Treasure on Lilac Lane: A Jewell Cove Novel (16 page)

The topic changed and the rest of the meal passed with tales of Abby’s honeymoon in Paris and Mary’s dilemma about whether or not to find out the sex of the baby. Tiramisu and coffee were served and Jess’s belly was as full as her heart. She had good friends. A wonderful family.

The old strategy of protecting herself was wearing thin and all it took was one look around the table to know why. There was Abby, still in the honeymoon stage, her eyes sparkling all the time. Mary and her perma-glow from carrying a child inside her, and even Sarah’s wistful smile as she talked about her kids and the possibility of trying to get pregnant again.

Jess had thought she’d done all the hard work. She’d faced her fears and was just waiting for the right guy to come along. And still she felt she was somehow missing out on it all.

Maybe there was no such thing as the right man at the right time—at least not for her.

C
HAPTER
12

It wasn’t unusual for Rick to drop by the house on Blackberry Hill to visit Abby and Tom. He’d done so several times before the wedding and a few times since. But today he was exceptionally nervous. Abby had invited him up to look at a window she was considering having him paint in the library, and with Rick’s low bank balance, he couldn’t afford to say no. After assessing the window and pointing out two other spots where he could install custom-made pieces, Abby tried to convince him to stay for coffee. Despite how much he liked Abby, sitting around drinking coffee from fine china in the Foster House was the last thing he wanted to do this afternoon. He was feeling jittery and closed in. God, he wished he could go out on the ocean.

“I should get going. I’m working on a project for Jess and I’d like to finish before she comes around nagging at me.”

“Jess, huh?”

He scowled. “She twisted my arm to get me to do some holiday stuff for the women’s bazaar coming up. Promised to keep it all quiet and stuff. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

Abby’s face took on an overly innocent expression and Rick frowned. “Abby?”

“Well, I had dinner with Jess and Mary and Sarah. But they’re family and Jess already knew. They promised not to say anything. I was just so excited about my new door.” She smiled hopefully.

He sighed. It was probably going to get out sooner or later. He liked painting for a hobby, but taking on jobs was more like work and he was afraid he’d lose the fun of it if it became a job. There were lots of times that escaping into a project was all that kept him sane. Especially nights when he couldn’t sleep, when the memories crowded his brain a little too closely.

“Listen, about Jess,” Abby said, and her face turned serious again. “She had a run-in with Pam Greer outside Gino’s. She said it was fine but she was really upset, I could tell. I think she’s really dreading seeing Mike when he comes home. Just keep an eye out for her, okay?”

His insides seized. How much did Abby know? Jess was so quiet about her past but Rick knew it had been bad. That she had a reason to be afraid of her ex. Keep an eye out? Damn straight.

“Don’t worry about Jess. This town loves her. Everyone will have her back.”

“I hope so.” Abby cupped her mug and worked it in slow circles on the tabletop.

“Something on your mind, Abby?”

She met his gaze. “Promise you won’t think I’m crazy?”

His stomach clenched. “Are you sure you want to ask
me
that? I’ve gone off the rails and it wouldn’t take much to send me there again.”

“There’s something about Jess. I can feel things about people, Rick. I never really realized it until I came here, and it’s a long story … but there’s a sadness that surrounds her. I don’t know what it is.”

“She didn’t used to be that way.” The Jess he’d known had been bubbly, carefree. “She lost her dad at a pretty sensitive age.”

“It could be that, I suppose,” Abby replied. Her eyes were soft with concern. “But I think it’s more than that.” She stopped spinning the cup. “Just keep your eyes open, okay? She’s a strong woman but everyone needs a guardian angel now and again.”

He chuckled a little, a good show considering the bitterness inside him. Kyle could have used a guardian angel watching over him in Afghanistan. Maybe then he’d still be alive. Maybe then Rick would still have his hand. “Do you have a guardian angel, Abby?”

“Of course I do,” she answered, a glow lighting her cheeks. “I have Tom. He pulled me out of that barn, remember?”

Right. How could he have forgotten that the Prescott barn had fallen in a lightning strike? Abby had been inside. She was lucky she got out with just cuts and bruises.

