California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances

by Casey Dawes

Joe gave him the news he’d been waiting for when Hunter walked into his small shop later in the morning. “I have another sheetrock job for you if you’re interested. Starts next Monday.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “What do you have there?” Joe pointed to the roll of paper under Hunter’s arm.

  Hunter rolled out the plans he’d drawn up the night before, working into the midnight hours to erase the impression of Sarah’s face from his memory.

  “Much as I’m enamored by sheetrock, Joe,” he said, “I don’t think I want to do it the rest of my life.”

  “Yeah. I get that. Coffee?”

  “Okay.” Hunter pinned the plans down with beach rocks Joe kept for the purpose. “I want to start my own business making furniture and cabinets.”

  “You were the only one who ever thought shop class was a good idea.”

  Hunter chuckled. “Thirteen-year-olds and sharp objects. What were they thinking?”

  Joe laughed and handed Hunter a cup of coffee.

  The bitter aroma teased Hunter’s nostrils, diluting the resin odor in the shop. “I want to do a prototype.”

  “What the hell is that?” Joe stared at the penciled outlines.

  “A Victorian hall stand.”

  Joe cocked his head. “Why? Who would want something like that?”

  “A woman with a Victorian inn.”

  “There’s something you haven’t told me, bro.” Joe drank his coffee.

  “Nothing to tell. She’s bought an inn, wants to open, and has no furniture. I figure I get her to stick this in her hallway, with lots of my business cards, and her well-heeled clients will become mine.”

  Joe snorted.

  “What’s this girl’s name?” He put down his coffee cup. “Wait! Is this the woman you took out Sunday night? Oh, man.”

  “Yes. But there’s no future. What I didn’t know was she’s pregnant and has a boyfriend I didn’t know about, either.”

  “Crap. Lauren all over again. You okay?”

  Hunter had to think. Making the plans and the possibility of surfing had given him a new perspective. “Yeah. I think so.”

  “I still don’t understand. Surely there are other Victorian inns on the coast. Why torture yourself? Carmel really gets the tourists with the big bucks.”

  “I don’t know. She’s haunting me, Joe. I know it’s a bad idea.” Hunter shrugged. “But I seem to be stuck on it. The piece intrigues me. Lots of doodads. It’ll take some concentration. I think I need that right now. When she kicks me to the curb again, I’ll be able to get it through my thick skull that I’m not wanted.”

  Joe chuckled. “Whatever you say.” He opened a door to a separate section of the shop. “I do all my cutting in here. Keeps the sawdust off the finished boards.”

  “Sounds good.” But Hunter wasn’t really listening. He was imagining the joy on Sarah’s face when he brought the piece to her.

  • • •

  The nurse frowned as she looked at the blood pressure monitor on Sarah’s arm.

  “What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.

  “Nothing. A little high. The doc’ll take it again. Could just be nerves.” The redhead smiled. “Not to worry. I’m sure you and your baby will be just fine. Doctor Hadiya is the best.”

  “Yes. My mother knows her.”

  “The doc’ll be right in.”

  The door gently closed behind the nurse.

  The wait was mercifully short. A brief rap on the door alerted her to the doctor’s entrance.

  Sarah relaxed in Hadiya’s gentle presence. The woman’s black hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a low chignon. Her dark brown eyes regarded Sarah with warmth.

  “So what is going on with you?” The doctor rewrapped the blood pressure cuff around Sarah’s upper arm. “Are the pains still coming?”

  Sarah shook her head. “Not so much. And they don’t seem as bad.”

  Hadiya placed the stethoscope into her ears and nodded. “It was probably gas, as I suspected.”

  Sarah tried to think restful thoughts — waving palm trees, steady rhythm of the waves on the beach — while the cuff puffed tight against her arm. Hadiya studied the meter as the air hissed out.

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?” Sarah asked.

  “Let’s do the exam and then we’ll see what’s what.”

  Sarah laid back, a tremor of fear running through her veins.

