Текст книги "Heart Block"

Автор книги: Melissa Brayden

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

She arrived home and climbed the stairs to her deck, satiated from the little bit of exercise the walk had given her. She typed in her code to let herself in just in time to hear her cell phone buzzing from where she’d left it on the counter. Her first inclination was to ignore it. The last hour had been so peaceful.

But the phone continued its incessant notification.

Deciding reluctantly that it could be work related, she grabbed for it just milliseconds before the call would be forwarded to voice mail.

“Emory Owen,” she said.

“She gave me the green light!”

Emory recognized Sarah’s voice and a smile broke across her face.

“You got the go-ahead?” She could hear Sarah laughing on the other end of the phone and her heart swelled instantly. “You’re kidding.” But she knew she wasn’t.

“I’m not. I thought the chances of her saying yes were about as plausible as a moose walking through my kitchen, but it happened. My mother, not the moose, but you know what I mean.”

Emory laughed as Sarah continued talking.

“I’m interviewing designers on Wednesday and meeting with Roman at the construction company today to finalize the details of an agreement. It’s crazy in a really good way.”

“What made her sign off on it all?”

“She said she was proud of me, that I’m capable of doing great things. And I think I am.”

“Well, of course you are. That’s what I’m telling you. You’re the real deal, Sarah, and your mom would be blind not to see that.”

“Now you’re just being nice.”

“I’m rarely nice, and today is not an exception.”

“Well, I respectfully have to disagree.”

There was a noticeable silence then, and Emory did the next thing she knew to do to prolong the exchange. “We should celebrate.” Not her best idea, but it was out of her mouth before she could rationalize it.

“We should?” Sarah answered weakly.

“Let’s go out somewhere.” Alarm bells were sounding, but what the hell. “What about Friday? I have season tickets to the Civic, and I’ve missed the last few shows that have come through town. I don’t know how you feel about theater, but it could be fun.”

There was a slight hesitation before Sarah answered. Emory felt her stomach muscles tighten with—what was that—nerves? She didn’t get nervous. Did she?

“I’d have to get a sitter, but I think my brother could take Grace for the night.”

“Great, give me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

They squared away the details, and Emory congratulated Sarah once again on her great news. She couldn’t have been happier if it had been her own monumental achievement. In fact, she knew inherently this felt better. She hung up the phone and returned it to the counter, excited with the prospect of seeing Sarah, talking to Sarah, and going out with Sarah. The report that she skipped her way to the shower instead of walking was completely exaggerated, and the tale of her singing once she got there was probably just rumor.

*

Four days later, Emory stared at herself in the mirror of the women’s restroom at work, running her fingers through her hair to fluff it just a tad. She was scheduled to pick Sarah up for their celebratory night out in less than thirty minutes, which meant she had little time to spare, knowing traffic on the 805. But damn it, she hadn’t had more than five minutes to master a quick change at the office, and the results were leaving her underwhelmed. She wore an aquamarine dress and simple heels suitable for the theater, a sharp contrast from the no-nonsense navy business suit and white cuffed shirt she’d sported only moments ago. She applied just a tad of lip gloss and turned for the door where she came face-to-face with Lucy.

“Aha. There you are.”

“Very perceptive of you. What do you win?” Emory attempted to sidestep Lucy who, damn it, was blocking the door.

“Not so fast, young lady. You’ve been acting strange today, hyperactive, some might even say, and now you’ve changed into a very flattering, somewhat alluring outfit. Spill.”

“I have a commitment, if you insist on knowing, and I’m late, so if you’d be so kind as to—”

“Commitment? Is that code for sex? Because if we’re using codes now, I need to be updated.”

“Not code for anything.”

“So then it’s business?” Lucy took a step to her left, blocking Emory’s path. “Don’t try that again. I’m a ninja. You know this.”

Emory rolled her eyes.

“Aha. Not business at all.” Lucy studied her, smiling, enjoying this way too much. “You look all excited and dreamy. A date perhaps? Is Emory Owen going on an honest to goodness, butterflies-in-your-stomach date?”

“If I answer your very intrusive question, will you let me leave the restroom without a full-on scuffle? And please don’t forget I’m stronger than you.”

Lucy considered this. “Deal.”

“All right, I’m going to be honest with you.”

“I do prefer it to lies.”

“It might be a date; it might not be. I’m not exactly sure. Good-bye.” She patted Lucy twice on the shoulder and slipped past her, effectively escaping.

