“I’m going up tomorrow, and I should be coming through your way on Wednesday night. Maybe we could have dinner? If you’re free, I mean.”
It was hard to imagine an appointment she wouldn’t cancel to see Paul, even if she had plans, which she definitely did not.
“Wednesday? . . . I’ll just grab my calendar and check.” She picked up her date book from her night table and stared at the blank page. She waited a few seconds. “Wednesday looks fine,” she said finally.
“I think I can get to Cape Light by six. I’ll pick you up at your apartment. How does that sound?”
“Great,” Jessica agreed. She would have to leave the office a little early to get ready on time, but that wouldn’t be a problem.
“So how was your weekend?” he added. “Did you take that bike ride to the beach?”
“No, I didn’t get the chance. I had to catch up on some office work, then chores around the house on Saturday,” she reported. “Oh, and I did some gardening at my mother’s.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” he said. “It was such a nice weekend. Well, we’ll just have to do that ride together sometime.”
“Yes, we will.” Heavens, I sound so boring, she thought with alarm. “I had lunch today with . . . with some people I know in town. That was fun,” she added.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Paul said. “At least you got out a little.”
If Paul was at all curious about her companions, he didn’t show it. Of course she didn’t want to admit it had been her mother and Dr. Elliot . . . and that Molly Willoughby’s spice cake had been the highlight of her weekend.
“And how’s the new job going?” he asked with interest.
“Not much different from what I’d been doing before. Just more of it. A lot more,” she added with emphasis.
He laughed. “You’ve got to pay your dues, Jessica,” he said knowingly. It was one of those moments when she was subtly reminded of their age difference. “And at least you have a private office with a very nice window now,” he pointed out.
“Yes, I do,” she replied, her mind suddenly filled with Sam’s image. She pushed the thought aside. She really didn’t want to be thinking of him at all right now.
They talked a little more until Paul noticed the time and thought he’d better hang up. “I’d better get some sleep. I have a lot of driving ahead of me tomorrow. And then some problems in Burlington to sort out,” he confided.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I thought it was going well.”
“I don’t think it’s anything too awful. The client is a pain in the neck, but I need to show my face. At least on Wednesday I get to see you. That should keep me going,” he said in a mock-brave tone.
Jessica laughed, feeling warmed by his words. “I’m looking forward to it, too,” she told him.
They said their good-nights, and Jessica hung up the phone, feeling a good deal happier. Paul really did like her. Things were going well. Three whole days before she saw him. She could barely wait.
Just before she shut out the light on the back porch, she checked to see if the stray cat had come out. It was still raining. The saucer of food was empty, but there was no sign of her mysterious visitor. Little by little, she thought. Just like her and Paul. Things were progressing. Slowly but surely.
THE RAIN BEGAN FALLING HARDER, BUT SARA FRANKLIN barely noticed. She drove slowly down Emerson Street, searching for number thirty-five. When she found the house, she cruised by, then turned her car around at the end of the street and drove back again. She stopped a few doors down, parking on the opposite side of the street, away from the streetlight, careful to be inconspicuous.
It didn’t really matter, though. The house was dark without even a light on near the front door. Emily Warwick was not home tonight.
She’d driven by the house a few times since coming to town, curious to see where Emily lived. Tonight was the first time she’d ever stopped and watched it like this. Maybe she was getting more brazen, or maybe she was just taking advantage of the cover of rain and darkness.
Sara felt partly relieved that Emily wasn’t home—and partly disappointed. She rubbed some condensation off the inside of her car window and stared out at the house, hoping to learn something about Emily by studying her home.
The small colonial-style house looked quite old—maybe it was even a historic house—with bay windows on the first floor, flanking a covered entry, and a row of small, rectangular-shaped windows upstairs. Sara thought the style might be called an eyebrow colonial, but she wasn’t sure.
