by Donna Fasano
“And you don’t find that strange?”
“Look, Sara, I’m not saying it’s not peculiar. I’m just saying it’s not as odd as you’re making it out to be. For the love of sweet Jesus, you’ve got to suck it up already. Get over yourself. Show a little courage. Be nice to the man while he’s here. That’s all I’m requesting. Just for today, honey. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
Strains of Landon’s deep voice carried to the kitchen from the foyer. Sara couldn’t tell exactly what he was saying, but her heart rate accelerated and she felt as if someone had turned up the setting on the thermostat.
Geneva waggled her index finger in fine, listen-to-me-I’m-your-mother fashion and lowered her tone as she added, “Try to remember the good times the two of you had together. Think back. Before you discovered the odd bits, Landon made you smile. He had a good effect on you. You can’t deny it.”
That’s when Cathy re-entered the kitchen with Landon close on her heels.
“Hey, everyone,” Cathy called in a bright voice, “look who’s here.”
Even though there were only five adults gathered in the B&B’s kitchen, the room felt crowded. Sara watched and listened as her friends and her mom did their utter best to create a celebratory atmosphere.
Landon caught her eye and offered her a single, silent nod. Relief flooded her when her smile didn’t fail her. It might have been small, but it was a smile.
He looked at Heather, who had gotten up from the table and now stood near the stove. “I brought wine.” He held up two bottles. “I wasn’t sure how many people you were expecting, or if you’d want white or red, so I brought a bottle of each. And if we run out, there are two more bottles in my truck.”
Cathy raised both hands into the air and let out a cheer that had him laughing.
“You can set those on the buffet in the dining room, if you don’t mind,” Heather told him.
“I’m on it.”
He’d no sooner left the room and Cathy turned her suddenly fretful gaze onto Sara. She whispered, “Don’t be mad. Are you mad?”
Sara pushed her chair back and stood up. “What do you think?” She started for the door. “I’m going to get this over with.”
“That’s my girl.” Pride brightened Geneva’s tone.
“You could set the table,” Heather suggested. “Plates and cutlery are already out there.”
As Sara left the kitchen, she heard Cathy hiss, “I told you she’d be pissed. Holy hell, she’ll make us pay for this through Christmas, I just know it.”
The last comment nearly made Sara chuckle to herself. It wasn’t so much that she was angry. She knew their intentions were good. But she did feel a little betrayed. Someone should have told her. However, even as the thought entered her head, she had to admit that, had she known Landon had been invited, she’d have stayed home. So it was for the best that the news had been kept from her.
To reach the Loon’s formal dining room, Sara had to pass through the breakfast room where guests enjoyed morning coffee or hot tea and the light, continental fare Heather offered. If they wanted something more substantial, they went downstairs to The Sunshine Grill. The B&B was empty this week as most people preferred to spend the holidays with their families. But it wasn’t unheard of to have guests staying at the Loon over Thanksgiving or Christmas. During the few holidays where that had happened over the years, Heather simply invited the guests for dinner, cooked a larger turkey, and added the table extension and extra chairs.
When she entered the dining room, she saw Landon standing at the far side of the room, his hands in his pockets as he gazed out the window. She cleared her throat softly to let him know he wasn’t alone.
He turned, and he immediately smiled. “Hey.”
The greeting was warm and relaxed, and it set Sara at ease.
Landon took a couple of steps toward her, stopped behind a tall-backed dining chair, and curled his fingers around the dark-stained wood. “Are you okay with this?” he asked. “My being here, I mean.”
She nodded, uncertain if her silent response was the truth or a lie.
He looked so good, so damned handsome. His smile made her heart sing, but just as quickly, she remembered how he came to be here, in Ocean City, at her shop, in her home—in her bed—and awkwardness began to encroach on the moment.
Her lips were dry as beach sand and she moistened them with a quick glide of her tongue. “Help me set the table?”
“Sure.” He reached for the stack of plates.
