The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge (134 page)

“Now come along so we can make our announcement.” Grace had started toward the street, leaving Jesse to descend with Brooke.

“What’s wrong?” Jesse had whispered. “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Are you nervous because there’s a large crowd?”

“I just don’t want to be queen, Jesse.”

“You said you’d been in pageants before, right?”

She’d nodded.

“Did you win any?”

“Yes.”

“So what’s the difference? Pretend this is just another pageant win.”

“You don’t understand.” There’d been panic in her eyes when she looked up at him. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“Which person is—was—that?” he’d asked, somewhat confused.

“The person who enters pageants to win, the one who wants to stand out all the time.” She’d looked close to tears. “People are going to hate me all over again.”

“What are you talking about? No one hates you.” He’d almost laughed at the absurdity of the thought. How could anyone hate Brooke?

“Look, you didn’t know me before. When I was younger, I … I wasn’t always a very nice person. Actually, most of the time I wasn’t very nice at all. I was the girl who always got everyone to gang up on people she didn’t like. I was Miss Perfect. I was more concerned about how I looked than how I acted.” Her sigh had been full of regret. “I put the
mean
in
mean girl
.”

“Well, like you just said. You’re not that person anymore.”

“I haven’t been back here long enough for most people to figure that out. There are a lot of women here”—she’d indicated the crowd—“who I picked on when we were kids.”

“I think you’re doing yourself a disservice. I think people like you just fine,” he’d said softly.

“Everyone is going to see this as just one more time when Brooke won.” She tapped her foot nervously on the seat she was standing on.

When he started to protest again, she said, “Look, you didn’t grow up here, so you wouldn’t know, but I was Miss Everything. Miss Eastern Shore. Miss Regatta. Holly Ball Queen. May Queen. I was Memorial Day Poppy Princess an unprecedented
three
times.” She looked up at Jesse and explained, “My dad and granddad were both vets.”

“Do you really think that’s what everyone here is going to be remembering?”

“I think they’re going to be remembering that under
my picture in the yearbook, they wrote ‘Princess’ as my middle name.”

“What is your middle name?”

“Diana.”

“Nice.”

She smiled weakly at his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Look, maybe this is a good opportunity for you to show people who you’ve grown up to be,” he said.

“Since Logan and I moved back to St. Dennis, I did everything I could think of to live it all down. I joined the PTA and volunteered for every job no one else wanted to do. Last year, I was homeroom mother and chaperoned every single class outing. I teach English as a second language at the library two nights a week and I go to the senior home every Sunday afternoon to read to the residents. And still this.” She pointed to the crown.

“Maybe it’s because of all those things that they wanted you to have it”—Jesse pointed to the crown just as she had—“this year.”

Brooke had gone quiet then.

“Didn’t Grace say something about your acts of kindness not going unnoticed?” Jesse straightened the crown on her head. “Maybe it’s not because of who you were, but who you are. Hasn’t that occurred to you?”

She shook her head.

“You think people think you’re Miss Perfect? That you’re only interested in appearances?” He’d tugged at the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “Would Miss Perfect appear in public with … what is that on your shirt, anyway?”

“Chocolate frosting.”

“There you go. Not so perfect after all.” He’d stepped down to the seats below and held out his hand. “Put your head up and smile and act like you’re as happy about this as Grace seems to be.”

She’d nodded then, taken his hand, and made her way down the bleachers with him. He stood aside as the hoopla began, and before he realized what had happened, Brooke had been whisked away in a convertible as the parade was led back through town the way it came. She’d looked back frantically as she was escorted from the judges’ stand and he’d been pretty certain she’d been looking for him, but there was no way she’d have found him. He stepped back and let her have her moment, then fell in with the crowd and followed the parade to the marina, and to Scoop. But there, too, there’d been a crowd, and he’d been unable to get close to her.

He left the festivities and walked to his office, where he reread some files, wrote a few letters, and made some notes for an upcoming settlement conference. He finished one last letter, then walked back to his rented house, where he ate leftover spaghetti for dinner, then watched the tail end of a college football game while he waited for seven o’clock.

