by Amy Lyon
Vivian started a slow clap and the other business owners joined in.
Sara twisted her hands together in her lap and Jackson reached under the table and threaded his fingers with hers.
“Nice job,” he whispered next to her ear.
When the meeting closed, Sara caught the maroon of Vivian’s designer suit in her peripheral vision. The woman seemed to be bearing down on her.
“I don’t think she likes me,” she said in a low voice to Jackson, nodding in Vivian’s direction.
Jackson looked up without moving his head. “Don’t take it personally. I don’t know that Vivian really likes anybody. She plays the part. It’s all about business for her.”
Sara had a hard time understanding the dynamics of such a split personality. Condescending one minute, then bubbling over with enthusiasm the next. Or maybe, Sara thought as the woman stopped in front of them, she genuinely didn’t like Sara.
“You can count me in for the grand opening-slash-anniversary party,” Vivian said and set her hand on Jackson’s arm. “I do have my own supplier for essential oils, though. I’ve been mixing my own blends for years now.”
She held out her wrist to Sara, then Jackson.
“Mmm. Smells good,” Sara said. “If you don’t mind me asking, what distributor do you use?”
Vivian’s lips pressed into a white slash. “You know, I can’t remember the name off the top of my head, but they’re the best.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll email you the name.”
Jackson cleared his throat. “Actually, Sara created a new blend I think you’ll like. She named it Sweet Serenity after her store.” He caught Sara’s eye and winked.
“Oh,” Vivian drawled. “What flavor?”
“A calming blend,” Sara said, holding out her wrist. “Sweet and soothing.”
“A top seller for sure,” Jackson added.
Vivian sniffed Sara’s arm. “Let me percolate on that one. I’ve got a nose for smells and I’ll be able to tell you exactly what’s in it.” She winked. “I just might steal your secret formula.”
She cocked her hip, pivoted on her heel and disappeared like the Wicked Witch of the West, minus the broom.
* * *
Sara mailed a handful of orders that afternoon and, once she was satisfied that she’d caught up on her business, switched gears to help Andi with the final wedding details.
Wednesday was the day of the dress reveal. Sara accompanied Andi to Circles of Care, where she would show her mother the wedding dress she’d found at Helping Hands thrift store and had altered to ultra-modern specifications.
“I hope she remembers me today,” Andi said as they drove over the causeway.
A pang of sadness hit Sara. Aunt Millie’s worsening dementia meant a large portion of Andi’s life now centered on wondering what frame of mind her mother would be in when she visited.
Sara’s sadness was coupled with guilt because she’d cut all ties with her own mother, a woman who not only shared Sara’s secret about Mack’s death with the whole church, but also blamed Sara for her father’s death.
They were unfair burdens to bear, but her mother saddled her with both. Cutting off the problem at the source was the first step of healing for Sara.
“I wasn’t there when either of them died,” Sara blurted, then recoiled.
But Andi gave her a knowing glance, seeming to understand Sara referred to the deaths of her father and Mack. “Thinking about your mom, huh?”
She nodded. “More than I should.”
Andi didn’t say anything more. Just took one hand off the steering wheel to hold Sara’s.
Circles of Care had a surprisingly bright, homey atmosphere. Sara had imagined a scene often portrayed in movies for assisted living facilities—a dark, lonely building with very little natural light. Circles of Care was nothing like that.
They weaved down several hallways, through a nice-looking entertainment area, and came to an open door.
Sara hadn’t seen Millie in years. Relaxed in a recliner by the window, the resemblance to her own mother was striking. They had the same stick-straight gray hair, although Millie’s was shorter than Sara’s mother’s.
“Sweet girl!” Millie chirped when Sara approached for a hug. “Andi said you’d be visiting.”
“Actually, I’ve moved here,” Sara said, holding the older woman’s hand. “You look wonderful, Millie.”
Her aunt managed a modified curtsy in her chair, eliciting a laugh from Andi.
“Glad to see you’re having a good day, Mom.”
Millie beamed. “Seeing long-lost family members always cheers me up.”
Sara straightened, happy she’d come. “Well, I’m glad I could be here for the big reveal.” She motioned to the garment bag holding Andi’s dress.
“Me too, dear,” Millie said. “I just wish your mother could have stayed.”
A breath caught in Sara’s throat. “My mother?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Just the mention of Sally Shaw made Sara sweat. Her mother was the last person she expected to hear Millie mention, and the storm swirling in her midsection was one part anger, another part fear.
And wholly warranted.
Sally Shaw appeared pleasant enough to the casual passerby, with her trendy, foiled hair and soulful green eyes tucked behind designer glasses, but she’d changed from the good mother Sara grew up with to a vindictive and cruel woman after the death of her dad.
Sara had the uncomfortable urge to look over her shoulder, expecting her mother to be there, judging her.
Millie cleared her throat. “Sally looks old,” she blurted. “I know I’m no spring chicken, but she was so made up trying to cover those wrinkles that she looked like a piece of cracked china.” She drilled Sara with a serious expression. “The years have really chipped away at my sister, haven’t they?”
