Searching For Sarah (The Sarah Series Book 1)

by Julieann Dove

  “Sure. No problem.” I dropped the spoon in my bowl and sighed. So much for “Dear Abby.” It must’ve been some serious obstacle that made his crazy chick want to leave. I looked around at his kitchen. All the shiny appliances, the Italian tiled backsplash, and chintz rugs. Who would leave this? A Glenn Close character seemed out of place on his arm. Not that he looked as if he’d date a deranged killer. I imagined someone more like Gidget, who cooked zucchini in brownies and went to the gym every day. No, on second thought, actually someone who’d have someone make brownies and lie and say they had zucchinis in them. I couldn’t see Sam dating anyone domesticated. Possibly someone with mad skills for picking out restaurants.

  It didn’t matter. I’d never know. I had the diner and a pressed uniform in my sights. And a new apartment.

  I got up to rinse my bowl when Sam scared me by popping in the doorway. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to say I’ll be late tomorrow evening. I have a dinner appointment I can’t get out of.”

  “No problem. You don’t have to explain. Remember? I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, waiting for me to get off.”

  He looked down at my legs. I realized I was wearing a Bangles concert shirt, no bra, and the neckline was well stretched. I crossed my arms.

  “I just wanted to let you know…in case you cooked again.”

  “All right.”

  He smiled and turned to leave.

  I called out. “Sam.”

  He came back.

  “I wanted to tell you that the realtor called about the apartment I was waiting for. She said she’ll have the lease to me by Friday.”

  His brow furrowed. “Lease?”

  “Um, I told Gennifer that I had found a place, and she said there was someone lined up for you to take over for Sophie.” I kicked at the floor. “I will miss her tremendously.”

  He came closer and stared at me with his intense eyes. His faint cologne wafted in the air. “There is no one lined up. I would like it very much if you stayed. I can increase your pay if that would make a difference.”

  “But I thought—”

  “And you can have off every other weekend. Completely. And holidays are up to you. I have someone who babysits when I go out of town, if there is ever a problem with our schedules.”

  I cleared my throat. Not at all what I was expecting. “Sure, but I’m not really getting paid. I’m getting room and board.”

  “Fine, it’s settled. You’ll stay, and I’ll have my secretary put you on payroll. She’ll call you tomorrow with the details.”

  “Okay.” I straightened my posture.

  He turned to leave and backstepped to the entryway. “A great band, those Bangles.”

  He smiled and walked out. My face began to burn.

  It was good to know Sam Turner was, number one, going through rebound status, and two, completely off my radar. As in, the radar didn’t even send signals to the neighborhood he inhabited. No list ever made in any of my planners ever existed with a guy who was already a dad, owned his own home, and had a payroll. I was looking to join forces with someone of my own era to conquer a career and family together. Someone goofy and young to stand outside my bedroom window, holding a boom box that was playing my favorite song. No, Sam was someone else’s to find.

  The last few days of the week were good. I emailed my professors, telling them I wasn’t coming back to class. No sweat off their noses. They had got my money. Now to tell my dad when he called to wish me happy birthday. That’s right, someone was going to call and remind me I was thirty-two and still a spinster. Not that Dad would say that. He knew how sensitive I was to the whole “always a good time, never a forever.” I felt bad being so needy, chasing off every good guy I’d ever dated with the mere words, “Are you the type that’s gonna hold my hand through childbirth?” It was a simple question that would come up sooner or later, anyway!

  When I was in between relationships, I even had Dad on the Internet, searching for single men with the same interests as me. I figured we could cover more ground with me dating in the field and him searching for them by space. He reluctantly responded to a few before deciding Internet searches wasn’t the way to go. After someone text him an inappropriate picture, thinking it was me, he was done.

  “Hey, Daddy,” I said, finding my ten-year-old voice.

  “Hey, pumpkin. How’s my birthday girl?”

  I watched Sophie in the other room, dancing to a Barbie movie, and smiled. “Couldn’t be better.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. How’s it going with Rob? Still going okay?” I could hear the hope in his voice, and imagine the crossed fingers on his hands.

  Wow, it’d been a long time since I talked to Dad. I usually didn’t like to go that long between calls, but with all that’d been going on… “Rob, I’m sure, is happy. With someone else. Calling someone else. Driving them around in his red convertible. Wishing someone else happy birthday. For the rest of their lives. Just not for the rest of my life.”

  “Oh dear. Honey, what happened?” I heard the disappointment in his voice. Like all the other times. Cue the same balloon being let out of air. Slowly. Painfully.

  “I kind of chased Rob off with Elmer’s glue and a car seat.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, the little girl I take and pick up from preschool? He found it to be too domesticated for his liking. He thought I’d actually begun leaking milk.”

  Dad burst out laughing. “Leaking milk? Well, better to cross him off the list now than later when there was really a baby in the oven.”

