Page 24 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
“I’m… not,” Jenna protested, sounding unconvincing even to herself. “I mean, why would I be?”
“Good question.” Jack popped a forkful of risotto into his mouth, and Jenna did likewise, even though her appetite had vanished. She’d been expecting some ideas from Jack, along the lines of get rid of the sofa on the porch and get a credit-card machine that works, not a psychological evaluation.Afraid of success?Why on earth would she be afraid of success?
“I’m not sure what to say to that,” she said finally, swallowing her mouthful of risotto. It was delicious, even if she was no longer hungry. “I mean… it would be kind of self-defeating, to be afraid of success.”
“Yes, exactly.” Jack reached for his wine, his gaze steady on her.
“What, are you now an armchair psychologist, now that you’re no longer Mr. Venture Capital?” Jenna asked scoffingly. She’d meant to sound playful, but she hadn’t been able to pull it off.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Feeling a little defensive?”
“All right, yes,” she admitted. “I mean, wouldn’t you? Why do you think I’m afraid of success?”
“I don’t know, but… this whole resistant-to-change thing you’ve got going on?” He shook his head slowly. “I’m not buying it.”
“What…” She really didn’t know what to say to that. It had become herthing, to be averse to change. It was what she was known for. It was comfortable as well as comforting, a shabby old outfit she protected herself with, to avoid pretty much anything.
Which, now that she thought about it, was not sounding all that healthy.
“You moved to San Francisco and then to New York,” Jack told her. “You have a degree in marketing. According to Zach, you’ve been on the forefront of some major changes in the town—lobbying to get the streetlights fixed, restarting the Christmas festival, chairing the Business Association last year… So you’re not trying to keep Starr’s Fall in a time warp.” He paused. “Just the store.”
Jenna reached for her wine, just to have something to do. There was too much truth in what he’d said. She’d had no idea he’d learned so much about her or had been so observant. She felt as if he’d crawled inside her head somehow, without her even realizing. Okay, she’d been open about not changing the store, but somehow the way Jack said it… it felt way more knowing. Way more personal.
“And it seems very personal,” he continued, as if reading her thoughts. “More personal than it needs to be… almost like you can’t separate yourself from the store. Almost as if youarethe store.”
“I’mthe store—” Jenna tried to scoff. What mumbo-jumbo was this?
“Like asking someone to change the store is askingyouto change,” he clarified, “and that’s what you’re resisting. You don’t want to have to change for anybody. And you resent anyone asking you—or the store—to change.” He raised his eyebrows, his smile playful but also humiliatingly compassionate. “How is my armchair psychology so far?”
“I…” For a second Jenna couldn’t speak. She managed a laugh, barely. “Okay, you might have a point there,” she finally said. She felt almost unbearably raw, like he’d scraped off a layer of skin with his words. For a second, the painful memories rushed through her—loving Ryan so desperately, with a kind of frantic hunger that never signified anything healthy or good, changing everything about herself to be what she thought he’d wanted her to be—her clothes, her hair, herlaugh—being told she still wasn’t good enough, and never would be, and not only that, but she was ridiculous to think she ever could be—that he would ever see her that way.
It all came back in a horrifying, humiliating rush, causing her eyes to sting and her stomach to churn. She found she couldn’t manage any more words, and so she just shook her head, her gaze on her plate and the barely touched risotto.
“Jenna.” Jack leaned over and covered her hand with his own, warm and dry and strong. Jenna liked the feel of it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so… brutal. I suppose I’m still used to the corporate world. Cutthroat, remember?”
“You weren’t brutal, just honest.” She found she had to squeeze the words through her throat. “I appreciate that. And you know what?” Her voice wobbled, and she forced herself to look up at him, even though her eyes were swimming with tears. “You’re right. I have equated the store with myself in a way that I can see is unhealthy and hard to explain.” At least not without going into her romantic history, which she really didn’t want to do right now. Zach had guessed a little of it, it was true, but he hadn’t skeweringly psychoanalyzed her the way Jack just had. She brushed at her eyes. “I’d tell you why I’ve been doing that, but I’m holding on to my composure by a thread as it is, and I really hate crying in front of people, so…”
“Oh, Jenna.” His voice sounded almost tender, along with low and rumbly, and Jenna decided Zoe had been right. It was a very sexy voice, not that she was thinking that way now. She was really, really just trying not to cry, because that would be seriously embarrassing. It was embarrassing enough that he knew how close she was to it.
“Anyway.” With what felt like superhuman effort, she drew in a ragged breath and managed to blink the tears from her eyes. Crisis averted… for now. “If you were going to suggest some changes to the store, and assume that I would be willing to make them… what would they be?”
Jack nodded slowly, seeming willing to take this conversational route, which was a relief. She could deal in practicalities. Hopefully.
“You identified some challenges,” he began, his gaze narrowing in thought. He’d removed his hand from hers and stupidly, she found she missed it. “The quickness and convenience of online deliveries, and the fact that your store can’t stock everything, so people will have to shop elsewhere, as well. Those are significant, although not insurmountable.”
“They aren’t?”
“I thinkyouneed to decide what you want Miller’s Mercantile to be.” He met her gaze directly, and the icy blueness of his eyes made her feel like shivering. “You could go the gift shop route, with candles and blankets and overpriced kitsch, but I wouldn’t advise it.”
Jenna couldn’t keep a gurgle of laughter from escaping her. “That was Zach’s advice. He wants it to be all artisanal, a place for local craftsmen and carpenters. And yes, with candles.”
“I think his furniture business could do that very well,” Jack agreed without missing a beat. “But general stores that don’t actually sell anything useful are a dime a dozen around here, I’m afraid, or at least in Litchfield County. Overpriced everything for city slickers like me, who want a candle or some cute sign to remember their jaunt in the country.”
“So…” She cocked her head, waiting for more.
“I like that you want a store that is useful,” he told her. “With plenty of grocery staples. But at the moment, you’re missing a lot of staples. And the space is big enough that you could provide everything a local needs, or almost, and at reasonable prices. And there would be still enough space to offer something a little extra for the out-of-towner—an olive bar, or a buffet station, or a coffee kiosk, or all three. You don’t get a lot of foot traffic here, but thisisthe road out to Winsted. There’s no reason why you couldn’t entice some cars to turn in, to take a break, if you advertised it well.”
It sounded obvious when he said it, but Jenna hadn’t considered appealing to people traveling to somewhere else, only the residents and local tourists. And the attempts she’d made to do something different hadn’t worked out… although admittedly she hadn’t given any of them a wholehearted effort. It was a lot to think about. “I’m not getting those cars at the moment,” she told him.
