by Olivia Miles
“Melanie here this morning?” she all but squeaked, even though it was obvious. No Melanie.
“She had an urgent call from her difficult client this morning,” Chloe said, pausing to roll her eyes as she reached for the door of the back room.
Of course. And knowing just how difficult and time-consuming Samantha King could be, it was fair to conclude that Melanie wouldn’t be here in time for the meeting today—not any part of it.
She followed Chloe into the now beautifully renovated storage room and took her usual seat at the table, dread building as she waited for Chloe to do the same. But of all times, Chloe turned to her and said, “Tea?” and Sarah fought back the urge to prolong this conversation as much as she wished to get it over with once and for all.
“Sure,” she managed.
She regretted her decision immediately, as she sat in agony, watching as Chloe filled the electric kettle, then flicked it on, then pulled two mugs from a small cabinet and selected the tea bags. She made small talk, about clients, about the latest shipment of sample dresses, and Sarah heard herself murmuring and commenting even though her mind was spinning and she was now truly panicking and the last thing she cared about was what color Samantha had finally chosen for her bridesmaids.
“I’m glad we’re meeting,” Chloe said as she finally set the two steaming mugs on the table (but not before first getting two coasters from a drawer) and took the chair across from Sarah.
“Me too,” Sarah said, leaning forward. She opened her mouth. “There’s something—”
But Chloe held up a hand. “I should apologize.”
Oh no. No, not this. Sarah felt like she could start to cry. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was supposed to come in here, blurt out the fact that they would have to find a new venue for Hannah, and then Chloe would either fire her then and there or agree to keep her on, and over time, the tension would subside.
A heart-to-heart was never in the cards. And yet, here it was…
“I feel bad about how I reacted,” Chloe said. “You didn’t behave professionally, but neither did I. We’re a team at Bayside Brides, and you’ve certainly shown your passion for the business over time. I shouldn’t have questioned that.”
Sarah said nothing. What could she say? Everything that Chloe was saying was true. She’d just never expected to hear it.
“I accused you of bringing your personal issues into the store, but the truth is that I’m guilty of this myself.” Chloe gave her a sheepish look.
Sarah frowned. “I don’t understand.” Chloe was nothing if not professional.
Chloe pressed her palms to the table. As always, her nails were manicured. This week’s color was a soft ballet pink. “I sometimes take this business too seriously. I sometimes…overreact.”
Now Sarah sat frozen at the table. It wasn’t like Chloe to show emotion. Sarah hadn’t even been sure she possessed it. But now she saw a crack in the careful shell that Chloe lived in.
“I let my own personal issues and emotions interfere with how I’m running this business. Melanie pointed this out to me, and she’s right. I’m not perfect. No one is. I want this to be an enjoyable place to work. For all of us. At the end of the day, I think we’re all here for the same reason.”
Sarah swallowed hard, hoping she would get the answer correct. “Because we believe in happy endings?”
Yesterday she would have said she did. That she believed in love again, and she had hope that it could be found, however unexpected, and that maybe this was what made it so special. But today all she could think about was how Chris had let her down, let them all down, and that it wasn’t just her that was hurt. Now Hannah wouldn’t have her happy ending either.
“Because we want to give our clients their happiest of endings,” she said, but a wistful smile came over her. “And because I’d like to think that this place, this store…Well, it’s my happy ending, really.”
“Mine too,” Sarah said, leaning forward, and this time, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She had to tell Chloe. Now. She loved this store. Loved the bells over the door that jangled whenever it opened. Love the thrill of opening delivery boxes and seeing the most beautiful confections inside. She even loved hearing each bride’s great love story, even if she might not have one of her own.
Her heart was pounding as she worked up the courage to say what had to be said. “Chloe, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Chloe frowned. There was no going back now.
But there was a door, with an exit. But she couldn’t run. This was Hannah’s wedding they were talking about. And Chloe, difficult as she could be, had given her an amazing opportunity by bringing her into Bayside Brides. She owed her this much.
“Chris Foster received an offer on Crestview. The new owner plans to take possession of the home before Hannah’s wedding.” She let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she had been holding.
Chloe blinked at her, as if trying to process this information. “So Hannah can’t have her wedding at Crestview after all?”
Sarah shook her head. “Apparently not.”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “Wow,” she eventually said. “Wow.”
“I want you to know that I did everything in my power to make this happen,” Sarah said, leaning into the table. “Chris…he gave me his word.” Her voice cracked, damn it, and hot tears stung the back of her eyes. But she didn’t even know what the tears were for. Worry? Fear? Anger? Disappointment?
She waited, her breath labored, for Chloe to say something. Anything.
Finally Chloe tossed up her hands and said, “Well, you tried.”
Sarah stared at her boss. This was not the response she had been expecting. “So…you’re not mad at me?”
Chloe gave a small laugh. “Well, it’s hardly your fault. Unless…is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No!” Sarah sat up straighter in her chair. There was actually nothing she was keeping from Chloe, at least, nothing relevant. “I learned the news last night. It was obviously very disappointing, especially because Chris and I had a deal.”
