I didn’t know why I did it; it was as if my eyes were drawn there by unseen forces.
But as I was driving back to Lavender House from the Weavers, my mind consumed with Eliza, her frailty, the pain etched around her mouth, the effort she still was making to pretend everything was all right and chitchat when her eyes were drooping, I turned my head and saw it.
Magdalene was not large and had long since had a town council that was rabidly determined to keep the old Maine coastal town feel about the place. Thus, the commercial areas of town were mostly untouched and had been for well over a century and things like fast food restaurants were firmly placed at the outskirts of town so you couldn’t even see them unless you were on the road driving that way.
That didn’t mean that off Cross Street (the main street in town), there weren’t other business that had sprung up over the decades.
And this included a large store that once was a hardware store but now, as I turned my head to look down Haver Way, it had a sign in the window that did not promote hardware.
I hadn’t taken in that building for years.
But after I drove by it, I found my opening to circle back, turned left on Haver Way and parked in the large-ish parking lot outside the building.
The gold painting edged in black on the window said “Truck’s Gym.”
And inside, through the now misting rain, I saw it was, indeed, a gym. A specific kind of gym. And I spent no time at all in gyms but even so, I knew exactly what kind of gym this was seeing as from what I could take in from my vantage point, there were two boxing rings set up in the vast open space.
They were down one side. Down the other side, there was weight equipment and I could see those bags suspended that were always in boxing gyms in movies, the little ball-like ones and the large tubular ones.
There were men punching things, lifting things and jumping rope inside. Several of them, which I found surprising seeing as it was early afternoon on a workday.
I could also see, standing outside the ring closest to the window, Jake. He was not wearing jeans, boots and a sweater as he had been that morning when he bought me an omelet. He was now wearing a pair of dark track pants with three white stripes down the side and a white, long sleeved t-shirt. There were boxers in the ring and Jake was calling out to them.
He’d mentioned his gym more than once.
This must be it.
And the name was “Truck’s.” That odious man at Breeze Point had referred to “the truck” and I didn’t think this was a coincidence.
More to learn about Jake.
I had a feeling there was much to learn about Jake. Three wives, one he had only three months. He clearly had at least partial custody of all of his children. Even though he mentioned one of his ex-wives was local, he didn’t mention her children staying with her, and Conner and Amber were both hers. He owned a boxing gym and a strip club, which were vastly different enterprises. He was well-known, if that man from Breeze Point was to be believed, not to mention, the bad-mannered Terry Baginski knew him as well.
Yes, I thought, watching him watch the boxers in the ring, there was much to learn about Jake Spear.
And I found myself already fascinated not even knowing what it was.
I reversed out of my spot, pointed the car back to Havers Way, then Cross Street and I drove out of town and to Lavender House.
I waited until I was out of my jacket and had a cup of tea in hand before I got my phone, went to the overstuffed chair by the window in the family room and called Henry. The time difference was such that it would be late in Italy but Henry was like me. A night owl. He’d be awake.
“Josephine,” he answered.
“Hello, Henry,” I replied.
Then I didn’t know what to say and clearly, Henry didn’t either because he also remained silent.
It was me who broke it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I said softly. “It’s just that something happened the day before yesterday. A man came to the house. He’d approached Gran about buying it and he approached me too. And I had a very strong reaction to it.”
“Someone’s trying to buy Lavender House?” Henry asked.
“Yes, and Gran didn’t share that with me.” Amongst other things and I again didn’t tell Henry about these things for reasons unknown to me that I decided in that particular moment to process later.
“And he just showed up at the house?”
“Yes.”
“What an ass,” Henry murmured. “You just lost your grandmother.”
“Indeed,” I replied.
“And what was this strong reaction you had?” Henry queried.
“I…” I paused, drew in breath and lowered my voice when I shared, “I don’t want to let it go.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I blinked at his quick acceptance of that fact.
“F*ck him, sweetheart,” Henry continued. “Tell him to leave you alone. If he doesn’t, I’ll tell him when I get there.”
“I—” I began but he kept talking so I didn’t get any more out.
“I’ve been thinking and we need a break, both of us. So we’ll take it at Lavender House. And you’ll need to do things that are unpleasant, like go through Lydia’s belongings and you should have help when you do that. But we have a problem.”