Lucy called after her down the hallway. “What does that mean? You’re not even going to give me a name?”

She walked backward, smiling. “You’re good.”

“You’re not off the hook, you know. I’m contractually required to be here Monday, and I know where you work.”

Emory turned and waved backward over her shoulder, offering nothing further.

*

Damn San Diego traffic. She was late again. Emory was beginning to think she was incapable of arriving anywhere on time. Couple that with the fact that Sarah was always early, and Emory internally cringed, secondarily taking note of the fact that it was rare that she cared. Interesting.

She double-checked the address of the apartment complex before pulling in. Her passenger was waiting outside and offered a wave and a very genuine smile as she approached the car.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. The 805 was nightmarish.”

Sarah hopped easily into the passenger seat. “No problem.”

Emory took a moment to catch her breath and took Sarah in. “So, hi.”

“Hi.”

“You look great.” An understatement. Sarah wore a simple off-red cocktail dress. Not too dressy, but just enough. “Ready to celebrate your wild success?”

Sarah grinned like a kid on her way to Disneyland, and Emory’s heart did that thing where it tugged pleasantly. “Please, let’s. I’ve always wanted to go for a night at the theater; I’ve just never gotten around to it. I’ve also always wanted to say ‘night at the theater,’ and now I have. Two birds.”

“Glad to help.”

“I’m glad you invited me.”

“Me too.” Emory stole another indulgent glance at Sarah before turning her attention to the road.

“How was the world of corporate news today?”

“Not too bad a day. We had some press releases go out for some important clients this morning and no glitches that I’ve heard about. But then again, we also had two errors on smaller accounts out of the Denver office. Unfortunately, that’s fairly normal for them. We’re working on their error rate.” She winced apologetically. “This is boring. You were probably just being polite.”

Sarah laughed. “I’ve never once thought of you as boring, you know that? Boring is one thing you can cross off the list of adjectives I use to describe you.”

“There’s a list? Now you tell me.”

“I don’t have to report everything back to you. It’s not like I work for you, you know.”

“Touché.”

Things felt easy between them and Emory relaxed, content to enjoy the evening for whatever it was. She’d be lying if she told herself she hadn’t already noticed how brightly Sarah’s eyes shone when she laughed or how her hair, when pulled partially back, was both simple and alluring.

Sarah checked her watch. They’d arrived at the theater with little time to spare before curtain, and they maneuvered the steps as quickly as they could. It was difficult for Sarah to keep pace in her I’m-trying-to-look-nice-tonight shoes. Emory seemed like she was born wearing killer pumps and took the steps like a pro. “Easy now, I don’t wear heels ten hours a day.” But she was laughing.

Emory reached out. “Take my hand.”

So she did, finding the steps infinitely easier now.

Emory smiled. “Better?”

“Much.” Sarah liked how vibrant she felt alongside Emory and how much she got a kick out of Emory’s smile. She hadn’t seen a lot of it up until this point, but it was quite possibly the most striking thing she’d ever seen.

Once they were inside, the house manager greeted them. “Good evening, Ms. Owen. The curtain is just about to rise. Let’s get you to your seats. Right this way, ladies.” He escorted them quickly down the aisle to their fifth row seats. Sarah sighed with relief that they’d made it on time.

Then she took in the view. “These are amazing seats,” she breathed.

“I’m glad you like them. These tickets have been in my family for years. It’s a shame I don’t get to put them to use more often.”

“You really should.” Sarah’s attention drifted to the patrons around them. Most were in the midst of animated conversations. There was a serious amount of fancy jewelry, shoes, and designer bags on display. And she was pretty sure they were all real. That little annoying voice in the back of her head began its song. One of these things is not like the others.

Emory leaned in. “This show, however, I’ve been interested in checking out. I’ve met Adrienne Kenyon, the lead actress, a couple of times at various charity functions, and she’s always such a good sport about doing whatever we need. She’s supposed to be killer in this role.”

“I can’t wait,” Sarah whispered just as the house lights dimmed around them. For the next two and a half hours, Sarah was transported to another world entirely. She was captivated not only by the story that unfolded in front of her, but by all of the dazzling technical aspects of the production as well. By the end, she didn’t hesitate to jump to her feet in standing ovation. She knew she’d like the show before she came, but she was moved in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

During the standing ovation, Emory watched Sarah rather than the actors onstage, much in the way she’d managed glances at her throughout the show. Sarah was probably the most expressive audience member she’d sat alongside, genuinely laughing on cue and gasping audibly at each shocking revelation along the way. Seeing the show through her eyes made it ten times more enjoyable, and it had already been an exciting night of theater. Sarah, she realized, clearly understood how to enjoy herself, and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a contagious quality.

