“I knew it.” Janelle flashed Vicki a knowing look.
“Ha! You should have heard her last week, before she knew he was in town,” Vicki said. She fisted her hands on her hips and began a spot-on imitation of Sandra’s voice. “‘Isaiah was just a high school sweetheart. I think about him as much as I do Mrs. Sterling’s chemistry class or after-school cheerleader practice, which is never.’”
Janelle snorted. “She did a lot more than think about him.”
Sandra ate her bread while her friends continued to talk about her as if she wasn’t sitting with them.
“She brushed me off as some kind of romantic sap when I told her I always thought they’d end up together,” Vicki said. “I know a happily-ever-after in the making when I see one.”
Swallowing the last of her bread, Sandra held up her hands in a halting motion. “Whoa, slow down, the both of you.”
This was exactly why she hadn’t planned on confiding to them or anyone that she’d had sex with Isaiah. And boy, had she ever, over and over again. Sandra shoved aside the illicit images the weekend had left imprinted on her brain.
“Isaiah and I are not dating. We are not a couple. We’re simply old friends,” she said.
Vicki opened her mouth, but Sandra cut her off, determined to put a stop to any talk of romance before it started.
“Friends,” she reiterated.
Janelle winked at Vicki. “Yeah, Ballard and I were friends in Tahiti, too.” She raised her martini glass and clinked it against Vicki’s wineglass.
“Really close friends,” Vicki added.
“Friends that get naked.” Janelle turned her attention back to Sandra. “Just like you and Isaiah.”
Rolling her eyes skyward, Sandra shook her head. “You two are a mess.” She craned her neck and looked around the restaurant’s dining room in search of their waiter. “Where is our food, anyway? You two need something to occupy your mouths other than my business.”
Janelle held up a finger. “Just one question.”
Sandra sighed. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Was the sex worth the ten-year wait?”
Both she and Vicki leaned in, awaiting her reply, and Sandra couldn’t hold back the smile she knew was spreading across her lips.
“Hell, yes!”
The three of them were laughing when the waiter arrived with their entrées. As they dug into their seafood dishes, often sampling from each other’s plates, Janelle filled them in on her tropical honeymoon and first days of marital bliss with Ballard.
Janelle was still talking all things marriage when their plates had been cleared, and the waiter returned with a huge slice of chocolate cake and three forks.
“It all sounds so romantic.” Vicki cut into the layers of chocolate and frosting with her fork, but her eyes were on Janelle. “Why didn’t you stay longer?”
“We wanted to stay at least another week, but I needed to be back in time for Election Day tomorrow,” she said. “The polls are still showing Oliver Windom running ahead of my dad.” Janelle glanced at her gold wristwatch. “In fact, I probably should be going soon. I’m still jet-lagged, and I want to be at Dad’s campaign headquarters bright and early tomorrow morning to start working the phones.”
Sandra fell silent. Jordan’s calculations had the election close, but tilting in Windom’s favor. So far, she’d managed to stay neutral in the politics that landed her brother and her best friend on opposite sides, and she planned on keeping it that way.
Besides, she had a personal interest in tomorrow’s election that had nothing to do with the highly publicized Ballard-Windom race. Sandra would be keeping a close eye on the returns in the Massachusetts governor’s race.
Depending on how it turned out, she might have the honor of dressing the state’s first lady for the gubernatorial inaugural ball.
* * *
The aroma of tonight’s macrobiotic meal selection greeted Isaiah as he walked through the back door of his parents’ house.
Oh, hell no.
Hoping they hadn’t heard him come in, he took a step backward in hopes of quietly easing undetected out the same door he’d just come through.
“Isaiah,” his father called out.
Groaning inwardly, Isaiah closed the door behind him.
Sure enough, his mother was bringing one of the delivered meals to the table. He glanced at the serving platter. The food on it was brown, apparently a bean and grain dish, smothered in seasonal autumn vegetables. It looked about as appetizing as his shoe.
“Just in time for dinner.” A smirk accompanied Ben’s words.
“Um, no thanks,” Isaiah said quickly.
“Oh, come on.” His father’s cajoling tone belied the devilish gleam in his eyes.
Isaiah spared the meal another glance. “I’m not hungry.”
“Nonsense.” His father kicked the empty chair from under the table with his foot, and the chair legs scraped against the floor. “Surely, you can sit down to a delicious family dinner with your sweet mama and sickly old dad.”
Isaiah shot him a laser-beam side-eye, and Ben coughed for effect.
“It would be nice for the three of us to have dinner together,” his mother said. “After all, you’re only going to be with us for a few more weeks.”
Isaiah sighed. He’d missed them, too. Still, as he washed his hands and took the chair his father had pushed out for him, he wished they were sitting down to a meal of steaks off the grill.
Cecily heaped a serving of the entrée onto her husband’s plate and set it in front of him. She then did the same for Isaiah, before serving herself.
“Thanks, Mom.” The manners drilled into him by his parents and the military automatically kicked in. Isaiah stared down at the mound of brown with steam curling off it and tried to think of something nice to say. “Um...it looks...”
