Mushrooms, brushrooms—the man could be telling me Soviet secrets, and I couldn’t have cared less. I was entranced by his steady hand resting on the gearshift. It was an older hand…one that’d probably seen combat in the navy before he retired—seen his share of relationships, too. Like the horrid one he just got out of. Rebounder, rebounder. That’s what he was. I saw the image of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh in my head. Bouncing, bouncing, like a rebounder does. What did I care? I wasn’t even on his radar.
Boy, did I need to get me some young, unattached, un-rebounding male companionship soon. Some simple guy to take me out for tortilla chips and a movie he illegally streamed on his laptop. Whatever. I wouldn’t care this one time. I’d save my “thou shalt not commit piracy” speech this one time. I just needed distraction…and perhaps a small, insignificant peck at the end of the evening. Some physical contact to keep my jumping hormones at bay. I’d hate for one of those to sneak up on me, force me to reach out and touch something that wasn’t for touching.
“That’s fine. I’m not one on speeches. I’m looking forward to the food and dancing. Do you think there will be dancing?” Maybe dirty dancing with a hot waiter who, without his tray, could very well be considered an attendee.
“There always is. Although I don’t dance.”
“You don’t dance?”
“No. I promised myself a long time ago that I would never repeat my middle school spectacle I made of myself.”
I giggled, thinking about what could’ve happened. Must’ve been a long time ago. Were there hops back then?
“What happened?”
“Oh, there was a girl I liked.” He stroked his chin. “I think her name was Angie, and I asked her to dance.” He shook his head, obviously remembering the moment. “That was a disaster.”
“Certainly it couldn’t have been that bad,” I assured him.
He stole a look at me. “Oh but it was. You see, I made it a point of watching American Bandstand every Saturday and I thought I had it down. Boy was I wrong.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “What happened?”
“Let’s just say they weren’t used to all the fancy footwork I was putting out. I was laughed off the dance floor.”
I stopped smiling. “That’s their loss, I’m sure. You show me some of those moves tonight.”
“Not a chance. I’ve been scarred for life.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I looked around the parking lot as he drove to the front door of the large expo center. He parked the car and got out to come around to my side and open my door. The valet waited for me to get escorted in before he jumped behind the wheel and drove off. We stepped inside the large area and I couldn’t help but pause and look around. I’d never been in a place quite like it.
Floor-to-ceiling mirrors pressed against the walls and reflected a soft glow of the twenty or so chandelier lights. Round tables sat in the general area, while tables clothed in cream linens stretched as far as I could see with food. Ice sculptures were on two of them, and a champagne fountain bubbled up on a table all to itself. The chocolate river cascading down a silver thingy got my attention. Bowls of red strawberries, maroon cherries, and fluffy marshmallows sat nearby for dipping. And there wasn’t one kid in sight, to hog up the table.
“Great, I think I see someone with a mushroom.” Sam leaned close to me.
Men stood around in small groups, talking with one another; most of them were in black tie, the other half in white. Women kept in their little packs, some wearing gloves, others with floor-length gowns that sparkled more than the light fixtures.
“Looks like we missed the boring speeches,” Sam whispered in my ear. “But the food still awaits.” He smiled and looked at me.
I was starving. My stomach grumbled a few times in the car. We sort of ate a crappy dinner because Sam didn’t want me to cook for my birthday. Sophie enjoyed frozen chicken nuggets he heated in the oven, while Sam and I ate scrambled eggs and toast. It was one of the few things he could cook. I enjoyed the gesture, even though in the first bite, I crunched down on a shell.
“I’ll race you to the seafood table.” I could see shrimp dangling from chilled glasses with cocktail sauce sitting in the middle.
“You’re on.” He chuckled and walked briskly toward the linen-topped table. He was quickly stopped by a robust man wearing one of the white tie combinations. I signaled him thumbs-up and sailed past him to the feast that awaited my hungry stomach.
