Always Our Love Page 4

  “Hmm. I know Meghan a little.” Even though she’d been married to Sam for over two years, it still sounded odd to hear her called Mrs. Reynolds. “She’s a good friend of my cousin Rilla, and my dad’s been close to Sam as long as I can remember.”

  “Did you say anything to her about submitting the proposal?” Cora quirked an eyebrow at me.

  I shook my head. “No. I haven’t seen Meghan or Sam in . . . a while.” I didn’t socialize if I could help it, and I hadn’t even visited my cousin Rilla for months.

  “Then it must have been something else. Maybe just the fact that the plantation is near their farm, or . . . well, who knows. The important thing is that we’ve got the go-ahead. It’s time for you to run with it.”

  “Me?” I was pretty sure my mouth dropped open. “Why me?”

  “This is your baby, Jenna. You brought us the idea, you spearheaded the county’s decision to take on the project, and you wrote the proposal to the state. I’m not taking it away from you at this point.”

  “Seriously?” My mind was spinning. “You’re going to let me handle it? Really?”

  “Seriously and really. Now, there are a few aspects of this project you need to be aware of. Because the Baker Foundation is footing the bill, you’ll have to be in close contact with them—I imagine they’ll appoint a liaison to work with you. Also, it seems they’ve laid out a few stipulations.”

  “Like what?” I hadn’t ever been in charge of one of our jobs; I’d only worked on a few, never as a project manager. I assumed this foundation just wanted some input on some of our design and execution decisions.

  “They’re requiring us to use a contractor they’ve selected. That seems to be the main condition. The rest have to do with operations after the restoration is complete, consultations with their historians and hiring practices. But for your purposes, it’s just the contractor.”

  There wasn’t exactly a large pool of potential experts located near Burton; I supposed Savannah probably had more. I myself only knew of a few, and one in particular I was aware of had a bad rep. “Tell me they’re not insisting on Randall Cranks.”

  Cora laughed. “No, not good old Randall. They want us to use a restoration specialist firm, actually. It’s called Kent and Turner. The company is new to our area, but they’ve done some work around the country and made a name for themselves. I’ve heard good things. Apparently, their first permanent office just opened here in Burton.”

  “I hadn’t heard.” Truth was, I didn’t hear much nowadays, and even if I did, I seldom remembered anything that didn’t directly pertain to me. My mother tended to chatter away when we were together, and I automatically filtered out the information I didn’t need.

  “You can start by setting up a meeting with them next week, and then I’ll help you put together a calendar for the project, based on what they say. We’ll need to factor in some promotional events along the way, so I’ll get Joanna in on the conversation, too.” Joanna Phelps handled our press and promotional services, and I knew she was always keeping her eye out for an opportunity to bring more exposure to the historical society.

  “All right.” My stomach had begun to churn as nerves hit me. “But Cora, are you sure I’m up to this? There are so many other people who could do it. I know this is an important project for us. For the whole county. I don’t mind if you’d rather have someone else be in charge. I’m not sure I trust me to do it right.”

  “Jenna.” She laid a hand on my shoulder and held my eyes. “You can do this. You’re intelligent, competent and capable. I have no doubt that you will make sure everything runs smoothly. If you need any help, of course we’ll all be here for you. But there’s not a single reason you shouldn’t be in charge.”

  I let those words roll around in my head for the rest of the afternoon, as I went about my regular office chores, answering email, routing calls and talking with my co-workers. Everything was fairly casual and laid-back at the historical society. I remembered when I’d first started volunteering here, right after I’d come back to Burton. I’d expected to find a group of elderly ladies, fussing about genealogies and planning ceremonies at the local cemeteries. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Although there were assigned positions within the small organization, everyone worked together, and I’d never been told that something wasn’t my job. Quite the contrary. I’d been encouraged to try new tasks and take on bigger responsibilities, especially once I’d been officially hired.

