Small-Town Homecoming

His perceptiveness threw her a bit. He was very observant, and that, for some reason, made her a bit uneasy. She recovered and cocked her head to the side. “You don’t look like you have back problems.”

“Looks are deceiving,” he said cryptically. “I injured my back in a motorcycle accident twelve years ago, and it periodically acts up.”

“Wow. Motorcycle accident?” She smoothed out a wrinkle on one of the cloths. “That sounds pretty serious.”

“It was. I broke a vertebra and wonked up my spine pretty good, and broke some ribs and my leg.” He looked away, but not before she saw a glimpse of a shadow in his eyes. “Spent almost a week in the hospital.”

Her hands stilled on the table as horror stabbed through her. “Oh, no. That sounds awful.”

“It was,” he said quietly. “I left town soon after.” Again, she sensed distinct sorrow simmering beneath his surface, a thread of angst that pulled at her.

“Why?” she asked, giving in to her curiosity. “I mean, I would think you’d want to be near your family after such a traumatic event.”

He paused with a chair in his hand. “You’d think so. But my family isn’t like most families, and...well, my dad and I had a falling-out after the accident, and I decided I needed to leave Moonlight Cove.”

Sympathy tightened her heart. “Oh, that must have been a hard decision.”

“Yes, it was difficult,” he said with thin lips.

She sensed more to the story, but she didn’t want to pry. He was a guest, after all, and if he wasn’t sharing, there had to be a reason. “You’ve recovered, I take it, except for your back?”

“For the most part,” he said in a tone that, again, made her think he wasn’t giving her all the details. Not that he should. They hardly knew each other. “So, you want me to just put the chairs around the tables?”

“You really don’t have to help.”

“I appreciate your concern, but my back is fine most of the time now, as long as I keep active. And this is my last day until I start working, so you might as well take advantage and put me to work.”

She chewed on her lip. Point taken. And, really, at this stage, another pair of hands would be a blessing. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t offer if I did.” He looked at the chairs stacked by the deck railing. “I’ll unload all of those and you can go do something else.”

“Deal.” She gave him a grateful look. “And thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He went to the chairs. “Oh, how’s Miss Landry?”

She hadn’t been at breakfast this morning.

Jenna straightened an already straight sapphire-blue tablecloth. “She still has a headache, so she’s spending the day in her room.”

“Do you think I should go check on her?” He pointed toward the house.

“No, I just did, and she’s comfortably reading a gossip magazine.” Jenna stood back to make sure the tablecloth was hanging evenly. “She loves those things, the trashier the better.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” he asked, grabbing another chair. “She’s quite a character.”

“She was thrilled when I gave her a magazine stash a past guest had left.”

“I only hope I’m half as with it as she is when I get old.” He put the chair in its spot.

“Amen,” Jenna said. “I’ve seen what age can do to a person.”

“Your grandma?”

She nodded. “Yes. She was a real go-getter in her younger days, and after Gramps died, she just seemed to wither away.”

“Broken heart?” Curt asked softly.

Jenna’s own heart gave a little shudder; lost love hurt. “Probably.” She went over to get another chair from the stack. “They were inseparable and had a perfect marriage. I think she gave up in a way, after he died.”

“Here, I’ll do that,” he said, grabbing the chair she was going for. “Give your back a break.”

In answer, a sharp twinge zinged up her spine. She twitched, grimacing, and then rounded her back, trying to ease the ache there. She’d really overdone it. “Okay, okay, you’re right, my back is mad. I’ll let you do that for me.” It was actually nice to have help, a treat for the day, given she usually had to do all the work herself.

He shooed her away. “Go do something else, and when I’m done here, you can put me to work with other chores.”

She capitulated, “Okay, I’m going to go arrange the flowers.”

Turning, she headed into the house, and then went to the attached garage, where she’d stashed the flowers she’d picked up at the local florist, Penelope’s Posies. Meg Douglas, the owner and daughter of Penelope Douglas, the woman who’d originally started the store, had kindly agreed to order the flowers for Jenna at a heavy discount.

The yellow mums, stephanotis, white carnations, dark blue irises and ivy had filled the garage with the wonderful fresh scent of flowers. Jenna inhaled deeply, loving the aroma. She’d always been fascinated with flowers, and if she hadn’t ended up as owner and proprietor of the Sweetheart, or a teacher, she’d have become a floral designer. Or maybe a personal chef. Creating things had always appealed to her. She was definitely the only right-brainer in the family; Mom, Dad and her brother, Scott, were much more left-brained.

She went to work on Gramps’s old workbench, which ran the length of two sides of the two-car garage. She’d been up late last night setting out the lovely cut-glass vases Phoebe’s mom, Grace, had culled from her extensive collection of crystal to be used for the reception.

With necessary efficiency, Jenna went about cutting the flowers and greens to the appropriate lengths. Then, she did her favorite part—arranging the flowers in the containers she’d filled with water earlier. She hummed under her breath as she worked, determined to enjoy the peace and quiet while she had the chance.

As she worked, her thoughts drifted to Curt. He’d been through a lot, and she sensed an untold sad story that beckoned her in a way she didn’t quite understand. She knew he’d moved away because of a falling-out with his dad, but what had he done in L.A. for twelve years? Why wasn’t an attractive, nice guy like him married?

That question brought her up short. What was it about him that sucked her in and made her want to know everything about him? Well, besides his good looks and the intriguing shadows of his past she saw in his eyes—

“I finished the chairs.”

Squawking, Jenna jumped, almost knocking over one of the vases. She reached out to steady the teetering vase. “Oh, goodness, you scared me!” she said, her heart pounding.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I was sneaking up on you,” Curt said, moving around the front end of her car.

She put the greenery she’d been working with down. “You weren’t. I was just lost in thought.” About you.

He moved his gaze over her flower-making supplies. “Wow, you’ve got quite the little florist operation out here.”

“Yep, this is where the magic happens.” She determinedly directed her attention back to the arrangement she was working on, sliding some ivy into it with shaking hands.

“I didn’t realize you were doing so much for the reception. Flowers, food, all the details.”

“I offer a menu of items that clients can choose from, and Phoebe liked my ideas so much she opted to have me do just about everything for the reception.” Jenna liked to provide as much as possible because it was more lucrative to her bottom line, and lately, with the inn needing so many repairs, the bottom line was important.

“I really don’t know how you do all of it.” He shook his head. “You make me feel very lazy.”

“Trust me, lazy isn’t bad. I’d like a lazy day and I don’t see one on my schedule anytime soon.”