Page 48 of Snowflakes Over Starr's Fall
“And now,” he announced to all and sundry, “I think it’s time to declare Miller’s Mercantile officially open! What do you say, Jenna?”
Laughing and blushing, she pulled away from him to cut the satin ribbon she’d strung across the steps to officially re-open Miller’s Mercantile while everyone cheered. There was, Jack noted, a fair-sized crowd gathered for the moment, with the usual suspects as well as a number of faces Jack didn’t recognize. As people surged into the store, he smiled at Jenna, and she grinned back.
“That was certainly one way to open the store.”
“I enjoyed it,” he replied, and she laughed, her cheeks flushed, her hair falling about in wisps that framed her face, that long, sweeping skirt making her look like a schoolteacher on the prairie. It was a look he found he liked, but then he was fast realizing he liked just about everything about Jenna—even her prickly temper, the way she doubted herself, how she lifted her chin when she’d decided she was ready to face the world.
He’d seen her weaknesses, even if she was trying to hide them, and he’d shown and told her his. But today wasn’t about weakness, but strength in community, in coming together, in starting over. Miller’s Mercantile looked amazing, and Jack enjoyed both the sight of people exclaiming over the offerings—the coffee kiosk, the salad bar, the little gift section—and Jenna moving between customers, smiling and gracious and so very beautiful.
Jack wasn’t letting himself think about love yet—they barely knew each other, really—but it felt like a close-run thing. Averyclose-run thing.
“Well, it looks like she’s put this place on the map again,” a voice said near him, and Jack turned to see an elderly woman nodding toward Jenna. He recognized Henrietta Starr from when she’d come into the boardgame café for Scrabble, although he’d never spoken to her.
“It does look like it,” he agreed.
Henrietta Starr eyed him beadily. “I don’t recognize you.”
“I moved here in June,” he told her, and then held out a hand. “Jack Wexler.”
Henrietta glanced down at his hand, sniffed, and then touched two of her fingers to his in what Jack supposed was the approximation of a handshake. He smothered a smile.
“Back when I was a girl,” Henrietta informed him without any sentimentality, “Starr’s Fall had a baker, a butcher, a greengrocer, and a cheesemonger. And your milk and butter were delivered right to your door.”
“Those were the days,” Jack agreed. He knew Jenna was looking into partnering with a local dairy to offer fresh milk and butter; it was the same farmer who had provided the hay bales.
“They were,” Henrietta agreed, heartfelt. “Not that you’d know. You can’t be much more than forty.”
“Forty-three next month,” Jack told her, and she snorted.
“A mere child.”
He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Sometimes I feel that way.”
Henrietta glanced at him appraisingly and then nodded toward Jenna. “And I hope you’re going to make a decent woman of her?”
For a second, Jack could only goggle. “Umm…”
“Of course, she’s decent already,” Henrietta added, before wagging an arthritic finger in front of his face. “But don’t break her heart, Mr. Jack Wexler. Having your heart broken once is acceptable and even advised. Gives you wisdom as well as empathy, as long as you don’t let it sour you. But twice? I don’t know many people who survive it twice.”
Jack could not think of a single thing to say. Finally, he asked, genuinely curious, “Have you had your heart broken, Miss Starr?”
“Of course I have!” she barked. “Long before you were born, too. But…” She paused, eyeing him shrewdly. “I can tell you haven’t. You’ve got that shiny, bright-as-a-bandbox glow to you. So you might not realize just how much it hurts.” And with that, seeming to have imparted her wisdom, she stumped off toward the soup.
“I see you’ve met Henrietta Starr,” Maggie murmured as she came up to join Jack.
Jack smiled ruefully as he kept his gaze on the elderly lady’s retreating back. “Yes, and it was quite an experience.”
Maggie nodded. “She has a lot of wisdom.”
“She seemed like a savant, or maybe a fortune-teller.” He shook his head slowly, still reeling from what the old lady had said. No, he hadn’t had his heart broken, at least not in the way Henrietta had meant, but he’d certainly had his fair share of both challenges and disappointments. Still, he took Miss Starr’s words to heart. He did not want to be the one who broke Jenna’s heart a second time. No how, not in any way, shape, or form.
“It’s so great to see her enjoying herself like this,” Maggie said as she nodded toward Jenna, who was moving around the store like she owned it—which, Jack supposed, she did. But he knew what Maggie meant; there was a glow to Jenna, a purpose that shone from her whole being. She looked radiant, and it filled him with both pride and affection, as well as a yearning he couldn’t ignore.
He’d once had that kind of purpose, that joy. All right, maybe it had been unhealthy and ended up almost killing him, but he still missed it. Helping Jenna with Miller’s Mercantile had invigorated him, but it hadn’t actuallysatisfiedhim. Rather, it had whetted his appetite for more. He wanted to work again. He’d been good at what he’d done, really good, and he had to figure out a way to fit it into his life again… But in Starr’s Fall? How on earth would that work?
It was a problem for another day, he decided, as Jenna started toward him, her face rosy and flushed, her eyes still sparkling.
“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” she told him and Maggie. “And the Christmas Dinners in Baskets are selling like hotcakes.”