The conversation with Brooke had baffled him. He couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Brooke. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t been as nice back when as she was now. Do people really hold grudges for that long? Well, except for the Enrights, that is.

Yeah, he supposed a lot of people did, but he honestly hadn’t seen any evidence of that as they’d walked through the crowd earlier in the day. People had
smiled at Brooke and greeted her like, well, like an old friend. He wondered if she noticed that no one had made a hex sign when she approached.

It was sort of endearing that she’d been so contrite about her school-age self, and it was clear to him if not to her that she’d tried really hard to redeem herself in the eyes of her hometown. It was hard to believe that she’d ever been as bad as she said she was, though. From the first time he’d met her, one thing that had attracted Jesse to Brooke was her sweet nature.

That and her mane of curly pale reddish blond hair that had a sassy swing to it when pulled back in a ponytail, the way it tumbled around her face when it wasn’t. Heart-shaped face, pale green eyes, a mouth that was quick to smile and widen in a laugh.

And then, there was her body. Brooke was petite, but perfectly proportioned.

Best not to go there, he thought, while they were still on the friendship track.

He wondered how long he was going to have to pretend to be her best buddy before she started to think of him as something more than a friend. And what if she never did? What if she thought this BFF thing was just swell? What if Clay had been wrong when he’d suggested that the only way to make Jesse stand out in the pack was to treat her differently than everyone else had?

If she never saw him in any other way, he’d have to accept that. He wasn’t a fatal attraction kind of guy. Something was better than nothing, and at least they’d still be friends—real friends—which was more than those other guys could say. Besides, he was finding
that the more time he spent with her, the more he genuinely liked her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d dated someone that he hadn’t gotten to know
while
they were dating, instead of
before
.

Practicing law had taught Jesse patience, and he’d long since learned that some things couldn’t be rushed. But he had to admit that he was getting a little antsy waiting for Brooke to realize that he had so much more to offer than friendship.

Then again, considering the alternative, he figured he could practice patience for a little longer. What did he have to lose?

The Grange Hall in St. Dennis had been built in 1878 by the farmers who grew corn and wheat and barley in the fields that lay east of the town limits. What had been started as a social organization had grown political when Midwestern farmers organized to protest the high transport prices set by the railroads. Years later, the conflict resolved, the Grangers, as the members were called, went back to being a social organization.

The hall was constructed of clapboard, had one large main room inside the big double front doors, and was painted white inside and out. There was a stage area that spanned the width of the building, and a few smaller storage rooms behind the stage. In keeping with their autumnal theme, the committee had decorated the room with bales of hay, shocks of corn, and stacks of pumpkins. Jesse’s first thought when he walked in was that he’d somehow landed back at his eighth-grade dance. Even the music was from the late 1980s. He looked around for a table
where ladies dressed as witches served punch and cookies—and yep, there it was across the room. How did he know?

He wandered over and took a paper cup of punch, more for something to do than anything else, and stood to one side as other residents—some in costume—arrived. He greeted those he knew and smiled at those he didn’t, though it occurred to him that he seemed to know almost everyone. He waved at Clay when he came in with the boys, and figured Brooke couldn’t be too far behind.

“Hey, Mr. Enright.” Logan waved his sword back and forth. A loose strip of foil fluttered from the handle. “Do you think me and Cody will win a prize? We think we’ll win a prize.”

“I think there’s a very good chance that you could.” Jesse nodded. “You were far and away the best pirates I saw all day.”

“I told you.” Cody gave Logan a whack on the arm with his sword, the blade of which had apparently given a few too many such whacks, as evidenced by the fact that hardly any foil remained to cover the cardboard. Neither boy appeared to notice.

“Cody, your mom and Grant just came in,” Clay told him. “Why don’t you go over and let them know that we’re here?”

The two boys took off across the room, dodging a few senior citizens who looked askance at their antics.

