Brenda Novak - Expectations

“I bet it eats flies, just like most spiders,” Adam told him.

Ryan frowned. “Where can I find a fly?”

“Well, we’d have better luck if it was barbecue season, but—”

“Ryan?” Jenna stood on the porch, shading her eyes with one hand. She’d changed from the professional-looking wool slacks she’d worn all morning into a baggy pair of jeans, an oversize sweater and leather sandals.

“I have to pick up something at the store. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” she called.

Ryan nodded, still studying his spider, but Adam stopped Jenna before she could leave. “Maybe we’ll go with you,” he said. “Ryan needs something to feed his new pet.”

A frown flickered across her face. “From the size of that spider, a large rodent would do.”

“Fresh out of those, I’m afraid.”

Jenna’s smile turned devilish. “Then how about a defense attorney from San Francisco?”

As Pop cackled from his corner of the garden, Adam gave Jenna his darkest scowl. “Enough lawyer jokes already. You’re revealing your eagerness to be rid of me. It’s not polite.”

Jenna shrugged. “This is your home, not mine.”

“For the moment it looks like we both live here. So how about it? Will you give us a ride to the store?”

The expression on Jenna’s face said she didn’t want them to go, but her reluctance only made Adam push harder. “Well?”

“Actually I was going to walk. My van’s in the shop,” she said, and winced visibly when Ryan added, “It’s a junker. My dad bashed up one whole side of it.”

Adam leaned his rake against the nearest tree, acting as though this piece of information didn’t surprise him—but it did. After Dennis’s call, his grandparents had admitted that his old friend had become an abusive alcoholic, but Adam couldn’t picture the somber boy he’d once known beating up on Jenna. Dennis had been so lovesick he’d dogged Jenna’s footsteps all through high school. His infatuation with her had destroyed his and Adam’s relationship—and they’d been friends since Little League. It was difficult to believe someone as devoted as Dennis had been could turn on the object of his affection. Had his drinking really gotten that out of hand? And if so, how badly had Jenna and Ryan suffered?

Adam peeled off his gloves. “We can take my car,” he told her. Nodding at Ryan, he added, “As long as arachno-lover here doesn’t mind sitting on your lap. There’s no back seat.”

Ryan’s eyes lit up. “We get to ride in your car? Cool!”

Jenna fidgeted with the strap of her purse as though she was about to protest again, but Adam didn’t give her a chance. “The spider stays behind,” he said, taking the jar from Ryan and setting it under the tree next to his rake. With a hand on the boy’s neck, he guided him to the parking lot on the other side of the house.

Jenna met them at the car. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sleek contours of the black Mercedes coupe, but she made no comment.

“Isn’t this great, Mom? Have you ever seen a car like this?” Ryan asked.

“Only on Miami Vice,” she muttered, sliding onto the black leather seat when Adam opened her door.

“Miami what?” he asked.

She chuckled. “Never mind. It was before your time.”

Adam climbed in and started the car. “Don’t pretend you’d be more impressed if I drove a station wagon,” he said.

Jenna threw him a playful look, reminding him of the girl he used to know. “If you really want to impress me, you’ll let me drive.”

He dropped his jaw in mock surprise. “This from the person who wrecked my friend’s motorcycle in high school?”

“Mom wrecked someone’s motorcycle?” Ryan echoed.

Jenna’s delicate brows drew together, creasing her forehead. “You can’t still hold that against me. It happened more than sixteen years ago.”

Adam pinned Jenna with a level stare. “I’ll let bygones be bygones if you will,” he said softly.

Jenna turned toward the window, but Adam could see the stubborn tilt of her chin reflected in the glass. “I didn’t want to drive, anyway,” she said.

A FEW LOCALS milled about the grocery store eight miles up the coast. Mrs. Trumbill, the chiropractor’s receptionist, looked over the painkillers and allergy-relief medicines. Mr. Francis, the town pharmacist, thumbed through the latest issue of People. Jenna acknowledged them both on her way to the produce aisle, wondering what she was going to buy, now that she couldn’t purchase her pregnancy test.

“What is it you need to get?” Adam asked, hefting two good-sized oranges in his hands. Jenna watched his fingers curl around the fruit and remembered his touch on her body. He’d driven her crazy with those hands, those lips…

Making an effort, Jenna pulled her gaze and her thoughts onto safer ground and picked out six golden delicious apples. “Just some fresh fruit for Ryan’s lunches.” Although Jenna had carefully timed her departure from the Victoriana so that Mrs. Durham would be finished with her shopping and on her way home, she couldn’t calculate the other woman’s movements with any accuracy. She was afraid they’d run into Adam’s grandmother and then Mrs. Durham would say something about the teeming drawers of fresh produce they already had at home.

“It’s not like Gram to run out of that sort of thing,” Adam said.

Jenna glanced at him, but his face held no suspicion. He bagged the oranges and dropped them in the basket as Ryan tugged him toward the ice-cream aisle.

“Hey, do you think we can talk Mom into buying us some ice cream?”

Jenna knew Adam hadn’t dampened Ryan’s enthusiasm for treats when they came back with ice cream, fudge and caramel toppings, M&Ms, a container of popcorn and whipped cream.

“We’re going to make sundaes and watch movies tonight,” Adam explained when Jenna raised a questioning brow.

“Great.” She didn’t ask who made up the “we.” At the moment she didn’t care. She was too busy looking for things to put in her cart that would constitute more than a waste of money. She managed to remember the new toothbrush she’d been wanting to purchase for at least a month, but when they got in line at the checkout, she still didn’t have what she really needed. And that was when she decided to get it.

“Adam? Would you mind taking Ryan to pick out a package of lunch meat? I forgot to get some,” she said.

A refrigerated section at one end of the store contained lunch meat. Shelves at the opposite end displayed feminine hygiene products. With any luck she’d have just enough time to grab a pregnancy test and have it rung up and bagged before the two of them returned.

Fortunately Adam agreed to do as she asked. Unfortunately, by the time Jenna retrieved what she wanted and raced back, another customer had engaged the checker in conversation.

“Are you going out of town for Thanksgiving this year, Mrs. Jones?” the checker was asking an older white-haired woman dressed in an expensive velour jogging suit.

Having already paid, Mrs. Jones paused in wheeling her groceries away. “Not this year, Karen. We usually go to a cabin at Lake Tahoe, but I think I’m ready to have the family out here. The grandkids are getting older, so I don’t think it’ll be too hard on me. Say, did you ever try that stuffing recipe I gave you?”

The checker propped a freckled arm on the back of her booth. “No, but I tried one off the bag of bread crumbs I bought here, and it wasn’t too bad. I thought this year I’d add a bit of celery, even though my husband doesn’t really like celery. It’s my Thanksgiving, too, and my mother always put celery in her stuffing.”

Jenna’s toe tapped, and her eyes darted from the cash register to the pregnancy test. It seemed to be lying on the conveyor belt, screaming, “Jenna thinks she’s pregnant!” She craned her neck to see down the aisle and, just as she feared, spotted Adam and Ryan on their way back.