by Olivia Miles
“Because I thought I could take you,” she said, because for some reason she actually thought she might, if she really tried hard enough. That was just the problem with her, perhaps. She dared to dream, instead of accept a situation for what it was.
“And because I really think that we should paint a few of the rooms,” she said. “We should put fresh flowers in as many rooms as possible too.”
“Flowers!” But she could tell she had him considering it.
“You aren’t just having this estate sale to earn money,” she pointed out. He’d made that more than clear. “You need the place to look its best. For some people, it will be their first and only chance to see the inside of this house.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if Jim is giving you a slice of his commission,” Chris said. He leaned back on the doorjamb, looking out into the garden. “I don’t mind if you cut some of these flowers. The roses, maybe?”
Now it was her turn to gape. “Cut the roses? Absolutely not! Those roses have to be there for Hannah’s wedding! No. We will buy flowers. In town. I’m friends with the florist.”
“And the paint?” he asked.
Her heart started to speed up. She licked her bottom lip, not wanting to appear too eager. “I can pick that up in town, too.”
“We may as well go together,” he said with a shrug. “You rode your bike again, after all.”
True, that was true, but considering the work they had in front of them, it would have made sense for one of them to run the errand and the other to stay behind.
He wanted to go into town together. She would not be reading into that. After all, the man was probably procrastinating the work ahead of them. And there was no way that he’d know what color dusty rose was.
Right. There wasn’t anything more to it than that.
***
Chris parked his car at the edge of Main Street and hopped out. The sidewalks were busy, full of mothers with young children and retired couples holding hands. Sometimes he used to look at couples like that and wonder if that would be him and Jenna someday. But those thoughts had passed with time, just like the pain had lessened. Now, thinking of it, he felt a wave of guilt.
He slid his sunglasses down. There was no other way to hide in a town this small. Everyone waved or said hello as they walked by. A few people knew Sarah by name. He was happy to be out, away from the dust and the memories of that old, run-down house, and he slowed his pace, taking in the storefronts.
“We should hurry,” Sarah said, quickening her pace as they passed a shop that had topiaries in the front, the formal kind that his mother kept outside their family home in Cambridge.
“Bayside Brides,” he said, reading the sign above the door. He looked at it with interest. “Is that where you work?”
She glanced toward the storefront and then fixed her eyes straight ahead. “Yep.”
He stopped, lingering to take a longer look at the shop. Three wedding dresses were displayed in the window and through it he could see a frilly shop, with white chandeliers and pale blue walls and an oversized flower arrangement that he hoped wouldn’t be similar to what Sarah had in mind for Crestview.
“Nice place,” he said. “I imagine you guys get a lot of business this time of year.”
She nodded, still moving, not seeming to want to discuss it, and then, after a delay said, “Yes. It is quite busy. We used to only sell dresses and accessories, but we’ve expanded to wedding planning and custom gowns.” Her eyes seemed imploring. “We really should hurry.”
True, they should, but now she’d made him curious. “You didn’t need to be at work today?” He hadn’t considered this. “Are you on vacation this week?”
“Sort of.” Her glance was skittish when she looked at him, but a smile broke out on her face when they approached the next block. “Ah. Here we are. Morning Glory. Best flowers in Oyster Bay. Well, only flowers in Oyster Bay, but—”
She reached for the brass handle, only to drop it again, and then quickly shuffled backward and hurried down the next side street.
He stared at her, trying to understand what she was doing, and then walked closer to the flower shop window. He peered in, looking for a guy about their age, an ex-boyfriend, no doubt, but all he saw were two women talking at a counter near the back of the room.
“Sarah!” He looked down the street for her. Honestly, this was ridiculous. They had a lot to do, and she was running off on him?
“Shh!” she hissed loudly, looking so panicked that he pulled away from the shop window and jogged toward where she was now hiding, as best she could, behind a maple tree.
“What’s going on? Who are we hiding from?”
She swallowed hard. Her big blue eyes looked on the verge of tears. “My boss,” she finally said.
And then it dawned on him. “Did you call in sick? Did you play hooky to help me out at the house?” He almost felt bad, until he remembered their deal. The one she had struck.
But Sarah was shaking her head. She chewed her nail. Her eyes seemed big, worried under the hood of her lashes as she looked up at him, and he felt something in him shift. Something that he wanted to push back in its place nearly as much as he wanted to hold onto it. “It’s not that. I’m…I’m in trouble at work.”
He would have laughed out loud if she didn’t look so forlorn over that statement. “You’re in trouble at work?” He shook his head. She was having a go at him.“I don’t believe it. You’re a hard worker. I’d hire you.”
She grinned at him, but he could still see the hesitation in her eyes. “I messed up. I did something stupid. My boss suggested I take the week off to decide if the position is still right for me. That’s how I had the time off to help with the house.”
“Is she the blonde or the brunette?” It was all he remembered of the women he saw through the window.
“The blonde,” she said miserably. “So maybe you can just look up the street and tell me once she leaves the shop?”
“I can do that, once you tell me what you did to tick her off.”