  We closed at four every afternoon, mostly because a high percentage of our staff were senior citizens and preferred to eat their dinners earlier. I locked up the back door of the small cottage that served as our office and made my way down the sidewalk, across the street and around the block on autopilot, turning in at the propped-open entry to Sweetness and Bites.

  The bakery had been my favorite refuge since I was a kid. I’d found it completely by accident when I was in fourth grade and mad at my sister Christy. My mom had insisted she take me along to the library—where Christy had secret plans to meet the boy she’d been crushing on for months. My sister wasn’t stupid enough to deliberately disobey our mother, who could be kind of scary sometimes, but she hadn’t hesitated to grump at me all the way from our house as we walked through town.

  Finally, a few blocks from the library, I’d stomped my foot and refused to go any further with her. Christy had thrown up her hands and turned to me.

  “Fine. Fine! If you’re going to be such a huge crybaby, you can just stay right here.” Her gaze had lifted to the sign behind me. “Right here at this bakery.”

  Before I could respond, she’d steered me into the small shop, where the most delicious aromas I’d ever smelled surrounded me. Standing just behind the glass counter, a woman with long black hair and wire-rimmed glasses regarded me with a warm smile.

  “You look like you need a chocolate chip cookie and a big glass of milk,” she’d said, and that was how I met Kiki Payton, owner of Sweetness and Bites. She’d let me hang out at one of the small tables in her shop until Christy came back for me, flushed and apologetic, and in a very good mood. Since Kiki had talked with me about sisters and young love, I was ready to make up, too, and after that day, Kiki’s bakery became my go-to spot when I needed a break from being the baby of the Sutton girls.

  Of course, on the worst day of my life, when hope had been extinct and despair had gripped me with vicious talons, I hadn’t turned to Kiki. Facing her had felt impossible, and I knew that we’d both struggled with my failure there. For several months, I hadn’t seen my friend, and by the time I’d worked up the courage to go back, she’d been away, gone on tour with her hot new boyfriend, who just happened to be country music’s newest star, Troy Beck. Since her return a few months ago, we’d fallen back into our old routines, even though neither of us ever mentioned what had happened on that horrible day in March two years ago.

  “Jenna Sutton.” Kiki greeted me the way she always did. “What’s shakin’, bacon? How’re you doing?”

  I dropped onto one of the ridiculously narrow chairs that flanked the café tables. “Oh, you know me. Peachy with a side of keen.”

  “Now isn’t it peculiar that you’d use that particular phrase?” Kiki’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Look what I put aside for you about ten minutes ago.” She bent to reach into the back of the display case and handed me a small white plate.

  I laughed when I took the pastry out of her hand and got a whiff of it. “Peach. Of course.” Picking up a fork, I scooped a bite toward my mouth. “Mmmmm. Delicious, as always.”

  “Coffee today or tea? Or would you rather have something cold? Sure is hot out there.”

  “Whatever you have is fine.” I never hesitated to put my choices wholly in Kiki’s hands, since she usually knew what I wanted before I did.

  She cocked her head, studying me. “Iced green tea, I think. It’ll go down nicely with that pastry.”

  “That works.” I watched Kiki pour the tea over
ice in a tall glass and then added a sprig of mint from the plant on the windowsill.

  “So something good happened today.” She came around the counter to set down my drink and took the chair across from mine. “Tell me about it.”

  “How do you do that?” I sipped the tea and smiled. “And this is amazing. Thank you.”

  “Of course.” She waved her hand. “And you know me. I’m just a little extra perceptive, particularly when it comes to my favorite people. Now spill.”

  Popping a bite of peachy yumminess into my mouth, I chewed and swallowed quickly. “I wrote up a proposal last month for the historical society to take over and restore Oak Grove Plantation. Usually, these things take a long time to be approved, if they ever are. I mean, we write these kind of proposals all the time, and just a small percentage get the go ahead. But we got word today that this one was already approved. And Cora is putting me in charge of it.”

