Welcome to Serenity (22 page)
Tom picked up on her phrasing at once. “What happened to change that?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. If she said the words, the enjoyment she’d been feeling amidst all these beautiful trees would be lost.
“Jeanette, what happened?” Tom pressed.
She sighed and began slowly, “I had an older brother—
Benjamin. He was the best.” She closed her eyes and pictured him, standing tall and proud in his football uniform, an adoring girl on each arm. The words flowed more quickly. “He’d won an athletic scholarship to the University of South Carolina. My parents were so proud of him. Neither of them had been able to go to college. My dad’s a farmer. He works the same farm today that his father and grandfather did before him. He wanted more for Ben.”
Tom just nodded and waited without interrupting. Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. “It was Christmas eve,” she said, lost in the memory that had changed her life. “I was fifteen and Ben had just turned eighteen. We’d all gone to church, but Ben had driven his own car. He’d picked up his girlfriend on the way to the midnight service. When they left after the service, he said he’d see us at home …” Her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard against the flood of memories of that awful night.
Tom touched her cheek, his eyes soft with compassion.
“What happened?”
“He never made it,” she said. She paused for breath and it was a moment before she could go on. “After he dropped off his girlfriend, his car hit a patch of black ice. The police said he was probably going too fast. The car spun out of control and slammed into a tree. They said he died instantly.”
“Oh my God, Jeanette, I am so sorry,” Tom said, brushing the tears from her cheeks. “I can’t imagine what that must have done to all of you.”
“We never celebrated Christmas again,” she told him, regrets washing through her anew. “When I wanted to get out the decorations the next year, my mother fell apart. My dad put them back in the attic. I never tried again.”
“No wonder you hate the holidays,” he said. “You have such terrible memories associated with the season.”
“Ironically, I don’t hate the holidays because I’m sad,”
she said, trying to explain. “Not exactly, anyway. I hate them because of the way Ben’s death changed my parents. They’d been warm and generous and outgoing. My dad had high expectations for my brother, but he doted on me. After that, though, it was as if I didn’t even exist. I might as well have died right along with Ben, because nothing I did seemed to make any difference to them.” She met Tom’s gaze. “You have no idea how lonely and isolated that can make you feel, not mattering to the people you’re supposed to matter to.”
“My parents always involved themselves too much in my life. I felt smothered. They laid out all these expectations that had nothing to do with what I wanted. It wasn’t enough that I excelled at school, I had to excel at the classes my father thought I ought to be taking. I had to spend time with girls my mother thought were appropriate. I went along with it until I graduated from law school, but then I did things my own way. That’s when the real battles started.”
He shook his head. “So, no, I don’t know how it feels to be ignored, but it must have hurt terribly.”
“It still does.”
Shock spread across his face. “You haven’t made peace?
It’s been how many years now?”
“Almost twenty, and nothing’s changed. I called home a few weeks ago and my mother hardly recognized my voice. When I asked to speak to my father, she gave me an excuse about him being outside. She didn’t offer to have him call me back. I don’t even know if she told him I called. That’s the way it happens every time I reach out to them, but I keep trying, anyway. I keep hoping that someday they’ll remember that they have another child, one who’s still living, who still needs them.”
She shivered. Tom took off his jacket and wrapped it around her. She didn’t even try to tell him that nothing could ward off a chill that originated deep inside. Instead, she let his warmth seep into her, breathed in the citrus scent of his aftershave. It wasn’t enough to take away the memories, but it was comforting just the same. Tom wanted to seek out Jeanette’s parents and knock some sense into them. Even in their grief, they should have seen how much she needed them.
As flawed as his relationship with his own parents might be, at least they had contact. Even when they were at odds, he knew they loved him. And even when he was most annoyed with them, as he had been with his mother over her attitude toward Jeanette, he couldn’t imagine cutting her out of his life permanently.
How could Jeanette’s parents live with themselves, abandoning her as they had? Because he had no answers, he settled for keeping a close eye on her the rest of the day, trying to let her know with a gesture or a touch that there was someone who cared about her, who valued her. He thought he understood her a whole lot better now. He got why she was so touchy at any suggestion that she might not be first with him, why he might not make her a priority in his life. He had no idea, though, how to change the impression he’d given her. He would leave here someday. That was his plan and he’d determinedly adhered to his plan from the day he’d made it. Falling in love hadn’t been on the plan, not for a few years, anyway. He’d envisioned finding a wife after he’d reached his goal of running a large city. That’s when he’d make time for more than work, though how he intended to carve out enough time wasn’t something he’d figured out.
In the meantime, though, out of the blue, here was Jeanette, a woman who captivated him, who filled him with a desire to protect her, who made him just a little bit crazy with lust. What the heck was he supposed to do about that, especially given her issues?
Right now, she was standing beside the tree Howard had picked out for the town green. The towering pine dwarfed her. She gazed toward the top, her expression awed, as if it was the first Christmas tree she’d ever seen.
Maybe, in a way, it was. Not the very first, but the first since that terrible Christmas when her world had died right along with her brother.
He moved to stand beside her and clasped her hand in his. “It’s awfully big,” he said critically.
“No, it’s perfect,” she said. “Howard’s right. This is the one. I’ve never seen anything like it. I can just see it with hundreds and hundreds of twinkling lights. It will be amazing.”
“It’s bound to cost a fortune,” he said, still playing devil’s advocate.
She frowned at him. “So find the money,” she said in a tone oddly reminiscent of Howard’s. “Tom, we have to have this tree.”
He gazed into her eyes. “It means that much to you?”
She reached out and reverently touched the thick branches. “It does.”