“Like a pile of horseshit,” his father declared.
The boisterous laughter of the Jacobs men filled the kitchen, both oblivious to the frown on the face of the family matriarch.
“Lord, it’s like sitting at the table with two little boys,” Cecily huffed, when the laughter died down to snickers. “You two haven’t even tried it.”
She looked expectantly from her husband to her son. “It’s packed with nutrients and is good for us.”
Isaiah picked up his fork and poked at the food on the plate. His father nudged him with an elbow. “You heard your mother. Eat up, boy. It’s good for you,” he said.
“Why don’t you set an example and eat yours first,” Isaiah countered.
The two laughed again, and this time Cecily was unable to resist joining in.
“We’re all going to eat it,” she said, then shoveled a forkful into her mouth.
Isaiah and his father reluctantly followed suit. It wasn’t much on taste, but Isaiah had no complaints about the company. He listened as his parents filled him in on their weekend. The two of them had essentially gone only a few miles up the road, but it appeared to have done them a lot of good.
Ben still looked tired, but Isaiah was heartened to see that the fine lines and dark circles around his eyes seemed to have diminished since he’d last seen him on Friday. In fact, both his parents appeared to be in great spirits.
“Glad you two had a fun weekend,” Isaiah said.
“We did,” they stated simultaneously, exchanging glances.
His father cleared his throat. “Actually, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”
A sense of unease came over Isaiah, dampening what up until now had been a pleasant evening. The last time his father had said those words had been over a week ago, when he’d broken the news of his prostate cancer diagnosis.
Ben reached across the table and took his wife’s hand. Isaiah looked at the
ir laced fingers. While he knew his parents loved each other, he’d rarely seen displays of affection between them when he’d been growing up.
In some ways, they’d seemed more like business partners than man and wife. Most of their conversations and activities had centered on Martine’s Fine Furnishings.
“Your father and I have decided to sell the company,” his mother said.
Stunned, Isaiah stared at them, dumbfounded, looking from one to the other. “What?”
“We made the decision over the weekend, son,” his father said.
“I—I don’t understand.”
They both were absolutely devoted to the company, which had been in his mother’s family for generations. All his life, Martine’s had been their top priority.
His mother said pretty much the same thing as she began to explain her reasons for selling. “This weekend gave your father and me time to do some soul-searching,” she said. “We’ve made the business our entire life at the expense of each other and you.”
Ben nodded, still holding his wife’s hand. “We’re fortunate the cancer was caught in the early stages, and my prognosis is excellent. Still, facing your mortality crystalizes what’s important and what’s no longer worth your time.”
Trying to absorb the news, Isaiah turned to his mother. “But just the other night you were on my case about duty and legacy.”
“I only told you what your grandfather told me when he put me in charge of Martine’s,” she said. “I devoted a good chunk of my life to that company. So has your father.”
Her features softened as she smiled at her husband. “From now on my duty is to my marriage and you. I’ll fulfill the Martine legacy by making sure the company goes to a buyer prepared to take it into the future.”
“Sounds like your minds are made up,” Isaiah said.
His mother nodded. “We’ve already set the wheels in motion and hope to find a buyer soon.”
Isaiah’s eyes rounded. “That was fast.”
Cecily laughed. “Now that we’ve made the decision to put it up for sale, we can’t get rid of it soon enough. We’re looking forward to spending some time together.”
“That’s where you come in, son,” Ben said. “We have a favor to ask of you.”
“What do you need?”
They exchanged glances before his mother spoke. “Your father and I would like you to keep an eye on things at Martine’s.”
Isaiah began to shake his head, until his father interjected, “Only temporarily, while you’re in town. This isn’t some trick to try to shackle you to the company or Wintersage,” he quickly explained. “I just don’t want to wait until we find a buyer to take my favorite girl out for some fun.”
“He’s talking about going to Disney World,” his mother said with a giggle.
A giggle. His mother never giggled.
At the sound of it, Isaiah could only nod his head. He had the next two years to immerse himself in his art. Meanwhile, his parents’ ecstatic expressions were worth a few short weeks of his time.
Chapter 10
Sandra switched off the overhead track lights at Swoon Couture at four o’clock on the dot and bounded down the staircase of the Victorian.
“Where are you off to so fast?” Vicki stood at the entrance to Petals on the first floor, holding a bunch of purple and yellow New England aster blooms in her hand. She leaned against the doorjamb, eyes narrowed. “I know Janelle took off for Election Day to help her dad, but you usually don’t leave until at least seven.”
“I need to vote, and then swing by the grocery store.”
Hit by a sudden wave of paranoia, Sandra opened her red leather bag and shifted through its contents. She found her shopping list in the bag’s front pocket and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Grocery store? Why in the world would you...” Vicki stopped midsentence, and her jaw dropped as realization dawned. “You didn’t call off the bet with your father, did you?”
Sandra shook her head slowly. She watched her friend’s eyes roll toward the ceiling.