“I’m not sure I’m a good choice for a guardian angel,” he contradicted.

“I think you’re the perfect choice.”

Her easy confidence touched something inside him—a feeling of warmth knowing she believed in him and then something that was like guilt from knowing how badly he’d failed in the past.

“Well, I’d better go. Thanks for the coffee and the info.”

He stood up and so did she. “It was no trouble. You’ll let me know about the projects we discussed?”

“As soon as I work up some drawings.”

She walked him to the door and waited while he slipped on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. “Don’t worry about Jess,” he said. “I’ll look out for her.”

Abby closed the door behind him. “Oh, Rick.” She sighed to the empty foyer. “I think you need her as much as she needs you,” she said softly.

*   *   *

A raw wind brought with it small, hard drops of rain. Of all the months of the year, Rick hated November the most. The days were short and the trees were bare, their gray, gnarled branches like bony fingers against a bleak sky. Even on the rare sunny day, the vibrant colors of earlier months were gone and not yet replaced by a pristine blanket of snow.

Rick got out of his truck and zipped his jacket to the neck before reaching across the seat for a cardboard box, the flaps folded over to protect against the damp.

The street in front of Treasures was empty, except for Jess’s car, which was parked in the narrow drive to the side of the building. Not much wonder. Today was the sort of day to stay inside where it was warm and dry. Even the normally colorful buildings looked drab against the steely waves of the harbor.

Shoulders huddled against the cold, he made his way up the steps and along the back boardwalk to the entrance of Treasures.

The bell above the door gave a cheery ring as he stepped inside. Jess was sitting behind the cash register and she looked up when he walked in, her face lighting up.

Whooomp
, went his heart against the wall of his chest.

Whoa.

“Hey,” he said, his voice sounding unusually loud in the quiet.

“Hey yourself.” She stood up, putting aside a huge mound of knitting. “What brings you by? Are those the ornaments?”

“They are.” He shouldn’t be so pleased by the way her eyes sparkled at him. “I thought I’d deliver them myself, since you have to work around shop hours and I’m more flexible.”

“That was nice of you.” She stood up, pulling the hem of her sweater down over her jeans. She held out her hands. “Gimme,” she said, waggling her fingers. “I want to see.”

“You have someplace with more room?” he asked, looking at her crowded countertop that held the cash register, a rack of magnets, hand-crafted bookmarks, and a jar of saltwater taffy—not to mention the huge bundle of yellow knitting she was working on. “What are you knitting?”

“Oh, that?” She lifted a shoulder and touched the pale yarn. “It’s a blanket. I started it when we found out Sarah was pregnant. I couldn’t bear to take it all out, so I’m finishing it. I’ll find a use for it somewhere.”

“Is there anything you can’t do, Saint Jess?”

The nickname came out before he could stop it, but to his surprise she didn’t get her back up about it. She just laughed a little as she looked up at him.

“I can’t paint on glass. So let’s go back into the workroom where there’s lots more space and you can show me what you’ve done.”

*   *   *

Jess tried to calm the rapid beat of her heart. She’d been sitting at the counter, knitting away—the weather was so atrocious chances were she’d go without a customer all afternoon. She usually enjoyed looking out the wide windows, even in bad weather—the changing moods of the sea were so wild and unpredictable. But not today. Today she’d been restless and without the focus needed to do anything that required too much attention. So she’d pulled out the blanket, made a pot of tea, and settled in, letting the rhythm of the pattern lull her to a more comfortable mind-set.

And then the door had opened and Rick had come through it in a bluster of wind and rain. And what was boring and ordinary was suddenly brought to life. That was not good news.

Neither was it good that when she looked into his eyes she felt the jolt right down to the soles of her feet.

But when Rick lifted the flaps of the cardboard box, she forgot about everything else and just stared in amazement.

“The ornaments first.” He reached in and took out the first box—and then took out two more boxes. Forty-two glass balls in total, each one individual and stunning.

“You bought more.”

“I was having fun. And I had more ideas than ornaments, so I made a trip to the department store.”

