up building a great sandcastle down at the cove with Sophie in the afternoon.”
“She told me. And Nathaniel showed me the picture. He’s already printed one out for the album Sophie keeps of the sand creations she’s made over the years.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“She and her grandfather often built sandcastles together. Jack was always coming up with new things to create down there. It was one of their things.”
“That’s what she said.”
“And then I understand you had a bike problem that Nathaniel helped you with and you three ended up having dinner with him and Sophie.”
“Yes. They were kind enough to help me with a flat tire on my sister’s bike and then we had pizza at Driftwood Park. How was dinner with your friends?”
Eleanor had told her the day before an old friend and her husband were in town and they had plans to meet up.
“Oh lovely. It’s always good to spend time with friends you haven’t seen for a while. It’s like picking up a book you love that you haven’t read in a long time. I’m glad you had a good evening, as well. Sophie seemed to have enjoyed herself.”
What about Nate? Had he said anything?
Jess frowned at herself. Good heavens. She wasn’t in junior high school. She didn’t need to ask his mother, of all people, if he had mentioned her.
“I’m glad my son offered to help you with your bike and the girls. He’s a good man. I might be a little biased, of course, but I don’t think so.”
Jess was beginning to agree. In fact, she was finding him very hard to resist.
Maybe she needed to try harder.
“Which room would you like to start on today?”
They had finished the family room/den area, Jack Whitaker’s office and several of the bedrooms. She would probably be able to wrap things up by Monday if they worked hard at it.
Usually at this stage in a job, she couldn’t wait to finish and was already excited about helping someone else. This time, she was trying hard not to drag her feet.
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to make up my mind about anything these days.”
The older woman looked pale in the morning light, Jess thought. Maybe she had had a few too many glasses of wine the night before. Or maybe she hadn’t slept well. Jess knew Eleanor suffered from insomnia, probably missing the husband she had slept beside every night for more than forty years.
“What would you suggest?” Eleanor asked.
“We still have a few more closets, the outdoor shed, the kitchen and your bedroom. Maybe we should start on Jack’s side of your closet.”
The two had a huge walk-in closet. So far, six months after Jack’s death, all of his clothing still hung neatly in his half, gathering dust.
A spasm of deep grief creased Eleanor’s features. “Not yet. I know I need to but...not yet. What about my craft room?” she suggested quickly. “I have projects in there from years ago and more material and yarn than I can ever use.”
Jess didn’t have the heart to push the matter. If Eleanor wasn’t ready to clear out her husband’s clothing, this last tangible link to the man she loved, Jess wouldn’t force her. Yes, that might mean she had to leave part of her job here at Whitaker House undone. So be it.
Like the ocean, grief had its own timetable, its own rhythm and flow.
“The craft room it is. I was thinking maybe we could donate some of the supplies you don’t want to the county women’s shelter.”
“Oh, what an excellent idea! Crafting and sewing can be so cathartic.”
It turned into truly a delightful morning. Energized by the idea of helping out the shelter, Eleanor was witty and full of stories.
After a few hours, she started to flag but pulled over her craft chair and continued helping Jess sort through the bins and boxes in the room while telling her about the amazing trip she and Jack had taken through Europe the year before his cancer diagnosis.
“He really said that to the shopkeeper in Paris?”
“She was so rude to him. Accusing him of shoplifting, just because her perfume bottles weren’t in perfect order! My husband was the most honest man you could ever meet. I wish you had been able to meet him. He would have simply adored you, just as the rest of us do.”
She smiled, touched at Eleanor’s open affection. The woman really was a dear. She would miss her so much when she left.
It wasn’t as