by Olivia Miles
“How do you guys know each other?” Posy asked as she began transferring flower arrangements into boxes that would keep them steady on the short drive to Crestview. They were lovely: blue hydrangeas for the front hall, roses for the upstairs bedrooms, and a colorful variety of snapdragons that would be perfect in the parlor.
Sarah decided that this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. Posy was curious, just like she would be if the situation were reversed.
But there was no good explanation. Other than the truth.
“I got to talking with him when he was handing out flyers for the estate sale,” she said, hoping that this would satisfy her friend. But Posy’s eyes just widened a notch and she blinked, waiting for the next part of the story. “I had a few days off work this week so I offered to help him out.”
“Sort of like a side job?” Posy’s brow knitted.
Sarah gave a little shrug. “Sort of. Yeah.” After all, she wasn’t being paid, per se. It was more of a trade. And the benefit was far better than a paycheck. “He’s a nice guy. But, he’s only in town through this weekend.”
Posy pursed her lips, as if that was all she needed to hear. And really, it should have been all Sarah needed to hear, too.
With a sigh, she picked up one of the arrangements and carried it out to her car. It took them three trips to get everything loaded up and secure, the boxes tucked tightly together and packed with newspaper to make sure the vases didn’t shift or tip in transit.
Sarah checked her watch, realizing with a start that the estate sale was in less than an hour. “I should probably go,” she said.
“Have fun,” Posy said, a little cheekily.
Sarah just shook her head as she pulled her sunglasses onto her face and opened the door.
Fun. It was hard work. A deal. A bargain they had struck. But somewhere along the way it had become fun, hadn’t it?
***
The estate sale was scheduled to start at ten, and by eleven, Chris was starting to look anxious. “I guess I can just hire someone to clear out the place if no one comes by,” he finally said. He’d been pacing the front hall for the better part of the hour.
“True,” she said, but she sensed the hesitation in his voice. She’d sensed his hesitation all morning, ever since she’d arrived with the flowers. “The house looks beautiful. People will come. And when they do, I’m sure there’s a lot here they’d like.”
“Have you seen anything you wanted?” he asked, turning from the door.
She had been so caught up in the cleaning and painting, and well, conversation the last few days that she’d forgotten she had meant to keep an eye out for something for Hannah’s wedding gift. Hannah would love something from this old house, she was sure of it, but not just anything. Something that fit her personality. A photograph. An old camera.
Or maybe just her own photos taken here, at her own wedding, Sarah thought with a smile. After all, what could top that?
“Did you set aside everything you wanted to keep?” Sarah asked Chris now. Even though he seemed adamant that he didn’t need or want anything from this house, he’d been quiet all morning, and his smile seemed a little forced and didn’t quite meet his eyes, even when she set out all the flower arrangements and they took a step back to admire them.
“There was one thing I always loved. My uncle had a watch. He wore it every day. It was old and you had to wind it up and he would let me do it when I visited as a kid. I always liked that watch.”
“Did you check the bedroom?”
“I checked the usual places,” Chris said, looking resigned.
“Well, then let’s check the unusual places,” Sarah said, reaching for the banister. “Remember what I said about inheriting a seaside mansion? You have to explore all the nooks.”
“You’re not one to give up, are you?” Chris remarked, but there was a gleam to his eyes again that she hadn’t seen since last night when she’d left.
The master bedroom of the house was one they had invested a lot of time in, removing the old drapes, washing the linens, setting a bouquet of roses on the mantle and another, smaller clipping from the garden on the long chest of drawers. Sarah started there, but of course most of the drawers were empty.
“I went through those on my first day,” Chris explained. “There didn’t seem to be any reason to hold onto clothes, and Jim wanted the closets cleared out.”
Of course. It made sense.
“Let’s check another bedroom then,” she said, but each of the other rooms proved the same. Bare surfaces that had been dusted and polished, and empty drawers. “What about a safe?” she asked. In a house this big, it couldn’t be uncommon.