I was on my third chilled shrimp when he tapped me on the shoulder. “No fair.”
“All’s fair in the war of hunger.” I laughed and raised my shrimp tail to him.
“How is it?”
“The food is tasty, but the scene is not promising for a single girl looking for Mr. Right.”
As far as I could tell, everyone was either retired themselves, or a newbie to the AARP scene. It was depressing: my one wish in life couldn’t be answered at this blasted party. I needed to stop thinking my forever guy would just show up. He was probably tied up in traffic…for life. Or at the very least, not coming to this arena on a Friday night.
Sam picked at the food displayed on the table. I stayed close by, trying to stay out of the way of other hungry people with sprawling fingers over the platters. “I mentioned it was a retirement party, didn’t I?”
I snatched a lobster roll from his plate and popped it in my mouth before he could stop me. I talked while covering my mouth. “You did, but I didn’t think everyone attending was going to be retired. I was hoping there might be a cute waiter or something.” I shrugged.
“Sam,” yelled a man across the table from where we stood. His plate looked as though he was storing for winter…four months early. I feared the mushroom caps would topple over if he didn’t stop waving his plate around.
Sam smiled and nodded in the man’s direction. “Sarah, please pull me somewhere. Anywhere. That’s Fred Castillo. I will never be able to escape his talk of beekeeping. Whoever gave that man a hive should be shot.”
I laughed and pulled him toward the open bar. The line only had four ahead of us. One of the women smelled as if she swam in a bath of her perfume and the man she was with kept a healthy two feet from her. I coughed in my hand and finished up my chicken pot sticker.
“Thanks for saving me back there.” Sam rubbed a piece of bread in juice that glistened on his white plate.
“No problem.”
“The man goes on and on about things I really couldn’t care less about. But he’s a past client and so I endure the beekeeping beating I receive every time I see him.”
“That’s kind of you.”
It was finally our turn and Sam ordered my drink before his own. Evidence chivalry is not dead, number two. I smiled, toasted him, and drank it down. The fruity white wine seemed to dance past my throat and warm the inside of my stomach.
I wasn’t sure but I thought I recognized the song that was playing. A live band played on a gorgeous platform. Gold stars hung from the ceiling and the sparkles matched the drum set in the back of the foursome. The lead singer wore what looked like a black velvet suit and held the microphone like a glass of water, serenading it like a lady. The others stood solemnly and strummed their guitars and bass respectively. I was at some sort of prom for the older generation who wanted a do-over.
“Oh my goodness, I know this song.” Granted, I seemed to know all the songs they played before it, too. But this one I liked. Leave it to having a dad with an obsession to music. He had an old record player he kept on the shelf in the living room. The thing never got dusty because every evening after dinner and watching the local news, he played a record or two. And he sat in his easy chair with his eyes closed and I never knew quite where he drifted to.
“It’s Dinah Washington,” Sam rushed to say.
“You know your music.” I smiled.
“Only the good ones.”
“Wanna dance?” I elbowed him after I set my empty wine glass on the counter
.
“No thank you.”
“Come on. It gives me a better vantage shot to see the eligible guys. If there are any.”
Sam took a drink and spied me out of the corner of my eye. “You don’t think dancing with me will ward guys off?”
“Don’t be silly. They won’t think we’re together.” I said it quickly, without thinking.
“And just why not?”
“For obvious reasons.” I didn’t want to spell out the age difference.
“I’m not seeing it. You’re completely radiant, and I find myself to be somewhat non-repellant. I mean, any man in a tux rates something to women. At least that’s what I’ve been told in the past. Anyway, I went to the gym this morning and worked out and had a few lookers. What could be the reason they wouldn’t assume you and I are a couple?”
I set my empty plate on a nearby waiter’s tray and looked back at Sam. My lips twisted and I squirmed a bit while I wrung my hands.
“Oh, I get it.” He threw his head back. “You think I’m too old for you, don’t you?”
