Second Chance Match. Arlene James
the size of Abby’s apartment! If it had a kitchen, it would equal the house in which she’d grown up. She wouldn’t think of the house that Wayne had insisted on taking in the divorce. It had always meant more to him than to her.
“I beg your pardon?” Garrett Willows said.
Jessa turned, smiled wanly and waved a hand. “I—I didn’t expect this.” She glanced around once more, taking in the tasteful cream-and-cocoa décor. The furnishings were a mixture of antiques and modern comfort. A flat-screen TV hung above the fireplace, and Hunter was even now standing in front of it with his mouth hanging open. “It’s too much, frankly.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Garrett conceded with a crooked smile. “And this is the small suite, meaning that it’s the smallest in the house. You have to admit, it’s much smaller than the Monroe place.”
Jessa couldn’t argue with that. “I guess I’m just a bit…bewildered.”
“Well, that makes two of us,” Garrett returned. “It’s been quite a day, frankly.”
“You can say that again,” Jessa muttered, glancing around once more.
“It’s been quite a day,” Garrett repeated a shade louder than the first time. That elicited a reluctant smile from her.
“I didn’t mean that you should literally repeat it.”
“I know.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Couldn’t resist, though.”
A chuckle escaped her, and he gave her a genuine smile, obviously pleased to have lightened the mood.
Oh, this could be dangerous, she thought, forcing the delight from her face.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he advised, pretending not to notice, “and don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said blandly. “Thanks for the help, but don’t let us keep you.”
Apparently, he was in no mood to be dismissed, however. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms.
“If you decide you’d like a little bedtime snack, the kitchen is downstairs at the back of the house,” he informed her. “Hilda keeps the pantry well stocked. Oh, and there’s a dumbwaiter down the hall so you don’t have to carry heavy trays up and down the stairs.”
“A dumbwaiter,” she echoed.
“I can show you how to operate it, if you want,” he offered.
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied tersely.
He shrugged. “See you in the morning, then.”
“Y-you’re staying here?” she asked. She’d been dismayed to find him in the living room with the Chatams. Clearly, he was close to them somehow, but she’d hoped that he wouldn’t be staying. She couldn’t very well plead her case in front of him, after all. It was bad enough that she’d wasted her best outfit, but now to find that she wasn’t about to be rid of him, well, it was enough to make a girl testy.
“Not here here,” he said, pointing at the floor. “I live in the carriage house.” Great. So, was he renting? Family? Freeloading? She was dying to know.
He turned to go, then abruptly spun back to face her. “Oh, um, I should point out that there is some construction going on across the landing. Odelia and Kent are reconfiguring some single rooms into a private suite of their own, but you know how it is with old houses. It takes forever to make changes. Shouldn’t disturb you too much.”
“About those weddings,” Jessa ventured quickly, stepping forward. “I’m a little confused.”
“It’s very simple,” Garrett said with a grin. “Asher Chatam and Ellie Monroe will wed on the fourth Thursday of May, and Odelia and Kent will marry on the fourth Tuesday of June.”
“I see.”
He chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking. A June bride at Odelia’s age. It tickles me every time I think about it.”
She had been surprised to find that the elderly pair were engaged to marry, but her mother had designed arrangements for more than one such wedding at a local nursing home. Jessa’s concerns, however, featured flowers—and work.
“Actually, I was just wondering what florist they’re using.” She prayed that she didn’t sound greedy, but after finding Garrett Willows in the parlor with the family and learning that he lived on the premises, she very much doubted that she would ever claim the Monroe place, let alone open a business there. Maybe she could get a temporary job with the shop lucky enough to garner a Chatam wedding, though.
Garrett snorted and shook his head. “Florist? They don’t have a florist. Both couples only became engaged a couple weeks ago and neither is willing to wait too long. That’s why the weddings will take place on weeknights. All the weekends were taken already at the church. And, of course, it being the wedding season, all the local florists are booked solid. Between you and me, more than one offered to work in the Chatams, but the ladies wouldn’t allow that.”
“Why not?” Jessa asked. Her mother had often worked in favorite customers.
“They truly would not want to risk creating hardship for others,” Garrett divulged, “but mostly they wouldn’t want anyone to think that they were taking advantage of the Chatam name. So, Magnolia will be handling the flowers.” He shrugged as if to say she’d do her best.
Jessa blinked. “Magnolia?”
“She does all the flower arranging around the house, and she’s been reading about bouquets and corsages and such. There are some wonderful books in the library, by the way, if you’re interested.”
“Thank you,” Jessa returned automatically, her heart beginning to pound. “M-maybe I could help, though. With the flowers. It just so happens that I am a florist. I—I’ve handled quite a few weddings, actually.” Three, to be precise, but she’d helped her mom with designs for many more, and this would be a great way to pay her room and board while creating local references. And just maybe she could sway the Monroes in her favor while she was at it.
Garrett tilted his head. It seemed to her that a tiny light ignited deep within those blue, blue eyes, building into an unnerving glow. “Is that a fact?” he drawled finally.
“Yes. My mother was a florist, and she trained me.”
After a moment, Jessa began to wonder what he was staring at. Then Garrett smiled and folded his arms.
“Well,” he said, grinning broadly. “Imagine that.”
Jessa wasn’t sure if that meant the Chatams would welcome her help or not, and he didn’t enlighten her. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, leaving Jessa puzzled in his wake.
Well, at least she and Hunter had a safe place to sleep for the night and it wasn’t costing them anything—except a home and a new life.
Jessa slept surprisingly well. Hunter had a bit of trouble settling down in the strange opulence of his room, but eventually he drifted off. Exhausted herself, she’d changed into cotton pajamas and fallen into her own ostentatious bed without even brushing her teeth. Sleep had claimed her almost immediately.
She woke at first light and lay pondering the morning’s agenda as the gray dawn yellowed into day. The sound of Hunter’s small feet hitting the floor had her sitting up to peer around the brocade hangings at the front of the bed. Hunter darted through her open door, caught the bedpost with one hand and leapt up onto the mattress.
She opened her arms, smiling even as she scolded. “Careful, Hunter. This is expensive antique furniture.”
Always quiet, he burrowed into her warm embrace without comment, sighing with contentment. She loved those happy little sounds that he made; they healed the wounds in her heart that his frightened squeaks