he married?”
“Widower.” Bev glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear, then lowered her voice a notch. “His wife died in a light plane crash a few years ago. Terrible tragedy.” She tilted her head to regard Sienna. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. I met him in the shop just now.” She never would have guessed there was heartbreak hiding behind that affable smile.
“A word of warning.” Bev cast a knowing eye at Sienna. “Plenty of women have made a play for him, but he never dates. Ever. They say he’s still in love with his wife.”
“I’m not interested in him,” Sienna replied quickly. “He seemed very friendly, that’s all.”
“He is friendly! With everyone. It doesn’t matter if you’re old, young, rich or poor, Jack would give you the shirt off his back. He’s a great guy. He’s just not a good prospect, if you know what I mean.”
“He invited me to dinner tonight.”
“Really?” Bev said, looking interested.
Bev would have gossiped all day long, but Sienna gave her a gotta-go smile and carried her shopping into the staff room. She hung her jacket in the closet and put the groceries in a corner of the kitchen counter where they’d be all right for a couple of hours. Peeking into the bag, she shook her head. She’d left the shop without everything she’d gone for. And ended up with a whole lot of items she didn’t even recall putting in her basket.
All because a charming man with a smile like George Clooney’s had locked eyes with her across a busy shop.
JACK WIPED THE SWEAT from his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt as he jogged up to his parents’ single-story brick house. Knocking twice, he opened the door. “Anybody home?”
“Hello, darling.” Hetty bustled out to greet him.
“Mother?” He did a double take. Her habitual attire was slacks and cardigans, her dyed blond hair styled in a neat chin-length pageboy. Today was the first time he’d seen her since returning from three months in Queensland. Now she wore flowing silky pants and a loose muslin tunic. Her hair, now gray, was chopped short.
She went to hug him but pulled back. “You’re all sweaty.”
“What did you do to your hair?” Jack propped his hands on his hips and walked around her in a circle.
Hetty brushed her fingers through the spiky cut. “Do you like it?”
“It’s…different.”
“I’ve decided to own my gray hair.” She smiled, her clear blue eyes shining. “To be my age, my authentic self.”
“Really? Who have you been pretending to be till now?”
“Oh, Jack!”
“I’m kidding.” Jack laid an arm loosely over her shoulders. “I think it’s cool.”
“How was your trip?” she asked, smiling up at him. “You’ve been gone forever, it seems.”
“Excellent. I highly recommend the tropics as a place to spend the winter.” He let her go and followed her through the arched doorway into the lounge room. Steve was sitting in his recliner with a beer, staring out the window at the horse paddocks opposite. Smedley, his Jack Russell terrier, lay curled at his feet. “Hey, Dad.”
“Jack,” Steve grunted, but didn’t get up.
Hetty huffed out a sigh. “He just sits there hour after hour, doing nothing. Sometimes I think we never should have sold the farm.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. More than fine. Come into the kitchen. I just made brownies.” Leading the way, she glanced over her shoulder. “How did Bogie take to living on a sailboat?”
“As if he was born to it,” Jack said. “I came in to port every night and made sure he had a walk.”
“So…did you meet anyone while you were away?”
“No.” Not while he’d been away. Even as he spoke his mind flashed to the woman in the grocery shop.
“That’s funny.” She frowned. “I had this hunch.”
“Sorry, your mother’s intuition is faulty this time.”
Jack followed her into the small sunny kitchen permeated with the smell of fresh baking. A basket of wet laundry sat by the back door waiting to be hung on the clothesline.
“Steve keeps complaining I never bake anymore, so I gave in for once,” Hetty said, slicing a row of brownies.
“He likes his sweets.” Jack pinched a bar and took a bite. “With good reason. This is delicious.”
“It’s time for his annual checkup, but he keeps putting it off,” Hetty went on. “His old doctor retired and he doesn’t want to ‘break in’ a new one. I think he’s scared the doctor will tell him to lose weight and get healthy.”
“Do you and Dad want to come for dinner on Saturday?” Jack asked. “Renita and Lexie will be there.”
“I’m going on a two-week retreat at the meditation center,” Hetty said. “But your father can. It would be a relief to know he’s not just sitting here brooding.”
“Meditation, huh? This really is a new you.”
Hetty’s eyes shut. A beatific smile transformed her face, and when she opened her eyes again she radiated calm. “I feel so peaceful, I can’t tell you. I wish Steve would try it.” Her smile faded and her expression turned wistful. “He’s not supportive. I think he feels threatened.”
“He’ll get used to it.” Jack brushed the crumbs off his hands over the sink. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Jack put another piece of brownie on a plate and took it to his father in the lounge room. He noticed a plate with chocolate crumbs on the side table next to the recliner. And Steve’s stomach bulging over his waistband. Hetty was right—he’d put on a few pounds since Jack had seen him last. “Here you go, Dad. What’s up?”
Steve took the brownie and had a bite. “Your mother’s turned lesbian.”
Jack fought back a laugh. “It’s just a haircut.” He lowered himself onto the dark green brocade couch opposite and reached out to pat Smedley, who’d trotted over.
“It’s more than a haircut,” Steve growled. “She’s joined a cult. According to the pamphlets she brings home, they’re celibate up there at the retreat center.”
“Celibate is hardly the same as lesbian,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“Who knows what she gets up to with those people in white robes,” Steve said. “I just know she’s not here with me.”
“You should develop some interests of your own,”