  “No shit?” Kiki’s eyes sparkled as she grinned. “Jenna, that’s wonderful! You must be so excited.”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Oak Grove Plantation. That place has been a dilapidated mess as long as I’ve known it. I used to go parking out there.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard—” I paused, narrowing my eyes. “Wait a minute. You didn’t live here when you were a teenager. You moved to Burton when you were in your twenties.”

  Kiki tilted her head, mischief dancing on her face. “And your point is?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not a thing. I’m just thinking maybe you had a better adolescence than I did, even if it was when you were closer to thirty.”

  “Sweetie pie, adolescence had nothing to do with it. The idea that only the young can have fun is idiotic, and I’m living proof.”

  “Yeah, I know. If you and Troy were having any more fun, it might be illegal.”

  “It’s true. I’ve never been happier in my life. The other night, when I went upstairs after I’d closed the shop down here, Troy had made me dinner. He had the table all set, and the main course was . . . ah, well, let’s just say he was holding the serving platter just about here—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Enough.” I clapped my hands over my ears. “Seriously, Kiki. I know I’m supposed to be all grown up now, but I still see you as the adult in this friendship.”

  She laughed. “What I was about to describe was most definitely adult.”

  I pushed away my plate. “Aaaand that’s it for my appetite.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” Kiki nudged the pastry back toward me. “Eat up. You need those calories, honey, you’ve looked a little skinny lately.”

  “Thanks for that confidence builder.” Still, I took another bite and savored the flaky dough as well as the mix of tart and sweet on my tongue. Say what I might about Kiki’s judgement, but the woman had a gift when it came to baking.

  “You don’t need any confidence building. You are a strong and fabulous woman. Now tell me more about this project of yours. Are you excited?”

  I hesitated. “A little. Well, at first, I was really pumped. But then I started thinking of all the things that could go wrong. I don’t have any experience with heading up a job this size. I don’t have any experience with heading up anything bigger than a tea party.”

  “Bull.” Kiki crossed her arms over her chest and stared me down. “You’ve got this, Jenna. Stop second-guessing yourself and just go for it. I know Cora wouldn’t give you the chance if she didn’t have complete faith in you. And I’m sure everyone at the society will be there to help you out, if you need them.”

  “I guess.” I drew in a deep breath. “It just feels overwhelming. I’m going to be working with a contractor who’s new to this area, and that makes me nervous. Everyone in town is going to know about this restoration, and if I screw it up, it won’t be any secret that Jenna Sutton fucked up. Again.”

  “Are you finished?” She pursed her lips. “Because you’re wrong, okay? No one is waiting for you to mess up, Jenna. Anyone in Burton who knows you is going to be rooting for you.”

  I blinked back the unexpected moisture that sprung to my eyes. “Once I would’ve believed that. Now . . . it doesn’t feel that way.”

  Kiki leaned toward me, her forehead drawn in worry as she laid a hand on my arm. “Jenna, what happened with—”

  The bell over the door rang, and we both turned. A girl stood in the entrance to the bakery, one foot inside and one out, as though she was ready to make a run for it if the interior of the store didn’t live up to the sign. She was probably about ten or eleven, I thought, not quite a pre-teen. Brown hair hung in a single braid down her back, and big brown eyes widened in near-panic when she spotted Kiki and me sitting at the table.

  “I’m sorry.” She held out one hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought this was—” She craned her neck back to look at the door again, checking the sign which was turned to OPEN. “I didn’t know you were, um, having a meeting.”

  “Darling girl, come right in.” Kiki jumped to her feet and walked toward the girl, arms outstretched. “Don’t be silly. You didn’t interrupt anything. Please, come in.”

  The girl took one tentative step, glancing at me. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am. I’m Kiki, and I own this lovely establishment. And you are so very welcome here.” In one smooth move, Kiki folded the new arrival into a quick hug and then stood back, beaming. “You’re new to town, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah—yes, ma’am. We just moved here last week.” Her gaze darted around the shop, and I couldn’t miss the spark of delight when she spied the goodies in the glass-fronted case.