The silence between them quickly niggled at her as she rounded the table, setting a water glass at each place setting. Landon, too, ambled around the table, placing a plate in front of five of the chairs.
“I’m surprised that you’re here,” she said. “What I mean is, I’d have expected you to go home to Kansas. To be with your family.”
He lifted one shoulder. “There’s no home in Kansas anymore,” he reminded her. “I did call my sister.” He tilted his head and screwed up his mouth. “Things between us are better, but still strained. She still believes her husband did the right thing; I still feel annoyed.” He smiled across the table at Sara. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just need more time.”
Sara wondered if that’s all she needed. With enough time, could she learn to live with the strange events that brought Landon to town—to her? Maybe, but she seriously doubted it.
“Oh, I found a job.”
“You did?” She didn’t even try to hide her surprise. Employment in a tourist town during the off-season was hard to find.
“Yeah, I was talking to a guy in the hardware store just down the road,” he said. “I guess I must have wowed him with my vast array of knowledge.”
He chuckled at his boastfulness, and so did Sara.
“Come to find out, he’s the manager, and he offered me a job right there on the spot.”
In silent agreement, he took the job of placing the linen napkins beside each plate and she arranged the cutlery. They worked well together.
“It’s just part time,” he added, “But it gives me something to do four days a week. And I’m going to continue delivering meals to shut-ins.”
“I’d have thought you’d get a job as a plumber’s assistant.”
They laughed, and then Landon grew serious. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’ve been worried.”
“I’m okay,” she assured him, and this time she knew she was telling him the truth.
“Let’s get this party started!” Cathy came into the dining room, her hands filled with bowls.
Heather was right behind her, carrying side dishes as well. “We have enough food to feed everyone on the block.”
Sara grinned. “That’s what I love about Thanksgiving.”
Her friends looked relieved that she was smiling and she rolled her eyes at them.
Soon everyone was talking at once.
“Landon, open the wine.”
“I’ll put on some music.”
“Someone pull Sara’s rolls out of the oven!”
“Bring the salt and pepper shakers when you come back.”
Geneva appeared in the doorway, clutching the jamb, and Sara rushed to offer her mom some help to the table. “Don’t forget my ambrosia.”
“No worries. I’ll get it, Mom.”
When the meal was finally on the table and they were taking their seats, a stranger stood in the doorway at the far end of the room, the entrance from the front foyer.
All of them were startled by his sudden appearance. Cathy actually let out a little squeal.
“I knocked,” the man said, and then he added, “twice. The door was unlocked so I let myself in.”
Sara saw that he carried a suitcase in one hand and had what looked like a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, something used to carry a laptop.
“I have a reservation.”
As if in some sort of comic synchronism, all of them turned their heads at the same time to look at Heather.
The man looked at her too
. “I assume you’re in charge.”
It was obvious she was flustered, that she wasn’t expecting a guest to show up. Finally, she spoke. “You’re Mr. Atwell?”
“Yes,” he said. “Call me Daniel.”
Heather rounded the table. “You’re early. Four days early. Your reservation is for the first of December.”
Sara glanced at Cathy to see if she knew this guy was coming; Cathy shrugged and gave the tiniest shake of her head.
“My agent made the reservation,” Daniel told her. “He must have messed up the dates. Can you accommodate me?”
“Of course.” Heather clasped her hands in front of her. “It’s no problem. But there will be an extra charge for the extra days.”
“No problem.” Daniel Atwell peered around Heather, his gaze quickly touching everyone. “I was hoping for peace and quiet. I’ll be working. I was told I’d be the only guest.”
“And you are,” Heather assured him. “We’re celebrating Thanksgiving. Would you like to join us for dinner?”
“No.” Then he asked, “Could I get a key? And I’ll let you get back to your meal.”
“Sure. Follow me.” Heather quickly pivoted in a half circle. “Cathy, would you carve the bird? Everyone sit. Relax. I’ll be right back in a few minutes.”
