That Runaway Summer

JILL LEANED AGAINST the smooth plane of the closed door, marveling at the show of nonchalance she’d been able to pull off, aware she had only seconds to get her heart to stop pounding and blood to quit racing.

“I’m in the living room, dear,” Felicia Feldman called. No surprise there. Jill had seen the fluttering of the curtain covering a front window as she approached the house.

Felicia sat in her favorite armchair in front of the television, the remote control in hand, her gray hair in stark contrast to the floral pattern of the chair. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, one of Felicia’s specialties. Jill never took for granted how lucky she and Chris were to live in this house with this wonderful woman.

“Who was that young man you were kissing, dear?” Felicia had already muted the sound of the program she was watching. On the screen, a lineup of nervous young women waited to see whether the hunk in the tuxedo would hand them a rose.

If Dan Maguire were the rose giver and Jill one of the contestants, would she be angling for a flower? Jill pressed together her still-warm lips, preferring not to think about it.

“Hey, Felicia.” Jill smiled at her. “The Bachelor a rerun tonight?”

“Why, yes.” Felicia’s lips parted and she nodded. “How did you know that?”

“You wouldn’t be looking out the window if it wasn’t.”

Felicia’s laugh had a smoker’s raspy quality even though she’d said she quit years ago. “You’re right about that. I guess my mind was drifting. I wondered when you’d get home, I opened the curtain and there you were.”

“Chris is okay, isn’t he?” Jill was relatively sure of the answer. Felicia had her cell phone number in case of emergency.

“Oh, yes, yes. He went to bed a little while ago. Your brother is no trouble at all. Quiet as a mouse, that boy is.”

“I appreciate you looking out for him more than you can know.”

“Like I told you when you moved in,” Felicia said, “I’m glad to do it.”

The older woman had also confided she’d decided to rent out rooms after a scare in which she’d nearly lost her home to foreclosure. Her great-nephew, who lived in town, kept trying to help with mortgage payments, but she was having none of that.

Felicia had soon been treating Jill and Chris like family. A widow in her seventies with no children of her own, Felicia embraced the grandmotherly role, looking out for Chris while Jill wasn’t home and whipping up fabulous home-cooked meals for all three of them.

“I’ll let you get back to your program, then,” Jill said, and turned. “I’m calling it a night.”

“You can’t turn in yet,” Felicia protested. “You haven’t told me about your evening.”

Jill sucked in a breath through her teeth and did a cheerful about-face. She reentered the room and perched on the arm of the sofa, which was covered in the same flowery fabric as the chair.

“I had a very good time,” Jill said. “Johnny Pollock grilled burgers the size of your head.”

Felicia’s hands flew north and traced the shape of her scalp. “Really?”

Jill laughed. “Not exactly, but close. That man cooks a big burger. Penelope made these white-chocolate brownies for dessert that about melted in my mouth. I can get you the recipe if you like.”

“Please do.” Felicia enjoyed few things in life more than baking, as evidenced by the delicious smells that regularly wafted through the house.

“Penelope was a hoot, as usual. She and Johnny just passed their one-year anniversary. She bought a dozen plastic leis and left them all over the house until Johnny got the hint and booked a trip to Hawaii. They’re going next week.”

“Hawaii!” Felicia parroted. “How nice!”

The television camera panned to a close-up of a euphoric bachelorette clutching a rose. It cut away to a shot of the woman and the bachelor sharing a kiss in a hot tub, a moment that appeared to have helped the woman’s cause.

Jill hadn’t stuck around to discover if Dan had been about to hand her the verbal equivalent of a rose after their amazing kiss. She couldn’t have accepted if he had, not when the tale he’d spun about her was so close to the truth.

She tore her eyes from the TV and banished Dan from her mind.

“Johnny’s remodeling their house. The kitchen’s pretty as a picture with stainless steel appliances, mahogany cabinets, granite countertops and this wonderful wood floor. We ate on the back deck, which could be featured in a home and garden magazine.” Jill stood up again. “And that’s about all there is to tell.”

“But you haven’t said anything about the man you were kissing!” Felicia caught Jill’s hand. “My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but it looked like the vet.”

So much for trying to distract the landlady.

“You can see just fine, Felicia.” Jill resigned herself to the inevitable. On some level, she’d known she wouldn’t get out of the room before she addressed the subject that refused to stay banished. “That was Dan Maguire.”

Felicia let go of Jill’s hand and clapped hers. “He’s so handsome. I hear he’s as nice as can be, too. Everybody who takes their pets to him raves about him. Why, he might even be worthy of dating you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” Jill bent and kissed Felicia’s soft cheek. “But Dan and I aren’t gonna be dating.”

Felicia’s face filled with disappointment. “Why not?”

“Dating is not high on my list of priorities.”

Jill’s cell phone sounded, the ring tone an upbeat song that spoke of the right to be loved, loved, loved. Penelope’s name popped up on the miniature display screen.

“Excuse me,” Jill told Felicia. “I need to get this.”

“Of course.” Felicia’s expression telegraphed that she had more to say on the subject. If Jill had learned anything after nearly a year of living with her landlady, however, it was that Felicia was a patient woman. “Good night, dear.”

“G’night, Felicia.”

The older woman lifted the remote, turning up the sound on the television. Jill headed for the stairs and her second-floor bedroom, but not before a bachelorette squealed with excitement over her chance to win the hunk’s heart. Jill flipped open the phone. “Hey, Penelope.”

“Well?” Penelope demanded, her voice slightly breathless. “What happened?”

“Dan walked me home.”

Penelope’s sigh came over the phone line loudly and clearly. “I meant what happened on the walk?”

Jill’s fingers flew to her lips, then trailed across the still-flushed skin of her cheeks.

“Oh, that. Dan and I had a nice long talk about how we didn’t want to date each other,” she said.

“No! That’s not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to kiss you. It was supposed to be wonderful. You were supposed to develop a thing for each other.”

Jill fought off Penelope’s romantic scenario.

“I sure am sorry to disappoint you,” she said lightly, trying to affect a teasing tone.

“You should be,” Penelope declared. “I was positive you two were right for each other.”

“Two rights can make a wrong.”