Searching for Sara (Extended Edition)

by Nona Mae King

  Dix kissed his cheek. “Likely story. You only want to eat my food.”

  “Believe what you want, dearest. You will anyway.”

  Sara stood at the farthest window, her attention captured by the dance of falling snow. Burgundy satin set off the red highlights of her hair. She glanced from the scenery, smiling when their gazes met.

  “Excuse me while I offer my greetings to your houseguest.”

  “Of course, dearest. Go on with you.”

  Sara’s cheeks flushed as he came to stand beside her. “Miss Little.”

  “Mr. Lake.” She motioned outside. “Is it no’ lovely, sir?”

  “Snow seems to fall heaviest on party days, I’ve found.” Christopher shifted his scrutiny from Sara’s expression to the drifting flakes of the outside garden. “Carla loved snow. She called it ‘a fresh start for beauty.’”

  “How very true.” Sara eyes widened. “Mr. Christopher, have you ever ridden on a sleigh? With... with bells and carols?”

  He nodded, memories becoming poignant and clear.

  “Oh my." Sara looked again to the drifts of snow that beckoned for a toboggan. “I so often dreamt of those. What a wonderful way to celebrate such a beautiful time! The laughter and the songs. The cheerful jingle of bells."

  “Carla loved those,” he admitted gruffly. He leaned a hand against the windowsill, white-knuckled.

  Sara faced him, her smile drawing his focus. “Gwyn said as how you and your sweet would sing duets at parties. I imagine it to be so lovely and beautiful, people smiling and singing along when they know the words.”

  The whisper of those times drifted in and out of his memory, somewhat rudely interrupted by a more amusing one of a less-than-beautiful sound. Christopher chuckled. “Be certain to never sit beside Paul.”

  Sara cast a stealthy glance toward his brother-in-law. Paul seemed too engrossed in conversation to notice. “He canno’ sing?”

  “Not a note.” Christopher feigned horror. “It’s horrible. Dogs bark and howl for miles.”

  “He must no’ be very popular at caroling parties,” she observed.

  Christopher laughed outright. “No, but that doesn’t seem to affect how many invitations he and Dix receive.” He turned and leaned back against the sill. “Of course, I think his personality has something to do with that. That and Dix would call them to the carpet with hellfire and brimstone.”

  “Mr. Christopher,” she scolded. Then she laughed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Teddy somehow manipulated Sara to have a seat beside him during dinner.

  Carla, why does Teddy enjoy seeing just how quickly he can annoy, irritate, or even insult young ladies? Christopher clenched his jaw. I wonder if Paul will help keep Teddy off Sara’s arm this evening?

  “Christopher!”

  “Hm?”

  Dix threw up her hands. “For goodness sake! Will you stop glaring at your salad and answer my question?”

  Heat flared from neck to ears as he gathered up his salad fork. “What question?”

  Teddy laughed and gave Sara’s arm a nudge. “Top is always distracted just before an unveiling. A person can say just about anything and not get a single reaction.”

  Christopher noticed Sara sent him an extended glance, but those blue eyes darkened with concern and not laughter. “It wasn’t purposeful, Dix.” He shot Teddy a brief glare. “I suppose the week has caught up with me. Addressing and mailing invitations, organizing responses, organizing the display itself, and then accepting phone calls for Sara’s evening next Friday.”

  “Paul, isn’t it a thrill? It seems forever since the last unveiling.”

  Paul motioned toward Christopher with his fork, greens attached. “It will seem a bit of fresh air for you, Topper. Don’t you think?”

  “How so?” He toyed with a yellowish leaf.

  “Talking about art again; mingling with fellow artists and remembering a favorite thing. Opening yourself to inspiration.” Paul turned his attention to Sara, who focused on him only after a pause on Christopher’s expression. “Artists feed off the passion of others, building up their own intensity with it. Most of the time even using the energy to push themselves over a creative slump or”—Paul waved his fork—“or block, as it were.”

  “We’re attention gluttons,” Teddy observed, winking.

