Chapter Three
Jenna ignored Brock’s last comment as he walked away to take his phone call. She closed her laptop with a loud sigh. Brock was giving her an ultimatum, and that was a mistake. She tuned out his call, an obvious business-related one. To distract herself, she pulled her jewelry case from her luggage.
Brock finished his call, sat on the end of one of the queen beds, and grabbed the television remote. “Why do you bother bringing so much for just a few days? Just wear diamonds for everything. You have twice the clothes and shoes that I have. Look over there. You barely left me room to hang up anything. Women have too much stuff.”
Jenna laughed. “Give me a break here. Don’t get me started on all of your toys and clothes. What about those custom-made shirts and Italian leather shoes that are actually sent from Italy and the many trips to have your hair cut and styled?”
Brock muted the television. “That’s different. I have an image to protect.”
Jenna nodded. “Uh-huh. And moving on, the dinner tonight is casual. It’s at the seafood place I told you about. No suit and tie required.”
Brock continued to flip through the muted television channels. “Look at what I brought and just tell me what to wear, okay? If it’s not a suit and tie, tux, golf clothes, or sweats, I’m lost. Any in-between outfits are a mystery to me.”
Jenna ground her teeth. “I’m not your mother. I’m sure you can handle it.”
Brock landed on a channel and put the remote aside. “Okay, sorry. Yeah, I can work it out. Just pants and shirt and no tie, right?”
“See, how hard was that?” Jenna mumbled, not looking at Brock. Unable to help herself, she concentrated on her jewelry.
Brock inspected the clothes he picked for the evening and hung them on the rack. He wandered over to see what she was looking at in her jewelry case. “Clothes picked out. Nothing on television. Again, why bring so much jewelry for a few days? You’ve been looking at that case forever. A better question, why didn’t you put your jewelry in the hotel safe?”
She held up an emerald necklace and a diamond necklace. “These are fakes, copies of my favorite pieces. Remember, I tried to explain this concept.”
Brock shook his head and shrugged. “Why have stuff you can’t wear? I’ll never get it, no matter what you tell me about it. It makes no sense.”
Jenna huffed out a sigh but softened her tone. “As I tried to explain, people collect jewelry for many reasons, but those who have expensive pieces know they can be a target for thieves. No one wants to run the risk of losing a treasured or very expensive piece. So, that’s why copies are made.”
“And no one can tell it’s a fake?” Brock leaned down to look at the emerald necklace.
“Can you—or could you before I told you it was?”
Brock picked up the necklace and held it up to the light. “No, can’t say that I could. This must be a good copy. How much did that set you back?”
Jenna shook her head and smiled. “Now, that’s an example of things you should never ask someone, especially a woman, and especially in the South. Have you learned nothing?”
Brock laughed. “Okay, but how much? Just between you and me?”
“Thousands, many thousands, Brock. The cost always depends on the gems used, how many of them, and the setting and materials used for the piece in question. There’s also a time factor to consider. The jeweler’s time is valuable and is added to the cost.”
Brock shook his head again, eyes wide. “It’s just crazy, and women are crazy in general when it comes to jewelry and clothes.”
Jenna felt her annoyance with Brock grow. “But I thought you said that image was everything.”
“Buying some quality items is one thing, Jenna, but it’s insane to pay for fake jewelry, and thousands for one dress. One simple dress, or worse, for a purse. People do dumb things, especially women.”
Jenna grinned. “Dumb things like hitting a little white ball across the grass with a stick?”
“That’s different. That’s a sport and a contest of skill. You can’t compare that to people who spend yet more money making copies of their jewelry that they spent a fortune on and can’t wear.”
Jenna held up a diamond necklace, inspecting the clasp. “No, those two don’t compare exactly. What I meant was that everyone has their thing—what they love, and it’s not the same for everyone. It’s like art. Some collect jewelry for the love of it, and some collect it as an investment, or both. Yes, it just hangs there doing nothing, but it makes you feel a certain way when you look at it. Jewelry is like that for some—it’s like that for me.”
Brock held up his hands. “Okay, once again I’m in an argument I can’t win. So, now I will watch the news while you do what you do.”
Later, as they walked the few blocks to the restaurant, Jenna once again slowed her pace to look around and take advantage of being back in Savannah. She wondered how many times she walked those streets with her grandmother and looked at the same lampposts and the same trees. Some of the same shops were still there that were there in her childhood. “I look at all this, and I see history,” Jenna said to Brock as they walked along.