Sara forced a small smile and shrugged. She knew from past conversations with Andi that dementia patients like Millie often lived in “alternate dimensions” in which they couldn’t tell reality from memories or, in this case, imagined stories.
But Sara wondered if seeing Sally was really just Millie’s imagination.
Millie pointed a crooked finger at Andi. “Get her some of that anti-aging serum you bought me at Christmastime.”
Andi hung her dress on the bathroom door. “I’ll do that, Mom.” She turned to Sara and whispered, “That was eight years ago.”
Sara motioned to the door and Andi followed her into the hallway.
“Was my mom really here?”
Andi shook her head. “Not a chance. My mom hasn’t talked to Sally in years.”
“Are you sure?”
Andi bit her lip. “She would have said something.”
“So maybe,” Sara concluded, peering down the hallway.
“My mom’s having a good day, but she’s not completely with it. Last time I was here she thought she’d just come from lunch with my dad, who she hasn’t seen in, oh, maybe fifteen years.”
Sara crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Seeing you probably just sparked a memory.”
“Millie just seems so—” Sara searched for the best words “—with it. You’d never know she has dementia.”
Andi frowned. “That’s the blessing and the curse of this disease. I love when she’s aware and knows me, but then I hope for the same awareness the next time around and rarely do I get it.”
Sara took in a deep breath. Most likely she was being paranoid. As hard as it was to cut ties, she’d left her mother and that life behind. Sure, there were people who would be appalled that Sara could disown her own mother, but when the bad consistently outweighed the good, change was inevitable.
That didn’t mean she didn’t want a relationship with her mother. Quite the opposite. She craved the close mother-daughter relationships other people had, but reality was rarely that cut and dry.
Even Andi and Millie
had some pretty serious struggles over the years. They’d somehow patched those wounds, and that gave Sara hope that someday, somehow …
She reminded herself Mimosa Key provided the promise of a fresh start. Time and distance would help Sara loosen her grip on the past and, as her counselor had recommended, live in the present. She pushed her hand into the pocket of her shorts and ran her finger over the silver coin with the words that had become as familiar to her as the lines on her hands.
Even in death there is life.
And that helped her switch gears to focus on Andi. This was an exciting time for her cousin and she’d be the model maid of honor.
“Let’s see how that dress fits,” Sara said, leading Andi back into the room.
They used the bathroom as a dressing room. The satin material felt like heaven between Sara’s fingers as she slipped it over Andi’s head. The fact Andi paid only twelve dollars at Heaven’s Helper for the one-hundred-percent silk number was another testament to just how resourceful her cousin could be.
The dress was simple, effortless and relaxed, much like Andi, and when Sara turned her cousin to look in the bathroom mirror, their jaws dropped.
“You look incredible,” Sara breathed. “Go show your mom.”
She pulled her phone from her back pocket and snapped a photo of the moment Millie saw her daughter. Her aunt’s eyes filled with tears and she reached out a frail hand.
Thank God today was a good day, Sara thought.
“An angel,” Millie whispered.
What once was a plain, strapless wedding dress now featured delicate crochet straps with a matching crochet belt and crochet trim around the bottom, all lovingly added by a retired seamstress Andi knew from Hope Presbyterian Church.
The dress was so Andi, Sara thought as she gently tied the belt a little tighter around her cousin’s tiny waist.
“Take good care of this dress,” Sara whispered. “This just might be my something borrowed one day.”
Millie’s lips drew together in a tight O shape. “When you marry Jackson?” she blurted, her thin eyebrows spiking toward the ceiling.
Sara’s eyes doubled in size and Andi doubled over laughing.
“Mom, you weren’t supposed to say anything,” Andi teased and playfully patted Millie’s arm. She turned to Sara. “I may have mentioned before you moved here that you and Jackson would make a cute couple.”
“He’s so very sweet and handsome,” Millie interjected.
Andi shrugged. “And I was right.”
Sara’s ears grew hot. Rather than argue the merits of a relationship four days before her cousin’s wedding, she focused on the delicate stitches around the hem of Andi’s dress. How fair would it be to Jackson for her to even consider a relationship with him when her past was a knotted mess of sloppy stitches and loose ends?
Her past.
Two little words that drained her every time she thought them. And two words that wouldn’t let her be no matter where she went.
She envisioned a day in the near future when she could take industrial-strength scissors to the bulky threads of her past, wrangling those unruly fibers into a straight line and tying them up into a constrictive knot where they’d be cinched off from doing any more damage.
She’d be free at last.
Free to love and be loved with no strings attached.
* * *
With Jackson’s shop hours and Sara’s maid of honor responsibilities, they’d been like two ships passing in Mimosa Harbor for the better part of the week.
Tonight, Jackson was ready to throw down anchor.
He’d arranged with one of the college kids home for the summer to close up the shop and watch his business through the weekend. Tonight was the groom’s dinner at the island’s fanciest restaurant, Junonia, and tomorrow afternoon was the wedding.