  “Attention gluttons my eye.” Dix scoffed. “Everyone needs a comment or two from someone other than family to let them know they’re talented. After all, a man is just a little boy in a larger frame, and doesn’t Paul like being complimented the same as a woman?”

  Paul chuckled as he refilled Dix’s wine glass. “No one is arguing your point, Sweet.”

  “As well they shouldn’t. It’s the truth.” Dix motioned to Sara. “Don’t you like hearing compliments on your stitchery? Oh, Chris! You should see the needlework pillow she did for me! Absolutely breathtaking. I feel guilty for accepting the gift.”

  Sara shyly smiled, Teddy watching her reaction with a smirk. Christopher frowned.

  “And the dresses and gowns?” Dix threw up her arms. “Dear Lord! She’s adjusted hers and begun adding unique touches of tatting, crocheting, or ribbon work. She’s begun the same with mine as well, though I didn’t ask her to do it. She’s marvelous!”

  “It was my pleasure to do,” Sara whispered. “No one said much about my crafts before.”

  Dix scoffed.

  “Why haven’t I been given any fancy stitched thing?” Teddy’s gaze still focused on Sara.

  All four looked to Teddy. Sara paled. “P-Pardon?”

  “Well, everyone else has something made by you. Can’t I get something?”

  Christopher frowned. “Teddy, you know as well as I do that you wouldn’t know what to do with any ‘fancy stitched thing’.”

  “I keep a kerchief in my pocket, don’t I?”

  “If you can call that scrap of shirt a kerchief.”

  “All the more reason for me to get one.”

  Christopher thrust his plate away. “Oh for God’s sake.”

  “O-of course I can make you a kerchief, Mr. Parker.” Sara peeked at Christopher. “It will just take a day or so.”

  Teddy grinned. “Wonderful. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Christopher scoffed.

  “Chris, let him have his way. You know he’ll pout and whine if he doesn’t.”

  “Dix, I’m not a child!”

  “Oh really now? I’ve yet to see the proof.” She paused long enough to allow the kitchen staff to take away the salad plates and place the soup. “You know better than anyone that you pout.”

  “No, I protest. That’s different.”

  Dix waved it aside. “Has Chris told you who he’s inviting to the unveiling?” Sara shook her head. “What? Chris, why haven’t you told her?”

  “And have her fret the entire evening about who thought what? Not likely.”

  “You’re being over-enthusiastic, Top. Sara can handle the knowing.”

  “It’s a simple teaser,” Christopher reminded his friend, “and I’m taking my role as sponsor to heart. Unless she tells me otherwise, I won’t say who I’ve invited.”

  Sara peeked up at him. “I do no’ need to know.”

  “But—”

  Christopher set down his spoon. It clinked against his soup plate. “Dix.”

  “Very well. I surrender. I’ll find out when I arrive and then tell her later anyway.”

  Teddy smirked. “I don’t doubt it.”

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means. You talk too much.”

  Dix’s eyebrow arched. She set her soup spoon down with deliberate calm, her napkin beside the utensils. “You base this assumption on what?”

  “Only saying the truth as I see it,” Teddy said. His focus hadn’t yet shifted from the duty of eating his soup. Christopher found it interesting that his friend couldn’t hear the irritation in his sister’s tone.

  “Theodore, if not f
or company, my bowl of soup would be in your lap.”

  Sara watched the exchange through wide eyes, as if she expected the two to come to blows.

  “Here now!” Paul waved his napkin. “You two would do well to call a truce.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Teddy said. “She knows I’m pulling her leg.”

  “Oh?” Paul motioned toward his wife. “Does that seem to be the expression of a woman enjoying a good joke? Does she know not to kick you out on your ear the next chance she has?”

  Teddy laughed, until he caught Dix’s hard brown gaze. “Gads, Dix!” His ears and face flushed crimson. “I know you don’t talk any more than I do. Why do you think I said something?”

  “I am not amused.”

  “Come along, Sweet. Let him off easy tonight. There’s always tomorrow.”

  “Very well. Mark my words, Theodore, your day is coming, and when Paul will be unavailable to rescue you from your own quick tongue.”