“Then we’ll find the money somewhere, but if anyone complains about potholes not being filled, I’m sending them to talk to you and Howard.”
Just then Howard returned, trailed by Ronnie and Mary Vaughn. Howard’s expression was glum. “The man wants an arm and a leg for this one,” he said. “We might have to settle for something smaller.”
“No,” Jeanette protested. “Did you tell him it was for the town square?”
“Of course I did,” Howard said. “Told him all about the choirs and the kids and Santa. Bottom line, he’s a hardheaded businessman. Can’t say I blame him, but it’s still a disappointment.”
“We’re getting this tree,” Tom said decisively. Howard regarded him incredulously. “You’re the one who set the price limit.”
Tom shrugged. “I’ll find a few more dollars somewhere.”
“It’s not just a few bucks,” Ronnie reported. “More like a few hundred.”
Tom glanced around at the circle of grim expressions.
“Is everyone agreed that this is the tree we want?”
“Yes,” Mary Vaughn said, her eyes sparkling much as Jeanette’s did. “We’ve never had one this magnificent.”
“Then I’ll authorize purchasing it,” Tom said. “Mr. Mayor, are we in agreement?”
“You can find the money in the budget?”
“I’ll come up with the money,” Tom said. Out of his own pocket, if need be. Anything that put that shine back into Jeanette’s eyes was worth every penny. To keep it there, he might even be persuaded to help decorate the monstrous thing, though he vowed to grumble about doing it just on principle.
Jeanette threw her arms around him and planted an enthusiastic kiss on his cheek.
Tom grinned. As incentives went, that wasn’t a bad one, either. “Where’s the farmer?” he asked. “Let’s get a tag on this tree and arrange for it to be delivered.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Howard said, beaming. “Knew you weren’t the grinch you’ve been pretending to be.”
“Yes, I am!” Tom called after him.
“Oh, give it up,” Jeanette said. “None of us are going to buy that act anymore. You caved in and bought the perfect tree.”
“No tree’s perfect. It’s probably lopsided,” he grumbled, trying to restake his claim to being a bah-humbug kind of guy. “Probably has a trunk that’s crooked as an old walking stick. Did anybody check that?”
Ronnie laughed. “Too late, pal. You’re today’s hero, whether you like it or not.”
“Mine, anyway,” Jeanette said, regarding him with surprising heat. Well, damn, Tom thought. He’d been relying on stolen kisses to get her attention, when all it had taken was a thousand-dollar Christmas tree.
15
After two months on the job, Tom had established a routine of sorts. He stopped by Wharton’s every morning for coffee and gossip on the way to the office, he had lunch at his desk and at the end of the day he went jogging to work off some of the restless energy from being confined all day. He’d joined Dexter’s Gym, but as everyone had warned him, he found the atmosphere so depressing, he rarely did more than one or two workouts a week there. His job was surprisingly challenging. With development in and around Serenity booming, there were plenty of plans being submitted that required detailed scrutiny. No one else on staff had his expertise when it came to looking for potential problems and the impact new development would have on Serenity’s schools and other institutions. He’d been actively seeking new business for downtown and working with owners of the vacant properties on Main Street to give one-year rent concessions to people willing to open shops. He hoped that a lower overhead to start would encourage people to take a risk on the town and give them a chance to get their businesses established. So far he’d had two people commit to opening shops after the first of the year and three more considering leases for spring. He’d be reporting that at the next council meeting. He’d also ordered a methodical and thorough check of the town’s infrastructure, something that had been ignored for too long. There was a narrow bridge over a tributary to the Great Pee Dee River that worried him, but the engineering reports indicated it was structurally sound for now. He wanted to get a jump on making sure it stayed that way. Water and sewer lines needed updating. In fact, the entire water-treatment system needed to be overhauled because of the demand from all the new development. He had a proposal for defraying much of that cost with hookup charges and other fees to the developers.
And he’d committed the start-up money for Cal’s Little League proposal. He put it into the Parks and Recreation Department budget with the council’s blessing. He’d promised to coach that second team, too. All in all, despite his short time here, he felt as if he’d already made a contribution to Serenity. With so many irons in the fire, though, he’d had little time to hunt for a house or to pursue Jeanette the way he’d wanted to. That only added to his stress, which increased the necessity for these nightly runs. He usually made his way through town, then looped around the lake, which was surrounded by azalea bushes that he suspected filled the landscape with vivid color in the spring. There was usually a group of women sitting in the gazebo chatting in the fading evening light. He’d grown so accustomed to seeing them there that he always greeted them, even though he recognized none of them. He knew they’d be gone as soon as darkness fell, as would the last stray couples who’d been enjoying an evening walk.
He was pushing himself on a final lap around the lake when his cell phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, but the police and fire departments had the number in case they needed to reach him in an emergency, so he stopped and bent over to catch his breath as he glanced at caller ID. His mother. It was her fifth call today. He’d managed to evade the others, but clearly she didn’t intend to give up.
“Hello, Mother,” he said, giving in finally.
“What’s wrong with you?” she demanded. “It sounds as if you’re out of breath.” She sounded more irritated than worried.
“You caught me in the middle of my run. What’s on your mind?”
“Have you found a house yet?”
“I haven’t had time to look,” he told her.
“Which is exactly why I wanted to do it for you,” she said, clearly miffed. “But I was told in no uncertain terms to butt out.”
“I seriously doubt Mary Vaughn phrased it that way,” he said.
“Well, of course not. She’s a lovely woman. She’s available, too, I believe.”
Subtlety was not his mother’s strong suit. “I’m aware of that,” he told her.
“Have you asked her out?”
“Mother!” he said, a warning note in his voice.
