Already Home Read Online Free PDF

I’m sure she has tattoos.” Beth thought of the other woman’s stacked bracelets and her three silver hoops in each ear and wished she had the courage to be unconventional.
    â€œDoes Violet have retail experience?”
    â€œYes. Several years of it.”
    â€œThen she’ll help Jenna.”
    The statement drew Beth back to the subject at hand. Her chest tightened a little. “What if it’s not enough? I understandthat Jenna needs to regroup. She has to think and come up with a plan for the rest of her life, but opening a store? I don’t think that was smart.”
    She finished rinsing the last two pots. Marshall fitted them into the dishwasher. She handed over the soap. He filled the cup, then closed the dishwasher and started it.
    The end-of-dinner ritual had been the same for years. When Jenna had still been in the house, the three of them had cleaned the kitchen together. It had been a time of conversation and laughter.
    â€œIf she fails at this, too, she’ll be crushed,” Beth whispered, aching for her only child.
    â€œYou need to let it go, Beth. You can’t protect her from everything. Jenna’s a smart girl.”
    â€œWorry’s my thing.”
    He moved toward her and slid his arms around her waist. “I’ll admit you’ve turned it into an art form. Now you need to practice letting go.”
    She rested her hands on his shoulders and stared into his dark eyes. Even after all these years, being close to him made her breath catch.
    â€œI can’t help it. I love her.”
    â€œIf you love something, set it free,” he began.
    She laughed. “Don’t you start with me.”
    â€œWhy not? I plan to finish with you.”
    He bent his head and kissed her.
    Â 
    Jenna stood in the center of her store and listened to the sound of silence.
    Upbeat background music—something perky and Italian—played through speakers, but there wasn’t any conversation.No talking at all. Probably because to have the spoken word required people. AKA customers. And there weren’t any.
    It was eleven-fifteen on her first morning. She’d been open for seventy-five minutes and not a single person had walked through her sparkling clean glass doors.
    Less than two weeks ago she’d stood in her parking lot and had watched as her sign had been lowered into place. She’d filled every shelf, figured out how to work the cash register, had talked to an accountant about keeping track of the sales. A problem she didn’t currently have.
    Happy Birthday to me, she thought sadly as she adjusted her white chef’s coat. And hey, now she was thirty-two. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to spend her birthday. Talk about a disaster.
    She’d been so sure that people would come. That they would be enticed by the pretty store window displays and the promise of great kitchen supplies. Over the past week Violet had casually mentioned taking out an ad in the local paper or getting a flyer into some kind of mailer. But Jenna had blithely refused. Because she’d been so damn sure.
    She had the sudden need to bake. To sink her fingers into warm dough, to smell yeast and create crusty rolls slathered with sweet butter. Or maybe a tart. Quiche with a flaky crust and filling of eggs, cheese and garlic and nuts.
    Or a brisket. She was back in Texas now. Something falling-apart tender with tang and spice. Grilled potatoes that tasted like heaven. She had an idea for using…
    She shook her head, dislodging the wishful thinking. She didn’t do that anymore. She cooked, she didn’t create. Hadn’t she already proved that to herself?
    Behind her she heard Violet carefully rearranging shelves in an effort to keep busy. Jenna had to give the other woman points—so far she hadn’t even hinted she wanted to shout, “Itold you so.” This despite the fact that Violet had been pushing for some serious advertising.
    Fear