Maybe being around the wedding festivities would open Sara’s eyes to the possibility of real love and help mend the cracks left by her past. Clearly Mack hadn’t appreciated her, but Jackson was ready to step up and show her what real love was all about.
He studied himself in the bathroom mirror and ticked an eyebrow. And what exactly qualified him for such a romantic task?
He’d never felt this way about a woman before. That was for sure. And he’d do anything to make Sara smile. To feel her body relax into his. To take away her insecurities for just one second.
Matt and Andi were a good couple to emulate. The odds were stacked against them when Andi came to Mimosa Key a few years ago for a funeral. She only planned to stay for three days, but then she met Matt.
Divine interruption for sure.
Of course, the logistics of moving across the country presented challenges for Andi, not to mention Matt breaking the news that he had a nine-year-old daughter, Lily. But their foundation was strong and it seemed there were no challenges they couldn’t overcome together.
As Jackson buttoned his gray shirt and flipped the matching tie into a knot, he thought about his own challenges. The tide finally turned for him and he could pinpoint the sudden surge of optimism he felt to the day Sara arrived. She was the rip to his curl, the boogie to his board, the ground to his swell.
He laughed out loud.
Even if he couldn’t surf anymore, he could still appreciate a phenomenal sunset over the beach and the welcome tingle of salt spray on his skin.
With Sara by his side, that was more than enough.
She’d been dealt a rough hand, but he wanted to show her there was no point in letting the past consume her, especially when he saw a vivid future for them. Almost like the universe’s script was being properly played out when they were together.
He grunted. Man, he’d become a sap.
He clicked off the bathroom light and made his way through the kitchen to where Jax waited by the front door.
“No walk tonight, buddy,” he said. “I’m going to pick up Sara.”
Jax’s ears perked up and he tilted his head.
“Sara,” Jackson said again.
Jax angled his head the other way.
“You like her, buddy? You like Sara?”
Jax nudged Jackson’s leg. Of course he liked Sara. What was there not to like?
And who better than Sara to spend his first mini-vacation with since he’d taken over Beachside Rentals?
He promised Jax he’d be back soon and headed north on Center Street to Sara’s house. He’d planned to pick her up at her cottage like a real date, but when he arrived she was again waiting on the sidewalk outside her shop. He hopped out of the car to open her door, but she was already sliding into the passenger’s seat by the time he got around to her side.
“At least let me try to be a gentleman,” he said and bent down to kiss her cheek.
“I got it,” she said and pulled the door shut from the inside.
Independent and stubborn, he thought as he slipped back into the driver’s seat.
Junonia, the restaurant attached to Casa Blanca Resort and Spa, appeared to be packed. Jackson valet parked the car and got his first good look at Sara as they walked to the building’s entrance.
“Wow, you are a beautiful woman,” he said, giving her an appreciative once-over. “And much taller tonight.”
“Heels,” she said, lifting a slender leg to point out the wedge sandals. “Andi picked out this outfit when we were shopping for her honeymoon clothes.” She smoothed the length of the blue and white sundress.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and softly kissed her lips. “Gorgeous.”
She sighed. “And you look—”
Just then the front door of Junonia flew open and Kenny Fine appeared with a beer in one hand, his other palm held high in the air.
“Can you believe our boy is getting married tomorrow?” he said, pumping the raised palm in their direction. “Seems like just last year we ripped apart that football field together.”
Sara leaned in close. “You played football?”
He nodded, but spared her
the unimpressive details. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was invite Kenny Fine on a stroll down memory lane. He was perpetually lost in the glory days of Mimosa High and forever seeking to be the center of attention.
Not a good combination.
“Don’t leave me hanging, brother,” Kenny said, pumping his palm again.
Playing along, Jackson gave Kenny a high-five and tried to maneuver around him, but he was built like the linebacker he was in high school and not much for taking subtle hints.
Kenny bowed in front of Sara and took her hand. “How do you do, my lady,” he said in a terrible accent.
Her laugh was half giggle, half snort. Before Kenny could bring her hand to his lips, Jackson wrapped an arm possessively around her shoulder and ushered her through the open double doors.
“See you inside,” he said over his shoulder to Kenny.
A couple of dozen people were already gathered in The Hibiscus Room, a large meeting room on the south end of the restaurant. The room’s usual conservative decor had been transformed to a coastal theme with soft yellows and blues. Jackson saw the beach-loving cousins’ fingerprints everywhere.
“So this is what you were doing all day,” Jackson said, waving a hand at the table decorations. “Cool flowers.” He touched the delicate petal of one of the centerpieces.
“We made them,” Sara said, a proud twinkle in her emerald eyes. “Paper flowers never die.”
Jackson studied her and felt his heart expand in his chest. “I didn’t know you were so crafty.”
A thoughtful smile curved the corners of her mouth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Tell me,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to know everything.”
Her breath hitched and he couldn’t tell if he saw fear or fascination in her eyes.
“I should go find—”
Jackson shook his head. “You have all night to find Andi, so before you run off—” he took her hand and led her across the room “—I want you to meet my mother.”
Not giving her a chance to protest, he maneuvered them around the dessert table to where The Golden Girls had gathered.