In the darkness she couldn’t really make out colors or details, but from an earlier visit she remembered that the house was a sedate gray-blue, with cream-colored trim, dark blue shutters, and a brick-red door. Window boxes overflowed with flowers and trailing vines, and tall rose-bushes tumbled over a white picket fence.
It was a neat, modest house. The house of a respectable person, for sure. A nice person, Sara concluded.
But what was Emily Warwick really like? Sara knew she couldn’t really tell from seeing her house, or even seeing her that one time in the diner on Tuesday morning.
This wasn’t going to be over as quickly as she’d first thought, Sara realized. Finding Emily was really just the beginning.
But maybe for tonight I’ve had enough, she decided. As she reached for the key to start the car again, she suddenly noticed a dark blue Jeep pull up the street and then into the driveway.
Emily jumped out and dashed up the brick walk, carrying a small black suitcase. She stopped at the front door, grabbing a wad of mail from the brass box before she went in.
Coming back from the weekend, Sara surmised. Where did she go? To visit friends, or even a boyfriend perhaps? Did she have a boyfriend? She was certainly attractive enough for her age. Taller than Sara had pictured her, and thin and athletic-looking with her short, tousled hair.
Sara had never expected that Emily Warwick would be the mayor of Cape Light. That put a certain wrinkle in her plan. It could make things hard for Emily later. Then again, that was Emily’s problem, Sara reminded herself.
Warm, yellow squares of light soon filled the downstairs windows, and Sara glimpsed Emily passing back and forth, talking on the phone. Then Emily came to the window, pulled back the curtain and glanced out at the rain-swept street. Sara ducked low in the driver’s seat, though she knew that there was no way Emily could see her.
Still, the moment made her nervous. She couldn’t sit here all night. Sooner or later someone would notice her, she realized. Someone might even call the police.
Sara stared at the house again. The light in the large bay window on the left went out, and then the light in the other window, too. She soon saw another light appear upstairs, but the windows were too narrow to reveal anything inside.
Sara turned her key in the ignition. Watching the house was starting to make her feel creepy. I’m not here to stalk the woman, for goodness’ sake, she told herself.
Sweet dreams, Emily. You’re so different from any of my fantasies, good or bad, Sara thought as she pulled away from the curb. I could never have imagined you in a million years.
And I’m sure Emily could never have imagined me.
It was weird to look at Emily’s face and see a sort of shadow image of herself. It freaked her out. And it made her wonder: Could Emily ever recognize her and figure it out?
No, Sara decided. Even if she thinks of it, it’s just too unbelievable. She’ll never figure it out on her own. I have to tell her. If I can ever go through with it.
Maybe she ought to just pack up and go back home to Maryland. But she’d come so far and thought about this for so long. Ever since her parents had told her she was adopted, she’d dreamed of, planned, and waited for the day when she’d meet Emily Warwick, her birth mother.
I can’t just turn around and go home, she thought. Not now.
I have to stay and talk to her, tell her who I am. If I give up now and go home, I’ll never forgive myself.
; Feeling resolved, Sara drove through the winding lanes that led away from Emerson Street and soon emerged on Main Street, in the middle of the village.
Driving past the diner, she noticed the Help Wanted sign in the window. Her parents had given her a little money for the trip, but it was quickly dwindling. The diner would be a good place to work, she thought. Emily seemed to be a regular there. Besides, Sara had done some waitressing in college and was pretty sure they’d hire her.
The diner was closed for the night. Sara decided to head over there first thing in the morning. Maybe Lucy Bates would remember her. She hoped so. She seemed a lot easier to talk to than her husband.
JESSICA WOKE TO THE SOUND OF HARD RAIN THE NEXT morning. As she got ready for work, she wondered if she would run into Sam at the office this week. It would be hard to face him after yesterday’s encounter at church. Maybe she ought to apologize. Maybe he’d already finished his work there, and she wouldn’t have to deal with it at all.