She glared at him. “So now you’re striking a deal?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Fine.” She sighed as she leaned against the tree trunk. “I went into work the other day and said that…well, that I didn’t believe in love.”
He felt his eyebrows pop up. So she really wasn’t looking for romance. Now, to find out why.
“And a client heard,” she added, looking up at him miserably.
He let out a low whistle. “That probably didn’t go over well.”
“It didn’t.” Sarah pursed her lips, her eyes shifting to the side, as if she were reliving the events of that day. “And now I have to find a way to make Chloe believe that I’m a good fit for the business. That I want to be there. That’s why I pushed so hard to have that wedding at your estate. Chloe’s planning the event for our friend Hannah. Her venue fell through and she always loved Crestview’s garden.”
“And you thought this might convince your boss to let you keep your job.”
She nodded. “Are you still willing to help me?”
He frowned at her. “You’re the one helping me. And between you and me, I’m happy that your boss told you to take the week off.”
She gave him a rueful smile, and he was happy to see that she had relaxed a bit. “Ah, so it worked out for you that I got in trouble so I could help you fix up the house?”
“No, it worked out for me that you got in trouble so—” He stopped himself. He’d almost said what he’d been thinking. That he was grateful she got in trouble so that he could meet her. Spend time with her. But he couldn’t say that anymore than he could think it. Just like Sarah, he wasn’t looking for love. He was just looking to sell his house and go back to Boston. “So that you could help me paint.”
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was pleased. A moment later, he saw the blonde walk across the street and disappear out of view.
“I think the coast is clear
,” he said, jutting his chin toward Main Street.
“We should hurry,” she said, moving past him. “We have a lot of work to do and not much time left before the sun goes down.”
Not much time left in general, Chris realized, frowning to himself. Not much time left before the estate sale.
Not much time left with Sarah.
***
Posy looked up with obvious interest when they pushed into the shop a few minutes later. “You just missed Chloe!” she said, smiling broadly. Her eyes kept darting to Chris.
Sarah would have to explain him. But not yet.
“Oh, did I?” So she gathered that Chloe hadn’t revealed the situation over at Bayside Brides, or Sarah’s suspension, because that’s what it was, really. She had been suspended.
She could close her eyes with shame. But she wouldn’t. Not if she wanted to fix up that house in time for Hannah’s wedding. After all, the last thing she needed was for Chloe to think that she’d handed her a lemon.
“I’m actually here to order some flower arrangements. Something cheerful. Elegant.”
“For a wedding?” Posy asked, reaching for an order sheet.
“For an open house, actually,” Sarah said, and immediately she saw the confusion in Posy’s face. “This is my friend, Chris Foster. He’s holding an estate sale at Crestview Manor this weekend.”
Friend. It seemed a little presumptuous to use that word, but it felt true in a way, and Chris didn’t seem to balk at the term. Instead he smiled warmly and held out his hand to Posy, whose cheeks went a little pink when she took it.
“Estate sale! I’ll have to check it out.”
“You should,” Chris said eagerly. “And tell all your friends.”
Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell Chris that all of Posy’s friends were her friends, too, and that none of them could afford to buy that house, so instead she led him to a table of seasonal arrangements to get his opinion. “I’m thinking we should put one on the big table in the front hall. One in the dining room for sure. A few for the mantles. How many are there in total?”
He looked at her blankly. “Heck if I know.”
She laughed. “I’ve counted three downstairs at least, although one is in your uncle’s study, and I doubt we need flowers in there.”
Posy approached the table with a look of interest. “Did you need this by a certain day?”
“Saturday morning, if that works for you,” Sarah said. “I know it’s short notice.” And it was wedding season. Off the top of her head she could think of at least a dozen brides who had weddings this month.
She pushed back the stab of envy. Her time would come.
Or it wouldn’t. And somehow, she’d just have to stop feeling disappointed by that.
“Saturday will work,” Posy said. Her eyes lingered for a moment on Chris and then widened slightly on Sarah. “Will you be picking them up or should I drop them off?”
“I can pick them up,” Sarah said. She glanced at Chris. “On the way to your place.”
Now Posy looked like she was nearly going to burst from curiosity. “Saturday it is then.”
Sarah gave her a small smile. They seemed to be communicating in some sort of code. “Saturday.” Meaning, Saturday all of Posy’s questions would be answered, unless she tried to call Sarah before then.
The phone rang and Posy reluctantly went back to her post at the counter to take the call, leaving Sarah alone with Chris once more. She could tell that she wasn’t going to get very far asking for his opinion on matters, and that he probably didn’t care if there were flowers or not; he was just following her suggestion.
He trusted her. Her taste or her judgment, she couldn’t be sure. But it felt good to have someone believe in her. If only Chloe could follow his lead…
“I’ll put together some ideas and text them to Posy on the drive home,” she said, glancing at what was available. Something fresh and large in scale would probably be best. Nothing too stuffy to underscore the overly formal nature of the house. Some freesia would be nice. Maybe some hydrangea, too. Sunflowers in the kitchen would be cheerful.
And peonies. She stopped to drink in the smell of a particularly lovely arrangement of peonies in various shades of pink. “Oh, how I love peonies.”
