The Bachelor's Sweetheart. Jean C. Gordon
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so she could choose what to order. A hollow grew inside her. This was Josh. Of course, business would come before fun—and friendship?
She dug in her jeans pocket for her key ring. “Right here.” Tessa wound the key off the ring.
He took the key. “I can’t give you much other help finishing the cleanup here until next weekend. But don’t worry about having the place ready for me to move in on Thursday. Connor said it would be fine for me to stay at the parsonage while he and Natalie are away.”
“Sounds good.”
“Then pack up whatever you’re taking with you, and I’ll drop you at the house.”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll walk. I need some time out in the fresh air to clear my head of the smell of Mr. Clean.” And of other things, like the fear that our business partnership isn’t the brilliant idea I thought it was.
* * *
Tessa pressed the latch to the front door of the house, only to find it locked. She’d forgotten that Grandma was going to dinner and then a musical prayer concert at the Camp Sonrise Conference Center Auditorium with Josh’s grandparents and Marie Delacroix. After she unlocked the door and let herself in, she dropped into the closest chair. Maybe Josh was right. Maybe the theater was a lost cause, and she should start looking for an engineering job. Opportunities here were slim, though, and she hated to leave her grandmother alone.
She pushed herself out of the chair to see what she could rummage up for supper. Her grandmother’s words about Mrs. Delacroix inviting her to share her house ran through her mind. Grandma wasn’t alone. Her roots were here. She had friends here. Grandma didn’t need Tessa living with her any more than her parents needed her at the mission in Lesotho or, self-pity crept in, Josh needed her presence in his life. He couldn’t seem to be with her lately without telling her about how he was out of here as soon as he found the right job opportunity or that she should look for an engineering job somewhere else.
Tessa found a note written on ivory stationery bordered with lilies of the valley in her grandmother’s perfect penmanship.
I defrosted the leftover beef stew if you want it for supper, and Edna brought over a strawberry-rhubarb pie made with fresh rhubarb from her garden. There’s vanilla ice cream in the freezer. Love, G.
Tessa pulled the container of stew from the refrigerator. If she knew Grandma was well settled with friends, she could look for a job, maybe in Saratoga Springs or Glens Falls. Glens Falls was within commuting distance, if not for the months of bad winter weather. Tessa opened the stew container, and her stomach lurched. But that would mean moving and operating the Majestic weekends only, even during the summer tourist season, or not at all. Wherever she went, she’d have to establish a whole new support system. She’d come to Schroon Lake nearly six years ago and was still working on fitting in. And this was the most comfortable place she’d ever lived.
She replaced the lid on the stew container. Pie and ice cream sounded like a better supper. It had three of the four major food groups—dairy, grain and fruits and vegetables. Her hand lingered on the container after she’d placed it back on the refrigerator shelf, her parents’ frequent reprimand sounding in her head. You have to set an example. You can’t simply choose to do whatever you want.
She should have the stew. What kind of meal was pie and ice cream? Tessa grabbed the pie and closed the refrigerator door. She could have whatever she wanted for supper. There was no one here to set an example of good eating habits for, and Grandma wouldn’t say anything. She cut a large piece of pie and smothered it in ice cream. Her cell phone rang as she polished off the last bite. She checked the number, figuring it could be one of only three people. Grandma checking up on her. Her heart warmed. Josh. The warmth ticked up a degree. Or Uncle Bob, whom she would call back later, or tomorrow.
She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”
“Tessa, it’s Maura.”
Her Alcoholics Anonymous sponsor. “Oh, hi.”
“I missed last week’s meeting and wanted to give you my new home phone number. We moved into the house yesterday.”
“Congratulations,” Tessa said.
“Thanks. I’ve got my work cut out for me the next few days unpacking.”
“Me, too. I’m getting the apartment above my grandmother’s garage cleaned out to rent. No one’s lived in it for years.”
“Have fun with that. I wanted to invite you to our housewarming party weekend after next.”
Tessa twisted her hair around her finger. “What day?”
“Saturday evening. Some of the others from the meeting are coming. You can bring a guest.”
“It’ll depend on whether I can get Myles to cover for me.” Relief edged with guilt flowed through her. She was thankful for the excuse. She didn’t know whom she’d bring except her grandmother. Josh didn’t know about her addiction. His hard feelings for his father had made her afraid to tell him and jeopardize their friendship—an accommodation to fitting in, like her drinking had started out as an accommodation to fitting in at college. She’d also chosen AA meetings in other towns where she’d be less likely to run into anyone from church or from the movie theater. Another accommodation.
“I hope you can come. Everything going well?”
“Yes and no.” Tessa told her about the loan for the theater, the contract with Josh for the work and his bomb that he expected to have a job somewhere else by the end of the year. “I don’t know if it’s the project and wanting so badly for it to work out or the thought of my good friend moving, but I’m unsettled.” She dropped her voice. “I wanted a drink last night, for the first time in forever.”
“You should have called me.”
“It went away as quickly as it came, and my grandmother had something she wanted to talk with me about.”
“You know what you have to do with your uncertainty,” Maura said. “Give it up to God.”
“I know. I’ll get back to you about the housewarming.”
“Great. Call if you do need anything, and I’ll see you tomorrow at the meeting.”
“I will. Bye.”
Tessa set her phone down, folded her hands and rested her elbows on the table. “Lord, I know only You can control my life. Direct me away from the pull of my addiction. Help me to know and accept the things I can’t change, like Josh’s inevitable move away from here, from me. I fear that I’ve let myself become too dependent on our friendship, that I’ve exchanged one dependency for another and that my reliance on him could jeopardize my sobriety when he leaves. Guide me to depend on You, the one who is always there for all of us. I place myself in Your hands. Amen.”
* * *
The fire siren went off at the same time Josh received the text. He drove directly to the Schroon Volunteer Fire Department hall, bypassing his original destination, the apartment above Tessa’s grandmother’s garage. A quick glance at the parking lot showed only one other vehicle. He turned off his truck and read the text. An accident on US Route 9, near Paradox Lake, with possible fire potential. An Essex County Sheriff’s deputy was already on the scene.
Josh heard the wind-down of a motorcycle slowing and turned to see Emergency Medical Squad members Jon Hanlon, a local obstetrician, and his wife, Autumn, a midwife, pull in. With only him and one other firefighter here, he still had time to call Tessa and let her know that he probably wouldn’t be over to work on the windows at the apartment tonight.
“Hi,” Tessa said, picking up on the first ring. “You just caught me. I was about to put my phone on vibrate.”
“Right. Monday night video clips.”
Tessa always turned her ringtone off and made him do the same, so any calls or texts wouldn’t interrupt their viewing. He’d forgotten all about