Twice Blessed Read online

  Twice Blessed

  (Blessings of Love, book 5)

  By

  J.J. DiBenedetto

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also from the author

  Copyright Page

  The Blessings of Love Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  The Blessings of Love Series

  Backwards Blessings – sneak preview chapter

  Acknowledgements

  Also from the author

  The Dream Doctor Mysteries

  The Jane Barnaby Adventures

  Welcome to Romance novellas

  Finding Dori

  A Reel Christmas in Romance

  Mr. Smith and the Roach

  All books available in paperback, and as Audible audiobooks!

  All available at:

  www.amazon.com

  and

  www.jjdibenedetto.com

  Copyright Page

  Copyright © 2019 James J. DiBenedetto

  All Rights Reserved. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  ISBN:

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used factiously. Names, characters and places are products of the author’s imagination.

  Cover design by: Jess Elliott

  Printed by: Amazon

  First printing:

  Writing Dreams

  Arlington, Virginia

  www.jjdibenedetto.com

  The Blessings of Love Series

  Brushstrokes and Blessings by Danielle Thorne

  Blessed by the Fake Boyfriend by Lacy Andersen

  Bless His Heart by Jessica L. Elliott

  Abundantly Blessed by Rachael Eliker

  Twice Blessed by J. J. DiBenedetto

  Backward Blessings by Rachel A. Andersen

  Chapter 1

  Mike Jensen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Thanksgiving was still two weeks away, and most of his students were already going on about Christmas. Where they were going over the holiday, what new gadget or video game they were expecting as a gift, which house would have the biggest display of lights.

  It was insane. He hadn’t been like that when he was their age.

  Or had he?

  Was he becoming his father? If he had a nickel for every time Dad had said some variation on “kids these days,” he’d be a wealthy man. Mike had promised himself he would never do that, and here he was falling into that very same trap, and the school year wasn’t even half over.

  He didn’t have any excuse for it, either. The kids at Earhart Elementary were, for the most part, pretty darn good. Sure, there were a few troublemakers, but no worse than any of the class clowns from his own grade school days. Or himself, for that matter. Besides, he was only thirty-two – not nearly old enough to start ranting about how much different – and better – things had been “in his day.”

  “OK, quiet down, everybody. You can compare your Christmas lists over recess, but for now we have nine planets to talk about.” Even as he said it, he realized his mistake, but it was too late, and a babble of voices called out to correct him. He held his hands up, in an effort to ward off a roomful of fourth graders delighted at the chance to tell their teacher he was wrong. “Right, I meant eight planets,” Mike said, laughing despite himself. “But you have to excuse me on this one. When I was your age, there were still nine of them. And anyway, someone has to stick up for Pluto.”

  Mike spent the rest of the class trying to explain what made Pluto different from the other planets, before ending with a much more important lesson. “See, this is what’s great about science. It’s never settled. You have to always keep an open mind, and always question things, even the things that seem like they’re rock solid.”

  “So we should question you?” That came from Lucy Miller, a brown-haired girl in the front row whose mother owned the only bookstore in town. Or ran it, at least.

  “Definitely,” Mike answered her. “But only after you raise your hand and I call on you, right?”

  “Right, Mr. Jensen,” she said, not quite grinning.

  The bell rang, and the kids ran out, headed to lunch. Mike made his way to the teacher’s lounge for his own lunch: whichever microwave meal he’d pulled out of the freezer at 6:30 this morning, washed down with the world’s worst coffee. It wasn’t even a question; the stuff brewed in the ancient coffee machine in the corner could be used to strip paint. But it kept him caffeinated, which was all he really cared about, especially as the days got shorter and colder.

  “Did you see the paper this morning, Mike?” It was Joyce Matthews, who taught English and had taken what Mike considered to be an inordinate interest in his living situation. And, sure enough, she was still at it. “There’s a great little house on Baxter Street, just went up for sale over the weekend. You’d love it!”

  Mike wasn’t dumb; he knew exactly why Joyce was so interested in him buying a house. That would mean he was staying in Blessings permanently, which would make him marriage material. But he couldn’t let her interest – or that of several of her colleagues – go to his head. It was a simple matter of supply and demand. There were a dozen women on the faculty who were single, and he was the only man who was. And didn’t the majority of marriages start in the workplace? He was sure he’d read that somewhere, and no doubt that all his fellow teachers – especially the single women - had, too.

  “I’m sure I would, Joyce,” he said, keeping any trace of impatience out of his voice. “I’ll be sure to check it out.”

  ALLISON MILLER STOOD out on the sidewalk, looking into the window of The Last Page and admiring her handiwork.

  “Looks great, boss!” Kelly Fallon, one of her teenaged employees, was next to her, grinning at the finally-completed Christmas display while she shivered. “But can we go back inside now?”