“Never heard of them,” Chris said gruffly.
She blinked at him. He had never heard of peonies? “Then I guess you’ve never been married—”
She stopped herself. Closed her eyes. Remembered what her grandmother had said and the photo she had found. Chris had been married before. But maybe, unlike pretty much every bride who came through their shop, peonies were not a contender for her bouquet.
“Peonies are a huge favorite with our clients at Bayside,” she said quickly. She turned and glanced behind her, waving at Posy who was still on the phone, looking pained at the fact that they were leaving and she still didn’t quite know what to make of the situation.
Sarah almost had to laugh. Posy would be mighty disappointed come Saturday when she learned just how unromantic the situation was. There was no situation. Not really. It was a deal. Nothing else.
But when Chris set a hand on her elbow and stopped her in her tracks, her stomach took on a life all of its own. She stared at him, wondering if he was going to send her home then and there, no flowers, no paint swatches, nothing but another accusation that this had all been a giant mistake.
Instead he grinned, and the corners of his eyes went all crinkly. And damn it if her heartbeat didn’t do a little dance over that.
“Thanks, Sarah. I really couldn’t do this without you.” He squeezed her arm, and for a moment their eyes met and her stomach went all funny and fluttery.
She swallowed hard, mustering up a smile. She could almost fall for him. But she wouldn’t.
Chapter Eleven
Melanie had left three voicemail messages by the time Sarah bumped into her leaving her apartment on Friday morning. She’d barely had the energy to even shower last night before collapsing into bed, and she had to admit that she was dodging another round of suggestions from Melanie that she give love another chance.
She was dressed for another long day of hard, physical work: cut-off shorts, sneakers, and a tank top with a hoodie pulled over it for now, before the sun came out in full force. Melanie, on the other hand, was dressed for Bayside Brides. A navy sheath with a statement necklace in shades of rose gold and peach, and gold strappy heels that showed off a fresh pedicure.
Sarah stifled a sigh as she approached her friend, who was waving with enthusiasm. “Sorry I haven’t returned your calls,” she said wearily. “I’ve been sort of busy this week.”
“I’ll say!” Melanie’s eyes raked over her. Since coming to Oyster Bay and having a few fashion lessons from Abby Harper, Sarah rarely dressed in such casual clothes anymore. Melanie was onto her.
Sarah supposed she could blame it on a funk, being about to lose her job and all that, but there was no reason to keep secrets from Melanie. Melanie could be trusted.
“I’ve been working on Chris Foster,” she started, but by the excitement that immediately filled Melanie’s face, it was clear that her wording had been misinterpreted. “Not like that! For the wedding!”
Melanie didn’t look convinced. “Go on.”
“I’ve struck a deal with him. I help him get his house in order; he lets us have Hannah’s wedding there.”
Now that got Melanie’s attention. Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious? Does Hannah know yet? Chloe?”
Sarah shook her head and zippered her hoodie. It was still cool outside, but within an hour or two, she knew the sun would be in full force. And that house would be stifling.
“No, and I’m not planning on telling them yet. Not until I’ve seen the bargain through.”
“That makes sense,” Melanie agreed. “Right now I think they’re still resigned to the Harper House Inn. But you need to let them know soon. The wedding is two weeks from tomorrow.” Melanie transferred
her tote to her other shoulder. Sarah could see her sketchbook peeking out from the top—a reminder that Melanie’s life had fallen into place. She had a secure job that she loved, and she’d found love with her oldest friend.
It reminded Sarah of how vastly different her circumstances were.
“The estate sale is this weekend, and I’ll tell Chloe right after that,” she said. She was so close, but she had to see it through first. “Will you be able to stop by?”
Melanie shook her head. “I wish. With you gone, Chloe and I both have to cover the store on Saturday and Sunday, and that means we have to fit all of our other clients in during after hours.”
Sarah had to admit that she was secretly pleased to hear this. Still, another shop girl could be found. She had to be sure to prove to Chloe that she wouldn’t have luck finding one with the same drive and passion.
“All I can say is that Chloe had better keep you on if I have anything to do with it, and I do own half the business.”
Sarah shook her head. “If Chloe doesn’t want me there, I wouldn’t be comfortable staying. I’m just hoping that securing this venue for Hannah will be enough.”
“And Chris?” Melanie arched a brow.
“We’re just friends,” Sarah grumbled.
“Friends.” A little smile formed on Melanie’s lips. “That’s quite a leap from him being the giant jerk you described last time we spoke. Sounds to me like you’re actually giving him a chance.”
She had, Sarah realized, whether she’d wanted to or not.
“Well, I’ve gotten to know him better—” Sarah started, but it was no use. Melanie looked far too satisfied for her own good right now, and if Sarah didn’t know any better, she might even say her friend was gloating. “And I can assure, you, Melanie, that he is not looking for a relationship. He told me so.”
Melanie didn’t seem fazed. “So? You said the same and we both know that’s not true.”
Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but before she even bothered, she knew she’d lost that argument. And this was one time she was secretly pleased to admit defeat.