“I think if I did my math correctly, you could be my dad. Possibly.” I touched his arm. “Albeit a really handsome, charming dad.”
He almost choked on the strawberry he had stuffed in his mouth. “I’m forty-seven, thank you very much. Unless I started really early, like in junior high, I don’t think I could’ve been your father. Wow.” He shielded his eyes. “Luckily I hide my cane and dark glasses in the closet of my room so I don’t scare Sophie.”
His eyes crinkled and he looked at me as though I’d just yanked on his jugular. I did some quick math skills and discovered he could’ve been, but it would’ve been more like he was a sophomore. Okay, so he wasn’t that ancient. I just lumped all the ready-made success, nice home, fabulous car, and child together.
“I’m sorry, Sam. It’s just that you’re not like any guy I’ve ever dated. Or rather, would seek out to date. I date guys who have short-term leases and little idea what they’re going to do with their life.”
“No wonder your relationships don’t last. You’re too busy wasting your time on boys and not enough with men.”
“Okay, mister. Never you mind what I’m wasting my time on. Now let’s forget all about this and have a good time. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t. It’s good to know you view me as a senior citizen. Maybe I can get you a discount at the movies. Then let you and your young whippersnapper get in for half price.” He bent over as if he had a cane.
“Let’s first see if those brittle bones of yours can dance.” I pulled on his arm in the direction of the dance floor.
It was packed with couples. One man gyrated with such fervor I wondered whether he shouldn’t be somewhere more secure. Like in another state. Everyone was backing up, hoping he wouldn’t sling an elbow in someone’s face. Sam eyed me and pointed to his chest. He spoke loudly in my ear so I could hear over the loud music.
“If I look like that guy, take me down.”
“Will do!” I yelled back.
We stayed for three songs before I was winded and needed another drink. The band, despite the fact they looked as though they were grave diggers for the zombie community, was awesome. The bass player had no expression and kept even beats, watching his fingers and then watching the crowd. The drummer’s head barely moved and he looked angry through every song. The lead singer seemed to be the only one alive. He was a mix between a crooner and Ricky Nelson. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I did see a few guys my age. They were joined in the looping arm of their significant others. I stopped taking note and resigned myself to enjoying the moment. I had Match.com working for me while I was partying.
“That was so much fun. I haven’t danced in years,” he said, catching his breath.
I grabbed a glass of champagne from a server and sipped on it slowly. I marveled at the guy in front of me. He was loose and carefree. This guy laughed and danced. And was pulling off sexy. There was a lucky woman out there somewhere.
“You have some moves, I’ll give you that. And I eyed some women watching you.” I nodded in the direction of a few unsuspecting women, wearing rings that cost more than my tuition and smiling at Sam. “I’m going to the restroom.” I drank the last sip in my drink and placed it on a nearby waiter’s tray.
“Okay.”
I leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Try and ask someone to dance. Don’t forget, our mission is to find you a rebound girl.”
He gave me a don’t-you-start-that look. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Grayson and wish him a happy retirement. You just go and do whatever. Don’t worry about my dance card.”
“Fine, but I did see a woman who—” I began to point toward the buffet table.
“Would you just go,” he said, nudging me to leave.
I waited my turn for a free stall and emptied my bladder. It wasn’t easy with hosiery, a tight dress, and two feet of wiggle room. I left the door to the stall open and spied an empty sink bowl. A tall blonde woman applied lipstick next to me. Her fingernail polish looked as though blood had been dripped directly on each nail bed and dragged to the tip. Her lips matched in color. I quickly doused water on my mauve self-manicured fingers and reached behind her for a towel.
“Is that Sam Turner you’re here with?” she asked, as I patted my hands.
I looked to see whether she was talking to me. It was kind of noisy, but my ears perked when I heard Sam’s name. My eyes connected with hers and she searched me for an answer. She was probably one of the admirers I saw watching while we danced. Her blonde hair was twisted in a perfect French twist, not a hair out of place.
