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Jenna took a shower, leaving Brock sitting on the edge of the bed with his bottle of wine and phone. His favorite duo.
When she returned to the bedroom, she found him asleep, only halfway undressed. “Geez, Brock, what was in your wine?” Jenna mumbled as she pulled the sheet over him. She pulled her carry-on travel bag down from the shelf and dug out the book she’d started reading on the plane. She gave Brock a glance as she got into the other queen-sized bed. Even though she was tired, reading was the way she keyed down at night, part of her routine, and made her feel happy. Tonight, more than ever, she needed a distraction from her recurring thoughts of Dan and her increasing annoyance with Brock.
Chapter Two
The next morning, Jenna got up early, leaving Brock still asleep. She washed her face, put on just the minimum of eye makeup because anything else would be futile. She pulled on her running gear and couldn’t help but smile. She always looked forward to her traditional run down by the river, and knew Brock would not be interested. She hated running with Brock anywhere. Not only was his stride longer, but he tackled running as he did so many other things. Running was something he must check off his to-do list. The early hour would assure she would enjoy her run and see all her favorite places without being rushed.
Jenna ran the first half-mile at a slow pace to warm up and get her lungs used to the humidity and soon found her rhythm and was in her comfort zone. As familiar sights came into view, she slowed her pace again. As she got to the northern historic district and crossed West Bay Street and on to River Street, she could smell the river. Although the smell was not pleasing to everyone, to her it smelled of her childhood. It was another world—her grandmother’s world. Though she had grown up with her parents mostly in New York City, Savannah was home in the way that home matters. When she was there she knew she was in the right place. Savannah soothed her spirit. It practically called to her, she thought when she was young. She spent many spring breaks and summers with her grandmother in the heart of the city. It was the antidote to the fast-paced life she led in New York the rest of the time.
As she got closer to her destination, Jenna slowed to a brisk walk to take it all in. Men shouted to each other from the boats as they got ready to go out for the day. The water lapped against the barrier wall with a rhythm that slowed her heart rate. Those sounds of morning on the river and the moans of a city coming to life did something to her heart. The sounds of Savannah in the morning spoke to her in ways that no other place ever did.
Autumn came late in the South. The shop owners began to change their windows in preparation for the next season since the summer tourists were gone. Children were back in school, and the streets were quieter. Jenna could remember how sad it made her to leave it all behind when her parents summoned her back to New York City every fall.
Jenna shook herself, as if she could shed the memory, and went into her cool-down walk and looked for a place to sit. Then she saw it—the old familiar bench was still sitting under a giant, live oak tree. Its thick foliage and low-hanging branches provided shelter from the sun, and it still held on to most of its leaves.
The bench was an old one that she remembered from her childhood. The dedication sign affixed to the back of the bench was faded a little, but she could still read the inscription: For Gloria, who dreamed here—1955. The bench rested upon a small rise with a view of the water. Jenna sat with a sigh and wondered again about Gloria and what she might have dreamed about while sitting there all those years ago.
Jenna let her mind wander and take her back, but she was selective as she looked to the past. Her childhood memories here with her grandmother were the best memories of her life. And then, later with Dan—but no, she’d not think of that now. The pain lingered and would take her, as it always did, to a dark place. But try as she might to shift her mind back to times with her grandmother, Dan’s face popped into her memory, along with his voice and his touch, and she clenched her fists. She understood the risk of her return to Savannah, but knew she must do it sooner or later. She couldn’t let Dan continue to mess with her head and control her moods or movements. She took some deep breaths, concentrating on the sounds coming from the river. Jenna closed her eyes and heard the leaves fluttering as the wind moved through the trees, and her breathing returned to normal.
She had let herself drift too close into dangerous memory territory. She stood and stretched, taking another look at the river, and the boats now out so far they looked toy-like and still. She looked up to see Brock headed her way as she debated whether to walk or run back to the hotel. No, she didn’t want him here—not at this bench, in this place, her special place. But she didn’t know how to avoid it. She waved and walked to meet him, not wanting a memory of him sitting on Gloria’s bench—her bench. His blond hair fell forward on his forehead. Yes, he was good to look at. If there was only more…if he were only more…but she couldn’t complete the thought.
Jenna fished her sunglasses from her pocket and put them on as she reached Brock. “What are you doing out so early?”
Brock motioned for her to follow him to the bench. “I figured you be out here running by the river. I took a shot. Let’s sit for a minute. I want to talk to you about something.”
Jenna saw no choice but to follow him to the bench or else insist they return to the hotel. “Okay, but I need to return to the hotel and get a shower.”
Brock put a hand on her arm. “I woke and you were gone. I wanted to talk to you before I went to play golf. Listen, I think we need to talk about our relationship. Here I am with you, trying to support your efforts, and be a good escort, but I’m running off to play golf every chance I get. I realized this morning I was acting a bit selfish.”
Jenna shook her head and smiled. “I knew you’d be bored here without golf. I was prepared for that. After all, you don’t know these people, and this is not your job. I don’t mind your golf, Brock, honestly.”