I wasn’t exactly keeping up with him but I still managed to ask, “We do?”
“Yes. I told Daniel to cancel Paris and he looked into it but Amond got wind and got hold of Cecile. Reminded her of my contractual obligations. There’s an out in the contract but if Amond pushes it, which he inferred he would do, it could get unpleasant. She’s advised I don’t cancel but she’s looking into cancelling Sydney. As there’s more time for them to get another photographer, she thinks that can be accomplished as well as clearing my schedule after that. But that means I won’t be able to get to Magdalene for a few weeks.”
Cecile was Henry’s agent and had been with him for years. If she said Sydney was cancellable, it would be.
This made me feel better.
“That sounds like a better plan, Henry,” I told him.
“I’m not pleased it’ll be weeks until I can get there,” he disagreed.
“I’ll be all right,” I assured him.
“I know you will, sweetheart. I’m still not pleased.”
I said nothing mostly because I was relieved he was sounding like Henry again.
Then he stopped sounding like Henry when he went on, asking, “Right. Now, who’s Jake?”
I opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again and when I did, I reminded myself this was Henry.
So words finally came out.
“Jake and his children are close to Gran. My guess is he’s around our age, he has three kids, two teenagers, one young son and they spent a lot of time with Gran here at Lavender House. The kids, and I think Jake too, are missing her quite a bit and they, well…we’re establishing a connection because we all feel the same way.” I again lowered my voice when I finished, “And it feels nice, Henry. It feels very nice to be around people who cared so much about Gran.”
It seemed he only heard part of what I said because he asked, “And the connection you’re establishing with Jake?”
“What do you mean?”
“You had breakfast with him this morning,” he reminded me and I thought I understood what he was saying.
So I explained, “It isn’t like that. I’m not his, well… thing. He likes big hair and big”—I paused—“other stuff. And he’s really not my thing either.”
That last, I was beginning to fear, was a lie.
Still, I carried on.
“He owns the local strip club and boxing gym.”
Henry’s voice was no longer interrogatory but trembling with humor when he asked, “He owns what?”
I repeated myself.
He whistled before I heard him burst out laughing.
Still chuckling, he inquired, “Lydie spent time with the owner of the local gentlemen’s club?”
Something about the way he said this made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“He’s rough, Henry,” I said quietly. “But he’s very nice, he’s a good father and he loved Gran a great deal.”
Henry was silent.
I wasn’t.
“He’s treating me with care and kindness and I…well, his daughter is somewhat of a mess but his young son is quite adorable.” I drew in breath and concluded, “It’s nice to have them around.”
“Then I’m glad you’ve got them, honey. And you’ll have me too, as soon as I can get there.”
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me and said softly, “I’ll look forward to you getting here.”
“Now I’m going to let you go but I want you to remember to phone in.”
“I will, Henry.”
“Good, sweetheart. You take care and if you need me, don’t worry about the time difference. Call.”
Yes, Jake was wrong about Henry.
He cared and not just in an employer/employee way.
This was why I was smiling when I replied, “I will.”
“All right, Josephine, speak to you soon.”
“Yes, Henry, goodnight.”
“Good-bye, sweetheart.”
We rang off and I took a sip of my tea, my eyes moving out the window to see the mist was still shrouding the view, when the house phone rang.
I took the call, it was from Ruth Fletcher, the reverend’s wife, and after some (slightly annoying but she was trying to be polite) back and forth, we agreed they would come to Lavender House on Sunday night after evening services and I would cook for them (rather than the other way around).
I was heading back to my chair by the window, and my tea, when my mobile on the table beside the chair rang.
I looked at the screen and took the call.
“Amond,” I greeted.
“Beautiful, what the hell?”
Oh dear.
“Amond, please listen. Henry is just—”
“Don’t give a f*ck about Henry. Know what he’s just. Anyone could do my shit as good as him, I’d let him do what he’s just gotta do seein’ as it’s for you. What I’m askin’ what the hell about is that you lost your Granny and you didn’t phone me?”
I blinked at the window as I asked, “Pardon?”
“Josephine, you’re my girl, you know you’re my girl even though you decided not to officially be my girl. You still know I give a shit, a massive shit when it comes to you. Cecile said this was your only livin’ relative, you’re tight, you lose her, you haul your sweet white ass to f*ckin’ Maine and don’t tell your boy you lost your Granny?”