  Hadiya checked her abdomen, then rubbed chill gel over her skin, causing Sarah to shiver, but the tiny throb of her baby’s heartbeat always thrilled her, so she didn’t mind. Today was no different. Strong and rhythmic, the sound contented her.

  “We’ll do another sonogram in about a month,” Hadiya said as she cleaned off Sarah’s abdomen. “You’ll have to decide if you want to know the gender if we can tell.”

  “Already?”

  “If we can tell,” Hadiya cautioned. “We can’t always determine it from the sonogram, but often we can.” She put her hand on Sarah’s arm. “I’m concerned about your blood pressure. It’s a little high. Have you had a lot of stress lately?”

  Sarah tried to keep from laughing. “You could say that.”

  Hadiya shook her head. “Not good for babies or their mothers. Unless you want to be on complete bed rest, you’re going to have to reduce the stress.”

  “I’m opening an inn. I can’t get rid of the stress.”

  Hadiya looked at her sternly. “I told you during your last visit to reduce the amount of stretching you were doing — and no heavy lifting. Nap when you’re tired. Are you following my instructions?”

  “Yes. Well. Mostly.”

  “‘Mostly’ isn’t going to do it. I want you off your feet at least two hours a day. If that helps with your blood pressure, then we’ll be okay. But I’m warning you,” Hadiya grasped her other arm, “you must be careful. With your mother’s history, there’s a chance you’ll have trouble carrying. We want to minimize that.”

  Sarah nodded. Two hours a day. It’d be tough, but it would be better than complete bed rest. “Okay.”

  • • •

  When Sarah returned to the inn, the sun was glistening on the overgrown vegetation in the front yard. After getting out of her car, she walked over to the former garden and tried to see the bare bones of the garden. Three iron benches struggled against overactive vines.

  She needed help to resurrect the space before Annie’s wedding, especially after the doctor’s new restrictions.

  Sighing, she slung her grocery bag over her shoulder and went into the house. She was getting tired of frozen dinners, no matter how indulgent they were. Hadiya had chided her gently about weight gain.

  Tonight she was attempting her college staple: tuna casserole. Still not good for the weight, but at least she knew what was in it — canned fish, canned peas, and canned cream of mushroom soup.

  Well, maybe she didn’t really know what was in it.

  She grinned at Daisy, who eagerly raced past her into the yard, did her business, and scurried toward the house before becoming distracted by a squirrel. After she satisfactorily treed the chattering rodent, Daisy trotted back to Sarah, head lifted high.

  Sarah laughed, patted her dog and went inside.

  She’d finished putting away the groceries when the doorbell rang. Dread clutched her heart. Had Rick returned so soon?

  No, he wasn’t due until Saturday.

  She opened the door to a raw-boned woman with a no-nonsense braid of gray hair.

  “I’m told you need a gardener,” she said. “I can see from the looks of it that it’s true.”

  “Um … who are you, exactly?” Daisy stood by Sarah’s side, alert, but not unfriendly.

  “Gertrude. Unfortunate name, I know.
My mother saddled me with it. I think she was reading The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas when she was pregnant.” She shifted on her feet. “Well, are you looking or not?”

  “I … uh … ” Oh, hell. This must be Paul’s mother. And she did need someone to spruce up the place, if it wasn’t too expensive. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it?”

  “No, thanks. I like being outdoors. You really want to know how much I charge.” Gertrude named a figure that was ridiculously low.

  “Why so little?” Sarah was wary. She didn’t know the woman at all.

  A thought flashed through her mind. She was opening an inn, inviting lots of people she didn’t know into her home. With her newborn.

  Suddenly, the absence of a man in her life didn’t seem quite as smart.

  Gertrude shrugged. “I like the work.”

  The woman didn’t appear to be an ax murderer, and she would stay outside. Sarah should be safe. “When could you start?”

  Gertrude looked at the sky. “How does today sound?”