“For goodness’ sakes, why not? We both know there’s no way you’ll win.”
A few days ago, Sandra had felt the same way. Only one thing had changed.
Isaiah.
He’d had her believing just maybe she could win. Her mind conjured up an image of the two of them taking the Chevelle out for a spin after she won the bet. With the wind in their faces and an endless open road before them, just like that day he’d gotten his driver’s license and taken her for a ride in his truck.
A shiver shimmied down her back at the thought of him, and the fact that she’d be seeing him tonight.
“What are you grinning about?”
Vicki’s question snapped her out of her thoughts. Sandra avoided her friend’s assessing eyes. “I am not grinning.”
“Next you’re going to tell me it has nothing to do with your friend Isaiah,” she said.
Sandra shrugged. “He’s helping me learn my way around the kitchen so I can win the bet, that’s all.”
Vicki snorted and shook her head. “Then you’d better stop by the store’s pharmacy aisle to pick up something for upset stomach,” she said. “Isaiah may not be your knight in shining armor, but he’ll need a stomach made of armor if he’s foolish enough to eat your cooking.”
Sandra opened her mouth to protest, but thought of the cayenne-pepper incident and snapped it shut. As she pushed open the front door of the Victorian, Vicki called out to her, “Be careful!”
“I’ll try not to burn my house down,” Sandra joked in reply.
“I’m not talking about cooking.” Her friend’s tone turned serious. “I’m talking about with your heart.”
Sandra had shoved Vicki’s unnecessary warning aside by the time she unlocked her front door a short while later, juggling a purse and grocery sacks. She dumped the bags on the breakfast bar and hung her coat in the closet.
Isaiah had called a few minutes before, saying he was driving over. She resisted the urge to run a brush through her hair, apply a fresh coat of lip gloss and spritz on some perfume.
You’re just friends, Sandra silently reminded herself, thinking back to Vicki’s warning.
Sure, an undeniable physical attraction had always existed between them, she thought. However, unlike when they were teenagers, they’d acted on it often in the past few days. She was certain they’d have worked it out of their systems long before it was time for him to leave for London.
Shortly afterward, Sandra opened the door to Isaiah, surprised to see him wearing a dark cashmere overcoat instead of his leather jacket.
Before she could say hello, he pulled her into his embrace.
“I missed you last night.” His deep baritone made her body go all tingly and gooseflesh rise on the back of her neck.
Sandra braced her palms against his coat, which still held the night chill. She inhaled the faint smell of mint on his breath before he captured her mouth in a kiss.
She’d missed him, too.
Isaiah held her close, and his tongue stroked hers in a long, leisurely kiss that left her breathless. Afterward, he touched his forehead to hers. “You ready to cook?” he asked.
Sandra nodded and reluctantly peeled herself off him. Getting busy in the kitchen was the last thing on her mind, unless it involved them naked and figuring out a better use for her kitchen counter.
Isaiah shrugged off his coat. Underneath he wore a navy business suit in a slim European cut that made his wide shoulders look even broader and his abs appear even flatter than the six-pack she’d trailed her tongue down yesterday afternoon.
Sandra’s mouth went dry at the thought. She watched him loosen the knot on the tie, before shedding it and the suit jacket.
“You’re looking good tonight,” she
said.
It was an understatement. He looked sexy as hell in a suit, she thought, watching him roll up the sleeves on his white dress shirt.
“I spent the day working at Martine’s,” he said.
“Really?” Sandra dragged her gaze away from the corded muscle of his forearms.
Isaiah blew out a weary sigh. “Not permanently, just while I’m in town.”
Sandra only nodded as they made their way to the kitchen.
“I know what you’re thinking. That it’s some kind of ploy on my folks’ part to suck me into running the family business.”
“It did cross my mind.”
“I initially thought the same thing.” Isaiah dried his hands on a paper towel after washing them at the sink. “But they’re putting the business up for sale.”
“You’re kidding!” Sandra looked up from the ingredients she was assembling on the counter.
She and Isaiah had already decided on tonight’s menu of a green salad and pan-seared chicken breasts. They were working on holiday side dishes first, and this evening they’d planned to tackle stuffing.
After combing through the cookbooks, Sandra had found a recipe for a skillet apple stuffing. She figured it would be the best way to cover her father’s Thanksgiving dinner requests of stuffing and something with apples in one dish. He had said he wasn’t picky.
Isaiah filled her in on the details of his parents’ decision to sell the company that had been in his mother’s family for generations, as they stood side by side at the kitchen counter doing the prep work for the stuffing. He chopped apples, while Sandra cut baguettes into one-inch chunks.
“You should have seen them.” Isaiah slid the bread she’d chopped into the oven. “They seemed so...I don’t know, like a huge burden had been taken off their shoulders.”
“Yours, too,” Sandra said. “You can go to London free of a guilt trip for not working at the family business.”
They exchanged a glance of mutual understanding.
Falling into Forever (Wintersage Weddings Book 1) Page 11