She slipped on her skirt and pulled up the zipper, dismayed to realize that the idea of him having finished at the office disappointed her.
What’s wrong with me? she wondered. I have a date with Paul Wednesday night. Why am I even wasting time thinking about Sam Morgan?
She found the lavender cardigan that matched her sleeveless top and stepped into her shoes. If she saw him in the office, she’d say a quick hello. But she wouldn’t be too friendly and give him the wrong idea—that she liked him, or wanted to go out with him, or anything like that.
Right, Jessica, a little voice replied.
No, really. I don’t, she argued back.
The humidity made her hair extra curly, and she pulled it back in a large, low clip. He’s a nice guy and definitely attractive, she told herself. But he’s just not my type. Besides, I’m not going to be here very long. There would be no point to it.
Feeling resolved, she put on her watch and pearl earrings, then picked up her briefcase and headed for the bank.
As she walked down the hallway to her office, she heard the distant but distinct sound of a power drill a few doors down. From the sound she guessed Sam was here. She might see him today, after all. Her stomach knotted. Just hungry, she told herself. I shouldn’t skip breakfast.
Jessica worked in her office awhile, then went down to the customer area to meet with a couple who were applying for a small-business loan to start a nursery and landscaping company. Mark and Nancy Wilson smiled when she came in, but Jessica could tell they were nervous.
“Well, we’ve reviewed your financial information, and I have good news,” she told them, quickly putting the couple at ease. “The loan has been approved for the amount you’ve requested.”
“Really? That’s great! Thank you so much,” Mark Wilson said.
“This is so wonderful!” his wife agreed. “We’ve been working for this for years.”
Smiling widely, they hugged each other first, then thanked Jessica again so profusely, she thought for a moment they were both going to hug her, too.
“We just need a few more documents to process the loan,” Jessica explained, handing them a folder. “Drop these off this week, marked to my attention, and we can draw up the final papers. You can probably come in early next week to sign everything.”
The couple asked her a few more questions, thanked her again, and then both husband and wife heartily shook her hand before departing.
This was definitely her favorite part of her job, helping people start a new enterprise. It was often the realization of a long-held dream, and she liked playing a part in making it happen for them.
Still thinking about the couple, Jessica headed back up to her office. It caught her completely off guard when she stepped into the hallway from the stairwell and found herself facing Sam.
“Hello, Jessica,” he said, greeting her with a wide, warm smile.
“Sam. H-hello,” she heard herself stammer and felt embarrassed. “So, you’re still working here this week,” she added, her mind a sudden blank.
What a dumb thing to say. Of course he was. There he was, right in front of her. Why did this guy turn her into a babbling idiot every time he so much as smiled at her?
“I just came back for a few finishing touches. . . . Unless of course someone decides I need to build you a corner office,” he teased her.
“Probably not this week.” She smiled despite herself. “I’m still getting used to the window.”
He laughed. He had straight white teeth and dimples, two deep brackets at the corners of his lean cheeks. She hadn’t noticed that before.
“It was nice to see you yesterday. I didn’t know you belonged to Bible Community Church,” he said after a moment.
“I don’t, really,” she said quickly. She met his gaze, then looked away. “Emily usually brings my mother. I just did it to help out.”
He seemed to take church seriously. Maybe he wouldn’t be as interested in her now. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself.
But his expression showed neither approval nor disapproval. “I enjoyed the sermon,” he said. “Reverend Ben comes up with some interesting ideas.”
Jessica had to agree. “He’s a good speaker.”
She met his gaze and felt miserably self-conscious. It was as bad as being a gawky thirteen-year-old. Her mind was a blank. She didn’t have the first idea of what to say. Still, it was hard to step away.
“Jessica, there you are—” Jessica turned to see Suzanne walking toward her. “I’ve been looking for you. Ready for lunch?”
“Sure . . . let me just dump this stuff in my office,” she said.