As they exited the theater, Sarah was beyond enthusiastic. “I had no idea a musical could be like that! I’ve seen the movie version of Oklahoma and a local production of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang when Grace was six, but it was nothing like that. I’m in absolute awe if you can’t tell.”

Emory liked seeing Sarah so happy. She had to say it was ridiculously attractive on her. “So you didn’t like it at all then?”

“Stop it.” Sarah laughed and nudged Emory with her shoulder. “It was easily the coolest thing anyone has ever taken me to.” And with that, Sarah took Emory’s hand in hers in a move that felt so natural it startled Emory. The warmth of that physical connection was motivation to do anything she could think of to prolong the night just a little bit longer.

“Want to take a walk around downtown? We could head over to the Gaslamp District. There’s a quaint little wine bar I know. That is unless you need to get home. I mean, if you have to pick up Grace soon, we can always just—”

“No, I’d love to. Take a walk, that is. Grace is fine. I called over to my brother’s at intermission, and he said the girls were playing poker with him and his buddies. Apparently, Grace is up eight dollars.” Emory raised an amused eyebrow. “I told you I have an unusual child.”

“Unusual can be good, I think. It keeps life exciting.”

Sarah’s eyes darkened and she glanced away. “You know, I think I could do with a little less excitement for a while. Boring would be just fine with me.”

Emory inclined her head sideways. “Are you referring to something in particular? What kind of excitement are we talking about?”

Sarah pulled her hand from Emory’s and turned to face her. “A story for another time? I’m having too much fun tonight.”

“Me too, by the way,” Emory answered softly. “And we can talk or not talk about anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“In that case, I do have one question for you.”

“Ask away.”

“Are we on a date tonight?”

“Oh. Hmmm. Well, I didn’t exactly…Wow, let me try this again.” Smooth, Emory, so smooth. Gone was the confidence she’d exuded her entire life and the ease of communication that she’d always relied on. For some reason, Sarah Matamoros had the ability to strip her of that skill set. Left without a witty line or confident declaration, Emory sighed and decided to level with Sarah. She lifted one shoulder weakly. “I didn’t know.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

They walked in silence for a few moments.

“I was just asking because you did kiss my brains out the last time I saw you.”

Emory froze, shocked at the blatant declaration. “Is that what I did?”

“I’d say that’s an accurate description, yeah.”

“Again, sorry for the attack.”

“Do you always apologize so much after you kiss someone?”

Emory thought about it. It was a legitimate question. “No. I guess this would be new. A lot of new lately, it seems.”

They walked on.

There was a chill in the night air the way there was always a chill in the night air in a typical August in California, but Emory didn’t notice. Sideways glances at Sarah left her utterly captivated at the way the moonlight seemed to accentuate the green flecks in her eyes. Sarah looked back at her, seeming to catch her staring, and smiled. Oh, that was dangerous. Emory shook her head in amazement. Who smiles like that? Honestly. She felt that smile all the way down to her toes. “If I’m being forthright, it did cross my mind.”

“What?” Sarah seemed puzzled.

“The date.”

More silence.

Ouch. Emory felt as if she’d crashed and burned. Not a big deal, she told herself. It was probably better in the scheme of things. She should now do whatever she could to save the evening and enjoy spending time with her friend.

“I’m a little embarrassed,” Sarah finally said.

“Don’t be. Please.”

“Because I thought it was.”

Emory stopped walking and blinked as understanding arrived. “And you said yes.”

“And I said yes.” Sarah started walking again, leaving a pleasantly mystified Emory behind.

“So this is a date?” Emory called after her.

Sarah turned and walked backward, smiling all the way. “No way. You didn’t think it was.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. I just didn’t want to seem too presumptuous.” Emory closed the distance between them and arrived on the sidewalk alongside Sarah. “Maybe we should try this again.”

Sarah’s smile faded and she stared back at her sincerely. “Okay.”

“So I was thinking,”

“You were? That’s awesome.”

“You’re so very funny.”

“Thank you.”

Emory continued. “Well, I thought it might be nice to take you out, on a date, to this little place I know that serves great wine. What do you say?”

