The Will (Magdalene #1)(64)
“Amber and Ethan?”
“Jake’s children,” I explained then went on to share, “There’s also Conner. He’s the oldest. I don’t see him as often since he works in town at Wayfarer’s and has a variety of babes who take up his time.” I drew in breath and asked, “So, how are you?”
Before he answered, my phone beeped.
“One second, Henry,” I murmured, looked at my phone quickly then put it back to my ear. “So sorry,” I went on. “That’s Jake. I need to take the call. It might be about the Buick.”
“Jose—”
“I’ll phone tomorrow,” I said swiftly so I didn’t miss Jake’s call. “But I hope you’re doing well. Take care, Henry.”
Before he could say a word, I accepted Jake’s call and put the phone to my ear, greeting, “Hello, Jake.”
“Hey, Slick. You good?”
“I am,” I answered then shared, “Eliza isn’t.”
There was a moment’s silence then, “Fuck. She gettin’ bad?”
“Her deterioration day to day is distressing.”
“Baby,” he said softly and that one two-syllable word didn’t heal the concern I had for Eliza Weaver but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a balm for it. “Worried about you doin’ that,” he continued. “She’s goin’ downhill that fast, you’ve got a lot on your plate and that might be too much.”
“I’m fine, Jake,” I said quietly. “It’s Eliza who isn’t.”
“I get that and that sucks for her in a big way. I feel for her, for Weaver, but I don’t know them. I know and care about you.”
He cared about me.
He was so lovely.
“Really, Jake, it doesn’t feel good to watch her decline but it does make me feel good to be there for people Gran cared about and do my bit to help.”
There was a pause before he replied, “All right, honey.”
I took us away from that unhappy topic and asked, “Are you calling about the Buick?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “Conner’s been spreadin’ it around at the store that the Buick is on offer and we got another bite. I asked the other buyer to come about half an hour after the first. If he’s interested, he’ll know someone else is interested and hopefully that’ll help us get you a good deal.”
“Excellent,” I replied.
“Yeah. So see you at your place at four?”
“Yes, Jake, see you there,” I confirmed.
“Right, Slick. Later, babe.”
“Later, Jake.”
For some reason, he rang off chuckling.
As for me, for reasons I knew very well, just having spoken to Jake no matter what it was we were talking about, I rang off smiling.
* * * * *
Four hours later, I stood in the lane at Lavender House with Jake watching the Buick drive away, two cars following it. One, the man who bought the Buick for his wife, the woman currently behind the wheel of Gran’s car. The other, the disgruntled loser of the negotiation that Jake made a passing attempt to moderate but it got so heated they upped their own offers, haggling amongst themselves without any input from Jake or me.
Indeed, it got to the point where it was ridiculous. Not knowing one thing about cars, I still knew this as the wife grew openly alarmed when the discussion carried forward to become not about two elderly gentlemen wishing to own a ten-year-old Buick but two elderly gentlemen wishing to best one another.
Regardless, in the end it would seem this served me quite well.
Therefore, when we lost sight of the last car, I looked up at Jake and noted, “I think that went well.”
He burst out laughing but did it turning to me and pulling me in his arms for a tight hug.
That felt so lovely, I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him back.
When he was done laughing, he looked down at me and remarked, “You crack me right the f**k up, babe.”
I took that as confirmation the negotiation on the Buick went well but more, I liked that I amused him so I smiled at him and replied, “Good.”
His arms gave me a squeeze and his face changed to what could be nothing but disappointment (and it must be said, I looked hard to read something else in his features and saw only that) before he announced, “Need to get home, get the kids dinner, make sure they’re not killin’ each other.”
I was suddenly disappointed too, but had no choice but to agree.
“All right.”
He gave me a squeeze.
I forced another smile.
Then he bent his head and my breath caught when, this time, he brushed his lips just half an inch from the side of my mouth and then, before moving away, he brushed his nose against the side of mine.
I fought to get my breath back. Winning that fight, I then had to fight to modulate it as he pulled away and whispered, “Talk to you later, Josie.”
Unable to speak, I nodded.
He gave me another squeeze, then let me go and moved to his truck.
I waved as he pulled away and saw through the back window as he lifted his hand and flicked it out, indicating he saw my wave.
I watched Jake’s truck out of sight and moved back to the house thinking that for the first time in days, there was nothing scheduled, imminent or otherwise that would mean I would see or even hear from Jake again.