“Thank you.”
Doreen gave him a knowing smile. “The elementary school was grateful for your generous donation. I take it that was the check from your guest? Are you sure you don’t need that money to reinvest in the repairs?”
“The school needs the money more. I appreciate your stopping by, Doreen.” He turned to leave.
“Jack. You know why I’m here.” Doreen sounded exasperated.
Good. He could handle exasperation. Pity pissed him off.
He faced her again. “You know my answer.”
“The town will be one hundred and fifty years old in August. That’ll be a momentous occasion, and everyone wants you to be a part of it.”
Jackson shook his head. “You don’t need me.”
“Yes, we do.” Doreen’s tone was dogged determination. “This sesquicentennial is a chance for Trinity Falls to raise its profile in the county and across the state. You, of all people, must have a role in the Founders Day celebration.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is.” Doreen leaned into the desk. “This event, if done well, will bring in extra revenue.”
“I know about the town’s budget concerns. I have an online subscription to The Trinity Falls Monitor.” Reading the paper online saved Jackson from having to go into town or deal with a newspaper delivery person.
Doreen continued as though Jackson hadn’t spoken. “If we host a large celebration with high-profile guests, we’ll attract more people. These tourists will stay in our hotels, eat in our restaurants and buy our souvenirs.”
“Great. Good luck with that.” He checked his watch for emphasis. It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon. “Anything else?”
She softened her voice. “I know that you’re still grieving Zoe’s death.”
“Don’t.” The air drained from the room.
“I can’t imagine how devastated you must feel at the loss of your daughter.”
“Doreen.” He choked out her name.
“We understand you need time to grieve. But, Jack, it’s not healthy to close yourself off from human contact. People care about you. We can help you.”
“Can you bring her back?” The words were harsh, rough and raw.
Doreen looked stricken. “I can no more bring back your daughter than I can resurrect my late husband.”
Paul Fever had died from cancer more than a year ago. He’d been sixty-seven. In contrast, leukemia had cut Jackson’s daughter’s life tragically short.
Jackson struggled to reel in his emotions. “People grieve in different ways.”
Pity reappeared in Doreen’s warm brown eyes. “I went through the same feelings. But, Jack, at some point, you have to rejoin society.”
“Not today.” Some days, he feared he’d never be ready.
The persistent ringing shattered Audra’s dream. She blinked her eyes open. Had she fallen asleep?
Her gaze dropped to the song stanzas scribbled across the notebook on her lap. Had it been the red-eye flight or her lyrics that lulled her to sleep?
She stretched forward to grab her cell phone. “Hello?”
“Did we wake you?” Her mother asked after a pause.
Audra heard the surprise in the question. “It was a long trip.” She refused to believe her writing had put her to sleep. “Is everything OK?”