“You know, the wine part sounds fun. I think we should go, but the date thing I’m going to have to think about.”

Emory nodded, smiling at the irony but catching the playful twinkle in Sarah’s eye. “Okay. Take your time. But while you’re thinking it over, I’m going to take your hand back as we walk. It’s a little chilly out here, and you’re nice and warm.”

“Well, as long as it’s for weather purposes.”

“Strictly.”

A short walk later, they arrived at the Gaslamp District, an historic section of San Diego that was transformed in the late eighties to an eclectic, hip, urban stomping ground. It offered hundreds of entertainment options and came alive at night when the old-fashioned gas lamps began to glow. They strolled past sidewalk cafes, nightclubs, boutiques, and coffee houses, dodging the throngs of people that crowded the streets. Emory was pleased to find a jazz trio on the corner just adjacent to The Grape House, the wine bar she frequented.

“Inside or out?” Emory asked.

“Outside, definitely. There’s something about sitting under the stars with you that I seem to like. Plus, there’s music.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Emory arranged for a table outside, and with Sarah’s permission, ordered two glasses of her favorite Sangiovese.

Sarah sipped from the oversized glass. “Oh wow, this is smooth.”

“I know. I first fell in love with this bottle on a trip to Milan last year. I was surprised to find it right here in San Diego, but that’s why I love this little place. They have all the greats.”

“I take it you’re very well traveled.”

“For the most part, yes. What about you?”

“Not as exciting a history, I’m afraid. Mexico, before my father moved us to the U.S. and now California, most of its big cities. I’ve read about a lot of other places though.”

Emory was intrigued. “You’re telling me you’ve never been out of California?”

“Never been on a plane either. Try not to look so shocked over there. I’ll do it one day. Maybe when Grace is a little older, we’ll head out and see some sights.” Sarah’s eyes fell to the table then. She seemed to noticeably withdraw, and Emory internally cringed at having been the cause.

“That’ll be fun.” Emory took a sip of wine. “You mentioned growing up in Mexico. What was that like?”

Sarah sat back in her chair, her eyes reflective. “I don’t remember a lot about it. Mainly being around family, my grandparents. Most of my childhood memories center more on making the transition here. Learning the language, the culture at school, I remember being frustrated a lot.”

“In what way?” Emory reached across to the center of the table and interlaced her fingers with Sarah’s. Sarah stared at their hands, her expression unreadable, before continuing.

“More than anything, I just wanted to fit in, and that meant being American, just like most of the other kids. It didn’t exactly go well. But I never stopped trying. I took mental notes on all the cool things the kids from California did, said, and wore and then went home and wrote them down so I’d remember. I actually did that. Then I’d rehearse popular phrases with an American accent alone in my room.” She took a sip of wine. “I even went so far as altering my name on the first day of sixth grade. I guess I always felt like an outsider looking in. It wasn’t until late in high school that I finally started to accept myself and be okay with my own culture and where I came from. It didn’t happen overnight though. It was a process. I guess it still is.”

Emory didn’t like the story, and the idea of Sarah doing everything in her power to be liked tugged at her heart. “If it’s any consolation, I like who you are. A lot.”

“Thanks, but you may want to reserve judgment until after football season starts. You haven’t met the rabid Chargers fan that lives within.”

“I’m afraid already. Wait. Can we backtrack a minute? I’m interested to hear about the name change you mentioned. Is your given name not Sarah?”

“No, it is but without the h, pronounced Sada. I always had to correct my teachers on the pronunciation on the first day of school. Then one year, I stopped doing it and started writing an h after my name on all of my papers. And then magically, I was Sarah. Again, doing everything I could to be on the inside track.”

“Sara is a very pretty name. You could always go back to it.”

“No, I’m afraid that ship has sailed. I’ve been Sarah for too long now. Even my parents have adopted it.”

They finished the last of their wine while listening to the jazz combo that had recently returned from a break.

Emory couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed an evening out so much. She was thoroughly content in this moment and more relaxed than she’d been in a long, long time. The music, the company, and the nice glass of wine were all to thank for that. The waitress politely dropped the leather bound book containing the check onto their table. Emory reached for it casually, but was beaten to the punch.

Sarah hugged the portfolio to her chest. “I’m getting the drinks. You paid for the tickets.”

Emory made a grab for the check, but it was easily moved out of her reach. “Come on. I suggested this place and chose the wine. I’ll get it.”