Brock pointed to an old tree and the old sidewalks with uneven stones. “I just see old stuff.”
“You have no romance in your soul, Brock.”
“I’m a businessman, Jenna. I feel very romantic about success and money.”
Jenna knew then they were not going to make it. The only thing left was to decide how to end it.
Brock talked about his business, the golf game, and his plans to expand his company, and his efforts to make it an international market. Though he wasn’t fond of airline travel, he made the ultimate sacrifice and checked out the market in the South of England recently. He was now more interested in the European market overall. But his travels did not result in a broader world view. Instead, it made him determined to compare each place to New York City. She couldn’t make him see his error.
As they made their way back to the hotel after dinner, Jenna wondered again about Dan. Where was he, what was he doing, and even more important, why had he left her five years before with no explanation? The hurt and confusion still remained.
As they entered the hotel lobby, Jenna was interrupted in her attempt to explain to Brock about what Savannah meant to her when his phone rang.
Brock ended his call and smiled at Jenna. “Payoff time. That was a well-connected businessman who wants to talk business in the bar. I’m going down for a drink. I might be a while if it’s going well.
Jenna nodded and didn’t complain.
Brock made a quick exit toward the bar.
Jenna, a bit relieved to see him go, went to their room. She washed her makeup off, put on her pajamas, and tried to distract herself with the late news recap.
Her last thought before she fell asleep was to wonder how Brock would react if he knew how much her jewelry collection was worth and how she owned such a collection. That was a story she would never tell. The only other person who knew that story was Dan. He couldn’t tell her story for the same reason she could never tell his.
The next morning, Jenna woke before Brock and put on her running gear. She had not even heard him come in the night before. She looked at him now and hoped he’d gained another client to add to his list. She didn’t want to hear about it or anything else he could find wrong about their trip. She needed to clear her head and think through a few things, and running was one thing that often helped her. The sun was barely up, but that’s how she liked it. The streets would be quiet, and she could think.
After a satisfying run along her favorite path, Jenna ended up, as she often did, on that bench with a plaque that read— for Gloria, who still dreams here , December 1967 . The etched letters on the bronze plaque were still in good shape. She tried to recall what her own dreams were and couldn’t see them clearly anymore. Dan was once the star in all her dreams. Since he left her with no warning, she rarely remembered her dreams anymore.
As she sat on Gloria’s bench, she asked herself one hard question—was she going to keep living this way, piecing parts of her life together and calling it a life worth living? Her real dream dissolved five years before and left her not quite whole. That was it—not quite whole; she was a woman walking around with a piece missing. It was the feeling she wrestled with for five years as she reclaimed her life, and she was tired of doing it. It meant pushing everything else away, the past in particular. She thought she’d finally left her broken self behind, but somehow being in Savannah was showing her what she was missing—herself.
Jenna felt his presence before he spoke. At first, she thought it was just her imagination sparked by her trip down memory lane. But no, there he was looking down at her. She looked into his eyes, and for a few seconds, no time had passed at all. She couldn’t look away. She could hardly breathe. She couldn’t move. “Dan,” she whispered.
Dan stepped closer and broke the spell. “Hi, I thought that was you,” he said, shifting his position to get out of the sun now peeking through the leaves of the tree.
She made herself look away and stared at the river, focusing on the sailboat that suddenly appeared. “Yes.” The one word was all she could manage, and she wanted to stand but was afraid her legs would give out.
“What are you doing here, Jenna?”
“Do you mean here on this bench or here in Savannah?”
“Yes, I mean, both. Are you back in Savannah?”
She straightened her back and met his gaze. “Not that it concerns you, but I came for the senator’s fund-raiser; the parties, the usual, and how about you? Something of interest going on?”
“Same, the senator’s events, but for a different reason than your own, I’m sure.” Dan sat on the opposite end of the bench. “I thought I saw you running ahead of me at one point, but I thought I was seeing things. You know, old times, old familiar places, memories, they can sometimes play tricks with your mind. I knew if you were really here, I’d find you on this bench.”
As she stood, Jenna avoided his gaze. “Yes, old memories, old habits. Well, I guess I’ll see you at the big events for whatever reason you will be attending.”
“Jenna, wait.” Dan caught her arm.
She pulled her arm from his grasp. “What do you want, Dan?”