She wondered if she should ask Sam to join them. No, that would be sending him the wrong message . . . wouldn’t it? Before she could figure it out, Suzanne beat her to it.
“Hi, Sam. Want to have lunch with us?”
Jessica met his gaze and felt herself freeze in place. He looked at her briefly, then back at Suzanne.
“Thanks, but I really need to stick around here and finish up.”
Suzanne frowned. “Too bad. Maybe another time?”
“Sure, some other time,” he agreed with a friendly nod.
Jessica met his gaze again, and for a moment he seemed to share a private smile with her. As she watched him turn and walk away, she felt a mixture of relief . . . and disappointment.
She walked down to her office and closed the door. Alone inside, she shook her head and said to herself aloud, “Okay, get a grip. He’s done with his work today, and that is that with Sam Morgan.”
JESSICA AND SUZANNE ATE LUNCH AT THE CLAM BOX. Jessica was hoping to run into her sister, Emily, there, realizing she’d meant to call her this morning. She would try to call her later, or maybe tonight. She just wanted to assure Emily that everything had gone all right on Sunday with Lillian. She wasn’t sure why she felt obliged to report in to her older sister . . . she just did.
“I wonder if Sam Morgan really had to work, or he just didn’t want to have lunch with us,” Suzanne said suddenly as their waitress brought their order.
“I haven’t got a clue,” Jessica replied honestly.
“Oh, well. I tried.” Suzanne plunked a straw into her iced tea. “All those women’s magazines are always saying guys like it when you make the first move. But I still haven’t met one that does.”
Jessica didn’t know what to say in reply. For one thing, she’d rarely had the nerve to make the first move. And for another, she didn’t really want to talk about Sam Morgan.
“He did look busy,” she said finally. She felt sorry for her friend, putting herself out like that, then getting rejected. “Hey, maybe it was me he didn’t want to have lunch with,” she added.
“Nice try, Jessica. But I don’t think that was it,” Suzanne said with a small, knowing grin.
After lunch Jessica went straight into a meeting. It was nearly five when she finally emerged. She was sure Sam was gone, and it gave her a funny feeling, as if she’d missed out on saying good-bye to him. Sh
e caught herself. That was silly. No. It was crazy.
Back in her office she checked her messages and considered the work she still had to do before she went home. Then she looked up to see a small yellow Post-it note on her window. She approached, already knowing who had left it.
His handwriting was bold and straightforward, just like his personality, she thought.
“Jessica, Enjoy the view—Sam,” the simple message read. She pulled it off the glass, laughing. She sat down at her desk again and was about to toss it in the trash, when she suddenly changed her mind. She stuck it on the edge of her desk blotter. She wasn’t sure why.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE CLAM BOX WAS PRACTICALLY EMPTY, EMILY noticed as she walked in. Just the way she liked it.
She took a big booth by the window all to herself and spread out her papers from the office. She didn’t usually eat dinner early, but at half past five her day was only half over. She needed a break and some refueling before that night’s town council meeting. Starting at seven, it could go on until midnight or later.
The big item on tonight’s agenda was the new parking meters proposed for Main Street. Most of the council agreed on the need for meters. The shopkeepers, however, were opposed.
Emily glanced around for Charlie Bates. She knew that on meeting nights he usually went home in the afternoon to get ready for his public appearance. He’d be leading the charge against the meters. She only hoped that if he was still around, he’d let her eat her dinner in peace and save his powder for the meeting.
A waitress walked up to the table and put a glass of ice water on the table, then handed Emily a menu. Emily had never seen her before, though she knew Lucy and Charlie had been looking for extra help again.
“Hi, my name is Sara. We have some specials on the board tonight. Can I get you something to drink while you’re deciding?”
The young woman seemed nervous, Emily noticed. She could barely meet Emily’s eye. Probably her first day on the job. Emily smiled up at her. She didn’t bother opening the menu; she knew it by heart. “I think I can order now.”
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