That next winter, she had found the home she had dreamed of. The wayward son of a wealthy family had inherited a manor he didn’t want, high in the eastern hills. The son was an artist, as was his partner. Together they refashioned the vast structure into a series of seven apartments. Another six townhouses now filled the rambling lawns.
Jenna’s apartment had splendid views in two directions. Her living room’s French doors opened to a small veranda overlooking Miramar’s northernmost rooftops, trees, and far in the distance a tiny wedge of Pacific blue. Her kitchen faced in the opposite direction, with a narrow balcony where she took the day’s first coffee. This side fronted the parking area, ceremonial gates, the road, and beyond that a narrow municipal park. The city had acquired a strip of land too narrow to build on, put in parking for eight cars, and shaped a path that led uphill to an overlook. She and the other apartment owners took it upon themselves to clean up trash, tend the park’s shrubs and flower beds, and keep watch for weekend parties that otherwise might get out of hand.
“No, no, no.”
A pair of benches anchored the path’s upward climb. And seated there was Noah. The man Jenna had vowed never to set eyes on again.
“I don’t believe this.”
Jenna stood just inside her balcony doors, angled so the drapes and the room’s shadows hid her from view. She watched as a sheriff’s ride pulled into an empty space next to Noah’s late-model pickup. Amos, the angular black man who claimed to be Noah’s brother, walked over and handed Noah a coffee.
“This is nuts.”
Amos sat down, placed his hat on the bench, stretched out his legs, and said something that caused Noah to smile. Like the two of them were ready to wait all day.
For her.
* * *
Noah stood as she passed the front gates and crossed the empty road. Amos, however, merely smiled and waved his cup in Jenna’s direction. A man very comfortable with his own skin.
Not his brother.
Noah did not actually dance in place. But the tight little shuffles his feet made suggested he was close to doing so.
She stopped where the road ended and the verge began, and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to check and make sure you were okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“You certainly look fine.” Amos gestured a second time with his cup. “I came along to assure you this wasn’t a stalking kind of thing. And if it turned out yesterday was because of something my brother did or said, I’m also here to arrest him for a felony count of being a bad host.”
“I was worried,” Noah said. “If I said something . . .”
“I imagine it was something Zia did, not my brother,” Amos said. “My pal means well. But that doesn’t keep him from being off the wall now and then.”
“No, it’s not . . .” Jenna sighed, disarmed by Noah’s concern and Amos being the low-key officer he probably always was. “I should never have gone out to your place.”
“We liked having you there. And lunch was great.” He glanced at Amos. “Did that sound lame?”
“Pretty feeble.” To Jenna, “His heart’s in the right place. But my brother’s mind tends to lag a few paces behind.”
Jenna asked, “Just out of curiosity, what were you planning on doing if I didn’t come out?”
“We were still working on that,” Noah replied.
She found herself genuinely touched by their evident concern. “I probably should explain,” Jenna said. “But I’m not sure I want to.”
“Now you sound like my daughter.” Amos made a process of rising to his feet. “Why don’t you let us buy you breakfast. Give you a chance to decide how much we deserve to know.”
* * *
The Main Street Diner was well into its midmorning lull. She and Noah settled into the rear booth, where the wall offered shade from the rising sun and the light’s reflection kept her hidden from passersby. Amos paused long enough to shake hands with the owner-chef, then walked over and said, “Sitting with her back to the wall. A lady after my own heart. Mind if I join you?”
She slid over. “Fewer surprises when you’re facing the exit.”
“There you go. Job like mine, I get all the surprises one man could ever need.”