“I’m…I’m sorry about things, you know, sorry I never got in touch—after. There was a good reason, honest.” He ran his hands through his hair and stepped back. “Can I explain things? I need to explain. I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Jenna turned and ran, giving him no chance to say more.
Brock came out of the bathroom.
She pushed past him, stripping off her clothes as she went, and rushed into the shower. She needed the time to compose herself before dealing with Brock. Seeing Dan had shaken her in ways she never expected. She felt unsettled and unsure of everything.
Jenna spent as much time in the shower as she could stand. Knowing she must get on with her day, she willed herself to put a smile on her face and deal with Brock. Jenna found Brock pacing when she returned to the bedroom.
“I thought you had taken up residence in the shower. I’m starving. How fast can you get dressed?” Brock asked, pointing at his watch. “You will make me late for a meeting if we don’t hurry.”
Jenna frowned. “Don’t wait on me. Please, you go ahead and eat and get to your meeting.”
“I wanted to have breakfast with you. I’ll be gone all day.”
Jenna sighed. “Okay, give me a few minutes. I’ll hurry.” After what turned out to be a quiet breakfast with Brock, Jenna was annoyed with his childlike pouting about the call he received midway through their meal canceling his meeting. She suggested a walk and some shopping to lighten both their moods. They spent the morning walking the streets Jenna loved and managed to do a bit of shopping.
She noticed Brock kept looking at his new watch, the one he could use while deep sea diving, which was his latest passion, second only to golf. Some rich client owned one, she was sure. Brock loved to show off his expensive things, but not because he loved what he bought. It was so he could impress others. She realized the things she didn’t like about Brock were mounting up daily.
Following his pouting episode, they ordered a room service lunch and attended to their own business issues. After Jenna answered her work emails, she stood and stretched.
Brock was scrolling through something on his phone, as usual.
“Well, you have fun at whatever golf thing you are off to next. I’m going to the spa.”
“The thing, as you put it, is signing up for tee off times and teams. Both are very important. I’m not doing all this just for fun, you know.”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” After the spa, and with no incentive to return to the hotel, Jenna distracted herself with a visit to her old favorite boutique. She bought herself a new dress she didn’t need for one of the parties she was scheduled to attend. Though the price was more than she wanted to pay, she convinced herself it was worth it.
The salesperson said the sea-green matched her eyes.
She wasn’t sure about that, or even if she’d call the color sea-green, but she liked the dress. She found the highest heels she could probably stand up in to go with it before calling it a day. It did give her pause to think Brock might be a little right about his assessment. She was buying things she didn’t need to dress up for people she hardly knew. Her magazine’s purpose was to make the ordinary person want all the beautiful things they couldn’t afford while admiring those who could. Not something she wanted to examine too closely at the moment.
Back at the hotel, she couldn’t help admiring her haul, but with some lingering guilt. For once, Brock approved of her choices. She told herself all this had nothing to do with Dan, but rather that Brock was right, her image was important. The things she did for her magazine were important, and her image was one of them. She pushed the former occupation and personal assessment from her mind. This was what she signed up for. This was her career, it was the work required to make her magazine a success, and not who she was on the inside. This uncertainty was all about Dan being back in her world. It was his fault, she told herself. She almost believed it.
The weather seemed to know party season was now on in Savannah. The humidity lifted just enough to make being outside bearable, and a sea breeze filtered over Tybee Island as they approached the senator’s private residence. The guests were met and ushered into a large living space, an almost ballroom-size room that spread out onto the deck. They were greeted by young, good-looking servers who made the rounds with trays of champagne served in elegant, crystal glasses with what looked to be a family crest etched on one side. Music, courtesy of the local symphony, filtered through the chatter, and the scene was set for the senator to legally pick the pockets of the well-off in attendance. Politicians, rich businessmen and women, socialites, and even an actor or two made up the bulk of the guests tonight.
Checks would be written in private after the event. True aristocratic Southerners never forgot that to flaunt one’s money in public was vulgar, and to talk about one’s money was even more so. This made for an understated, yet sophisticated, event. The flowing drinks, soft breeze, and lovely women, all showing off their jewels, were to put everyone in an expansive and mellow mood. But not Jenna. She could almost smell the electricity in the air. And then her thoughts traveled to Dan and his motives for attending, and a chill ran up her back. What could he possibly be doing in Savannah and at this event or any of the events?