by Donna Fasano
“And it’s a gorgeous one too,” Landon said.
Sara took a step closer to him. “Landon, I told my mom that you’d be staying for a few days. I’d like for you to meet her,” Sara said. “Mom, this is Landon Richards. He came to my rescue today at the shop. If he hadn’t fixed that pipe, I don’t know what we’d have done. Landon, this is my mom, Geneva Hartford.”
Landon walked the length of the deck and gingerly shook the woman’s hand. “Mrs. Hartford.”
Geneva smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with teasing. “I’m not made of glass, Landon. I won’t break. I promise. And please call me Geneva. I haven’t been Mrs. Hartford for a very long time.”
The two of them exchanged pleasantries for a few moments, Geneva thanking him for helping her daughter with her water fountain disaster, and Landon assuring her he’d been happy to do it.
“Have you had dinner?” Sara asked him. “I have some soup and a salad inside, if you’re hungry.”
Landon lifted the grocery bag he carried. “Thanks, but I bought myself a frozen pizza. I thought that would be easy enough. Bought a few other items too. Can of coffee and a pint of cream. Bar of soap, that kind of thing.”
“Sara, take your young man upstairs and show him around.”
Tipping her head sideways, Sara silently scolded her mother. Then she sighed. Geneva grinned, obviously enjoying her daughter’s discomfort.
Sara sobered. “Do you want me to wheel you in?”
“You know very well I can get myself inside. I’m going to sit here a while longer and enjoy the sky. Now, go.” Geneva looked at Landon. “You have a good night. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“Likewise,” Landon told her.
“The stairs to my place are around the side.” Sara pointed.
To an out-of-towner, the configuration of the building might have looked odd. The front of the house faced the water and the side of the house faced the street. Nearly everyone in the area who lived on water-front property installed as many windows and sliding doors as they could in order to take full advantage of the water view. The wide, sturdy staircase that offered access to Sara’s place was close to where Landon had parked his truck.
Sara led the way. “I should have told you that I have plenty of coffee and other staples. You’re welcome to anything I’ve got up here. Shampoo, toothpaste, whatever.” She stuck the key in the lock and the bolt unlatched with a loud click. She grinned over her shoulder. “I’m taking my toothbrush with me, though. I hope you brought your own.”
Landon chuckled. “I’m good, thanks. It’s in my bag in the truck. I’ll bring my stuff up a little later. You’re sure this isn’t an imposition, Sara?”
“Absolutely positive.” She pushed open the door and automatically reached for the switch that turned on the living room lamps. “We rent my place once in a while. Especially during the summer months. We have some regulars who come for long weekends, and one or two who stay a full week at a time. The rental income helps to supplement Mom’s disability which is pretty paltry, to tell you the truth.” Sara shook her head, her mouth flattening.
His dark eyes widened just a bit. “If your mother is in need of money, you have to let me pay you for—“
“No.” She spoke the tiny word firmly and reached out to him. She became instantly and acutely aware of the heat emanating from his skin when she slid her fingers over the firm muscles of his forearm. The need to moisten her lips was strong, and her throat felt dry when she swallowed. She pulled back and slowly lowered her hand to her side.
“There’s no need to rehash this again, Landon,” she told him, hoping her tone covered the sudden shakiness she felt in the pit of her gut. “You’re helping me. And my friends. Let us give you something in return. It’s called bartering, and it’s a perfectly good business practice.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. He moved further into the house toward the kitchen table.
The main living area of her home was wide open and encompassed the living room, kitchen and dining area. The cathedral ceiling gave the space an airy feel and made it seem bigger than it actually was. The dining area boasted a wide, eastern-facing picture window that let in the morning sunlight, and the eight foot sliding door off the living room offered a wide, unobstructed view of the bay to the west. Now that the sun had dipped below the horizon, fat threads of golden light wove through the purplish twilight.
“I won’t bring it up again,” Landon promised. He set his grocery bag on the table and began unpacking its contents.
The soft denim of his faded jeans hugged his butt and thighs. The sight had Sara feeling suddenly too warm and she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Ogling this man was the last thing she should be doing, so she turned and made a beeline for the kitchen.
“Listen, I hope you don’t mind my asking, but…”
Landon hesitated so long, Sara turned to look at him.
“I won’t mind. Ask away.”
“What happened to your mom?” He stopped unpacking, but the plastic bag crinkled when he turned toward her. “I mean, why is she… you know…” He shook his head and murmured, “I’m sorry. No matter how I try to say it, it’s going to sound rude. I shouldn’t have brought it up. But…it’s just that she looks awfully young to be, well…”
“Confined to a wheelchair?” Sara finished for him.
She opened the oven and pulled out the cookie sheets she had stored there and then snapped on the oven. “What temperature do you need? For the pizza?”
“Oh, thanks.” Landon grabbed the box and turned it over. “Four hundred degrees.”
“It won’t take long to pre-heat.” She moved to the sink and began putting away the dishes she’d washed before leaving for the shop that morning. “Mom’s been diagnosed with spinal stenosis. It’s a narrowing of the channel within the spinal column and it presses on the nerves. She’s in a good bit of pain almost every day. Thankfully, she hasn’t lost her ability to walk, and on good days she can get around pretty well. Today, well…” She shook her head slowly. “It isn’t a good day.”