She lifted the lid and gently examined the first ornaments. This box held the clear glass ones painted all in red and green designs. The globe in her hand had delicate trails of holly and berries. Another was painted with cascades of poinsettias and green-and-gold ribbon. There were several Santas—near chimneys, holding presents, stuffing stockings. Then he’d taken iridescent shredded paper and stuffed the clear balls full and painted adorable snowmen and penguin scenes. The next boxes were even better—they were painted on colored balls and looked amazing. The red ornaments were lavishly decorated with pyramids of Christmas trees, presents, Bethlehem stars, and cedar boughs with gold ribbon. The frosted white ones made a perfect background for snow scenes, and Rick had used blue tones to paint a night sky, a church scene, more snowmen, and tiny skaters spinning around a pond.

Jess put a hand to her mouth, swamped with emotion. It defied logic. Rick had been the outdoorsy, smart-ass jock growing up. He’d been a tough Marine. But this—this was more than cute holiday scenes. She could see his heart in his work. In the simplicity, in the comfort of the traditions, in the beauty. There was a gentleness to them—to him—that she’d never seen before. Her eyes began to sting and she blinked quickly to rid them of the tears that welled up.

“Jess? What’s wrong? Don’t you like them?”

She carefully put the ornament in her hand back in the box and told herself to get a grip. Nothing had changed. He still could have the power to break her heart. She couldn’t let herself fall under his spell.

But then she met his eyes and she saw the vulnerability there as he waited for her verdict. She reached out and grabbed his right hand.

“Don’t like them? They’re gorgeous. They’re perfect. I don’t know how you … it’s just that…”

“You? At a loss for words?”

She gave a little laugh. “I know. You’ve rendered me speechless.”

“And you haven’t even seen the candles yet.”

He let go of her hand and reached into the bottom of the box.

They were better than the ornaments. One tall pillar holder was painted with a scrolled Santa’s list. There were wreaths and holly boughs and flowers and one Mason jar that was simply stunning coated in a fall of delicate snowflakes. Then he’d taken some of her taper candles and painted them in candy-cane stripes. A thick creamy pillar candle that had been sitting on a special plate was now wreathed with tiny holly leaves and berries and the plate had been painted a solid, sparkly gold.

“You painted the candles.”

“I told you I had ideas.”

“This is incredible. Rick, there’s more than enough here for the bazaar. Will you let me carry your work? Even if it’s not your bigger designs, I’d love to stock this stuff for the holidays. Do you think you could do a few more?”

She looked up at him hopefully.

He tilted his head, looked at the mess on the table, and back to her face again. “You really like them that much? I thought they might be a little … I don’t know, juvenile.”

“Are you kidding? They’re more than stunning. And they’re all one of a kind. At least let me try it. Let me keep one box of assorted ornaments and half a dozen candles in the store. If they sell—and they will, mark my words—then you’ll consider doing a few more.”

“I don’t know, Jess…”

“The Evergreen Festival is the second weekend of December. If I sell out by Thanksgiving, will you do more for festival weekend? The store will be crazy busy.”

He dithered for a moment but she put on her most hopeful look. “All right,” he relented. “But only if you sell out by the end of Thanksgiving weekend.”

Jess was confident the deal was solid. “Perfect.” She put everything back in the box. “I’ll price these, start a page for you in the consignment book, and get them on the shelf right away. Is a seventy-five percent consignment rate okay for you?”

“Is that what you usually charge?”

It wasn’t. She normally took thirty-five percent of the proceeds, but she knew Rick would insist on the same rate and she wanted to help him a little. He was out of work, after all.

“Yup,” she lied.

“Then you have a deal.” He checked his watch. “I suppose I should get going. You’ll want to close up soon.”

It was after four and she normally closed at five during the week in the off-season. Not only that, but she was glad for the company. Ever since the run-in with Pamela, she’d been oddly restless.

“Closing up’s no problem. All I have to do is lock the door and turn over the sign.”

“Oh.”

There were no classes tonight either. The hours stretched out in front of her, long and lonely. “Do you have plans for dinner?” The question popped out of her mouth before she even really thought about it.

“Dinner?”

Heat crept up her cheeks. “I mean … I was going to make some pasta or something. You’re welcome to stay. Unless you have other plans.”