Just practicing.
“Esther loved Atherton from the moment she saw him,” Hazel said slowly with a smile. “I say ‘loved’—there was a whole heap of fancying to start off with, for sure. She thought he was the cat’s pajamas, as handsome as Gregory Peck, with his glasses and dark hair. I think his reserve and his quiet intelligence hooked her. He was equally bowled over. That never changed. Esther was Sirius, the brightest star in his night’s sky, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.”
Something painful and envious flipped in Leah’s chest at the thought of meaning that much to someone.
“But Esther’s parents were terrible snobs. Not unkind, just thoughtless. And ambitious for their daughter, in an old-fashioned way. They weren’t impressed with Atherton’s career prospects. A lowly teacher didn’t rate high enough in their plans for their only daughter.” Hazel sniffed. “They were dismissive when she told them she loved him.”
“Who did they want Esther to date?” Leah curled her legs beneath her on the bench seat, leaning forward. Jackson’s hand nudged hers but he didn’t link their fingers.
“Some family friends had a son, similar in age to Esther, who stood to inherit a well-established business from his father. He had money, social standing, and the confidence of someone who was going places. Her parents adored him as much as Esther despised him,” Hazel said, bitterness creeping into her tone. She ran her fingers across the cover of Esther’s diary, over the date on the front.
“Why?” Leah asked.
“Why did they love him?”
“No, why did she hate him?”
The old lady’s eyes flared. “He was one of those men who thought all females were stupid. He was loud and opinionated. We both found him repellent.”
“She called him ‘The Creep,’” Leah said. “Who was he, Hazel?”
“His name was Dickie and he was just a guy she didn’t want to date. She told her parents to their faces she wasn’t interested, that Atherton was the man for her. All the money in the world wouldn’t have changed her mind.” Hazel’s voice was growing softer, though her fingers on her teacup were tight. “They didn’t take it well but girls had more choice by that stage. And Esther was resolute. She said it was all rather exciting to stand firm. She had no doubt she was doing the right thing, that her future lay with Atherton, and nothing could come between them.”
“What happened?”
Hazel didn’t answer. Leah opened her mouth to nudge her again, saw her friend’s capable hands tremble against the china, and snapped her lips closed. Beside her, Jackson’s eyebrows pinched together over narrowed eyes.
The silence drew out for several minutes. Then Hazel continued in a brighter, firmer voice. “It’s all a long time ago now. Sometimes it’s better to let things go than to keep poking at old bruises.”
She stood up and began to gather the crockery. Taking the tray, Jackson carried it into the house. Leah expected Hazel to chatter on in her usual fashion, but the old lady just sat watching a small brown bird flit from one branch to the next in a nearby tree. This hadn’t gone the way she’d expected.
The hollow expression on Hazel’s face fell away with Jackson’s return and the smile she gave him was a close facsimile of her usual one.
“Do me a favor, love, and rehang the feeders for me? I don’t want to keep the nuthatches from their breakfast.” She pointed to a couple of hooks on the French navy fascia boards. “And I’ve planted you up a pot of pansies. I thought it would look pretty on the porch steps. You can take it back with you when you go.”
It seemed the discussion about the diary was over for now.
Chapter 30
Jackson
Leaving for the city on Monday morning was far tougher than he’d expected. Nothing in him looked forward to the week ahead. Nothing in him wanted to drive away from Amity Court, Leah, and the pleasure he felt in her company.
The unsatisfactory conversation with Hazel had been the only blot to mar an incredibly special weekend. His head was filled with memories of twisted sheets, searing kisses, and every touch, every brush, of his body against Leah’s—play-by-plays swirling around the car’s interior like falling flakes in a snow globe as the miles clocked up between them.
Reality laid him swiftly on his back with a sideswipe to the ankles as he walked into the office.
“Your father’s been on the phone already,” Oliver told him, a strong hint of warning in his clipped tone. “He wants a word.”
Jackson took two minutes to make a coffee and carried it with him along the corridor. Florian greeted him with a cool nod, fingers paused over the keyboard in front of him.
“He’s expecting you.”
“Thanks.” Jackson crossed the outer office and walked through the open doorway, taking a seat at the ornate desk his father hadhad custom-made. Surveying the rush-hour traffic on the I-88 from his floor-to-ceiling windows, Alistair Hale clasped his hands behind his back and didn’t turn.Trouble. “Ollie said you wanted me?”
“The lumber order we’ve put through for the Barnforth site.”
“What about it?”