She moved to the coffee maker, plunked in a filter, and then filled the pot with water as she talked. “The problem was caused by a fall down a flight of concrete steps. I must have been about nine or ten at the time. We’ve been to several different doctors and all of them tell us that surgery might help, or that it might end up making matters worse. They can’t say for sure, and no one will offer any guarantees.” She turned, leaned her hip against the counter and crossed her arms. “Mom’s too afraid to have surgery, so we’re taking it one day at a time.”
Landon closed the refrigerator door after storing away the cream he’d bought. “That’s an awful thing to have to deal with. But I do know what you mean by taking things one day at a time.”
She waited, certain he meant to elaborate, but he didn’t. So she told him, “Luckily, Mom has lots of friends. They’ve sort of made up a loose schedule so that she has a visitor most days. I’m really grateful because, otherwise, I’d be worried sick while I was at the shop and running around town making my deliveries.”
“Deliveries?”
“I bake desserts for several restaurants in town. We’re coming up on the end of the tourist season, so things will be slacking off soon. But a few businesses stay open year round. Like Cathy does.” A sudden thought had her pushing herself away from the counter. “I’d better put fresh sheets on the guest bed.”
“Oh, wait,” he said, following after her out of the kitchen and down the hall, “I can do that, Sara.”
The way he said her name, all soft and sonorous, sent a delicious thrill shooting up the full length of her spine, and her skin erupted in gooseflesh. She was so glad she had her back to him.
“I don’t mind,” she told him in a rush. She opened the linen closet and pulled a set of neatly folded, yellow sheets off the shelf as well as fresh bath towels, a hand towel, and a washcloth. “Besides, I know where everything is.”
She set t
he linens on the dresser and then pulled the comforter and pillows off the queen size bed. “Do you know the population of Ocean City can run as high as three hundred and fifty thousand during the summer months?” She balled up the sheets she removed from the bed and reached for the clean ones. “In the dead of winter, there are under eight thousand full-time residents.”
Why she chose this moment to offer up that random factoid was anyone’s guess.
“Wow, that’s a huge disparity.”
Sara glanced at Landon, who stood awkwardly in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.
“Listen,” he said, “do you mind if I at least give you a hand? I don’t want you thinking I’m some sort of helpless idiot.”
Blinking up at him, she felt her face go hot. “I don’t think that.” She tucked a corner of the fitted sheet into place, grateful for a task to focus all her efforts on long enough to gather her wits. The man made her thoughts go haywire. Then she bent down and snatched a pillow from where it had landed on top of the comforter. “Here you go.” She tossed the pillow at him and it bounced off his chest.
“Oh, my gosh. I’m sorry.” But her apology got lost in her sudden bout of nervous laughter.
“Hey, I wasn’t ready.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, and then she pressed her lips together tightly in an attempt to squash the humor that threatened to bubble up again. “You always have to be ready when you’re around me. You never know what I might do next.”
“Mm-hmm.” He picked up the pillow. “I can see that.”
A renewed flush heated her face. What was wrong with her? If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was flirting with this man. Flirting? The mere idea had her swallowing nervously.
No way. She was just putting him at ease. That was all she was doing.
He put fresh cases on the pillows and then moved to help her smooth out the top sheet.
Her gaze zeroed in on his hand and how he ran the flat of his palm across the expanse of the soft, Egyptian cotton. She chewed on her bottom lip at the same time as her pulse began thudding between her thighs.
What on earth was going on with her?
“So do you keep your shop open?”
His quiet question took her off guard. She straightened, her hands falling to her sides, and looked at him across the bed.
“Keep my shop open?” she asked. She heard the far-away quality of her own voice. The truth was that it hadn’t been his question that startled her; it had been the physical reactions she was having to him. Feeling attraction after such a long time… It was odd. And kind of scary.
“Off-season,” he explained. And when she still didn’t answer, he offered, “Through the winter?”
His expression told her he wanted to ask her if she was okay, that he was confused by her inability to keep up with their simple conversation.
“I, uh, I close the front of the shop after Thanksgiving because there’s little foot traffic on the boardwalk. But I bake all year long.” She said the words quickly. “For Cathy’s grill. For Heather’s guests. For a few restaurants that stay open. And I’ve recently started a small mail-order business. I’ve mailed cookies all over the US. You saved a huge batch of those today.”
“Ah, so you’re an entrepreneur. That’s great.”
Just as they’d tucked the comforter back into place and put the pillows on the bed, the buzzer on the oven sounded.
“Oh, we should put your pizza in to bake.” Sara couldn’t seem to leave the bedroom fast enough. She went down the hall, into the kitchen, and picked up the box that had been sitting on the counter.
“Sara,” he said.
Both his hands slid overtop of hers, stilling their nervous motion.
“Please, stop. I can do that for myself.”
She looked up into his handsome face, into those dark, serious eyes studying her.
“Of course,” she murmured. “I’m sure you can.”