  The remaining portion of dinner was eaten to the accompanying stories of Paul and Dix’s recent adventures in New York, including art displays at other galleries, excursions to museums, and the never-ending visits to the elder Lake’s. Sara listened with her usual rapt attention. Christopher couldn’t help but watch her. She reminded him of Gwyn.

  After dinner they moved to the sitting room to visit over coffee and tea.

  “Chris, I wondered if you might consider the idea of teaching Sara to use watercolors.”

  Christopher frowned as Teddy approached Sara with an accompanying gesture toward the hall. “Hm?”

  Paul glanced toward the pair as Sara accepted Teddy’s offer and set aside her teacup. “After the excitement of the display, naturally,” Paul said, smirking, “as I don’t believe you should juggle both at the same time.”

  Christopher rubbed at the face of his golden pocket-watch as Teddy lead Sara out of sight. He wrestled his attention back to his brother-in-law. “Did she mention something?”

  “Not in so many words. Though I do believe she would enjoy the opportunity. You know she wouldn’t muster the courage to ask you herself.”

  “Fine idea. I’ll ask her now.” Christopher brushed past the two to exit the sitting room to the hallway—A sharp smack echoed through the hallway and propelled Christopher around the corner. As he feared, Sara stared up at his friend with wide eyes, shielding her mouth in surprise. Teddy stood across from her, slack-jawed.

  Christopher strode forward and caught Teddy by the arm. “I think you need some air.” He dragged his red faced and stammering friend to the back garden. “What are you doing? She’s under my protection, Parker, and you take advantage of her?”

  “I-It’s not what you think!”

  “Not what I think?” Christopher wanted to shake the man. “Sara Little is by far the gentlest of God’s creatures and she slapped your face! What should I think?”

  “I don’t know,” Teddy stammered, “but it—”

  “This is your final warning, Parker. Behaviors such as these will stop immediately!” Christopher stalked back inside, slamming the garden door behind him.

  Sara hurried forward. “M-Mr. Christopher, he did no’ mea—”

  “I know all too well what Parker meant.” He took her hands in his. “I apologize, Sara. I’ve warned him time and again that he’s to be on his best behavior. It seems he doesn’t take me seriously.”

  “He is not as awful as you believe.”

  Christopher held her gaze. “You have a lot of patience for the undeserving.”

  She flushed and looked away.

  Fourteen

  Unveiling

  26 January 1894

  Christopher straightened the lapels of his jacket, observing his reflection in the mirror and ignoring Teddy’s sidelong glances.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t ask her again,” his friend finally admitted.

  “I told you, Teddy, when I asked her earlier she said ‘no’.” He adjusted his black bow-tie and suit-coat.

  “Yes, but she had hardly been here long enough to make a footprint!” Teddy nudged Christopher out of the way and adjusted his own charcoal suit-coat and tie, smoothing down an errant lock of red hair. “You didn’t ask her again since.”

  “I have no intention of putting her at your mercy tonight. Just remember how much of a fool you made of yourself after dinner that Monday, and Dix without another invitation for your return, I notice.” Christopher turned away to the tables of refreshments. Everything stood in order.

  “Don’t be a stick in the mud,” Teddy protested. “Sara took it all in fun.”

  “Ted, she slapped your face without pause. How is that ‘all in fun’?”

  Teddy’s ears reddened. “I did not mean the kiss.”

  “There was none, Ted.” Christopher pushed past him toward the gallery entrance. “If it hadn’t been for her standing there, I would have thrashed you. I warned you about your behavior.”

  “I know! I apologized, Top. Too much wine and watching her laugh most of the evening.”

  “I attended the same dinner party, Teddy.” He unlocked the wooden double doors to keep from back handing his friend. At times he could be more dense than his marble sculptures. “I don’t recall needing to dodge a sharp strike.”

  “Stop rubbing it in. How could you survive the entire evening without even a touch of lip on hand—Have you noticed she smells of lilacs?”

  “Teddy, please.” Christopher passed to the small room displaying Sara’s story cycle. He had noticed a recent fragrance of lilacs and vanilla, to be honest. He adjusted the angle of a sketch, double-checked the note cards with the artwork and gave a slight nod.

