Expectations. Brenda Novak

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      JENNA STOOD in the kitchen, staring out the large bay window that overlooked the side yard. If she leaned close enough to the wall, she could see Adam and Ryan stacking wood along the back fence. She’d been watching them for several minutes already, as she drank her morning coffee. After the disruption during the night, she hadn’t made Ryan get up for school. He got good grades and she figured one day off wouldn’t matter much.

      “They making any progress?” Mrs. Durham came into the room and opened the refrigerator to survey its contents. She held a pad, on which she wrote various groceries they needed to purchase, but she paused to glance at Jenna.

      “I think they’ve spent more time squirting each other with their water bottles. Can you hear Ryan squealing?” Jenna smiled; Ryan and Adam had been running around the yard, wielding their water bottles like pistols. Periodically they took aim and fired, only to have the other duck behind the house or shed. By the time their bottles were empty, they were both laughing so hard they could barely stand.

      She felt relief—and pleasure—at seeing Ryan laugh again. He needed to do more of it. He was a sober responsible boy, a wonderful child, but Jenna sometimes worried that her problems with Dennis had made their son older than his years. To see his carefree spirit revived lifted her own somber mood, and she knew she had Adam to thank. Ryan wouldn’t be having such a grand time if he was out in the yard alone.

      “Adam never could set his mind to a task and simply do it. He made everything into a game, remember?” his grandmother said.

      Jenna looked away from the scene beyond the window to focus on Mrs. Durham. “I remember. But he’s not the same person now. I mean, he’s just the opposite, isn’t he? So intense…”

      Mrs. Durham finished her inventory and shut the fridge. “He’s certainly driven. I don’t know what happened to him. When he was young we couldn’t keep him in school. The principal was always calling to say he’d cut class again. Once he graduated and started college, that all changed.”

      Looking back at Adam, Jenna took a sip of her coffee. “I guess he decided it was time to grow up.” Grow up and leave me…

      “I’m not so sure he wasn’t better off before,” Mrs. Durham muttered. “Anyway, I’m going to the store now. Anything I can pick up for you, dear?”

      Jenna’s thoughts instantly reverted to the gnawing worry that had claimed her attention for most of the morning. She needed a pregnancy-test kit, but she wasn’t going to ask Mrs. Durham to get her one. She’d have to go to the store at some point herself.

      “We could use some more turkey for Ryan’s lunches, if you wouldn’t mind.” Crossing to the counter where she’d set her purse, Jenna pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her wallet, but Mrs. Durham refused to take it.

      “Lunch meat is part of your room and board, you know that.”

      “But you pay me a good salary besides. I can’t help worrying that I’m not pulling my weight around here—enough weight for me and Ryan, that is. You and Mr. Durham always encourage me to finish my glasswork, even at the expense of my duties.”

      “Nonsense. You handle all the PR, work with our vendors, take care of the bookings. We couldn’t get by without you. All I do is a little bit of shopping and the cooking on Mr. Robertson’s days off. But your stained glass is going to make you rich someday, mark my words. Louis Comfort Tiffany could do no better.” Mrs. Durham nodded toward the window, where Jenna could see Adam and Ryan bent over some new object of interest. “You don’t have to worry about doing anything extra for Ryan’s keep, anyway. It’s been too long since we had a boy in the house.”

      Their boy. Adam.

      “How do I look?” Mrs. Durham grabbed her own industrial-size bag. “Is the back of my hair okay?”

      “You just need it ratted a bit right here.” Jenna used the comb Mrs. Durham fished out of her purse to lift the flat spot at the back of her head, just as she did every morning of the week except Thursdays, the day she went to the hairdresser. “That’s better,” Jenna said, handing back the comb.

      “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Durham retrieved a tube of bright red lipstick from her bag and liberally applied it. Then she ran a finger along each painted eyebrow, patted her nose with powder and snapped her compact shut before slipping it back into her purse. “I should be back in an hour or so.”

      Jenna followed her to the door in the wake of the gardenia fragrance that trailed behind her. “Do you want me to go with you?”

      “No. I spoke to a young girl earlier on the telephone who wants to interview for the waitress position. I told her she could come any time this morning, so you’d better stay, just in case. Now that Gayle’s moved away, she won’t be able to fill in again, and I don’t like it all falling on you. See what you think of this girl, if she shows up.”

      “Okay.”

      Jenna watched Mrs. Durham back her beige Cadillac down the driveway, then walked to the sink with her cup. She’d interviewed three people for the position and thought she’d found a good candidate, but it didn’t hurt to talk to a few more. Only the Durhams, Pamela, the maid, and Mr. Robertson, the cook, worked with her at the Victoriana. Jenna wanted to be certain that the person she hired fit in.

      “Can we get a drink?”

      Adam’s voice startled her. She turned to see his arms and face glistening with sweat despite the cooler weather. His T-shirt and faded blue jeans clung damply to his body.

      Jenna could smell the slight tang of his sweat as he brushed past her to claim a glass from the cupboard. She tried to forget the times she’d tasted the salt on his skin after they’d been swimming in the ocean or running or…

      Ryan followed Adam in, carrying a jar with a huge spider inside. “Look, Mom! Isn’t this cool?”

      Stifling her initial revulsion, Jenna forced a smile. “It’s great. What kind of spider is it?”

      “Adam’s not sure. It looks like a tarantula, but it’s not. See the babies crawling on its back?”

      This time Jenna couldn’t quell a shiver as Ryan shoved the jar right up to her face. Inside, she could see hundreds of tiny spiders squirming on their mother’s back. “Don’t you think you should let it go?” she asked.

      “I’m not going to hurt it. I just want to keep it as a pet.”

      “I think it would rather be free.”

      Ryan rolled his eyes at Adam. “My mom’s trying to turn me into a sissy.”

      “Going soft in her old age, is she? She didn’t feel too soft last night. She nearly ruined some equipment I consider very valuable.” Adam rubbed his neck where she’d chopped him and grinned.

      Glad he hadn’t put a hand to his other injury, as well, Jenna resisted the urge to smile back at him. They’d been angry with each other for fifteen years. She might be soft on children, animals, even insects, but he was a full-grown man, and she wasn’t about to go soft on him. Soft got you hurt, especially if it involved his “equipment.”

      “Could be poisonous,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the jar with the spider, where, fortunately, Ryan’s attention remained.

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