Honeysuckle Bride. Tara Randel
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you sure?” Abby asked. “We don’t mind helping.”
“Yep. You’ve both been great, but I can take over from here.”
The girls scurried from the room. As Jenna removed the last batch of cookies and turned off the oven, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the number and frowned. She didn’t want to answer, but knew her agent wouldn’t stop calling until she spoke to Jenna.
“Barbara. How are you?”
“Cringing at the number of appearances I have to refuse on your behalf.”
Tension tightened Jenna’s temples. They’d had this conversation one too many times since Jenna informed her agent she was taking time off. “And you’ll have to keep refusing until the hiatus is over.”
“Absence from the public eye does not make the viewer grow fonder.”
“The girls are my priority. I don’t know how much clearer I can make the point.”
Barbara Samson had been Jenna’s agent for four years. An energetic go-getter, she never heard a “no” she paid attention to. Until Carrie died, Jenna didn’t have any reason to turn down work. Now that she did, Barbara was persistent about changing Jenna’s mind.
Right out of culinary school, Jenna landed a job at a trendy restaurant that became a popular hangout for celebrities. At first, she was one of the minor chefs in the kitchen. She stuck it out there and eventually, her unique culinary ideas became popular with the in-crowd. When one of the local talk show hosts inquired about her, the restaurant owner quickly encouraged Jenna to be a guest on the show. He couldn’t pay for better publicity.
Not exactly thrilled at first, Jenna thought long and hard before agreeing. She didn’t like crowds or being the center of attention. But when she arrived on the set, she found the hosts and crew welcoming. Her nerves settled down. Soon, she went from being a guest every couple of weeks to guest shots on other shows, including a popular LA daytime talk show. Not familiar with the world of television, she asked one of the hosts for advice. The person mentioned Barbara’s name. Jenna called, set up an appointment. Before she knew it, Barbara had booked her schedule tight and, eventually, landed the cooking show.
As much as Jenna appreciated those opportunities, it didn’t mean she’d let the woman railroad her into any future projects until she was ready. She’d made good money and put enough away so she and the girls were financially stable until she decided her next move.
“I totally get your stand on the girls,” Barbara said. “Doesn’t mean you can’t fly to LA or New York periodically. You know, to keep your name in front of the public. The girls don’t have to travel with you.”
“And I won’t be separated from them. It’s too soon.” Barbara went quiet for a moment. As Jenna removed the cookies from the aluminum sheet to cool, she could only imagine the whirl of her agent’s mind as she came up with another way to cajole Jenna.
“How about online? You can work from home.”
“Right now I don’t want to do anything to alert the tabloid news magazines. I won’t risk it.” She took a breath. “I understand you don’t like it, but I’m asking you to honor my decision.”
A long, melodramatic sigh came from the other end of the line. “Fine. But I can’t promise I won’t call if a worthwhile offer comes in.”
Jenna didn’t expect differently. “Just don’t be upset if I turn you down.”
“The one you can’t resist will come and when it does, you’ll be out here on the next available flight.”
While Barbara had other clients, she couldn’t afford to let her main moneymaker go on hiatus, no matter how noble the reason.
“Thanks, Barbara. I do appreciate all you’ve done for me. Just think of my time away as a small vacation. It’s not the end of our relationship.”
“So, how are things going? You’re settling in?”
“Yes. The girls are happy. So far I like this little town.”
“Little, as in, are there any museums? Fine dining? Theaters?”
Jenna chuckled. Barbara could be a fine-arts snob. “We manage.”
“I couldn’t leave LA, no matter how much anyone tried to convince me otherwise.”
Jenna fought the temptation to remind Barbara about the tabloid reporter making her life miserable. Jenna viewed his intrusion as a personal attack on her family. Barbara saw him as a necessity for the expansion of Jenna’s career. If he tailed Barbara for any length of time, Jenna was sure the woman would change her tune.
“You’re a great agent. Hopefully you’ll get some new clients while I’m away.”
“I’ve fielded a few calls.”
“See. With me gone, you’ll have the chance to develop your next big star.”
“Yes, there is a strong possibility I can make that happen.”
Which could mean Jenna would lose some interesting job opportunities, she thought with a small pang of loss, but the girls were keeping her too busy to regret her decision.
Abby dashed into the kitchen, her ponytail swinging as she grabbed two warm cookies then hightailed it back to the bedroom.
“Hey, no food in your room,” Jenna called to her retreating back. The brief feeling of loss vanished as Abby disappeared. Yeah, she’d much rather be with the girls. “Listen, Barbara, I have to run. Thanks for calling.”
She ended the call and then checked on the girls, who were happily playing in their room. Satisfied they were occupied by their dolls, she hurried to her room for a quick shower. Afterward, she stood before her closet wrapped in a towel, trying to decide which outfit to choose. She finally selected a denim sundress for their goodwill mission, and placed a quick call to Nealy.
Her stomach turned, nervous at the prospect of seeing Wyatt again. His parting remarks at the beach, although true, had stung. She couldn’t help but wonder how receptive he’d be when she showed up on his doorstep, cookies or no.
* * *
WYATT WALKED INTO his cottage, located within walking distance from the marina, tossing his keys on the coffee table. His golden retriever, Cruiser, followed him into the kitchen, jumping up for attention. “Down, boy.”
Absently rubbing the dog’s head, he poured some kibble from a twenty-pound bag into Cruiser’s bowl, then pulled a glass from the shelf mounted on the wall that served as storage. He opened the fridge and poured a glass of orange juice for himself, draining it as he wandered into the small living room.
He stared out the window, at the view of the Gulf water. Before long, the familiar ache he lived with every day enveloped him.
Two years. Two long years since Jamie had died. Eighteen months since Marcie divorced him.
Since the accident, his family had been after him to talk to a professional. His older brother, Josh, moved back to Cypress Pointe with the purpose of keeping an eye on him. A useless move, but Wyatt appreciated the sentiment.
“You need to let go of the grief,” Josh and the family told him. “You need to move on.”
They didn’t understand. If not for the unrelenting pain, he wouldn’t feel anything at all. He was so far beyond numb, grief remained the only emotion alive inside him.
A boat motored by. Wyatt stepped out onto the small screened-in porch to watch its passage, running a hand over his grizzled chin. He should shave. Probably get a haircut. But didn’t really give a flip.
Why had he let Max talk him into moving back to Cypress Pointe?
After aimlessly traveling the world, taking one job as yacht captain after another, he’d run into Max four months ago. A mutual Navy buddy had invited both of