Chris frowned and led her downstairs to Marty’s office, where sure enough, they found a safe behind one of the seascapes that were similar to the ones she’d found in the attic.
“Well what do you know?” Chris shook his head in wonder.
“Do you have the combination?” Sarah asked.
“The lawyer never said anything about it. I suppose I could call and ask. Or a locksmith.” He reached for his phone, but Sarah stopped him.
“My guess is that it’s a date. Something important to him.” She wondered if she should even say it, and then thought, why not? She worked at Bayside Brides. It was her dream job. She loved weddings. And even her own disappointments couldn’t stop her from thinking that. “A wedding anniversary perhaps?”
Chris frowned. “I don’t know when he was married. It was before I was born.”
Sarah walked over to Marty’s desk. Next to the leather ink blotter was a single silver-plated frame. It was his wedding photo, she had seen it many times when she was cleaning this room, but now she saw the etching in the bottom. She tapped it. “There. That’s the date.”
Chris shrugged. “Worth a try.”
He walked over to the lock and turned it a few times, laughing out loud when it clicked and then opened. “How did you know?”
Sarah shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
Chris reached inside and pulled out the watch. It was gold and heavy, a big watch, a man’s watch, and Sarah could see why he would love it. “That’s certainly a keepsake,” she said as he turned it over in his hands.
“It has an engraving,” Chris said, peering closer. “It’s from Marty’s wife. I never knew her.”
“It’s probably why he wore it every day,” she said and felt her heart began to do that little patter it always did when she watched one of those sappy movies on television.
Chris frowned, catching her, but a quirk soon lifted the corners of his mouth. “I thought you didn’t believe in love and happy endings and all that,” he told her.
Ah. So he’d been listening. “Well…just not in my personal experience.”
“Mine either,” he said a little sadly. He hooked the watch onto his wrist and admired it.
“It looks nice,” she said. “Is there anything else in there?”
He reached inside and pulled out a few necklaces, some earrings, and a bracelet. “These aren’t real,” he said, and Sarah nodded. They were costume jewels, like the ones that they sold at the shop. “Why keep them in here?”
“Sentimental value,” Sarah said. She smiled as she reached for them. They were lovely, delicate and polished with sparkling pink gemstones. “He held onto the past.”
“More like he never moved on from it.” Chris gave her a strange look when she met his eyes, and for a moment, the air seemed to stall in her lungs. Just as quickly, he cleared his throat. “You can have them, if you’d like. Consider it a thank you for everything.”
“The only way you need to thank me is by letting me use the space for Hannah’s wedding,” she said, holding the jewelry out to him.
He held up a hand. “Not for cleaning the house. For…well, for helping me get through it. I thought this week was going to be pretty bad, but it was actually really nice.”
Sarah felt her cheeks flush and she turned quickly, before he could see. “I’ll
go put these in my bag, for safekeeping.” She walked through to the parlor, where sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, and she almost leapt backward when she saw Dottie Joyce pressing her face against the glass.
“I think our first visitor has arrived!” she called out to Chris, who quickly met her in the hallway. She glanced up at him. “Be warned,” was all she said.
Chris frowned at her but opened the door to reveal Dottie on the step, her eyes wide, her mouth pinched. Her wheels no doubt turning.
“Sarah Preston?” she said with overt interest. “I thought I saw you through the window. My, my, what brings you here?” She looked Chris up and down, clearly approving of what she saw.
“Hello, Dottie,” Sarah said, fighting off a sigh. She’d learned early into her days in Oyster Bay that in a town this small, sometimes it was best to dodge questions you didn’t want to answer. Besides, how could she even continue to answer these questions? There was nothing between her and Chris. And yet, there was certainly something.
“Chris Foster.” Chris extended his hand. “Marty’s nephew.”
