Already Home

“What an adventure. I can’t wait.”

Jenna thought about how she’d spent the past couple of months feeling like a total failure. This was a new beginning for her. A chance to prove herself.

“I can’t wait, either,” she murmured. This time, everything was going to be different.

Jenna arrived at her new rented townhouse a little after six. After pulling into the garage, she climbed the stairs to the main floor, only to find her father squinting at a power drill. He checked the mark on the wall, then carefully drove in three screws.

She waited until the drill was silent.

“Hi, Dad.”

He turned and grinned at her. “Hey, kid. Your shelves are just about done. Give me a sec and you can help me put the brackets in place.”

The shelves were decorative metal with hooks for all her pots and lids. While the townhouse had plenty of room for the average cook, Jenna traveled with a lot of cookbooks, notes and equipment. Extra storage space was required.

Her dad winked at her. “I checked with your landlord, to make sure adding the shelving was okay.”

“I’ll bet that was a tough conversation.”

“He saw my side of things.”

As the man who owned the entire complex was a close friend of her dad’s, she wasn’t surprised.

Marshall put down his drill and held out his arms. “You okay, Jenna?”

She stepped into his embrace and allowed herself to get lost in her father’s familiar strength. “I will be.”

“I’m sorry Aaron turned out to be such a jerk.”

“Me, too. I wanted what you and Mom have.” Growing up, she hadn’t thought it was too much to ask. Now, looking back at her failed years with her ex-husband, she knew finding the right man wasn’t as easy as it looked.

“You’ll get there,” her dad told her. “But do me a favor, kid. This time fall for a Texas boy.”

She grinned. “You think they’re that much better?”

“I know they are.”

“What if he’s an Aggie?” she asked in a mock whisper. Her father had gone to the University of Texas. Aggies—those who graduated from Texas A&M—were the enemy.

“Better an Aggie than someone from California.”

She laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of her head and released her.

She stepped back and watched him finish putting up her shelves.

Maybe this wasn’t exactly where she’d thought she would be at nearly thirty-two, but she could still make it okay. She’d failed at her marriage. People did that and recovered. Many of them thrived. She could thrive, as well. She could figure out how to make starting over the best thing that ever happened to her.

Two

Violet parked in front of Jenna’s store and turned off her car engine. She still had a couple of sips left of her coffee. Based on the stacks of boxes she’d seen during her interview, she would need all the caffeine she could get to keep her energy going during the unpacking phase. Getting a store up and running was a lot of work.

She could see someone moving around inside and guessed Jenna had arrived before her. Enthusiasm was important, she thought, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake, quitting a job she’d had for nearly two years to work for someone with no retail experience.

The potential upside was that if the store was successful, and Violet made manager, she would enjoy being responsible for things running smoothly. The downside was Jenna didn’t have any experience and some of her ideas were a little strange.

Still, Violet’s gut had told her this was a good move, and she’d learned to listen to her gut. Except when it came to men, it had never let her down. On the guy front, her gut was a total failure, but she was okay with that. It wasn’t as if she was looking for a relationship. Career now, she told herself. Men, whenever.

She swallowed the last of her coffee, then got out of her car and headed for the front door. Jenna straightened at her knock and hurried to let her in.

“You’re here. Thank God. I’m drowning in boxes. I made a diagram so we’d know where to put everything. What I didn’t count on was the packing material. How is it possible that after I empty a box, there’s more material to stuff in it than will fit? Is that a retail thing?” Jenna paused and laughed.

“Sorry,” she said and shook her head. “I’m a little wired. I’ve been here since four this morning and I’ve had the coffee to prove it. Let me start over. Hi. Welcome. How are things?”

“Good. For what it’s worth, you’re right about the packing material. Somehow while it’s on the floor it multiplies or something.”

“That explains the mess.”

Jenna gestured to what had been an open space the last time Violet had seen it. Now it was a maze of boxes and shelves. Whatever free floor space had been there before was now filled with open containers overflowing with paper and cardboard.

By contrast, Jenna looked cool and unruffled. She wore a white chef’s coat over black pants. Black clogs covered her feet. She’d pulled her dark red hair back into a ponytail. Her green eyes were bright, her full mouth smiling, her skin perfect, despite the lack of makeup and probable lack of sleep. She looked like a model dressing like a chef for a photo shoot, but more Town and Country than Cosmo.

Violet had dressed for comfort and physical labor. She’d pulled a long-sleeved T-shirt over jeans and had worn scuffed ankle boots. Despite the fact that she wore the more practical clothes, she felt as if she’d misread the invitation and had shown up in shorts for a fancy dress ball.

“Here’s my diagram,” Jenna said, pointing at several sheets of paper tacked to the wall. “Obviously the kitchen is in back. I ordered a few new things for that and they’ll go in the cupboards under the counters. I’m organizing everything else by function. Pots and pans together, bakeware. You get the idea.”

She quickly went through the layout.

“A woman with a plan,” Violet said. “Why don’t I take some of this trash out to the Dumpster? Most of it can go in the recycling bins.”

“Great. I’ve been avoiding the boxes of ceramic bowls. I can’t begin to imagine how many layers of packing material are in those. With you here, I think I can be brave.”

They worked for the next couple of hours. Together they wrestled the impressively large mixers into place. Jenna did her share of ripping up cardboard and stacking supplies, which surprised Violet. A lot of bosses were more into gesturing about how the work should be done than actually participating.

Despite the physical labor, Jenna didn’t break a sweat. Violet felt distinctively damp, but rather than be annoyed, she told herself she would have to accept the fact that her new boss was one of those perfect people. Perfectly organized, perfectly disciplined, perfectly elegant in every situation. Violet had always meant to be perfect … one day. But somewhere during her life journey, she’d made an imperfect turn and never recovered.

Around ten-thirty, they took a break. Jenna had already stocked the small refrigerator under the counter with diet Snapple and handed out a bottle of unsweetened tea. They sank onto the floor.

Jenna stared around at the piles of merchandise. “It’s going to get better, right? If it’s not, it’s okay to lie to me and say it is.”

Violet uncapped her bottle and took a drink. “It’s going to be great. You’ll see. In the future, the boxes will only arrive a few at a time. That makes it easier.”

“I hope so. The worst I’ve had to deal with in a restaurant is finding out the beef I ordered hadn’t been butchered.”

Violet stared at her. “As in it was still a cow?”

“Practically. I had to prepare all the steaks myself. Let me just say, making tomahawks all afternoon strains the wrist.”