Chapter 13 Leah
Leah
“Did Esther date much before she met Atherton?”
Leah and Hazel strolled on to the top end of Main Street, where a couple of painted benches flanked a trough of freshly planted geraniums at the edge of a small play area.
A group of PS High students, heading in the opposite direction, split in half to let them through.
She knew she shouldn’t be asking questions, but Esther’s diary was starting to play more and more on her mind.
Hazel rummaged in her purse for her shopping list. Her calm, blue eyes slid sideways to rest on Leah’s face. “Why do you ask?”
“I found some old photographs upstairs when I was looking for a notebook. There was one of Esther with Jackson’s father as a little boy. It got me thinking about her past.” That seemed like a safe answer, nothing too revealing in it.
“I see.” The old lady smiled. “She drew a fair amount of attention, wherever we went. Esther was smart and pretty and sparky even then. So much more outgoing than me. She’d tease the young men right to their faces, and they’d laugh back and moon over her even more.
It was impossible to take offense at Esther. Everyone loved her.”
Leah grinned at the image.
“She had the odd date, here and there, but no one took her fancy like Atherton Hale. We first bumped into him in the park one day when we went cycling with friends. Esther helped him untangle a duck from an old fishing line by the lake, if you can believe it!” Hazel’s chuckle was clear and contagious.
“They were covered in mud and duck poo by the time they set it free—laughing like a couple of idiots, too.”
Leah might have laughed as well. But even if everyone had loved Esther, there had been someone she didn’t love back. “Did you ever know anyone nicknamed ‘The Creep’?”
Hazel ducked her head to undo one of the buttons on her coat. “Remember that you’re talking to a very elderly lady. I’ve known a lot of people over the years and forgotten many more.”
Leah’s eyes narrowed. Hazel only ever played the age card when it worked to her advantage. “It’s a pretty distinctive nickname.”
“Not when you’ve worked in the prison industry, my love.”
Hmm. Her first line of questioning hadn’t uncovered much, but Leah wasn’t deterred. Clayborne Knight never let his first failure get him down, after all.
While Hazel ran her errands, Leah headed for the thrift store, stopping by Archer and Desai Realty Management on impulse.
There was a buzz of purposeful activity to the place, with agents taking calls and helping people find their next home.
As she looked around for a familiar face, Sam emerged from a room at the back, a cup of coffee in each hand.
“Hi, Leah.” His smile was bright.
“I won’t keep you. I just wondered if you fancied coming for dinner on Friday or Saturday—I don’t mind which.
You and Kash, if you’re both free?” With no clue of when Jackson would be back, the idea of a dinner party had been a spontaneous one.
She’d had enough of eating on her own. “I’m not a great cook but I promise I’ll pick something easy. ”
“We’d love to! I don’t think we’ve got anything else on, and Kash’ll be thrilled to see the house.
” Sam looked genuinely pleased. Hearing his name across the office, a dark-haired guy broke off from his conversation to raise a hand in greeting.
“Saturday would be best for us, if that works? Let me know if we can bring anything.”
The bounce in Leah’s step took her all the way to the freezers in Family Fare, where she chose a raspberry pavlova to take to book club that evening.
It was Ava Martinez’s turn to host. When Leah arrived, a sizable lasagna was bubbling in the oven, the light, bright kitchen filled with the mouthwatering scent of garlic and herbs. She adored Ava’s house. She adored Ava’s husband, Elias, even more, and immediately scanned the room for him.
“He’ll be back later.” Ava caught her looking. “He’s gone to Thea’s for dinner to keep out of our way!” Thea was Florence’s older sister.
Hazel and Marjorie, with Gerry in tow, had arrived early to help.
Their assistance, in reality, consisted of pouring generous measures of wine for all and discussing the eyebrow piercings of the young couple Hazel had befriended at the farmers’ market.
They distracted Ava just enough that the edges of the lasagna burned before she remembered to take it out of the oven.
Florence forced more wine on anyone who wasn’t driving so they wouldn’t notice, while Cassidy Stone arrived on the doorstep with a huge bowl of salad.
Ailsa joined them at seven. During their book club evenings, the gardener didn’t so much come out of her shell as burst out of it like a stripper from a birthday cake.
Once she got started on plot threads and character development, there was no stopping her.
They discussed Hello Beautiful by Ann Napolitano for a grand total of twenty-three minutes, with Ailsa, Cassie, and Florence the most outspoken.
