Chapter 3: Jack

Jack Roberts cracked open a bottle of beer and leaned against the railing of his apartment balcony. The evening sun was just setting over the horizon, casting an orange glow over the small patch of Boston Harbor he could see from his third-floor walk-up.

The air was cool and crisp, and even if he couldn’t technically see the water very well, he could still smell it and feel it on the breeze.

He chugged a long drink and closed his eyes, happy to pretend for a moment that he didn’t have a million other things he should be doing.

Indoor things.

Work things.

Earnings reports and marketing plans and the sort of in-depth analysis he was getting paid very well to perform for one of the biggest banks in Massachusetts should be taking up every minute he could spare.

It was exactly the kind of consulting work he’d hoped to land when he’d moved out here, fresh from college, six years ago.

The kind of work and the kind of client most of his co-workers were jealous of.

He should be grateful for the opportunity to prove himself to the partners of his consulting firm. He should finish the ice-cold beer in his hand, walk back inside and try to get a head-start on tomorrow’s work before it was time to go to bed.

No matter how many times he told himself what he should be doing, though, Jack couldn’t get excited about actually making it happen.

There was no challenge. They didn’t really need him on this job. The bank had enough money and enough influence to do whatever they wanted. Saying they wanted to identify ways to cut costs while increasing community involvement and outreach sounded good, just like the recommendations he’d eventually make would all look good on paper.

But Jack knew even without being told that nothing would come of it. It was more important to look like they were doing something beneficial than to actually make any changes.

So it was hard to feel good about doing a job that was mostly a complete waste of time. There was nothing noble or helpful or innovative about going through the motions to collect a paycheck.

The phone rang from inside his apartment, stirring Jack from his thoughts.

With a sigh, he walked back inside and shut the door behind him as he crossed the room to pick up his phone from the couch.

“Hey, Mom,” he said, taking another sip of beer. “How’s it going?”

“Hello, dear,” Bea Roberts answered, sounding a little breathless. “We’ve just come home from the city council meeting, and my goodness, it was something else.”

Jack grinned.

Growing up in Silver Lake, he couldn’t remember anything even remotely exciting happening. Certainly nothing that could be classified as something else.

And at a city council meeting? Unless ‘something else’ was some sort of new property tax hike, he couldn’t imagine what had her so worked up.

“It must have been something big,” Jack said, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. “You’re calling pretty late for a week night.”

“Oh, no.” Her tone immediately changed from breathless to concerned. “Were you sleeping? Is it that late already?”

“Not too late for me,” Jack said, laughing. “Although it is almost eight o’clock. Aren’t you and Dad normally getting ready for bed around this time?”

“Oh, hush you,” she replied. “We’re not that old, thank you very much. Your father has some ball game on that we had to hurry home for, otherwise we’d still be downtown at the meeting. It was electric, Jack. You should have seen it. Your friend Calvin was there, and he looked so handsome and important standing up in front of the crowd.”

Calvin.

The smirk fell from Jack’s face at the mention of his old high school friend. It was a name he hadn’t heard in a long time, and hearing it now brought back a flood of old memories.

How inseparable they used to be.

How Jack had never understood why so many people couldn’t accept the fact that they were just friends—no matter how unlikely it might have seemed at the time.

And okay, so maybe the straight football player and the out-and-proud drama student were a bit of an odd couple at prom, but it had all been in fun. Nobody else needed to get it, because he and Calvin had always been on the same page with every aspect of their friendship.

Except for that night.

That kiss.

“Jack, are you there?” His mother’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Did you hear what I just said about Calvin? Isn’t that fantastic?”

“Hm?” Jack shook his head to clear the haze of memories. “You said he was talking about something at the meeting?”

“I knew you weren’t listening,” she admonished him. “I said that he’s in charge of Save Silver Lake, and that he went toe to toe with that Trenton Lewis. I was so proud of him.”

Jack blinked. Had she really said all of that while he’d been daydreaming—reminiscing—about Calvin?

“Calvin is, uh… what, now? Saving the town?” Jack cocked his head to the side, suddenly picturing his old friend as some kind of lanky, bookish superhero, cape and tights included. It was an… interesting visual. “Saving it from what?”

“From Trenton and all the big businesses who want to come in and tear down Main Street. It’s sort of a big deal. A movement, really.”

What on earth was going on in Silver Lake these days? Jack felt like he was so far out of the loop. There was a movement? And Calvin was the leader? Shy, unassuming, keep-to-himself and blush at the drop of a hat Calvin?

“That sounds… crazy,” Jack said, still unsure what to make of all the news his mother had just thrown at him.

“It is, dear,” she agreed. “It really is. You might not even recognize Silver Lake the next time you come to visit, the way things are going. But anyway, let’s talk about you.”

Jack stifled a groan. He already knew what the next words out of her mouth would be even before she started speaking again. And if he was being honest, he would have much rather kept the subject on Calvin and Silver Lake and whatever craziness was going down there.

“Are you seeing anyone special?” she asked, proving him right. It was the same question every time, always with a hesitantly hopeful note in her voice. “I know you said last week you’ve been really busy at work, but I thought maybe with this new client of yours you might be out and mingling with some new young ladies.”

“No, Mom,” Jack said, trying to sound nonchalant through gritted teeth. “I haven’t had time to do anything or see anyone, really.”

It wasn’t a lie. He’d spent almost every waking moment over the past couple of weeks immersing himself in the work he was doing for the bank. Even if he wanted to date someone—and he didn’t, for sure—he wouldn’t have had the time.

“That’s too bad, dear.” She sighed. “You know I just want you to be happy. It’s been nearly a year since that… that ordeal with Christine. I don’t suppose you’ve spoken with her lately?”

Now it was Jack’s turn to sigh. He was going to have to cut this conversation short if he was to have any hope of keeping his sanity. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his ex-fiancée.

“I haven’t talked to her,” he said. “I’m sure she’s fine with that, though. Calling off the wedding the day before tends to make it hard to stay friends.”

“That’s too bad,” she repeated. “Well… try to keep an open mind, okay? I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but I think having someone special in your life would do you some good. I’m not saying you need to rush down the aisle or anything again, but you’re young. You’re successful. You should be out having fun every once in a while instead of spending all your time alone in that apartment.”

“I don’t spend all my time alone,” he lied. “I’m just… busy.” He emptied his beer and looked at the clock. “I should go, Mom. I still have a lot to do before bed. I’m glad you called, though. Crazy about that town hall meeting.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Jack could practically see her shaking her head and holding her tongue.

“Think about what I said,” she finally continued. “You work hard and you deserve to be happy. That’s all I want for you, dear.”

“I know, Mom. I appreciate it. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetie. I’ll call you if I hear anything else about Calvin.”

He hung up the phone and set it aside, then shoved a hand back through his hair. That conversation had been exhausting. If he didn’t still have so much to do, he would just call it a night—no matter that it wasn’t even eight thirty yet.

But the memories that his mom had inadvertently stirred up? Christine… Calvin… his non-existent love life…

It was like the greatest hits of his failures. As a friend. As a fiancé. Just… all of it.

And as much as he loved his mother, he really hoped she wouldn’t call with more news about Calvin—at least not for a while.

He just wasn’t up to reliving the memories.