The Wishing Season (15 page)

PJ’s breath left her suddenly, leaving her as limp and wilted as week-old lettuce. She could still feel Cole’s touch. Still feel his fingers sliding down her hair, sending every follicle into a frenzy. Still feel his strong hand settle into the curve of her waist like he was staking his claim. She’d never liked the thought of that, but then, she’d never known Cole.

This wasn’t good. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. Someday, yes. But she didn’t trust herself to make good choices, to see beneath the good looks and rippling muscles. Not after Keaton. She seemed to be missing the good sense gene when it came to men, because by all appearances Cole was taken too. She’d heard him on the phone, using the tender tone reserved for a woman. He had a girlfriend tucked away somewhere who might
have no idea he was holed up in a house with another woman. Installing her shelves, tucking her hair behind her ears, making her shiver.

There was no way she was going there again. Bad enough she had to dodge Keaton’s calls and texts. She didn’t need to add Cole to the equation.

Besides, he was her rival. In nine months one of them would be leaving, and she fully intended it to be him. There was no chance of a future here, girlfriend or no. And the way he took off like oil across a hot skillet, he was in complete agreement.

Chapter Twenty

S
EPTEMBER FADED INTO
O
CTOBER
,
BRINGING BRIGHT
autumn foliage and chilly days. They switched the air conditioning to heat at night. Fewer people chose to dine on the wide veranda, and PJ became anxious about the long winter months ahead.

She and Cole had made it through the cooking classes, but he’d been pretty scarce since the closet incident. She was glad. She was. If she was a tiny bit hurt it was only because she was a people person. She got lonely for adult company.

November arrived with cold, gusty winds, and the tourists were suddenly gone. How would her restaurant survive the off-season? Her first cooking classes were over and round two hadn’t drawn the crowd she’d hoped. At her worst moments, when she tallied up her profits for the week, a terrible dread filled her.

She was going to lose the contest. Lose the house, her restaurant, all the money she’d put into it. Sometimes it was enough to bring on a panic attack. She’d work through it, then give herself a pep talk and go through her routines and somehow put the negative thoughts behind her.

Meanwhile, things upstairs seemed to be going swimmingly. Cole’s kids had jobs, and she’d heard nothing but good things
from Dan at the garage and Wanda, the manager at Sassy Nails. Yeah, she’d splurged on a manicure. Probably not the best idea she’d ever had.

She was glad it was going well for them, but living with a bunch of teens had its frustrations. One day in September she’d come home to find half the flower garden mowed down. She took a deep breath and told herself at least the weeds were gone too.

The next week a huge oil stain blotched her beautiful new concrete parking pad where Zac had changed his oil. Rather than confront Cole—because that would require a conversation—she grabbed the dishwashing liquid and a scrub brush and went to work. It came out. Mostly.

Josh continually used her front door, Shaundra did her dance squad routines above the dining room during restaurant hours, and someone liked to pilfer food from her fridge.

Through it all, PJ gritted her teeth and reminded herself they’d be out in six months. She didn’t even let herself worry about where they’d go. After all, they had jobs, and they’d be graduated by then.

Adding to her stress, Keaton continued texting her. Sometimes she read them before she deleted—it was impossible not to, when they were only one or two lines.

M
Y MARRIAGE IS OVER
. A
RE YOU THERE
, PJ? P
LEASE CALL ME
.

The texts made it impossible to put him behind her. They were a constant reminder of her poor judgment, covering her with a blanket of shame. Was he really divorcing? Had
she
caused the divorce?

Worse yet, she sometimes remembered their tender moments together, their laughter, the space she’d given him in her heart. At
her loneliest moments, she was tempted to text him back. If his marriage was really over, what was the harm? Then she’d feel horrible for being tempted. What kind of person did that make her?

Keaton, the kids, the restaurant, Cole. It was all simmering on the back burner, ready to boil over as she headed into the holidays.

On the Monday before Thanksgiving, she went Christmas shopping with her mom. The season’s first snowflakes drifted down as they made their way back to her mom’s Enclave, arms laden with bags.

Mom lowered her chin into her scarf. “It’s freezing!”

“I hope the snow sticks,” PJ said as they piled the bags into the back.

Her mom smiled. “You would.”

“It’s so pretty . . .” PJ spun around, arms out. “And it’s our first snowfall. How can you not like it?”

“Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Spending money always puts me in a good mood. Especially when it’s someone else’s.” Plus, she’d managed another Monday away from the house, avoiding a quiet day at home with Cole.

Her mom chuckled as she started the car, and the strains of “White Christmas” filtered through the radio.

“You want to grab dinner somewhere?” PJ asked. “You can bring something home for Dad.”

“I should probably get home and do some laundry.” Mom backed from the parking spot. “I was hoping you’d make it to church yesterday. We miss you. Everyone asks about you.”

PJ knew her concern was really about her spiritual walk, not her vacant spot in the pew. “I was going to let Callie handle brunch, but her little girl got sick.”

“Maybe next week. I know the restaurant is important, but if you don’t set priorities, life has a way of setting them for you.”

“I know. I’ll try and make it.”

A text dinged in. PJ felt the vibration in her pocket. She thought immediately of Keaton and ignored it.

Mom pulled onto Oak Street. “I think that’s yours.”

On the other hand, it could be any number of people. She was being paranoid. She pulled her phone from her pocket and checked the screen. Her mood took a dive to the floorboard.

“ ‘I miss you’?”

“Mom!” PJ shut off the phone.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to look over your shoulder. It’s none of my business.”

PJ hated that he’d texted her. And why now, of all times? It was almost as if he were sitting in the car with them. If her mom knew what she’d done, she’d be so ashamed.