“Nope. It’s only fair and—eighty-four dollars?” Sarah looked up from the open folder. “But we only had a glass each. Do you think they made a mistake?” She raised her hand, looking behind her for a waiter.

Emory winced apologetically and slowly brought Sarah’s hand back down. “The vintage is an Italian reserve, so it’s a bit pricey, which is why I insist on paying tonight.”

Sarah was shocked. The wine had been good, but not that good. She considered next week’s trip to the grocery store and inwardly cringed at the implications this would have on the month’s budget. Swallowing her pride, she handed the bill to Emory wordlessly, defeated inside and more than a little embarrassed. Emory handed the check and a credit card to the passing waitress and turned back to Sarah. “Really, I’d planned to get this. Money is not an issue for me in the same way it is for most people. It just makes more sense—”

Sarah nodded, the differences in their worlds hitting home. “Well, thank you. But just for the record, I’m not exactly destitute.”

“Of course not. I didn’t mean to insinuate otherwise, but be honest. If I were the architect you’ve been seeing, would you have argued over the check with me?”

“I don’t know, maybe not. But that’s beside the point.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Sarah didn’t respond.

They rode back to her apartment in noticeable silence. Alone with her thoughts, Emory tried to see things from Sarah’s point of view. Even though she didn’t necessarily understand, she knew she should respect Sarah’s feelings. The wine had been a little extravagant, but it was something she’d wanted to share with Sarah. Maybe she had been trying to impress her. Was that such a bad thing? Emory switched off the ignition as they pulled into a parking spot in front of Sarah’s apartment. She turned to face her, intent on smoothing things over between them.

But for the second time that night, Sarah beat her there. “I’m sorry. I overreacted. It’s just tonight, this kind of night, it’s not what I’m used to. But what I know for sure is that I don’t want to fight with you.”

“No, I should apologize. Sometimes I can be a little—” But she didn’t get to finish as Sarah’s mouth captured hers in a kiss that she would stay up half the night reliving. It was the kind of kiss that meant something, promised something, and made Emory want all kinds of somethings. Sarah was all soft lips and sweet taste, just as she’d remembered, and a jolt of heat shot straight through her in response.

Sarah pulled gently away and said nothing for a moment, just tucked a strand of hair behind Emory’s ear and looked softly into her eyes.

Emory swallowed, feeling so much more than she expected to. “I’m bad for you, Sarah,” she managed to whisper.

Sarah held her eyes. “You’re not good at relationships. I remember.”

“I can’t be who—”

Sarah placed a finger softly over her lips. “We had a nice time tonight. Why don’t we leave it there for now?”

Emory nodded, holding tight to Sarah’s words, trying to rationalize more than was probably safe to because falling for her would be colossally stupid.

“Good night, Emory.”

“Good night.”

Sarah walked into her apartment, closed the door, and leaned against it. Her heart was beating a mile a minute. She’d just gone on a successful date with another woman and boldly kissed her in her car. Who the hell was she exactly? She was beginning to understand that she didn’t know the answer to that question anymore, and it was scary and thrilling and scary again for days. While she couldn’t deny that she had taken a lot of enjoyment in the kiss itself, her world felt wildly off-kilter. How, exactly, was she planning on fitting whatever this thing was with Emory into her well-established life? Was there even a chance she could?

*

“Are you going to tell me her name?” Lucy sat opposite Emory on the bench that lined the steam room wall. “I let an entire spin class go by without asking a single question about this mysterious date of yours, just sure you’d think enough of our multi-tiered relationship to tell me yourself, but clearly, I was wrong.”

“I think the world of you, Luce. You’re the peas to my carrots and the apple of my corporate eye. Why would you think otherwise?”

“The peas to your carrots? Did that just come out of your mouth? Someone is in a good mood and it’s definitely not me. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my best friend has completely shut me out.” Lucy sulked dramatically, slinking further into the terrycloth towel wrapped around her. “I’m guessing it’s something I’ve done. I can’t help but wonder if it’s because we were together, and if that’s the case, I think we’re both way past that, don’t you? I mean I have no problem hearing about you with other women. So if you’re worried about jealousy, stop because—”

“All right, all right, you win!” Emory took a swallow from her bottle of water and decided it was best just to lay it out for Lucy. “Yes, I went on a date last night with someone I’ve been getting to know recently. I didn’t tell you right off because somehow things feel different with her than I’m used to and I just wanted to have it to myself for a little while so I can figure it out. Come to an understanding of things on my own, privately. Make sense?”

