“Where was it?”
“On the beach by the river.”
“How could you find it there? That’s impossible.”
“I’m pretty good at impossible things.”
“But—how?”
“A lot of looking. And some delusional optimism.”
I’d have to revise my opinion of delusional optimism.
Jack went on. “Remember all those mornings I told you I was hitting golf balls?”
“Yeah.”
“I wasn’t hitting golf balls.”
“You were looking for the safety pin?”
Jack nodded. “With my dad’s metal detector. The one my mom told him was a total waste of money.”
“That’s what was in the golf bag?”
“It sure as heck wasn’t nine irons. I can’t hit a golf ball to save my life.”
“You went down there every morning?”
“I did.”
“That’s what you were doing?”
Jack looked into my eyes and nodded.
“I just thought you were being a pain in the ass.”
“That was a side benefit.”
“You should have told me.”
His expression shifted one step more serious. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“But, Jack…” I studied his face. I was so bewildered. “Why?”
He frowned like he wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. Then he said, “Because of the look on your face when you realized it was lost.”
I felt tears in my eyes. “I don’t know how to even start to thank you.”
Now he was smiling. “In other news, I’ve started a bottle cap collection.”
I laughed a little, but when I did, the tears spilled over. It seemed like I’d cried more in four weeks of knowing Jack Stapleton than in my entire life before that. This guy just kept cracking me open. But maybe that wasn’t entirely a bad thing.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’m guessing you’d like it back.”
“Yes, please.”
“Easy,” he said then. “No problem. We can make that happen. All you have to do”—and here he paused to look straight through the phone like he really meant business—“is come to Thanksgiving.”
Well played, Jack Stapleton. Well played.
I sighed. “Fine, dammit. I’ll be there.”
Twenty-Eight
I GUESS I expected Thanksgiving to be the five of us. Just like old times.
But it turned out to be the whole darned county.
I arrived to find the yard glowing with string lights, haphazardly zigging and zagging from tree to tree, and a long table running the length of the garden, covered in different colored gingham tablecloths.
Neighbors, and relatives, and, actually—to my surprise—the whole Glenn Schultz Executive Protection team were milling around the yard. Hank was chatting with Amadi. Kelly was admiring Connie’s pashmina. Doc and Glenn were checking out something on Glenn’s phone. Guess they’d all really bonded.
“Looks like we’ve relaxed a bit since sending the Corgi Lady to Florida,” I said to Doghouse.
“Threat level white, baby!” Doghouse said, lifting his hand for a high five.
There were thirty people there, at least.
Doc wore a bow tie with little turkeys on it. Connie, looking hearty and well-recovered, was rocking a popped collar and a linen tunic. And Jack just wore jeans and a simple red flannel shirt.
He looked so good, I almost forgot to breathe.
I’d worn a girlfriend sundress, for nostalgia. But with a sweater, tights, a pom-pom scarf … and my red cowboy boots.
The Stapletons did Thanksgiving potluck style. Because, as Connie put it, cooking an entire Thanksgiving meal was “backbreaking and ridiculous,” everybody brought a couple of favorite dishes and set them out in the kitchen to share. Folks served themselves, then wandered outside to find a seat. Candles lined the table, along with cut flowers in antique glass Ball jars and bottles of homemade schnapps made with Fredericksburg peach syrup and Doc’s own homemade moonshine.
I wasn’t a big drinker—my mom had definitely drained the glamour out of that—but every now and then I had a sip or two. Today felt like a good day for it. How often do you get to sit in a country garden drinking moonshine?
As I approached the table, there was an open seat next to Jack. Should I sit there? I felt a tickle of shy hesitation behind my ribs, but I made myself start walking toward him. He was talking to someone down the table, his profile lit up by the candles, and my eyes slurped in the sight of him. I kept him in my sights as I moved closer, but then, just as I was rounding the corner, the seat got taken.