  When he faced the doorway, Teddy leaned against it with arms crossed. “What?”

  “Top, how can you be so casual about her? You visit practically every morning for coffee?”

  “In case you forgot, I happen to be her sponsor. Would you rather I ignore her? Besides, I want to encourage a friendship, and I would like to think I have done so.”

  Teddy grimaced. “Who wants to be friends with a goddess like her?”

  “Parker, there is more to women than the curve of a supple hip and velvet softness of rose lips. The sooner you realize that, the sooner a lady will accept your proposal and put you out of your misery.” He shoved through as the first group of guests entered the gallery.

  ~ ~ ~

  “And the doors have been opened.”

  Sara lifted her gaze from the intricate needlepoint design. She smiled. Dressed in crimson brocade with inset roses of black, Dixon Donovan presented a picture of romantic elegance. “You are beautiful, mum.”

  Dix’s smile softened as she entered the observatory. “Sara, I cannot thank you enough for your diligence all this week stitching these lovely ribbon-worked flowers along the hem and bodice. I will be the envy of every woman there.”

  “The least I could do, mum, for your graciousness.”

  “Yes, love, I know. But I’m still of the mind I don’t deserve your talent rained upon me.” She sat on the edge of the chair across from her. “I’ve come to persuade you to join us. This will be my last attempt before I admit defeat. We can call you something other than ‘Sara Little’. No one will know you’re the artist. Come along. It will be great fun.”

  “Thank you for the invitation, mum, but I’ll wait here.” Sara returned her gaze to the design and began again. “In my life there have been parties aplenty. This is the first when I have leave to stay home. Your brother said I should do as many firsts as I can, so I will stay home and finish this project. Maybe read a bit?”

  Laughing, Dix gave Sara’s knee a gentle squeeze just as Paul came to the doorway. “Ready, Sweet?”

  “Coming, darling.” She stood. “You cannot stay distant from all the parties, love.”

  “Oh no, mum. I have a whole closet of gowns to wear.”

  “Very well then. With that assurance given, I shall leave you in peace.”

  Dix accepted
Paul’s kiss. Sara watched the pair with a wistful smile.

  “See you this evening, my dear,” Paul called.

  Then the door closed behind them and Sara heard the carriage rumble away. She released a sigh and focused on the needlepoint project in her lap, her smile fading. “You goose.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Sara’s art caused a sensation, much as Christopher knew it would. All evening his guests bombarded him with questions about the unknown artist. No one voiced a single negative comment, except there were too few on display and those not for sale.

  A hiss directed his focus to Teddy. His friend beckoned. “What is it?”

  “You won’t believe who just arrived." Teddy motioned behind to the main lobby.

  Christopher passed to the main entrance—Sara doffed her satin-lined wool coat to reveal a gown of navy velvet the rich blue of a winter’s night.

  “My God,” Teddy whispered just behind him.

  Christopher swallowed a firm lump. Her mahogany tresses, gathered upon the crown of her head, had been woven through with blue and silver ribbons that sparkled in the light of the hall. Her shoulders and neck were bare save a necklace of fine silver, a simple pearl suspended at its center.

  Moving forward on silver slippers, Sara’s sapphire eyes explored the milling crowd. Several men attempted to dissuade her progress, but she only offered them a kind smile and a “Have you seen Mr. Lake?”

  “I thought you said she wouldn’t be here!”

  “That is what she told me.” Christopher frowned, thinking back.

  Then Sara’s gaze met his and her smile dazzled the room. She curtsied to the man still attempting conversation. “I found him. Thank you.” Then she stood in front of him amidst the distinct aroma of lilacs and vanilla.

  Sara curtsied and offered a merry, “Good evening, Mr. Lake,” as she presented a silver-gloved hand.

  Christopher enfolded her hand in his, returning her gentle clasp. “I’m delighted you decided to attend—”

  “Miss Kreyssler,” she finished with a hesitant smile. “Curiosity won the battle, sir.” Her English accent lilted in perfect harmony with the music in the background.