It wasn’t far off a record length of time for an actual book discussion during book club.
Then Marjorie started the drift away with a palpably loose connection between the Sylvie in the novel and a Sylvia she’d once known, who apparently never returned the grout cleaner she’d borrowed.
And then Hazel and Ava picked up the ball and ran with it, veering off on one of their tangents which began with an argument over who would be better able to beat a lie detector test (Hazel, hands down, because Ava’s every thought was blazoned on her face), and somehow morphed into what they would call their first country music album.
The suggestions grew more and more risqué as the night wound on.
“No girl wants to hear their mother use the word ‘dipstick’ as a euphemism!” Florence whimpered finally, burying her head in her arms. “Please give her more pavlova, Leah, I’m begging you. Make it stop!”
“Johnny Cash was the voice of a coyote in The Simpsons,” Gerry chipped in.
“Who hasn’t voiced a coyote in The Simpsons, dear?” Marjorie shushed him with a pat on his arm.
Leah dug a spoon into her dessert. Unfortunately, she’d just taken a huge mouthful when Ava switched the topic of conversation once more.
“So how are things going with your hunky landlord, Leah?”
“Mom!” Florence protested.
“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t want to know, too.” Ava’s chuckle was too appealing to be offensive. “Come on, Leah—my daughter won’t answer any of my questions on her love life, so you can blame her for my curiosity about yours.”
Leah grinned, while Florence groaned. It was always a pleasure to see these two tease each other.
“Well, I can either talk to you about my love life, which is non-existent, or about my landlord, who is pretty hunky but has a girlfriend and is not my biggest fan.” She gave a carefree shrug, as if the honest words didn’t sting more than a little.
“What’s his girlfriend like?” asked Cassidy.
“I really don’t know,” Leah replied.
“Insipid,” said Hazel at the same time, taking a dainty mouthful of dessert.
“You haven’t even met her,” Leah protested.
“I have eyes. We all saw her at the funeral.” Hazel exchanged a glance with Ava. “She’s a very pretty clothes horse but a little lacking in real flavor.”
“That’s not fair to say when you haven’t talked to her.”
“I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity at some point.” Hazel didn’t sound as if she intended to amend her opinion.
“And what’s Jackson Hale like when you get to know him?” This question came from Florence, who set her elbows on the edge of the table with a wicked smile.
“Tall,” answered Leah dryly, attempting to shut down the conversation.
“Complex,” said Hazel.
“And strong,” added Marjorie.
“I think my ovaries just exploded.” Florence laughed at Gerry and Ailsa’s matching winces.
You’re not the only one. Leah gave an internal sigh.
“How often is he in Pine Springs?” Ava again.
“He stayed about a month the first time, but now I think it’ll be mainly the weekends, although he hasn’t really let me know. He drives back to his condo for the working week.”
“So when you’re alone together, what do you chat about?” Cassidy asked.
Leah’s lips twitched. “Jackson’s not really the chatty type.
” Mean, moody, and mostly monosyllabic, in fact.
But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“We’ve watched the odd movie together but he’s .
. . restrained, in general. Hard to read.
The state of Amity Court is proving a bit of a frustration, I think. ”
A teasing smile broke out across Florence’s face. “You realize you’re literally living the Grumpy/Sunshine trope, don’t you? I’m putting my money on a Happy Ever After!”
You wouldn’t if you knew the odds. Leah could imagine no scenario in which she and Jackson might end up as a loved-up couple. She took a sip of wine to avoid having to answer.
“On the subject of romance,” Marjorie cut in, to her relief, “that was a very long conversation I saw you having with the new PS High teacher yesterday, Cass. You blocked the sidewalk for the entire time I was pricing my canned delivery.”
Scenting new prey, every head turned to Cassidy, who suddenly busied herself with piling up dirty dishes.
A bag in each hand and her phone between her teeth, Leah pushed down on the kitchen door handle with one elbow and found it unlocked. Two pairs of eyes turned to her as she stumbled through the doorway. It was Saturday morning and Jackson’s Aston Martin was parked in front of the house again.
“You’re back!” Leah exclaimed around her cell phone. When Jackson raised an eyebrow but said nothing, she dropped the bags, took the phone out of her mouth, and tried again. “I said, you’re back.”
“I am.”
Her eyes swiveled to the pretty blonde perched on one of the bar stools. “Hi!”
“This is Niamh.”