“I…uh—”
“And Henry lets it swing out there, you alone in f*ckin’ Maine?”
“Henry had jobs,” I explained.
“I know, I’m one of ‘em. That’s still bullshit.”
My back went straight. “Amond, I’ll remind you, you just today wouldn’t let him out of one of those jobs.”
“That job wasn’t scheduled when your Granny just died either.”
This, I found with deep, somewhat annoying surprise, seemed to be a theme with the men in my life. Men, I’d add, that I didn’t even know were in my life.
“You need company?” he asked into my thoughts.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
He wasn’t assured.
I knew this when he queried, “You sure?”
I softened my voice and said, “Yes, Amond. I’m sure. Gran had a lot of friends and they’re taking care of me. I’m not alone very often. It’s all fine. I promise.”
He hesitated a moment before he said, “Okay, girl.”
I took in another breath, let it go and told him, “It feels lovely that you care.”
“Josephine, every time I hit a red carpet, still think, whatever bitch I got on my arm, she’s not you. Class, straight up. Outside, ice cold. Shit-hot ice cold, but still ice cold. Inside, so f*ckin’ warm…beautiful. You don’t give me that, I dig. That’s not in you. Don’t mean I still don’t wish I had it. It also don’t mean I can’t give you what I can give back. So you need anything, you call. I’m there. You hear me?”
And yet again, I was knocked on my ass.
Winded.
Because this was very nice, very sweet and very unexpected.
I knew he liked me. I knew he was attracted to me (that, during our night and even before, and if I was honest, also after, was absolutely not in question).
I just didn’t know how deep it ran.
Even winded, I replied, “I’m with you, Amond.”
“Right, your ass is back in LA, it’s also at my house. I’m cookin’ for you and listenin’ to you talk about your Granny.”
I smiled. “We’ll plan that.”
“Right, beautiful. Now lettin’ you go.”
“Thank you for calling, Amond.”
“You got it. Later, Josephine.”
I said my farewell and we disconnected.
I again felt warm.
I also felt strange. It wasn’t a bad strange. It also wasn’t a good one. It was like I was missing something, was supposed to remember something, but I couldn’t call it up.
I attempted to call it up, staring at the gray sea and sipping tea when the house phone rang again.
I sighed, put my tea down and went to get the phone.
“Lavender House,” I greeted.
“Josephine?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Boston.”
I closed my eyes in frustration.
I opened them and started, “Mr. Stone—”
He interrupted me. “I’m not calling about Lavender House. I would assume, after the things your grandmother shared with me about how she felt about the house, and that you shared those sentiments, that you’ll not be selling the property. I’m calling to ask you out for dinner.”
Good God, what was happening?
Luckily, I had a truthful reply that was also a negative one. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I have plans.”
“Please call me Boston.”
I said nothing, unsure I could address a man by such a name.
“The night after,” he went on.
“I’m having dinner with Reverend Fletcher and his wife.”
“Monday night, then.”
I sighed.
“Josephine?” he called when I said nothing after my sigh.
“Mr. Sto…erm, Boston, I mean no offense, but at this time, I’m not looking for romantic entanglements.”
“That’s understandable,” he said gently, his smooth voice going suave. “However, I’ll take this opportunity to remind you that at times like these, any entanglements are more enjoyable than those likely occupying your mind.”
This was true.
Even so, I didn’t want to be entangled with him.
But before I could utter a word, he unfortunately continued.
“And you’re an exceptionally beautiful woman. So much so that it’s prompted me to act outside good manners to take my opportunity to make certain you understand I’d like to get to know you.”
“That’s very flattering, um…Boston. But—”
He interrupted me again with, “A drink.”
I wasn’t following.
“I’m sorry?”
“Not dinner. A drink. I’d offer to collect you but I feel you’d be more comfortable meeting me so we’ll do that. At the Club. I’ll give them your name at the gatehouse. Monday night. Seven o’clock.”
I sighed.
The Club was the Magdalene Club, an exclusive club that had once simply been a gathering place for the haves of Magdalene where they could go and commune with other haves while not having to mingle with the have-nots. Over the decades, they’d added a dining room to their bar and I’d never been there but Gran (and others) had told me it was quite excellent fare and had a lovely view of the sea.