And with that, the two of them disappeared.
“Did she say anything to you about a guest?” Sara whispered to Cathy.
“Not a word.” Cathy picked up the knife and began slicing into the breast meat.
Geneva’s eyes gleamed as she leaned in. “You know who that is, don’t you? DB Atwell.”
Landon said, “The author?”
The older woman nodded. “Doesn’t he remind you of Heathcliff? Dark and brooding… and delicious?”
“Mother!”
Not thirty seconds after leaving the room, Heather returned, folding a check in half and tucking it under a candlestick on the side table on the way back to her chair. Atwell’s footsteps could be heard as he made his way upstairs.
“I was so busy prepping for dinner,” Heather said, a little breathless, “I didn’t get a chance to tell you. I got the call last night. He’s paid for two months. In advance. Not for just his room, but for all of them. I am sitting pretty for the entire winter.”
Her excitement had everyone smiling.
“Okay, let’s make a toast,” she ordered. “We should eat before everything gets cold.”
Landon lifted his hand, palm out. “Do you mind if I do the honors?”
Heather just smiled and nodded.
He picked up his wine glass and so did everyone else. He cleared his throat.
“First off, I’d like to thank Geneva for inviting me today, and Heather for opening her home to me, and Sara for being okay with my being here. It means a lot to me.”
“Hey, pal,” Cathy said, “what about me?”
“And to you, Cathy,” he quickly amended his toast. “For making the best bacon on the face of this earth.”
Cathy wobbled her head back and forth, preening at the compliment. “You got that right.”
They all chuckled.
Landon paused, sobering. “Now I don’t mean to make anyone uncomfortable with what I’m about to say, but here goes.” He raised his glass. “This is the first time that I’ve ever had a chance to say thank you and have it really mean something. I wish I could thank Greg for all that he’s given me, but since that’s impossible, I want to thank all of you. You knew him. And loved him. I’m sure it’s no surprise that I want to thank him for changing my… for giving me a life.”
Sara dipped her head and stared down at the napkin draped across her lap.
“Before my operation,” Landon continued, “I merely existed. But now I’m strong and fit. I can hike and lift and dance the night away. I can enjoy living like never before. And for that, I’d like to make a toast to Greg.”
Geneva responded with a soft, “Hear, hear.”
“But there’s another reason I need to thank Greg,” he said. “For loving his wife.”
Sara’s mouth parted in silent surprise and her gaze flew to Landon. His chocolate brown eyes bore into hers, holding her captive with breathtaking intensity.
“Greg loved you so deeply, so completely, that his feelings for you somehow permeated the very cells of his body. His loving memories continue, even though he can no longer be here with you, Sara. Through some miracle, I sense them, I dream them. And long story short… I’m here… in Ocean City because of him. And I am deeply grateful.”
Landon’s eyes glistened with emotion. “I can’t explain it. No one can. But because of Greg, because of my transplant, I met you. And I found out first hand why he loved you so much. I’ll be forever indebted to him for… more than I can possibly put into words. Even though things didn’t work out for us, Sara, I hope that we can still be friends. I want you to know I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single thing.”
After the toast, the bowls of food were passed around. Wine glasses were refilled. Silverware tapped against good china. Soft music played and conversation was made. The B&B’s new guest was discussed, and Sara was vaguely aware of Cathy doing a bad imitation of the man by proclaiming, “I was hoping for some peace and quiet.”
But Sara felt as if she floated through the entire meal in a fuzzy haze. All she could think about was Landon’s toast. Oh, she had realized he was grateful to Greg for the organ donation. From the list she’d received, Greg had saved half a dozen lives and enhanced the lives of others.
Landon had been utterly precise when he’d talked about Greg’s love for Sara. And she had loved her husband just as much. Deeply and completely. Greg might be gone, but Sara would never forget him or what they’d had together.
