“I can be rented for the summer, yeah. I do see the wisdom of that.”
J.J. took Libby’s hand and squeezed it.
“Okay, I’ll do it. But I’m not bunking for the summer at your house. That’s just too much. I gotta find a place that is less…less full of memories. You know?”
“I get it. And I want you to know you’re doing me a huge favor! Stay with me, or Emma’s Guest Cottage, down the beach, or the hotel across from Adrian College, whatever you need. Truly. You’re doing the town a favor. Thank you.”
J.J. knew even Dean would tell her to take this gig. She wouldn’t even have to touch the money from the sale of the house and the nest egg of Dean’s life insurance.
She could live on the windfall Stone was offering her to consult for a while. This was a no-brainer. J.J. had spent enough time worrying that checks would bounce, not to miss a financial opportunity like this.
She heard Dean in her ear: “He’s shaking the money tree. Get a rake!”
On top of all that, she would be helping Libby. She’d be keeping an eye on a devious billionaire. He acted like he wanted to be a part of the town, not stomp all over it, but did a leopard change its spots?
That would be her mission, and heck, she’d spend a ton of the man’s money on a salon. Her friends would at least have a place to go to get gorgeous once she left town again.
Fine. I’ll do it.
J.J. may be done with Irish Hills, but it appeared Irish Hills wasn’t quite done with her.
ChapterTwelve
J.J.
Nora House was almost as familiar as J.J.’s own house. But there was an element of vacation to it. It had been her escape, her fun, her view of how rich people lived, and it was the place she’d learned how to be a best friend.
Libby was the teacher on that one. And then she disappeared. They all did. The tornado scattered them just as it had scattered roofs and shingles.
J.J. had done the same. She’d moved on. She hadn’t spent the time waiting for the girls to come back. She’d lived a life. And then that life was gone, and so was she. But now, here she was again. She felt like she was starting from scratch.
Even though she’d been dragged back to Irish Hills, waking up in Nora House, making it her home base at least for now, had lightened her heart.
There was no place more beautiful on earth than the view from Nora House’s window onto Lake Manitou on a warm spring morning. She’d heard Aunt Emma say it many times. The woman was right.
Today, J.J. would begin setting up a salon for Irish Hills. She’d be helping Stone Stirling but really spying on him to be sure he wasn’t up to something. That was her true mission and the only reason she’d agreed to Libby’s plans.
She walked into the kitchen, still looking very 1980s, to start some coffee. Of course, Libby was already buzzing around.
“What time do you normally get up?”
“Oh, you know, I fall asleep at nine p.m. and then wake up at three a.m. with a hot flash. And then I start worrying about my kids, and your kids, and the girls, and the cost estimates for the plumbing in the new buildings, oh, and that I haven’t finished the Dance Pavilion. So, I make coffee.”
“Ha, well, the hot flash I get.”
“Here.” Libby handed her a brown lunch bag.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, no I am not. You’re helping me out, so I’ve made you lunch.”
J.J. raised an eyebrow and looked inside. “Peanut butter and jelly?”
“Yes, but it's special jelly made by our Hope. It’s artisanal.”
“Of course. What’s does artisanal actually mean for jelly, anyway?”
“No idea, but it tastes great, so go with it.”