  “Sure thing. And get yourself a hot chocolate, it ought to be ready by now.” There was no way for Allison to compete with Loretta’s Coffee Bean around the corner, but setting up a couple of urns – one for coffee, and a second one with hot chocolate – might keep cold or undercaffienated customers in the store a little longer. It was worth sacrificing one small table in the back. “And grab me one, too, if you don’t mind.”

  Kelly came back a moment later and handed Allison a cup. “It’s not bad, for instant mix,” she said. That was high praise; Kelly’s mother brought homemade hot chocolate to all the big town events – well, all the ones in the winter, anyway. “But can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Kelly. Shoot.”

  “Why’d you wait so long to put up the Christmas display in the window? Over at the Legends mall most of the stores had their Christmas stuff up right after school started in September.”

  Allison had had this conversation with her parents and Aunt Jessie, every year since she’d returned to Blessings. “That’s exactly why. It’s not special if you put up Christmas decorations before Labor Day. People wait for our
display, you know? It means something.” She hoped it did, at any rate. In her own humble opinion, she’d outdone herself this year.

  “I guess,” Kelly answered. She didn’t sound convinced. “Oh, I almost forgot, can I leave early today? We’ve got a big chemistry test tomorrow, and I was going to go over to Bella’s house and study with her.”

  “Go,” Allison told her. The girl might as well leave now. By the time she and her friend finished raiding the fridge, talking about boys, gossiping about their friends and then texting the friends they’d gossiped about, it would be seven or eight PM before they got around to actually studying. “Have fun.”

  Once Kelly was gone, Allison spent a couple of hours straightening up and checking out the few customers who popped in, before she heard the school bus turning the corner onto Kansas Avenue. A moment later, the door opened and her daughter came running in. “Mom! You know what Mr. Jensen said today?” Allison didn’t know, but she was certain she was about to find out. Lucy reported almost every day on what her science teacher said and did. “He said we’re supposed to question everything. Isn’t that cool?” Lucy also almost always described Mr. Jensen’s words and actions as “cool,” except when they were “neat” or, occasionally, “amazing!”

  Allison suspected that there was an ulterior motive in Lucy’s praise for her teacher. A couple of other teachers from Lucy’s school had been in the store a few weeks ago, and they’d been talking about a new colleague who was single, handsome, single, friendly, single, great with the kids and, most importantly, single.

  Since, as far as she knew, there was only one new male teacher at Amelia Earhart Elementary School this year, it had to be Mr. Jensen. And since kids heard everything their teachers thought they were saying privately, Lucy knew he was single, as well as handsome, friendly and, of course, single.

  From there, the logic of a nine-year-old daughter of a widowed mother could only lead to one conclusion, and the daily reports about Mr. Jensen were clearly part of Lucy’s campaign to make that conclusion a reality.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean everything, Lucy.”

  “Yes, he did, Mom! He said so! Like, why isn’t Pluto a planet, and why is bedtime nine o’clock. Everything!”

  Allison was fairly certain that the ideal bedtime had not been a topic in science class, but she let it pass. “So why isn’t Pluto a planet?”

  Lucy shrugged. “I’m not sure. I mean, he tried to tell us, but I don’t think he really knew either.” Allison was absolutely sure that Mr. Jensen knew exactly why, but it wasn’t always easy – even for a full-time teacher – to make complicated ideas make sense to nine-year-olds. “But it was still really cool. You should totally meet him, Mom! He’s really smart, and I bet he reads a new book every day, so you’d make, like, a million dollars from him!”

  In all her talk about Mr. Jensen the last three months, Lucy hadn’t previously suggested that Allison meet him. “Maybe not a million dollars, but if he reads a book every day, I’m sure he’d love the shop.” And maybe she should meet him. She ought to know all of her daughter’s teachers, right? That was just good parenting, wasn’t it? It didn’t mean anything more than that.

  Chapter 2

  “Have you been to the bookstore yet, Mr. Jensen? You should go, it’s really cool. And Lucy’s mom owns it, did you know that?”

  Mike did know that Lucy Miller’s mother owned the bookstore right by the town square. He didn’t know why Bailey Evans, who was not only one of his students but his neighbor, was emphasizing that fact.

  “Yes, I have been there, Bailey. And it is pretty cool, you’re right.”

  Bailey and her mother lived in the apartment next-door to his. Like him, they were new to Blessings; her father was in the Army, just transferred to Fort Leavenworth over the summer.

  “But did you know Lucy’s mom is the owner? She’s really nice, too.”

  There was clearly some sort of plot afoot. Why else would Bailey keep mentioning Lucy’s mother? The two girls sat next to each other in his class, and they always walked out together, chattering away, so they were definitely friends. And he knew that Lucy’s mother – Allison, if he remembered correctly – was single. He’d heard Joyce Matthews mention that in the faculty lounge a few weeks ago.

  It all made sense. Lucy Miller must have conscripted Bailey as part of a plan to set him up with her mother. Lucy wanted a new father, and she’d decided that her science teacher was the best candidate for the job.