  Apparently Kiki hadn’t missed either. She steered her young customer inside and pointed to the chair she herself had just vacated. “Sit down. I’m going to bring you something delicious and perfect.” As she passed me on her way to the back, she patted my shoulder and added, “Jenna, introduce yourself and get to know our new friend.”

  Before, which was how I termed my life prior to March two years ago, I used to babysit regularly. I spent hours entertaining little kids, playing with my cousin Rilla’s children and keeping my charges safe and happy. But it had been a long time since I’d had any real interaction with kids, and I couldn’t quite remember how to talk to a girl who was this age.

  “I’m Jenna. Jenna Sutton.” I held out a hand, because it seemed like the right thing to do.

  She stared at my outstretched fingers for a minute before she took them, gingerly, and she gave me a little squeeze. “Becca Turner.”

  “Hello, Becca Turner.” I tried on a smile. “Where did you move here from?”

  “Uh, Texas. Canton, Texas.”

  I nodded. “I’ve never been to Texas. I guess it’s a lot different from here, though.”

  “Yeah. I think it is. But I don’t know. I haven’t seen too much, since we’ve only been here a little while. We drove up here from Florida, so I mostly saw highways and trees.”

  “I was born here, and I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve been to Florida and to South Carolina, but never as far away as Texas. You’re lucky that you’ve gotten to travel.” I took a swig of tea. “Do you have family around here?”

  She shook her head. “No. My dad’s job is here, so that’s why we moved.”

  “Really? What does he . . .” Suddenly something clicked in my brain. “Did you say your last name is Turner?”

  Becca nodded. “Uh-huh. He works with old houses. My father does, I mean. He and Uncle Ryland have a company, and they make old broken-down buildings look like new.”

  “Yeah, I thought so.” Coincidence was a crazy thing. “I actually just heard of their company today.”

  “Well, isn’t that funny?” Kiki emerged from the back, carrying a large rectangular plate, piled high with cookies. “That’s the beauty of a small town, isn’t it, Jenna? You just never know who you’re going to end up connected to.” She set down the plate. “Here you go, darling. I made you up an assortment plate.” She pulled ove
r another chair and flipped it around so that she was leaning her chin in her hands on the twisted metal of the chair back. “I’m especially anxious for you to try the chocolate coconut almond cookie. That’s a new recipe.”

  Becca lifted the small round brown cookie. “Almonds? And coconut?”

  “Yes.” Kiki cocked her head. “You’re not allergic, are you? I wouldn’t want to give you anything that puts you at risk.”

  “No.” The girl shook her head. “No, it’s just that . . . my mom used to make this kind of cookie. She, um . . . she died when I was only six. These are one of the only things I remember really well, that she cooked, I mean.” Her thin lips pinched together, and I saw her throat work as she swallowed. “Gramma tried to make them, but she could never get them right. Her cookies never tasted like my mom’s did.”

  Kiki reached across and brushed a strand of hair away from Becca’s face. “Well, at least she tried, right? And you should taste this one. Maybe it’s not the same either.”

  Becca took a bite, and I felt like I was holding my breath along with Kiki until the girl nodded. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s it. That’s exactly it. How did you do it? How did you know?”

  “I didn’t.” Kiki covered Becca’s hand with her own. “Sometimes things just happen that way. This morning I had a nudge to bake this particular cookie—I’d seen the recipe in an old cookbook, months ago. And when you came in, I had a hunch it was for you. I’m glad it worked out.”

  I forced a laugh, even though chills were running down my spine. No matter how often I’d experienced Kiki’s odd sense of knowing, it never failed to freak me out just a little. “Kiki’s nudges and hunches are old news to those of us who’ve known her forever. Don’t worry, kiddo. She only uses her powers for the positive, never evil.” I grinned, hoping to lighten the moment.