“My,” Dottie said, blushing. “I’m Dottie Joyce, head of the Historical Society. I must say, this house appears to be in better condition than I expected. You’ve worked hard.”
“Oh, I had a helper.” Chris glanced at Sarah, giving her a grin, and Dottie’s eyes positively popped.
“My!” she said again, her mouth forming a perfect little circle.
Sarah could only shake her head. “It’s a beautiful house, Dottie, and I saw some seascapes that I thought you might enjoy. Some have birds, gulls, flying over the water.” It was no secret after Margo had been commissioned to redecorate Dottie’s home that the woman had a collection of birds: bird wallpaper, which Margo had succeeded in stripping, birdcages, and figurines of birds. “Some things might be nice to feature at the Historical Society, too.”
Dottie picked up a set of candlesticks and set them down with a long sigh. “It’s a shame that Oyster Bay doesn’t have a museum. So much history here! So much that could have been displayed!”
“Yes, well, why don’t I show you around?” Sarah offered, but it seemed that Dottie had a better idea.
“Perhaps this young gentleman might do the honor?”
Chris cut her a glance, but Sarah could only smile serenely. After all, he had been warned.
While they walked around, a few others from town stopped by, and several couples that Sarah didn’t recognize as well. Tourists, no doubt. By midafternoon they had sold off most of the seascapes, Marty’s old globe that sat in a corner of his office, a pile of music sheets, several mirrors, and a handful of hand-painted vases.
By the end of the day, Sarah was feeling downright optimistic, until she glanced out the window and saw a car pull up.
“Oh no,” Sarah said, her heart thudding. “It’s Chloe.”
Chris’s eyes sparked with interest as he pressed his face against the window. “Who’s Chloe?”
“My boss!” She grabbed his arm to pull him back. The last thing she needed was to raise any more suspicion with Chloe. Chris’s arm was warm and smooth, and she felt a rush of heat at the physical contact.
If he noticed, he didn’t react, but then, he was too busy having fun with her if the amusement in his grin said anything,
“Oh, this should be good.”
“No!” she warned, giving him a long, hard look that she was sure bordered more on fearful than fierce. “I’m in enough trouble already.”
He leaned in closer to the glass, and this time, no amount of tugging at his arm was going to pull him away from the window. Not that she minded the effort.
“Oh, yes. The blonde that I saw coming out of the flower shop. She’s looking up at the house.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. What was Sarah supposed to say? She had blown her cover now. She should have excused herself, quietly, let Chris deal with Chloe, and return when the coast was clear. None would have been the wiser. But now Chris was determined to mess with her.
“She doesn’t look mean,” he said, turning to give her a crazy look.
Sarah shifted the weight on her feet impatiently. “I never said she was mean. I just said she’s…well, she’s a perfectionist.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you’re not?” He glanced back through the window and then said excitedly, “She’s almost here!”
That was it. Sarah turned, hoping to make a spring for it, but now it was Chris’s hand on her arm, pulling her back, and oh…it was hard to resist. Firm but soft enough to spread warmth through her body.
She went along with him, hoping he would drop his hand, and then feeling disappointed when he did. She didn’t need the temptation. Besides, the last thing she needed was Chloe to walk in to them having some kind of wrestling match.
“Fine,” she said, however reluctantly. She smoothed her shirt, pulling in a breath for courage. But when the door opened and Chloe looked around the hall, and her eyes finally locked with Sarah’s, all her confidence seemed to pool at her feet.
“Sarah?” Chloe looked at her in confusion and then, more uneasily said, “Funny running into you here.”
“I’m Chris Foster,” Chris said, stepping forward to extend a hand. Sarah saw the flush in Chloe’s cheeks as she shook it, and Sarah couldn’t help but feel a wave of jealousy. Chloe was pretty. Painfully put together. Today she was wearing a simple pink shift dress that matched her perfect mani and pedi. Her metallic strappy sandals looked like they had never been worn, even though Sarah had seen her in them dozens of times. Her hair was smooth and glossy and she’d probably never experienced a split end since trims were on her calendar, booked in advance, like a dentist appointment. It wasn’t that she was vain. She was just…perfect.
