her tactic worked, others not so much. Today, the girls came to the breakfast table the first time she called. A small victory in Jenna’s opinion, but a victory indeed.
“You knew I’d give up if you did. No point in teasing when you aren’t willing to play the game.”
Bridget shrugged.
“Fine. Then here’s the answer. Bridget, remember the man who pulled you out of the water yesterday?”
Bridget kept her eyes focused on her cereal bowl. “Yes,” she said in a quiet tone. “He was really brave.”
“Like the prince in the story you read to us,” Abby piped in.
“Yes, I guess he was like a prince. Saving my beautiful princess here.”
Abby giggled.
A slight grin tugged Bridget’s lips.
“Anyway, I was talking to Nealy about him last night and the idea of making a thank-you gift popped into my mind.”
“What are we going to make?” Abby asked.
“Cookies. Then I thought we’d deliver them in person. That will give you a chance to thank him yourself.”
Jenna moved to the fridge, taking out the ingredients she needed to make a batch of cookies. “Do you know where he lives?” Abby asked.
Jenna, in mid-reach to retrieve a measuring cup from the cabinet, glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll call Nealy to find out.” She brought the cup to the counter then turned to face the girls, who had grown quiet.
“What’s wrong?” Jenna asked.
Bridget shot her sister a glance then lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.”
Abby, her eyes shimmering, met Jenna’s. “We might not have been exactly honest about being able to swim.”
Jenna rested her hip against the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “You told me you had taken lessons.”
“Well...we were going to. We never got around to it before mom...you know.”
Yes, she did. How could she be angry with the girls when they were still grieving? Every day brought a new tangle of emotions. Yet as hard as it might be, Jenna had to lay down some ground rules. She walked to the table and took a seat.
“Look, girls, I know things have been hard, but you have to tell me the truth. If I had known you couldn’t swim, I never would have let you in the water by yourselves. How can I take care of you unless you’re completely honest?”
The girls exchanged glances again. What Jenna wouldn’t give to know what was going on in their heads.
“How about we make a pact to be honest with each other?” she suggested.
Abby blinked at the tears making her eyes bright. Of the two, she showed her emotions more easily. “We miss Mommy.”
“I do too.” Jenna swallowed. In her own way, she understood the depth of loss the girls experienced. In her case, her mother had chosen to walk away, leaving Jenna bereft and angry. Abby and Bridget felt the same, but at least they had Jenna to turn to for comfort.
Taking a shaky breath, she said, “It’s okay to miss her.”
She took one of Abby’s hands in hers and squeezed. Then she turned to Bridget, whose lower lip trembled. How like her to be the strong twin when her heart was breaking. Jenna drew them all together. “This is it, kiddos. We’ve got each other now.” Turning her tone from sympathy to firm, she said, “So, the pact?”
After a hesitant moment, Abby said, “From now on we promise to tell you stuff.”
Bridget didn’t utter a word, the tougher nut of the two. Not surprised, Jenna knew she’d have to keep an eye on her.
They sat holding hands for a long, drawn-out moment until Bridget shifted in her seat. Jenna released her hold, briskly rubbing her hands together as she rose. “Let’s get working on our project, girls.”
How many times had they made cookies together? More times than Jenna could remember. When Carrie was alive, they’d had frequent sleepovers with Jenna, which always included some kind of baking session.
The girls joined her and they worked side by side, measuring, stirring, then spooning batter on the baking sheet before sliding it into the oven. A dozen cookies later, with the final sheet in the oven, they’d finished the messy part of their task. Standing on tiptoe, Bridget turned on the faucet to fill the sink before squeezing dish detergent into the rising water. Suds materialized as Abby dropped in the batter-covered utensils.
Proud of the girls for cleaning up without her asking, Jenna said, “Hey, you two, I’ll finish up. Go play.”
“Are you sure?” Abby asked. “We don’t mind helping.”
“Yep. You’ve both been great, but I can take over from here.”
The girls scurried from the room. As Jenna removed the last batch of cookies and turned off the oven, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number and frowned. She didn’t want to answer, but knew her agent wouldn’t stop calling until she spoke to Jenna.
“Barbara. How are you?”
“Cringing at the number of appearances I have to refuse on your behalf.”
Tension tightened Jenna’s temples. They’d had this conversation one too many times since Jenna informed her agent she was taking time off. “And you’ll have to keep refusing until the hiatus is over.”
“Absence from the public eye does not make the viewer grow fonder.”
“The girls are my priority. I don’t know how much clearer I can make the point.”
Barbara Samson had been Jenna’s agent for four years. An energetic go-getter, she never heard a “no” she paid attention to. Until Carrie died, Jenna didn’t have any reason to turn down work. Now that she did, Barbara was persistent about changing Jenna’s mind.
Right out of culinary school, Jenna landed a job at a trendy restaurant that became a popular hangout for celebrities. At first, she was one of the minor chefs in the kitchen. She stuck it out there and eventually, her unique culinary ideas became popular with the in-crowd. When one of the local talk show hosts inquired about her, the restaurant owner quickly encouraged Jenna to be a guest on the show. He couldn’t pay for better publicity.
Not exactly thrilled at first, Jenna thought long and hard before agreeing. She didn’t like crowds or being the center of attention. But when she arrived on the set, she found the hosts and crew welcoming. Her nerves settled down. Soon, she went from being a guest every couple of weeks to guest shots on other shows, including a popular LA daytime talk show. Not familiar with the world of television, she asked one of the hosts for advice. The person mentioned Barbara’s name. Jenna called, set up an appointment. Before she knew it, Barbara had booked her schedule tight and, eventually, landed the cooking show.
As much as Jenna appreciated those opportunities, it didn’t