He flashed a smile. “Well, that’s a relief because I really wanted to play. But there’s something more than that I’m concerned about. I feel as if you’ve been pulling away since this trip came up.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Have I done something wrong?”
As she looked at Brock, Jenna felt a sliver of guilt. “No, of course not. I just have a lot on my mind. I need to cover this event and get it written up, back to my staff, and not alienate these powerful politicians and their supporters along the way. Writing about these kinds of political events can be touchy, as can the getting the right photographs. Though I’ve contracted with a great photographer to get the pictures I need, it will be my head if I pick the wrong ones to go with my articles.” Jenna realized she was over-selling but couldn’t help herself and continued. “I’m finding it hard to mix celebrity and political stuff with more important issues. I’m thinking of changing my magazine’s theme to get away from the fluff.”
Brock moved his head slightly to avoid the sun. “Well, you have been doing some serious thinking. I get all that, but still, I can’t help but think you are not as committed to this relationship as I am—or as I want to be.”
Jenna paused and took a breath before she continued. She didn’t want to assume too much about what seemed to be a change in Brock. “I think you are reading too much into this. Everything is not all about you, believe it or not. Why don’t we shelve this talk for after the trip? We’ll just both do what we need to do here. You can golf without guilt, and I will talk to the senator, his wife, his staff, and find an angle that makes a senator’s re-election campaign more interesting than it truly is. I’ll pretend it’s not all about seeing and being seen wearing designer clothes and looking rich and important.”
Brock put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, if you say so, but this talk needs to happen, and I’m not letting you off the hook. If you are done with your run, let’s go have a quick breakfast. I need to be at the course at ten to get set up. We tee off at ten thirty sharp.”
Jenna linked an arm through his. “I need to go back and shower first, but okay, let’s do that. Running always makes me hungry. That and the anxiety of having no idea how I want to cover all of these coming parties and events for my magazine.”
Brock squeezed her hand. “Oh, you’ll come up with something. You always do.”
She could have predicted Brock would want to make love after she got out of the shower, and she was right. Though she was physically attracted to him most of the time, and when he wasn’t talking business, or about himself, still—the spark was not there. She tried to keep her mind off Dan and what their sex life had been like—which proved difficult. The connection between her and Dan was strong enough to ignite a fire, and it never went away from the first time they were together until the last time.
Now, after missing their breakfast to give them time to have sex, Brock jumped in the shower himself and rushed to get ready to get to the golf course.
Jenna lay in bed, listening to Brock’s shower and wondering where Dan was. If in Savannah, where would he be staying—and with whom? Could he be in the same hotel? That thought made her stomach clench.
Standing, she stretched and put on her robe. She needed another shower now, too, but knew joining Brock there would not be the best idea. She waited until he left, ordered breakfast to the room, and spent time talking to her staff back in New York. Making herself concentrate on business, she then called Phil Andrews, the excellent and reliable photographer she used for events like this. As always, the agenda was set, and he was ready to work. Checking those items off her list, she made a spa and hair appointment at her favorite place in downtown Savannah, and just two blocks from the hotel. Happy she had factored in this day for herself before all the events started, she reviewed her to-do list one more time.
The senator and his wife were not her friends exactly, but Jenna had met them a few times in the past. They were both press savvy and not hard to work with, which she was grateful for. Her old friend, Kerri Watson, was now the one in charge of the senator’s press, and for that, she was doubly grateful. She knew she would get first and better access to the senator and his wife through Kerri.
Jenna spent some time looking at the clothes she brought for the occasions and to make sure she brought everything. The parties varied from a formal dinner to a cocktail party and ended with the masked Black-and-White Ball, the grand finale. The ball was the big celebration for those rich and important donors as a thanks-for-your-support event. The two other events were strictly fund-raising, and a way to see and be seen for the regular local and state donors, more minor politicians, and their spouses. They would be arriving in the social season wrap-up for the fall before all the holiday parties started. Savannah knew how to celebrate and show off its beauty. Savannah was a city wrapped in its history, good and bad, and stood like a regal old monarch too loved and too proud to be ashamed of her age. Savannah brushed herself off, put on her crown, and dared anyone to find fault.
The city was a mix of old and new. The constantly refurbished townhomes around the main streets, those near the docks, and those in the historical parts of town were a reminder of what was long ago, and what remained. Through hurricanes, floods, heat and wars, Savannah stood it all. Not everyone knew Savannah had its own manners code, its own accent, and its own rules. And only a Southerner knew what they were. Everyone else was doomed to find out the hard way. Savannah’s culture was different than some places. There was a culture within a culture formed from hundreds of years of tough, proud, and dedicated people. They staked their claim on the coastal city, and refused to give it up to anyone or anything. The royal-like custom of marrying one’s own kind lived on. These thriving Savannah natives, combined with some delightful outsiders had shaped the unique Savannah. Jenna’s grandmother was one of those people and taught her granddaughter well.