Chloe frowned. “A deal?”
Right. When Chloe and Hannah had stopped by the estate sale, Chris had omitted that part, hadn’t he? He’d given her credit. Undo, perhaps. Either way, it changed nothing.
“He wasted my time,” she said with a sigh. “I asked him to let us hold Hannah’s wedding there in exchange for me helping him to fix his house up, to help it sell. Little did I know how that would backfire on me,” she added bitterly.
“You mean that you spent last week cleaning up that old mansion?” Chloe looked at her in wonder.
Sarah nodded. “I know you told me to use my time to prove that this is where I wanted to be, that this job was the right fit. I couldn’t think of a better way to do that than to make sure that Hannah got the wedding she’d always wanted and that you…you didn’t have to worry about it anymore. And I trusted Chris. I…believed in him.”
“You opened your heart.” Chloe rose her eyebrows. “Well. I have to say that I didn’t expect this.”
“So I can keep my job?” Sarah asked, hopefully.
“Not only can you keep your job, but I’m going to let you start helping me with my event planning projects,” Chloe said. “You’re passionate. You care. We have that in common. Maybe we even have another thing in common.”
Sarah frowned. She could think of nothing else, other than the fact that they were both single. “What’s that?”
“Maybe we care just a little too much,” Chloe said with a funny smile and Sarah nodded. That much was true all right.
***
The blinds in the hotel room had been drawn since last night, but by morning a crack of light appeared on each side of the window. Chris supposed that there was no avoiding it. The day had come to leave Oyster Bay. Perhaps the only mistake he’d made was his own. The one thing he’d promised himself not to do, the one rule he’d set had been broken. Get in. Get
out. Keep your head down.
He’d done exactly the opposite.
He’d packed his suitcase this morning, when he couldn’t lie in bed any longer, replaying the events from yesterday over and over, wondering what else he should have done, or could have done.
“I’m going to be straight with you,” Jim had said when he’d appeared at Crestview, just as Chris was locking up the house. “Another buyer might not come along for months. Maybe even years.”
He knew Jim was right. A house this big, bogged down by landmark status, would be a headache to most people. If they wanted waterfront property, they’d probably rather take a small condo, something they could stay in on weekends or summer vacations. A house like this was for year-round use. It needed love and attention that hadn’t been given to it since Marty had moved out.
“There’s no way we can push off the closing date?” he had pressed, even though Jim had made that clear. The buyers were holding firm on that. It was July. They wanted to enjoy their summer on the shore. They had a backup property in mind in a neighboring town.
The decision was obvious. He would sell to the one buyer who had come along, just as he had come here to do. He had succeeded. They had succeeded. With Sarah’s help, the house looked the best it could be, better than he could have ever made it himself.
So why then, instead of feeling like he had succeeded, did he feel like he had failed?
He pulled back the blinds and stared out onto the view of the Atlantic. A premium room he’d paid extra for just so he didn’t have to face town. Just so he didn’t have to see people. But what he saw now was the same view he’d seen that fateful day, his last time here, shortly after that photo had been taken with Jenna.
She’d brought him to Oyster Bay to tell him the truth. That there was nothing the doctors could do. That she didn’t have much time. He’d stared out onto the ocean in disbelief, his heart not wanting to believe her even though his head knew that he had to. The waves were strong that day, crashing against the shoreline in angry bursts, and he felt like they were pulling him in, taking away everything that was his, that had meant so much.
Jenna died nine weeks later. He never returned to Oyster Bay again. Not until now.
And now, he would leave it. Forever. And even though that was supposed to be his closure, and even though that was supposed to feel good, it didn’t feel right.
His head knew he was making the right choice. The practical choice. After all, what was the alternative? To move into Crestview himself? To let it sit on the market, while he covered the overhead?
Impossible.
But his heart… Frankly, he hadn’t even known he still had a heart. Until now. All these years, it had been numb. No pain. No joy either.
The clock on the bedside table ticked away another minute. It was check-out time, and there was no delaying the inevitable.
Chris pulled in a heavy breath as he closed the hotel room door behind him and made his way to the elevator bank, his suitcase rolling behind him. He pressed the button and stepped inside the elevator when the doors slid open, taking in the silence as he watched the buttons count down his descent to the lobby level.
Alone. He’d gotten so used to being alone for the past three years that he hadn’t even realized how unhappy it had made him.
“Checking out, sir?” The woman behind the counter smiled expectantly at him as he approached. “I hope you had a pleasant stay in Oyster Bay.”
He paused, feeling the impact of that simple statement, that was probably just part of the script that she was required to say to all the guests. “I did,” he said, looking down at his wallet.
Once there had been a time when he couldn’t recall what he’d ever found appealing about Oyster Bay. It had a dark shadow over it, despite the sunshine and sea air and brightly colored taffy being pulled in the candy shop window on Main Street.
But Sarah had lifted all that fog. Scrubbed away the dirt and the grime in that old house until she uncovered what was once so beautiful about it. She’d breathed new life into Crestview Manor.