PJ was glad they weren’t going out to eat now. She wanted to go home and put her phone down the garbage disposal. The commercial one. Maybe it was time to change her number.

“I know it’s none of my business, but that text . . .”

PJ looked out the passenger window so her mom couldn’t read her face.

“Honey, if things are heating up between you and Cole, I think you should be careful.”

“Me and Cole?”

“He seems like a nice man, don’t get me wrong. But he’s had a rough time of it—and I know it sounds callous, but honey, you don’t go through all that and not come out with a lot of baggage.”

“Mom, there’s nothing going on between me and Cole.” She brushed away the memory of him in her closet.

“Oh? That’s not who the message was from?”

She’d done it now. Last thing she needed was more prying questions. “Everything’s under control. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Her mom’s blue eyes burned into PJ, until she was sure her mom saw everything, right down to the butterfly tattoo she didn’t know about.

“He’s an awfully attractive man.”

“You too?”

“And I’m sure you feel bad for him—you’re softhearted, and I’ve always loved that about you. But relationships are challenging enough without that kind of baggage. From what I understand, he was in foster care for a long time. I don’t know what put him there, but it can’t be anything good—and that’s without all the experiences he may have endured once he was there.”

“I know, Mom. You don’t have to worry.”

“So there’s nothing going on between you two?”

“
Mom.
” She thought of Madison’s husband and his baggage—an alcoholic father and a mother who abandoned him. Had her mom butted in as their relationship progressed? She doubted it.

Mom put her palm up. “Sorry. None of my business, I know. Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.” PJ was nothing these days if not careful.

A few minutes later, Mom pulled up to the curb behind PJ’s car. The exterior lighting, set on a timer, was on, and Wishing House glowed under a velvet sky.

“Good heavens, what happened?”

PJ followed her mom’s eyes to the back of her red Monte Carlo where the Enclave’s headlights shone. Onto the heavily dented bumper.

“What in the world?” PJ got out and marched to her car.

It was no little fender bender. Someone had bashed in the whole back side.

“That’s pretty bad.” Mom bent to examine the damage. “Surely it wasn’t a hit-and-run. Not here in Chapel Springs.”

It wasn’t. PJ knew exactly who’d done it. Josh always parked his Oldsmobile beater right behind her. She’d wanted to complain to Cole because it was an eyesore but she hadn’t.

But she was going to now. “I have to go.”

“You should probably call the police,” Mom called. “And your insurance company.”

“Oh, I will.”

“And take pictures! What about your bag?”

“I’ll get it Thursday.”

Cole fanned through the mail, picking out the one piece addressed to him and setting the rest back on the table. He climbed the steps to the second floor, then to the attic.

The house was quiet, the kids still working their after-school jobs and PJ having left early in the afternoon.

He closed the door to his room and ripped open the blue envelope. Lizzy was sweet to remember. He smiled at the funny caption on the card and set it on his nightstand beside the empty soup bowl and Coke can.

He flopped into bed and flipped on the TV. It was still an hour until Monday Night Football, but there was plenty of pregame commentary. He’d looked forward to the game all week. How lucky was he that the Colts played on his birthday?

He arranged his pillows and settled against the headboard. He’d thought about buying a cheap sofa for his room, but it seemed like a waste of money. He liked to be out in the community living room as much as possible when the kids were home.

The heat kicked on, and he jacked up the volume. He loved the cooler weather, though the heating bill was wrecking his budget. On top of that, one of his sponsors had lost his job and had to renege on his pledge of support. Cole was going to have to find extra funds and soon.

He’d already taken a job installing windows for a home improvement company. But there had been unexpected expenses, like an insurance policy to cover their belongings. He also hadn’t accounted accurately for the amount of food three teenagers consumed in a week.

There was a sharp rap on the door. He turned the volume down. “Come in.”

PJ appeared. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparking, and specks of snow dotted her dark hair.

“You need to come outside.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? What’s
wrong
? There’s a huge dent in the back of my car. It’s not even small enough to qualify as a dent—more of a complete smashing of the back side of my car!”

He leaned forward, snapping off the TV. “I’m sure there’s—”

“You know it was Josh. He always parks right behind me, and his car’s gone.”

“Now wait a minute. Maybe it was—”

“A hit-and-run? Is that what you were going to say? Really?”

It was, but he wasn’t saying it now, not with the way she was
shooting daggers at him. “Josh was running late for work. I’m sure if he did it, he’ll tell us. He has insurance. It’ll be taken care of.”

“And what about the flowers? Will those be taken care of? And the food from my fridge—”

“Wait, what?”

“—and the dancing over my dining room, and the tromping through my restaurant during open hours, and the oil on my concrete? Will all that be taken care of too?” She crossed her arms over her chest, which rose and fell quickly.

“Somebody’s been holding back.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve been hanging around the first floor. If you had been, maybe you would’ve noticed that you still haven’t put the hooks up in my closet.”

He clenched his jaw. “Anything else?”

She pulled in a breath and released it, her shoulders sinking. The fight left her face, her whole body. Her eyes found the rug. “No.”

He’d had no idea she’d been so bothered by the kids. And she was right. He had been avoiding her. If he’d come around more, maybe he would’ve noticed. Maybe she would’ve felt free to tell him all this.

He exhaled hard, then stood and slipped on his shoes. “Let’s go look at your car.”

He followed her down the stairs and out the front door. Snow swirled around them, and he tucked his hands into his pockets. He could see the damage long before they reached the vehicle. It wasn’t as bad as she’d made it sound, but it was a good-sized dent.