  “What can you do in the middle of winter?”

  “Let me show you.” Gertrude walked over to the garden Sarah had been examining earlier, Sarah trailing behind. “Winter can be the best time to clear vines and prune bushes.”

  “Oh, yes. My mother’s boyfriend is pruning his vines now.”

  Gertrude nodded. “I’d cut back the ivy and prune the rose bushes. This garden has good bones.” She eyed Sarah. “Like you. You’re going to need to be strong for the baby and you have the spirit to do it.”

  A chill washed over Sarah. Paul’s mother was definitely strange.

  Gertrude laughed. “It’s not magic. Paul told me. I’m not sure how he found out. Costanoa can be a small town.”

  “Have you always been a gardener?” Sarah followed Gertrude as the woman walked toward her enclosed truck.

  Gertrude snapped the back open and pulled out a tote bag clanking with tools. She shook her head. “I spent most of my life teaching chemistry up at the university.” She shrugged. “Things change. I’ll let you know when I finish for the day.”

  Dismissed, Sarah went back to the inn.

  Chapter 11

  In spite of their differences over Rick, Sarah’s spirits lifted when she entered her mother’s kitchen Friday evening. A pot of minestrone was bubbling on the stove, filling the room with the sweet savory of rosemary and thyme. Baking bread added the tang of yeast.

  Pavarotti soared from the living room and she could hear her mother’s laughter peal out. Sarah was glad for her mother’s happiness. It had been a long time coming.

  “I’m here!” she called out as she hung her coat on the pegs provided by the kitchen entry. She slipped off her damp shoes and slid into the soft slippers she kept at her mom’s.

  When Elizabeth reached the kitchen, she wrapped Sarah in a warm hug. “How are you doing? Are you taking your naps like the doc said?”

  “Mom — ”

  “I know, I know. You’re a big girl now. But I’m still your mom and you’re stuck with that.”

  Sarah wiggled from her mother’s embrace to say hello to the man who’d come into the kitchen with Elizabeth. “Hi, Marcos.” She held out her hand, but Marcos pulled her into his arms. “Come. We are family, yes?”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “Your mother has been cooking all day. I told her I would take us to dinner after a hard week in the vineyards, but, no, she says she wants to make a home-cooked meal.” He leaned down to whisper with a grin. “I think she is trying to impress me, still.”

  “Probably,” Sarah confided. “She is an over-achiever.”

  “Stop talking about me!” Elizabeth said. “Sarah, set the table.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother.”

  Within a few minutes they surrounded the dining room table, a red soup tureen the steaming centerpiece. Marcos updated Sarah on progress in the vineyard and Elizabeth told her about the status on her products.

  “When will you be going back to Italy?” Sarah asked as she helped herself to a second bowl of soup.

  “Trying to get rid of me so soon. My heart is broken,” Marcos teased her.

  Sarah chuckled.

  “I go back in two weeks. My cousins are pruning our family’s vineyards in Italy.” He smiled at Elizabeth again.

  Marcos’ plan to own vineyards and make wine from the world’s great winemaking regions was ambitious and kept him on the road. Sometimes Sarah wondered how that fit with her mother’s nesting instincts.

  She couldn’t worry about their lives. Rick, Hunter, opening an inn, and a pregnancy were enough to keep her occupied.

  Marcos continued. “I hope your mother will come with me to spend time with me at my French vineyards. She has become quite good with the pruning and there are more vines.”

  Elizabeth groaned. “There are always more vines.”

  “True. But then there are more grapes. And more wine. And … ” Marcos leaned over and gave Elizabeth a lingering kiss.

  “Eww. Get a room.” Sarah groaned.

  They laughed. “We’ve heard that one before,” Elizabeth said. “But I don’t think it’s wise for me to go to Europe now.” She gestured to Sarah. “What if something went wrong? I’d be so far away.”

  “Mom. I’ll be fine. Besides I’ve got Mandy.”