Skimming her tongue across her lips, she slid her hands from beneath his and left him holding the box. “I should get out of here and let you get on with… things.” She took a couple of backward steps, inhaling deeply. “There’s a stacked washer and dryer in the laundry closet in the hallway. Detergent is on the shelf. You can’t miss it. The dishes are in the cabinet there. The pantry’s pretty full.” She pointed. “Use whatever you need. I mean it. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” he told her. “You sure you don’t want some pizza?”
“I’m sure.” She moved closer to the door. “Keys to the place are on the table by the door. Feel free to open the windows. Or switch on the heat if you need to. Your bedroom has a ceiling fan. There’s a switch on the wall. Oh, as soon as you get up, just turn on the coffee maker. You’ll have a fresh pot in less than ten minutes. And there’s a baking sheet for your pizza right on top of the stove there.” Again she pointed.
He didn’t turn to look in the direction she indicated, he just nodded and stood there holding the pizza still in its box.
Sara pulled open the front door. “You could come to The Grill for breakfast, if you like. I leave for work early, so I’ll see you over there. Whenever you get there is fine. You can sleep in if you want to.” God, she’d never babbled this much in her entire life.
Again, he nodded and smiled.
“Good night,” she said.
“Good night.”
When she closed the door, he was still standing there in the kitchen. It took her a second or two to realize he was looking at her through the glass. She lifted her hand and then turned away.
The sky had turned a deep indigo and stars shined against the darkness.
What the heck? She wanted to cringe with embarrassment. Anyone eavesdropping on that mostly one-sided conversation would think she had just met a brand new species and was trying like hell to make a good impression. There at the end, her mouth had been running as fast as a broken faucet.
She hurried down the stairs, rounded the corner of the building and let herself into her mom’s front door. Soft light lit the empty living room, and the stillness in the air told her that her mother must have headed to her bedroom. Sara knocked before she opened the door.
“Hey. Just wanted to check on you and say good night.” Sara smiled and moved to the bed to give her mother a kiss. The light, familiar scent of her mom’s moisturizing cream wafted up to meet her.
“Did you get your young man all settled?”
“Mom, he’s not my young man,” Sara admonished. “You need to stop that. He’s just a guy. A guy who’s helping us with the plumbing over at the Loon. That’s all.”
“Okay. All right. I’ll stop.” Her mother smiled softly. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you roll your eyes at me like that.”
Sara just shook her head, her shoulders rounding. “I just made a complete fool of myself up there just now. I treated the man like he was an imbecile. I got the coffee maker ready for in the morning. I turned on the oven for his pizza. I made his bed. I’m afraid I would have cooked his dinner and fed it to him if he hadn’t stopped me.” She sighed. “And I talked, non-stop.”
“Oh, don’t worry so much. I’m sure he was happy to have the company.” Then she tilted her head a bit. “You would never admit this yourself, Sara, so I’m going to go ahead and say it. It’s nice to have a man around.”
“He’s not staying long,” Sara felt the need to emphasize, for her mom and herself.
Geneva nodded and shifted on the mattress, a grimace shadowing her lovely face.
“You okay?” Sara asked. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m good, honey. I’m going to watch my sit-coms and then I’m going to sleep.” She reached for her glass of water and took a sip. “I’ve got a pain pill here for later, if I need it.”
“Okay. You call me if you need anything, you hear?”
They exchanged good-nights, and then Sara closed her mom’s door and went to her room. She pulled off her top and tossed it onto the nearby
chair and her phone trilled with a text message alert.
Heather: How’s your mom?
Sara: Well enough to put herself to bed.
Heather: Good! Did Landon get settled?
Sara: Sure did.
Heather: I decided you’re right. We can’t impose on him any more than we already have. Did you warn him about Cathy?
Sara: No. Forgot. But I will first thing tomorrow.
Heather: He’s a cute one, huh?
Sara just stared at the screen, uncertain of how she should respond. She wanted to spill her guts, tell Heather about how she’d fallen all over herself upstairs trying to help him, and how she’d prattled on incessantly, like an inexperienced teenager. Not to mention that she’d felt heat spark to life in parts of her that hadn’t even been lukewarm since Greg had passed away.
Greg. She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh as a dark shadow hovered over her, heavy as wet wool. She flopped down on her mattress and stared up at the ceiling.
Once again, Greg hadn’t entered her thoughts the entire time she’d been upstairs with Landon, talking, laughing, flirting.
“I wasn’t flirting.” Sara whispered the words aloud, and even as she uttered them, she knew she was lying.
God, she was lonely. Maybe Heather and Cathy were right. Maybe it was time to move on. But even as the words echoed through her head, the guilt seemed to press in on her. It bothered her that her friends thought she lived with a “widow” mentality. It’s not that she purposefully pushed men away. It was just…
Again she sighed. Why was moving forward so damned hard?
The phone she clutched against her belly trilled and she lifted it to look at the screen.
Heather: ???
Sara: Yes. He’s cute. Correction. He’s hot!
Heather: Clear out the cobwebs, honey. You just might get lucky. ; )
Sara: LOL He’s only in town a few days.