“Her name, Owen.”

“Sarah.”

Lucy thought on this for a moment, her eyes finally widening in understanding. “Sarah Montgomery, the attorney from Barrett’s birthday party? Aha. Okay. She was definitely flirting with you that night.”

“What? No. Luce, that woman was predatory. Sarah Matamoros from Immaculate Home.”

Lucy stared back at her blankly.

“Sarah,” Emory emphasized. “From Fleur de Lys, remember?”

It seemed to hit her then and the expression on her face was the same as if Emory had told her Eskimos had taken over Texas. “The cleaning woman?”

“Can we not call her that? I told you, her name is Sarah.”

“Sarah, the hot cleaning woman?”

Emory rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. Her family owns the business. She handles marketing and occasionally picks up a job or two when they’re busy. You would like her.”

“Yeah, I would. I saw her, remember?”

“Knock it off. I’m serious.”

Lucy softened. “You are serious, aren’t you? You really like her.”

Emory nodded solemnly. “I think I do.”

“Aww, Em. I think that’s great news. I do. If I weren’t your smokin’ hot ex-girlfriend in a towel, I would grab you and hug you right now, but you get it. So instead, I have an even better idea, why don’t you tell me about her?”

Emory couldn’t contain the burst of happy energy she got when her thoughts turned to Sarah. “Well, the best part about her is how much fun she has. Seriously, Lucy, she seems to appreciate everything. Things I always take for granted. Plus, she’s caring, thoughtful, and smart, really smart. Her daughter is quirky and funny too.”

“Whoa. Stop there and rewind. She has a child?”

“Grace. She’s eight. I’ve only met her once, but she’s something else.”

“Yikes. But a kid, Em? Come on, that changes things. Are you sure you know what you’re getting into? Somehow, I just can’t see Emory Owen caught up in a world of bedtime stories and sticky fingers. You’re a lot of things, but warm and fuzzy isn’t at the top of that list. No offense.”

The wind fell drastically from her sails. “Geez. I’d like to say none taken, but ouch. Am I that bad?”

Lucy turned on the bench to face her. “You’re not bad. You could never be that. You just don’t share how you’re feeling very often. When we were together, it was very hard to…feel close to you. It was like just when I had the last wall torn down, you’d build another one. Over time, I just had to accept that this was who you were. And I’m not sure that works with a kid.”

Emory let the information sink in, and though it was a horrible thing to hear about herself, she knew that every word was sadly true. “I know it’s late in coming, Luce, and I don’t know if these are even the right words, but I’m sorry.”

“I know. You did the best you could, and you know what? I truly believe that we’re right where we’re supposed to be. And if you’re serious about this girl, Sarah, then it’s what I want for you too.”

“It’s not like that. I just like being around her. Instant family is not what I’m projecting here.” She sighed. “In fact, I should put a stop to things now, but—”

“You’re too far in. You don’t want to be, but you are. Just look at you, all conflicted.”

“I just don’t see where this can go. You said it yourself, Luce, and you were right. I honestly can’t see myself being someone’s mother.”

Lucy scrunched one eye. “The image doesn’t come easily, no, but crazier things have happened. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with testing the waters a bit.”

“Testing the waters.” Emory let the concept marinate. “I guess.”

“Just please go into this with your eyes open.”

“Yes, your wiseness.”

“See? You’re seeing things clearer already.” Lucy then looked around helplessly. “The wise one is melting. Let’s leave. There’s a martini somewhere calling my name and I’m not one to disappoint.”

Chapter Eight

“Hi, Mom,” Grace said. She sat atop the small nurse’s cot, her eyes filled with sorrow.

“Hi, baby, what happened?” Sarah moved into the tiny room, discarding her purse on the floor as she crossed to Grace. She stroked the back of her hair and wrapped her arms around her, needing to feel for herself that she was okay.

When she’d received the call that Grace was in the nurse’s station at camp and she should proceed there right away, she experienced a horrible case of déjà vu. She’d torn out of the office and raced to the campground just as she’d raced to the hospital two months prior. She gripped the steering wheel in utter terror, and even though the nurse had assured her Grace was absolutely fine, there was nothing she could do to quiet her irrational fear. Now that she was here, she glanced expectantly at the faces of the three adults gathered in the room—the nurse; Grace’s camp counselor, Miss Kathy; and the camp director, Mr. Ingersol.