wet.”
Maureen clamped her mouth shut so she couldn’t smile. He’d not only baked; he’d analyzed the results afterward. This was absolutely priceless.
“Don’t worry.” Jake looked offended. “They still taste good.”
“Oh, I’m sure they do.” She had to take a bite then, even though she was afraid she would choke from holding back her laughter.
She nibbled, then smiled. “Yes. Very delicious. I’m sure Holly will love them.”
“Is she here?”
Maureen glanced toward the stairs. “In her room, listening to music. Can’t you hear the pounding bass? Thanks, by the way, for helping Dylan with that shelving unit. Her room looks great now. When she gets over sulking because I wouldn’t agree to stay at the B and B, she’ll love it.”
“It was a simple project. Dylan and I were happy to do it,” Jake said, confirming her suspicion about his involvement.
“Well, thanks, anyway.” She put her hand on the doorframe, signaling he should leave. But he hesitated.
“Do you have time for a tennis game this week? It’s been a while since we played.”
She fixed her gaze on his innocent blue eyes. “And why is that?”
He closed his eyes and winced. “I’ve been kind of a jerk.”
“Yes.”
He lowered his voice. “But we’re still business partners and next-door neighbors, and my cousin is your brother-in-law. I’d like it if we could be friends.”
He was making a logical proposition. If only she could forget how she’d felt when he’d held her in his arms. And kissed her. God help her, she wanted to feel that way again and knowing that he didn’t just made her feel humiliated.
“We tried being friends, Jake. It didn’t work. Let’s just stick with being business associates and neighbors for now, okay?”
With one hand on his shoulder, she pushed him out the door.
She was tempted to throw the basket of muffins after him, but couldn’t bring herself to commit that final act of rejection.
Instead, she carried the baking to the kitchen, where she set the muffins on the counter next to the package of paper plates.
She’d convinced Jake to leave, and that was good. But now her house seemed colder and emptier than ever.
*
The next day Jake was washing his truck in the driveway when he saw Holly step out tentatively onto the small porch landing of her new home.
When she glanced at him, he waved, sending an arc of water flying in her direction from the saturated sponge he’d been using to scrub squished dragonflies from his headlights.
Holly sauntered over. She was in denim shorts and a pale pink T-shirt. Her feet were bare, her toenails each painted a different pastel color. He couldn’t tell if she’d done the same thing with her fingernails. She had her hands behind her back.
“Why don’t you just drive through a car wash?” she asked.
Which was probably what her mother usually did. “These bugs are pretty tenacious,” he explained. “How do you like the new place?”
She shrugged and kicked at a pebble on the concrete parking pad. “It’s okay, I guess. I like having my own bathroom. Thanks for building those shelves.”
“No problem.”
“And thanks for the muffins, too. They were tasty, even though they looked kind of weird. I brought back the container.” From behind her back she pulled out the plain wicker basket with the napkin—no doubt freshly laundered—folded neatly in the center.
“You could’ve kept it, but that’s okay. Put it by the door and I’ll take it inside when I’m finished with this job.”
“Okay.” She did as he’d asked, then came back. “Do you have another sponge? I could work on the other headlight.”
He thought. “Yeah. There’s one in the laundry room.
Hang on.” He strode into the open garage that accessed the laundry room.
Lewis looked up hopefully from where he was sleeping, near the door.
Jake was no closer to finding his owner and beginning to wonder if the dog was fate’s idea of a joke.
Since he couldn’t seem to manage a commitment to a woman, he’d been sent a dog.
“We’ll go for a walk after I finish washing the car,” Jake promised Lewis. He grabbed the sponge he’d been looking for and headed back outdoors.
He wasn’t sure why Holly was offering to help. Weren’t adolescents supposed to shirk chores at every opportunity?
“Here.” He tossed her the sponge.
“Thanks.” She immersed it in the bucket of soapy water, then set to work. He watched her arm muscles flex and relax as she scrubbed. She was really putting some elbow grease into the effort.
“You and Mom don’t see each other much anymore.”
Jake moved from the headlight to the grill. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you haven’t been around. You guys used to play tennis and we sometimes had dinner together…”
“That’s true,” he conceded, uneasy about where this was headed. Dealing with a girlfriend’s father would be easier than her daughter.
“So why’d you stop asking her out? Was it because of me?”
“What makes you think it was you?”
Holly put two hands on the sponge and scrubbed even harder. “Well, you know, I kind of acted like a baby at first and got upset. But I’m used to the idea now and, well, almost kind of like it… That is, I like you. You’re okay.”
Oh, no. Now he’d let down the kid as well as her mother. And he had no clue how to explain the situation to her. “I like you, too, Holly. And your mother.”
“So maybe you’ll ask her out again sometime.” She appeared so hopeful.
“If I did I don’t think she’d say yes.”
“She might,” Holly countered. “She’s been listening to a lot of sad music lately, like she did right after Dad left for South America. I bet she could do with something to look forward to.”
The idea of Maureen feeling blue caused a twinge of guilt. But was it him she was longing for? Or was she still mourning Rod?
“I’m not such a great catch you know,” he finally said. “I’ve been a bachelor for a long time. And in the winter I’ll be gone for months at a time at the lodge. I bet your mom could do a lot better than me.”
Holly let the subject drop after that.
*
Maureen stood at the living room window, watching her daughter on her scooter.
This past week Holly had gone out of her way to spend time with Jake.
Tuesday, she’d helped him wash his truck, then gone on an hour-long walk with Jake and his stray dog Lewis.
Wednesday, she’d waited until the moment she saw Jake step out his front door to take her scooter for a run right past his house.
Jake had seemed fascinated with the contraption and had accepted Holly’s offer to give it a try.
Observing surreptitiously Maureen had laughed as he scrambled for balance the first few minutes.
Soon, however, Jake got the hang of it, and he and Holly had taken turns rounding the curve of the cul-de-sac.
Today, Jake had come home the owner of a gleaming chrome scooter, with flashing lights on the rear wheel.
Maureen had been sitting at her desk in her bedroom when she’d heard Holly’s delighted whoop.
Seconds later, the front door had opened and Holly called, “I’m going out with Jake, Mom. See you later.”
Maureen had finished reading to the end of the paragraph, marked the contract, then gone downstairs to check out the window again.
Now as the two of them raced down the sidewalk, her amused smile slowly faded, replaced with a heavy ache in her chest.
She recognized the feeling from the countless times she’d seen her daughter and her husband having fun together. It was the pain of being the outsider, the unwanted one.
So go out and join them this time, an inner voice counseled. She was tempted. But she no longer felt comfortable around Jake. He knew everything about her now. Her failures as a wife and a mother. She had no safe mask to hide behind with him.