She’d breathed new life into him.
He looked up at the woman, who seemed to be losing her patience with him as a line formed behind him.
“Sorry.” He handed over the credit card, his heart pounding as she processed it and handed him his receipt.
“We hope to see you again soon,” she said as her eyes slid to the person behind him.
Chris pushed his wallet back into his pocket and stared out the windows onto the street. There was no reason to ever return to Oyster Bay now. His uncle was gone. The house would be sold. His connection to this town, and everyone in it, and everything that had ever happened here, would finally be a part of his past.
Just as he had wanted it to be.
Only that wasn’t what he wanted anymore at all. This town, it was a part of him, and try as he might he couldn’t deny it. And leaving it all behind wouldn’t just be letting Marty down. It would mean letting himself down, too.
With a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in too many years to admit, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and crossed the lobby to the front doors, his stride quick, his chest full.
He was checking out of the hotel, but he wasn’t going back to Boston. He was going three blocks down the street. To find Jim McDowell in the real estate office. Before it was too late.
Chapter Fifteen
Bayside Brides was located right in the heart of Main Street, only a short distance from the flower shop, the Oyster Bay Hotel, and The Lantern—where Chris and Sarah had never made it for their celebratory drinks.
Chris waited until a few minutes before noon to make his stop there, deciding that it was the best way to track down Sarah. The only way, really. He didn’t know where she lived. He could, he supposed, ask around. In a town this small, the first or second person he spoke to would surely be able to guide him in the right direction, but they might also tip Sarah off, give her a reason to not be home, or not come to the door.
Truth be told, he wasn’t so sure she’d want to hear him out.
He pushed inside the storefront, which was even more frilly and girly than it appeared from the outside, though it was pretty and elegant in its own, extremely feminine way. He smiled to himself, thinking of Sarah spending her days here, and what a huge shift that was from her days helping him clean up the house, with paint smeared on her cheek and dust in her hair and cobwebs lurking at every corner.
“May I help you?” A pretty brunette approached him with a curious smile. Chris imagined it wasn’t every day that men came in here.
“Just browsing,” he said in a low voice.
The woman’s brow knitted but she smiled politely and said, “If there’s anything you’re, um, interested in, let me know.”
He didn’t know whose face was redder after that statement, and he showed her some mercy by nodding quickly and walking to the back of the store. It was a small shop, with walls of dresses and shoes and veils. A small seating area sat in front of a three-way mirror. No Sarah.
He could have asked for her. He would, soon, if she didn’t make an appearance. But he didn’t want to interrupt her. He just wanted to see if she was free soon, for lunch. If she might join him.
As soon as he almost knocked down a rack of poufy bridesmaids’ dresses, he knew that he had made a mistake in coming here. He would have been better off sitting outside, on a park bench, around five, waiting until she was off work for the day.
But he just couldn’t wait. Each hour that went by felt like the distance between them had grown further. That soon she would slip from his reach altogether, and he couldn’t have that.
He’d lost too much already. He wouldn’t lose another day.
He glanced over toward the counter, catching the eye of the brunette, who quickly darted her gaze away, pretending to be extremely immersed in something on the computer screen. Right. He’d give it two more minutes and then he’d ask. Or leave. Come up with another plan, even if
he was out of one at the moment.
There was no sign of Chloe, the boss. Maybe she was at a meeting.
Maybe…No, he frowned. Sarah couldn’t have lost her job over the wedding venue falling through?
His heart began to pound and he was just about to step forward and ask straight up for Sarah Preston, when he saw them. The jewelry that he had given Sarah just a few short days ago. They were in the case. Tagged. For sale.
Something inside him dropped, like a heavy weight, permanently held down. There it was. All the proof he needed that Sarah had put Crestview, and everything they’d had there, behind them. That she was getting rid of the memories, the physical reminders, just as he had been determined to banish the old house.
“Excuse me?” His voice was loud, clear, surprising even to himself.
The woman looked up in something close to alarm. “Yes?”
“I am interested in something, actually.” He tried to ignore the pop of her eyes as she approached. “These necklaces. This bracelet. And those earrings. I’ll take them.”
A funny smile crept over her mouth as she reached into her pocket and fished out a key. “Gift wrap?” she asked, with a pert little smile.
He nodded. Why not? If he was going to do something, he was going to do it right. All the way.
Something told him that Sarah wouldn’t have it any other way.
He followed the woman to the counter, handed over his credit card, and waited while she rang up the order and packaged each item in a small, blue gift box. The shop was quiet, aside from the classical music that faintly filled the space. Chris trained his ear for any other sound of life. For a voice behind a white paneled door that must have led to an office of some sort. But there was nothing.
If he’d cost her her job, she’d never forgive him.
And he would never forgive himself.
“There you are,” the woman said, sliding the bag across the counter to him.
He took it by the handles. Cream, thick ribbons. He opened his mouth, catching the woman’s eye.
And her knowing smile. “Sarah’s on her lunch break, but she should be back in about half an hour. If you want to catch her, she said she was taking her sandwich down to the beach.”