  It was Des Moines, and Isabel, and his divorce, all over again, wasn’t it?

  “I did know that, as a matter of fact,” he told Bailey while he fished in his pocket for the key to his apartment. Well, now he knew for sure she was the owner and not merely the manager, anyway. “But I haven’t met her yet.” He ought to have; there’d been two rounds of parent-teacher meetings already this fall, but for whatever reason, Allison Miller hadn’t been able to attend either one.

  “You should, Mr. Jensen. Lucy’s mom is really nice. And she’s pretty, too.”

  It was all Mike could do not to laugh out loud. He supposed it was a point in Bailey’s favor that she was incapable of subterfuge, or at least a small parenting victory for her mother and father. “I’m sure she is, Bailey.” What else could he say? “Thanks for telling me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning in class, have a good night.”

  He unlocked the door, opened it and shut it behind him before the girl could say anything more. That was a little bit rude, but there wasn’t any polite way to shut down a nine-year-old girl who insisted on playing matchmaker.

  He had no doubt that Allison Miller was nice. And pretty, too. Her daughter was both of those things, and she had to get it from somewhere. But it didn’t matter, because there was no way he was going to make the same mistake twice. He’d learned his lesson: stay well away from matchmaking kids of single mothers.

  Still, he probably did need to go over to The Last Page. There were a couple of new books he wanted to pick up, and he always tried to support local businesses wherever he could. But it would be a quick trip. Find the books, buy them, get out, don’t get trapped into anything by a little girl who was too clever for her own good.

  AUNT JESSIE WAS RUNNING late, but she’d just texted to say that she was only five minutes away. Allison appreciated her aunt’s willingness to manage the store for the last three hours before closing, so she could get home and cook dinner for her daughter. She appreciated it even more that Jessie refused to accept a paycheck.

  Lucy was in the back, curled up in one of the plush chairs in the corner, reading one of the Harry Potter books. It was crazy to think about, but when she had been Lucy’s age, the first one hadn’t even been written yet. Allison didn’t often think of herself as old – thirty-three was nothing! – but remembering her nine-year-old self did the trick. When she’d been nine, Bill Clinton was president, Blockbuster Video was still a thing, and, for Heaven’s sake, her father had had an eight-track tape player in his old car!

  The little bell that accompanied the opening of the front door shook her out of her memories. Aunt Jessie had made good time – except, now she looked, it wasn’t her. It was a man, a man who looked familiar.

  She was pretty sure it was Lucy’s favorite teacher, Mr. Jensen. For one thing, even though she hadn’t properly met him yet, she vaguely remembered seeing him in the hallway of the school a couple of weeks ago when she’d come to pick up Lucy. For another, even from this distance, she could see how blue his eyes were, and Lucy had described her teacher as having “the bluest blue eyes ever.”

  He was also wearing a tie. Granted, it was a tie with little pictures of beakers and those little burners they used in high school chemistry lab that she couldn’t remember the proper name for, but it was still a tie all the same. And Lucy had made a point of mentioning on multiple occasions how “classy” her teacher was because he wore a tie every day.

  The other thing she noticed about him was that he was deliberately not catching her eye. A
s soon as he stepped into the store, he immediately started looking at the bookshelf with all the new books, the one with notes she’d handwritten under each book to explain why customers should read it. Usually – pretty much always – when anyone came into the shop, they made eye contact and said hello to her, or at least nodded to acknowledge her presence. This man – definitely Mr. Jensen – didn’t, and what’s more, he looked – what? Nervous, maybe?

  Why should he be nervous, though? Unless he’d heard something awful about her.

  Or something good about her, from Lucy. And now it all made sense. Just as Lucy had been talking constantly about Mr. Jensen to her, she’d been talking about her to him. Playing matchmaker.

  “Lucy! Come on up here! I think that’s your science teacher!” There was a little yelp from the back, and Allison couldn’t tell if it was an excited yelp or a fearful one, but when Lucy trotted up to her a moment later, the embarrassment written all over her face answered the question. Clearly, Lucy had hoped that her teacher and her mother would hit it off without her own involvement ever coming to light. “That’s him, right? Mr. Jensen?”

  Allison turned her attention to the man, who was now looking at her and Lucy, his face nearly as red as her daughter’s. “Guilty as charged,” he said, forcing a smile. “And you must be Lucy’s mother.” He walked over to her, extended a hand across the counter, and she shook it.

  “Allison Miller. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Mike Jensen,” he answered, letting go of her hand as quickly as he politely could. Seeing him up close, Lucy was right. He really did have the bluest blue eyes she’d ever seen. “You have a lovely store, by the way.”

  “You can thank my parents for that. They did all the hard work, I’m just running it now that they’re down in Florida.”

  “Mom, that’s not true!” Lucy’s embarrassment was forgotten; her voice now filled with indignation on her mother’s behalf. “You did a lot! You even built that new shelf near the door all by yourself!”