And Sarah, in her jean cut-offs and grey tee shirt, was far from it. And Chloe had managed to point that out, more than once now.
“Chloe Larson,” Chloe said, dropping her hand.
“Chloe and I work together,” Sarah said, and then reddened. They did work together. Tomorrow’s meeting would determine if they still did.
“Ah, so you work for the bridal salon then?” Chris said enthusiastically, and Sarah watched him warily, wondering where he was going with this, hoping that he was just being friendly, scoping out the situation before sending Chloe off to peruse what remained of the estate sale.
Sarah racked her brain to think of something Chloe might find interesting. “I saw a lovely jewelry case in one of the bedrooms that made me think of you,” she said, but before Chloe could reply, Chris leaned against the doorjamb, settling in for a nice long chat.
Oh, no.
“Well, I hope the weather cooperates for the wedding you’re planning,” Chris said casually.
Sarah’s eyes burst open. No! He wasn’t supposed to say anything. Not yet. Not when Sarah hadn’t even told Chloe yet. She was saving it, for Monday’s meeting. Except now, she wasn’t sure why she was putting it off. Chris had proven he was keeping up his end of the bargain, and she had certainly kept up hers, if three split nails, an aching back, and overwhelming fatigue said anything.
“Wedding?” Chloe glanced at Sarah in confusion. “What wedding?”
Here it went. Sarah licked her bottom lip and took a deep breath. “Mr. Foster has agreed to let us use the space for Hannah’s wedding.”
Oh, the look on Chloe’s face. What Sarah would have done in that moment to have had her cell phone handy so she could snap a photo, but the memory of it would be seared in her memory, she was sure. Half surprise, half astonishment. Total disbelief.
“Actually, I didn’t agree at first,” Chris said, grinning over at Sarah. “But Sarah convinced me. She must be quite an asset to your business.”
Chloe said nothing, but just nodded, blinking in confusion as she stood in the hallway, trying to process everything. Finally, she said, “Have you told Hannah yet?”
Sarah would have loved nothing more than to tell the Donovan sisters the news, but she knew th
at technically, it wasn’t her place. “You’re planning the event for Hannah. I figured you should be the one to tell her.”
Something unreadable passed through Chloe’s eyes, and she made her excuses before slipping into the front parlor. Sarah sunk against the wall in relief, but she couldn’t deny the flutter when she caught Chris looking at her across the room.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her heart bursting with relief and gratitude.
He gave a modest shrug as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, but she could tell he was pleased. “So I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Bright and early,” she said, looking forward to it almost as much as she hated to leave.
And almost as much as she hated to believe that Melanie was right: she had given a guy who wasn’t her regular type a chance, and she’d gone and fallen for him.
Chris winked at her and then walked into the dining room, leaving her alone in the bright, sunny entryway of a house that had suddenly started to feel an awful lot like home.
If only Chris could see it that way too.
Chapter Thirteen
News of the estate sale must have spread, because by Sunday morning, there were four cars in the driveway ten minutes before the designated start time. Dottie came back for the rest of the seascapes, as Sarah suspected she would, and the Harper and Donovan sisters stopped by to celebrate the good news that Chloe had clearly shared.
“I still can’t believe it,” Hannah kept saying, over and over again. “When the winery flooded, I thought my wedding was ruined, but now…Well, it’s like it was meant to be.”
Sarah had smiled to herself, wondering if such a thing were true. Once she would have said so, and a week ago she wouldn’t have, but this week, well, this week she almost dared to believe in fate again.
Margo picked out some items for a client whose dining room she was designing—a curio cabinet with clean lines that she said she would be painting white—and Bridget bought a few crystal bowls for the inn.