What her relationship with Landon had taught her, though, was that she still had room in her life for affection, for fun, for romance—for love.
With the voices of her family and friends buzzing around her, Sara was struck with a stark revelation: her heart cried out for Landon.
Cathy and her mother laughed loudly, snapping Sara to attention. She chuckled, not because she was enjoying whatever joke was being told—she hadn’t a clue what they talked about. Her stupid grin was because she felt suddenly light as a seagull feather inside.
“Where did Landon go?” she asked.
Rather than answer her, Heather teased, “What’s got your head in the clouds?”
“Daydreaming about DB Atwell?” Cathy snickered.
“You, missy,” Sara told Cath, “have had enough to drink.”
“Landon’s in the kitchen,” her mother told her.
“He’s clearing up the table,” Heather said. “So we can have dessert.”
“Yeah,” Cathy quipped, “Sara won’t give him any sugar, so he’ll have to settle for Snickerdoodles and pumpkin pie.”
The raunchy emphasis she put on the word ‘sugar’ had Heather howling. Even Geneva was grinning, and shaking her head.
“Keep it up,” Sara warned, not quite able to rein in the humorous quirk of her lips, “and I’m going to let loose on you.”
“Ooooo.” Cathy’s eyes went wide in mock horror.
Sara got up from the table. “I’m going to go make some coffee.”
“To go with those Snickerdoodles?” Heather batted her eyelids.
“And pumpkin pie?” Cathy laughed so hard she snorted.
“Mom,” Sara murmured as she was leaving the room, “guard that wine bottle, would you?”
Geneva tisked. “Oh, now. They’re just having a little fun.”
“Yeah, at my expense.”
In the kitchen, Sara stood in the doorway, watching Landon rinse the plates and stack them in the dishwasher.
Her mother had been right. He had changed her. He had given her a hand out of a deep hole she hadn’t even known she’d been stuck in. He’d made her world better. Brighter.
And all those things he’d said about Greg… well, Landon had just about melted her heart.
In that moment, she knew. Without doubt. She loved this man. Loved him hard. And she would let neither fear nor crazy-ass circumstances keep her from letting him know that.
Doubt and anxiety and near-panic and every other manner of negativity had caused her to waste enough precious time. She couldn’t say what the future would bring. No one could. But she wanted to grab onto every moment of happiness she could, and she intended to start right here, right now.
With sureness in her step, she started across the floor toward him.
Her movement caused him to look her way and he grinned. “Sounds like the party’s gettin’ a little rowdy in there.” He bent to place a saucer in the stainless steel rack.
“Yeah,” she murmured, stopping just a foot or so way from him, “and it’s about to get rowdy in here too.”
“Huh?” He straightened quickly, his elbow smacking into two pot lids, sending them skittering across the counter and crashing into the deep sink. “What’d you say?”
Sara ignored his question. “Landon, what you said in there—” she tilted her head toward the dining room “—during your toast, was beautiful.”
…his feelings for you somehow permeated the very cells of his body.
Just remembering his praise of Greg made Sara’s knees go weak all over again. And Landon’s perspective changed her whole outlook on the transplant, the dreams, and his strong sense of déjà vu.
He just stood there, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. God, she just wanted to sink into him, feel his hands wrap around her, bury her face in the curve of his neck. But she had a few things to say first.
“The last time we were together,” she began, “outside your apartment, you were calm and rational and logical. But I wasn’t ready for any of those things.”
Landon nodded. “I know you weren’t. And it’s okay.”
She languidly wet her lips. “But I’m ready now.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh, really.” She closed the gap between them, splayed her palms on his chest. His muscles felt warm and firm beneath her fingertips. “Is that okay?”
His mouth cocked in a sexy half-grin. “Oh, it’s more than okay.”
Sara leaned in and kissed him on the jaw. She slowly became aware of the thud of his heart beneath her palm, and she inched back far enough to gaze at the back of her hand. The rhythm beat strong and steady.
