were different. Even their cars felt special.
“Where are you staying?” Olivia asked.
Jenny didn’t say anything, but her glance in Rourke’s direction gave her away.
“You’re staying at his place?”
“It’s just temporary.”
“I’m not saying anything is wrong with it,” Olivia clarified. “But … Rourke McKnight? I mean, if you put that together with the picture of the two of you on the front page of the paper, then, I don’t know—it starts to look …”
“Like what?”
“Like something. Like you two are—”
“Me and Rourke?” Jenny shook her head, wondering how much Olivia knew about their history. “Not in this life.”
“Never say never. That’s what I said about Connor, and look at us now. Next summer, I’ll be married.”
“I think you’re the only one who’s surprised by that.”
“How do you mean?”
“You and Connor are made for each other. Anyone can see that.”
Olivia beamed at her. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us.”
No offense, thought Jenny, but I’d rather have a root canal. Olivia and Connor lived on the most gorgeous parcel of riverfront land in the area. They were building a house of stone and timber and romantic dreams, and Jenny had no doubt that a blissful future awaited them. However, the house was only half finished, so Olivia and Connor were living on the property in a vintage Airstream trailer. Not exactly made for overnight guests. “That’s really nice of you. But I’ll pass, thanks.”
“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t stay there, either, if I didn’t know it was only temporary. Connor promises to be done by April,” Olivia said. “I keep reminding myself that he’s a contractor. Isn’t it true that they always underestimate?”
“Not to their fiancées, I hope.”
Before Olivia pulled away from the curb, Nina Romano arrived in a battered pickup and motioned for them to lower the window. Jenny’s best friend was as unpretentious as she was loyal. She often dressed in clothes that might have come from a rummage sale in Woodstock, causing her opponents to label her the “happy hippie.” Yet her earnest dedication to the community, coupled with a no-nonsense way of getting things done, made her popular enough to be elected mayor.
“I heard you’ve moved in with Rourke,” she said without preamble. She peered into the SUV. “Hi, Olivia.”
Olivia smiled in greeting. “I just love small-town life. You never run out of things to talk about.”
“I haven’t ‘moved in’ with Rourke,” Jenny said. A blush crept up her face.
“That’s not what I heard,” Nina said.
“Listen, he found me at the bakery in the middle of the night and told me my house was toast. I went back to his place because I was dog tired and it was too early to bother anyone else. I’m still there because …” She stopped short of telling them about his coffee-making skills, the thread count of his sheets and the undeniable feeling of security she got from being with him.
Nina sniffled and blew her nose. “Sorry. I caught a bug at the hotel in Albany. You could have gone to my place,” she said. “I was out of town, but Sonnet wouldn’t have minded.”
Jenny knew that Nina didn’t have room for company any more than Olivia did. Nina and her teenage daughter lived in a tiny bungalow. The office of mayor was practically a volunteer position, the salary was so low. “Thanks,” Jenny said, “but like I said, it’s only until I figure out what to do next.”
Nina, as usual, was a whirlwind of business. Her cell phone went off and she had to race for an appointment. “Call me,” she mouthed, and then put her truck in gear.
Jenny and Olivia drove to the town’s main square, where the bakery stood shoulder to shoulder with a jewelry store, a bookstore and various other boutiques and tourist shops. They headed for a boutique called Zuzu’s Petals, a favorite for women’s clothing.
It was unexpectedly pleasant, shopping with her sister. And undeniably liberating to start from scratch with a whole new wardrobe. She insisted on keeping purchases to a minimum. “I have a feeling I’m going to be traveling light for a while,” she said. “I still can’t quite believe everything’s gone.”
Olivia’s eyes misted. “Oh, Jenny.” She pulled out her cell phone. “We need to tell Dad, right away.”
“No, we don’t.” Jenny didn’t think of her father as “Dad.” Perhaps she never would. Until last summer, the only information she had about him was the cryptic notation on her birth certificate: “Father Unknown.” Once they had discovered each other, they both made an effort to get to know one another. Still, in her mind, he wasn’t Dad but Philip. A nice enough gentleman who, many years ago, had the poor judgment to fall for Jenny’s mother, Mariska.
“All right,” Olivia conceded. “But you should tell him what happened.”
“I will. I’ll call him later.”
“And …” Olivia hesitated, her cheeks coloring with a blush. “I should also warn you, my mother and her parents—the Lightsey side of the family—are planning to come up soon to help me with the wedding.”
“Of course,” Jenny said. “I appreciate the heads-up, though.”
“Is it going to be awkward for you, seeing them?”
Seeing the woman their father had married after being dumped by Mariska? How could that not be awkward? “We’re all grown-ups. We’ll deal.”
“Thanks. My mom’s parents and Nana and Grandpa Bellamy have been friends forever. I think between the four of them, they decided my mom and dad would marry long before my parents even met. That might be why they ultimately got divorced. Maybe the marriage wasn’t their idea in the first place.”
To Jenny’s discomfiture, she could too easily imagine marrying someone because it was the right thing to do, the practical thing. She had almost done exactly that, long ago. She skirted the thought and accepted the bra. Olivia had excellent taste. Jenny picked out seven pairs of underwear. Though the sexy wisps of lace caught her eye, she selected plain beige hip-huggers. She needed to be practical.
Olivia moved on to a display of pajamas, holding up and then discarding a frumpy high-necked nightgown. She held a pink baby-doll top up to Jenny and nodded her approval.
“Maybe it was meant to be, you staying with Rourke.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t.”
“You never know. Look at me. If anyone had told me I’d wind up living in a trailer with an ex-con, I would have thought they were joking. My mother practically went into therapy when I gave her the news. It was a jolt, you know. Last May I was dating an heir to the Whitney fortune, a guy who was once featured in Vanity Fair. By the end of summer, I’d fallen