I also had a lovely view of the sea from a variety of windows in my own home but I had the feeling that Boston Stone was not to be put off. Not Magdalene’s most eligible bachelor.
Unless I put him off face to face.
Which I would do over a drink.
“Fine. Monday. Seven o’clock.”
There was a smile in his voice when he replied, “I’ll look forward to that, Josephine.”
I didn’t share this sentiment so I made no reply.
“See you then,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“Try to have a good rest of your day.”
“I will, Boston. You too.”
“I will. Good-bye, Josephine.”
I gave my farewell, disconnected and decided not to answer the phone again that day.
I also decided not to think of a drink with Boston Stone, going to have it solely for the purpose of telling him I was not interested, as this would irritate me and I wasn’t in the mood to be irritated.
But I did this remembering why I didn’t get tangled up with men. They could be extremely irksome.
I turned my mind from that to my chair and my tea and in sipping it, my mind turned to something Henry said.
And in doing so, my body moved out of the chair and I set the tea aside again.
Slowly, I moved through the house to the den and entered Gran’s room.
I had not remade the bed. This was because I had a mind to returning that room to its rightful state as a den and, being in it, that was what I decided to do as soon as humanly possible.
I didn’t want a reminder that Gran got to the point she couldn’t enjoy all of Lavender House to its fullest, something she did even being there for decades all on her own.
But more, I didn’t need a reminder that was where she ended her days.
I then moved to the wardrobe she’d had put in there.
I opened the doors and saw her clothes.
I took one look, closed the doors and exited the room. My throat had closed. My eyes got blurry. My mind had blanked. And in this state, I made my way back to my chair in the family room.
And my phone.
Without even thinking, I picked it up, found the number and dialed.
I got five rings before I heard, “Spear. Leave a message.”
“Jake?” I said after the beep. “Josephine. I…would you, well…when you have a moment, could you call?”
I didn’t say good-bye before I disconnected.
Then I stared at the phone wondering why I connected in the first place.
Not having the answer to that, or perhaps not wanting an answer to it, I moved to the kitchen to refresh my tea.
By the time I was moving back to my chair, trying to think of what else to do that day, anything to keep my mind off a variety of things that I didn’t want to think about, coming up with nothing but sitting in that chair and staring at the bleak landscape thinking about those variety of things, my mobile rang.
I snatched it up immediately and hit the screen to connect.
I did this thoughtlessly and inexplicably.
But I did it because the screen declared Jake was calling.
“Jake?”
“Josie, you okay?”
“I…” God! What was I doing? “I…Gran’s clothes,” I stated stupidly and said no more.
“What, honey?”
“I went into the den,” I explained. “Gran’s clothes. I…there’s no reason to keep them. Someone can use them. And I-I-I need the den to be a den again. I can’t think of her…I don’t want to remember what happened…” I swallowed and concluded, “I wish it to be a den again.”
Not even a second passed before he replied, “Don’t think about the clothes. Don’t even look at the clothes. I’ll deal with the clothes. And I’ll talk to some guys. Get them over there. We’ll deal with the den.”
At his words, warmth swept through me so immense I had to sit down in the chair.
“Thank you,” I whispered into the phone.
“Not a problem, baby.”
I closed my eyes as more warmth swept through me at his deep, sweet, soft voice.
“I…uh, I won’t keep you,” I said.
“You’re good. Anytime you need to call, do it.”
And more warmth.
“All right.”
“You okay now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I gotta work but you need me to swing around tonight? Have a beer? Talk?”
It was then I knew.
I knew.
This was what Gran wanted for me and this was what Gran gave to me in giving me to Jake Spear.
I just couldn’t understand why she kept it from me before.
“I’m fine, Jake. That’s very kind but really, I’m okay. I just had”—I hesitated then admitted—“A moment”
“You have any more of those I’m a phone call away.”
Yes.
This was what Gran wanted for me.
“Thank you, Jake,” I whispered.
“Any time, honey,” he whispered back. “You okay for me to let you go?”
“Yes.”
“Right. See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.”
“Later, Slick.”
That nickname sent a jolt through me, taking me out of the moment. I opened my mouth to say something about it but got out not a sound.
He’d disconnected.