“Oh, to be eight again, and to be at the Halloween ball,” Clay said.

“Were the refreshments any better when you were a kid?” Jesse asked.

Clay shook his head. “Same punch recipe since the place was founded. I think there’s a clause in the contract that says it has to be served at every event held here. And the cookies all have to be burned on the bottom. Another tradition,” he explained.

“Looks like tradition’s safe for another year.”

“So Brooke tells me you’re writing a letter to Jason Bowers about that business Eric bankrolled.”

“Already sent it.”

“Jace reply yet?”

“Too soon,” Jesse told him. “It was only mailed on Thursday. You know him?”

Clay nodded. “Sure. He was Eric’s brother.”

“What’s he like?”

“Good guy. I’m surprised he hasn’t kept Brooke in the loop a little better, but I don’t think he’d cheat her or Logan out of anything.”

“That’s pretty much what she said. She told me he had broached the subject after her husband died and she brushed him off because it was something else she couldn’t deal with.”

“It was a bad time for everyone,” Clay said simply.

“Anyway, I kept the letter pretty light, more of a gentle inquiry.”

“That’s good. Glad you’re helping her. She needs to get all that straightened out for Logan’s sake.”

The two boys came racing back, swords in one hand, paper cups of punch in the other.

“Slow down,” Clay told them. “And watch so that the punch doesn’t spill.”

The boys immediately stopped running and took very small, slow steps.

“Do you have kids of your own?” Jesse asked.

Clay shook his head. “Logan’s the only kid I’ve ever been around all that much. I’m going to miss him like crazy when he and Brooke move.”

“They’re moving?” Jesse felt stunned. “Brooke is moving? Away from St. Dennis?”

“Relax,” Clay told him. “They’re moving into a small house on the farm.” He studied Jesse’s face for a moment, then said, “Don’t let her see that.”

“See what?”

“What I just saw in your face when you thought she might be leaving town.”

“It’s that obvious?”

Clay nodded. “Keep it under wraps, my friend.”

“Hello, boys.” Grace buzzed into the room and paused on her way to the stage, where, Jesse assumed, she might be looking for photos for her newspaper.

“Miss Grace, I heard a rumor that Lucy might be coming back in a few days,” Clay said.

“Yes, indeed, she is. She’ll be consulting with Dallas and Steffie about their big wedding plans. With any luck, they’ll convince her to come back to handle the entire day. Should keep her home for a while, anyway.” Grace smiled. “One can hope.”

“Did she say how long she’d be staying?” To Jesse’s eye, Clay appeared to be acting a little too nonchalant. “Would you tell her I said hi? And ask her to give me a call if she gets a few minutes?”

“I certainly will, dear. Now, I must hustle if I’m to get the photos I want. They’ve brought the queen in through the back door and they’re going to introduce her soon.”

“Who’s Lucy?” Jesse asked after Grace had scurried away.

“Grace’s daughter. We went all through school together, from kindergarten right through senior year of high school. We used to be best friends.”

“What happened?” Jesse thought back on Clay’s previous advice about Brooke. “Let me guess. You asked her out and the minute she thought you were interested she shut you out.”

Clay seemed oblivious to the reference. He shook his head and said, “Nah. I guess we just grew apart.”

“Maybe you’ll see her next week.”

“That would be awkward. We haven’t seen each other since the week after we graduated from high school. She went on some summer study thing to London, came back, and left for college in Colorado. Went into business in L.A. I heard she was home from time to time but never for more than a few days.”

“So maybe she’ll call when she’s here,” Jesse told him.

“To tell you the truth—”

The mayor walked across the stage, tested the microphone, and called for everyone’s attention. The crowd that had hugged the sides of the room all drifted forward and to the middle as introductions were made. The various committees were thanked, the merchants who had donated prizes and who had closed their shops for the morning to permit the festivities to close off the main street for three blocks were thanked, and it seemed to Jesse at one point that everyone had been thanked except Clay and him. And then Clay was thanked for donating the apples for the apple bobbing.