“Yes. Do you know him?”
“Yes, very well. And you are?” She continued to watch my reflection in the mirror, tucking her lipstick in the sequined bag lying on the granite countertop.
“I’m Sarah. I watch his little girl.”
“Yes, I remember now. You’re the college student, although I find you a bit old to pull that off.” She turned and looked at me, starting from my shoes and working her way up to my face. “I thought you were only staying a short time.”
I suddenly felt like the roadkill that gets picked at on the side of the road. And she was the vulture doing the picking. “I’m not sure how long I’m staying.”
Her eyes squeezed shut enough to glare at me with precision focus. I could feel the cross hairs painted on my forehead. “And so if you’re the babysitter, where is Sophie now? What are you doing here with Sam and not home sitting the girl?”
Okay, this was weird. Luckily, someone just as rude as her was doing the eye roll at me to get to the sink and wash her hands. I stepped back and bumped into an older lady. She stumbled into the wall and I helped her steady herself before turning toward Cruella de Vil. But she was gone. I searched the line of sinks, the full-length mirrors by the door. Nothing. She was gone. I left the room and went in search of Sam. I found him by the table, eating more finger food. He wiped the melted butter that drizzled out of the crab roll he’d just popped in his mouth.
“Sam.”
He contorted his hands, searching for the oil that was running down one. He licked his finger. “Yeah?”
“Um, there was a strange woman in the restroom just now, and she was asking questions about me being here and not home watching Sophie. I mean, she knew I went to college. Is she a friend of yours?”
Sam stopped being distracted by what was on his plate and stared at me. “Where is she? Point her out.”
I looked desperately at every face I could see. Half of them were dancing and the other half who weren’t were all in their little groups, talking. The blondes I could see didn’t look like her.
“I can’t see her. Who is she, Sam? I feel totally creeped out. She was very intimidating. I felt like I could’ve been her snack.”
Sam set his plate down on the edge of an empty table. With a clenched jaw, he scanned the room. After smoothing out the front of his tux, he fixed his sta
re on me. “Are you ready to leave? It’s getting late and I’ve already congratulated Mr. Grayson.”
“Are you sure? We were having a good time.” I looked back at the dessert table. I really wanted a taste of the strawberry mousse drizzled with sugar. And to perhaps take a few marshmallows for a slide in the chocolate river of fondue.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I don’t want to be too late in getting Sophie.”
“Okay.” I felt my posture weaken, imagining I’d never be within ten feet of a dessert table like that in a while—a long while. But I could see Sam was agitated.
We waited in silence for the valet to get the car. I clutched my hands together and swayed, watching the night sky. The moon was cloaked in heavy clouds. Every now and then, I could see its light from a great distance, trying to push through.
So much for the easy-like-Sunday-morning side of Sam. His jaw seemed permanently tightened, his hand had taken the shape of a fist, and although his body was here, I doubted his mind was. I meant no harm in telling him about the encounter with the battleax in the bathroom; I just wanted to know exactly who knew my business, and was keeping up with it.
Sam’s phone rang as we got out on the main road. He looked at it before he answered. “Hello?”
I listened to the one-sided conversation and surmised it was Stan. It sounded as if Sophie was asleep and we weren’t going to be picking her up tonight. I searched my bag for my phone so I didn’t seem as if I was eavesdropping. Plus, I wanted to see if I had gotten any new pings on Match.com.
“That was Stan.” He glanced at me. “It seems Sophie played so hard she’s passed out. They think it would be best for her to spend the night.”
“Is that all right? She doesn’t have anything with her. Did you pack an overnight bag when you took her?”
“No, but they are used to watching her overnight. I go out of town on occasion, and they have emergency clothes. Sometimes I have to call and extend my stay when I’m traveling. It helps they have grandchildren. So they know what to expect.”
Searching For Sarah (The Sarah Series Book 1) Page 7
