Page 11 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
Zach rocked back on his heels as he gave him a considering look. “How are you feeling?”
In a weak moment last week, Jack had confessed some of his health troubles. “Yeah, I’m okay.” There was, Jack feared, nothing more boring or pathetic than a middle-aged man detailing the woes of his digestive system. He had no intention of doing so ever again.
“Great.” Zach seemed as willing to skip over the medical check as he was, and Jack could hardly blame him. “Who can I introduce you to?”
Reluctantly, Jack’s gaze skimmed over the crowd as he did his best not to meet anyone’s eye, before it came to a sudden screeching halt on an all-too-familiar face. Jenna Miller.
She’d been sipping her drink, but she stilled as he stared at her, unable to look away even though he wanted to. That woman had practically had him blackballed from town, all over that stupid review, which he’d taken down months ago, in a fit of admittedly uncharacteristic remorse. He didn’t think he was a vindictive person, but she’d made him feel as if he was with the reply she’d written to his own review; every word seemed to vibrate with both fury and hurt.
Now he stared at her, taking in her hair, wild waves of auburn that tumbled halfway down her back. She had the same freckles he remembered—whyhe’d remembered, he had no idea—spattered across her nose and cheeks, and her hazel eyes were wide and clear, her gaze fixed on his. Her lips parted as she slowly lowered her cup.
Zach followed Jack’s gaze and remarked, “I think you know my sister already, right?” There was a thread of laughter in his voice that suggested he knew about the whole Smoked Salmon Incident. Good grief, Jack regretted that whole episode, mainly because it had followed him like a bad smell.
Not that he’d been out all that much, but when he had, it had seemed as if everyone in this town had heard of it, and thoughthewas the ridiculous one for assuming Miller’s Mercantile might stock smoked salmon, of all things. Jack didn’t know if that reflected badly on him or on the store, but either way he wanted to move on. He had absolutely no desire to be the smoked salmon guy of Starr’s Fall.
It was bad enough, he’d discovered, owning a Porsche in this place. That had been commented on just as much, so much so that he’d taken to parking it on the outskirts of town and walking in. Easier all around, even if it left him feeling disgusted—with himself. Why did he care what these backwoods hicks thought of him?
Except somehow he did. Sort of, anyway. And, to be fair, no one here was really ahick, despite his initial unfriendly assumptions.
“I didn’t know she was your sister, but we have met briefly,” Jack replied, tearing his gaze away from Jenna, and Zach chuckled all too knowingly.
“Maybe you need a proper introduction.”
Somehow Jack found himself steered in Jenna’s direction, and he was not a man who let himself be steered. He did the steering generally, quite forcefully too, but life had thrown him a serious curveball in the last six months, and now he found himself docilely following behind a guy, he had to be honest, he probably wouldn’t have hired to work in his company’s mailroom.
Jack stopped so he was standing right in front of Jenna, the whole café having fallen silent to witness this exchange. He might actually hate small-town life, Jack reflected as he gave Jenna a tense smile. She looked up at him, a small, answering smile playing about her mouth, her eyes glinting with humor as if she knew how uncomfortable this made him and was enjoying that fact. Of course she was. She was the one who was at home in this crowd, who knew everyone and called them friends, not him. Not remotely. Not yet, anyway.
“Nice to see you again,” he forced out, sounding completely unenthused by the prospect, and Jenna let out a gurgle of skeptical laughter, her head cocked to one side so her hair flowed past her shoulder in a tumbled river of red-gold.
“Is it really?” she teased. At least she sounded friendly, but Jack still winced. Could they not put that one blasted conversation behind them? “I know we haven’t met properly,” she continued, “but I have a feeling you probably know my name.”
“Jenna Miller,” he duly acknowledged.
“And you’re Jack Wexler.” She cocked her head to the other side, pulling her hair around one shoulder as she smiled at him, her eyes glinting gold. She seemed far less shrew-like than he remembered, which was an uncomfortable realization. “Nice to see you again,” she parroted, a laugh in her voice, with a look that felt like it was just for him, almost, but not quite, as if she were flirting. Still, despite that unsettling thought, Jack felt a pulse of relief go through him.No drama here, he wanted to tell all the folks with their necks craned and their eyes out on stalks.Move along.
“Nice to see you again,” he said, stupidly for a second time, like he was a robot who had one dialogue setting, and then he gave a nod and started to turn away. Job done.
“Ihaven’t met you,” the woman sitting next to Jenna remarked in a strident tone as Jack reluctantly turned back around. “Liz Cranbury. I run Midnight Fashion, the ladies’ boutique in town.” She held out a slender, well-manicured hand as she fixed him with a disconcertingly beady eye beneath a sleek silver bob.
“Jack Wexler,” he said, dutifully taking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Would you like a margarita?” she asked, nodding to a soda bottle filled with a lurid red liquid on the floor next to her. It looked like something you’d see at a frat party and choosenotto drink.
“I’m very tempted”—he was not—“but unfortunately I’m on a strict no-alcohol diet,” he told her, wishing he didn’t sound so tediously boring. “Sorry.”
Jenna, he felt, was still watching him, although he wasn’t willing to risk looking at her again. He moved along, murmuring a few random hellos aimed at no one in particular before he headed back to the coffee bar, where Maggie, whom he’d met a few times now and found reassuringly friendly and normal, gave him a sympathetic smile.
“Starr’s Fall can sometimes feel a little like a lion’s den,” she murmured. “But you just ran the gauntlet, so good job. Peppermint tea?”
He nodded in relief. “Thanks, Maggie.” He rested one elbow on the counter as he surveyed the scene from a comforting distance. Thankfully, the excitement of his entrance had abated, and everyone was back to chatting, with only the occasional, half-interested look thrown his way, almost in dismissal.
Jack exhaled slowly. It had been a long time since he’d been in any kind of social situation, and he felt both uneasy and awkward, sensations that he was not accustomed to. Back in his old job, his oldlife, whenever he’d come into a room, he’d commanded it. He hadn’t bothered with small talk because time was money, and he was making a lot of it… and everyone who mattered had known that.
But all that was gone, and he had to figure out who he was without it… if anything. Sometimes he felt like a cipher, an emptiness inside him like a whistling wind and nothing more. It was not a good feeling.
“Hey.”
Jack turned, blinking in surprise to see Jenna standing next to him, brushing a strand of wavy auburn hair out of her eyes as she gave him what looked like a sheepish smile.