  “I promise I will put you on the next flight from Marseilles,” Marcos said. “But there is no reason to worry, is there? Isn’t your young man back in the picture?”

  Sarah frowned. How would Rick handle a problem? Before the baby, their lives had been so simple.

  Elizabeth seemed to be having the same misgivings. “I’m not sure Rick’s up to handling a crisis.”

  “Why cannot he do this?” Marcos asked. “He is going to be a father. There will always be a problem to solve when you are a father.”

  “True,” Elizabeth said.

  “What do you think, Sarah?” Marcos asked.

  “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “You do not answer the question.”

  She glared at him. “Rick and I are seeing each other again, but it’s just a trial. I don’t know if we’re going to really get back together.”

  “Of course you are,” Elizabeth said. “He’ll step up once he realizes how lucky he is. This is just a bump in the road. You two will be fine.”

  Her mother’s assurances held a false note, as if she was trying to convince herself along with Sarah.

  “Mom,” Sarah said warningly.

  Marcos put his hand on Elizabeth’s. “I have learned from my daughter that she is to live her own life without my opinion. Perhaps it should be the same with Sarah. Besides,” he cocked his head at Sarah, “I do not think she is so sure of her young man as you are.” Turning back to Elizabeth, he said, “So you will come to France with me?”

  With another worried glance at Sarah, Elizabeth said, “Maybe.”

  “Good. It is decided. We will go to France, prune vines, and I will court you more so you will think of nothing but us, and Sarah can figure out her own life.”

  Later, after Sarah helped her mother clear the table and they were in the kitchen cleaning up, she asked Elizabeth, “Do you think you and Marcos will get married?”

  The pan her mother was drying landed on the counter with a clunk. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? Besides, I’ve already been married once. That’s enough for a lifetime.”

  Sarah groaned. “You can be so old-fashioned, Mom. Except I don’t even want to know what you and Marcos are doing when I’m not around.”

  Elizabeth picked up the pot, gave it a few more swipes, and put it in the cupboard. “I’ve got other things to think about. You, for instance. I’m worried about you.”

 
“What about Annie’s wedding? The one you so helpfully suggested she have at the inn?”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I figured it would be good publicity.” Her smile turned into a frown. “Will you be able to be ready in time? I mean, with Rick’s help, it should be doable.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Mom, Rick’s going to come down every other weekend. I’m sure he’s going to want to cook.” And boss Mandy around in the kitchen.

  Ugh. Trouble is coming.

  “I’m sure he’ll do more than that.”

  “Sure, Mom. Are you finished with the dishes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s join Marcos in the living room and he can tell us what it’s like in France this time of year.”

  Marcos obligingly described the upcoming pre-Lent carnivals in Italy and France. Soon Sarah’s mood lightened and the evening echoed the nights she’d shared with her mother in Italy the previous summer.

  In spite of the pleasant mood, Sarah didn’t sleep well Friday night. Saturday morning’s decaf coffee didn’t make a dent in her fatigue. She ambled around the house, moving things from one place to another, not really accomplishing anything.

  Truth was, she was at a standstill until she could get some furniture. Maybe she should work on the website. She turned on the computer and began to surf other inns’ sites for ideas.

  An hour later, Daisy’s bark and the crunch of gravel let her know Rick had arrived.

  Her chest tightened, but she rose and went to greet him.

  Rick grinned when she opened the door. “Here I am! Right on time!” His arms were full of bags with feathery carrot tops, large chard leaves, and a baguette sticking out.

  She moved aside to let him in. Daisy stayed by her side, not giving Rick the warm exuberance the dog had bestowed on Hunter.

  Rick strode toward the kitchen, whistling. By the time she got to the sunny room, he’d pushed her computer to the edge of the table and plunked the bags of food on the table.

  “Where are you stowing your pots?”

  She pointed, knowing what his reaction was going to be.

  “This is it?” He stood and grinned. “Good thing I know you, Sarah. I’ll be right back.”