  Would there ever be a baby in my oven? Probably not. Coupled with turning another year older, the thought made me shaky. I still had sperm donors to consider, I suppose. That was my plan Z. When all else failed, I’d just have a daddy-less baby and live inside the pages of a romance novel. Weren’t all men perfect in those things?

  “Dad, I have one wish for my birthday.”

  “Only one? Name it.”

  “That you don’t get angry with me for quitting law school.”

  “Sarah Elizabeth Keller!”

  I held the phone out. “Daddy, it just wasn’t a good fit.”

  “I told that to you last year. And the time before that, and the time before—”

  “Okay, okay. I heard you. But seriously. I’m in a good place right now.”

  “And where is that good place? And how much is that good place costing?”

  I was lucky to have a dad with money to support my sick behavior. Not that I didn’t do my share and work a thirty-hour week, along with taking a full course. But Dad also supported me emotionally. He had very little outbursts about my need of chasing the wind. It went hand-in-hand with his guilt of raising me without a mother. He thought the reason I couldn’t find happiness was because I lacked a female role model. I sometimes wondered when he’d find happiness.

  “It’s not costing you anything. I don’t have to pay rent and I’m still making money.” My car was paid off. It was my mom’s car. My dad kept it in the garage after she died and I asked to have it before I moved. It wasn’t easy for him to let it go, but I told him I’d take good care of it. I never knew her, but in a strange sort of way it was some sort of connection. As for my insurance—Dad had that taken care of. Pete, my almost uncle, was in the business and saw to it our premiums were a minimum.

  “What’s the catch?”

  I smiled at Sophie as she bowed when the song was finished playing on the television. “There is no catch, Dad. I’m liking my time here with the single dad I told you I was staying with. It’s turning into a full-time position I’m getting paid for, and believe it or not, it’s like a vacation. I’m not studying, I don’t have to work until the morning hours at the diner, wiping down tables and salt shakers, and it’s just me and the kiddo. I’m having a blast with her. It’s a warm-up, I feel, for the next phase of my life. A possible rehearsal for my future, if you will. You can’t get this practical training inside the pages of a book.” I should kno
w—I’d already read the book, What to Expect While You’re Expecting. A friend back in Virginia was going to throw it out because her baby had turned ten and she didn’t feel she needed it anymore. Who can let a book get thrown in the trash? Especially when one day the information would come in handy.

  “Single dad?” I heard his voice go up an octave.

  Really? Is that all he heard? “Yes, single. But before you go and send out the wedding invitations, I’m not interested, Dad.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with him? Never mind, I think I know. It’s because he already has a child. I’ve read enough of your online dating profiles to know what you’re looking for. But, Sarah, the older the range gets, the more difficult it is to find a guy without children. Unless you’re into men who still live at home, who is the child.”

  “Dad, it’s not that. Well, kind of. I mean, I want the fresh-from-the-box man. The guy who hasn’t already been in the maternity ward with another woman—who I have to share his kids every other weekend. And not that Sam is any of those things. I’m sure he got Sophie when she was a toddler, or something. And there’s no crazy ex-wife.” I stopped and took a breath. “You know what? I’m just not into him. Nothing’s wrong with him. I just have a good feeling about my future, that’s all.”

  “Does he have a club foot? Spit tobacco on the living room floor? What makes this guy so undesirable?”

  “Dad! He’s fine. Great in fact, but just not great for me. He’s a tad bit older than what I usually search for.”

  “What are we talking, Sarah? Five, seven, ten years older? Not my age, certainly.”

  I thought about it for a second. “I’m not sure how old he is, Dad. He’s got a patch of gray hair on his temples, and I’m pretty sure he needs reading glasses. I see him squint at the paper.”

  “Sarah…”

  “Dad, I just want someone who can carry me over the threshold on my wedding night and not wonder if in the next ten years he’s going to need a bypass because he’s not been taking his heart medication.”

  “Fine, the issue is settled then. Here I’m imagining someone thirty-seven, and you’re describing someone in their mid-sixties. No wonder he needs help with his child. Can the old guy even bend over to kiss her on the head, or is he already bent from osteoporosis?”

  “Dad! He isn’t that old.”

  “What’s he do for a living? Not that I’m pushing, but indulge me, I don’t have anyone to talk to. And Margie’s been sleeping more than usual.” Margie is our fifty-year-old collie. She keeps hanging on. Which relieves me, for Dad’s sake.

  “He’s the owner of a huge corporation or something. A consulting firm, I think he said.” I looked around the house at all the perfect furnishings and figured it had to be huge. “Plus, he’s just broken up from a pretty intense relationship. Even if I was interested, which I’m not. But he’s so not appealing to the ‘forever girl’ situation I’m in search of. His next fix will most definitely be a rebound. Maybe I’ll hook him up with one of the ladies from my knitting group.” I smiled when I thought of Robena. Cats, anyone?

  “Owner of his own business?” I could almost see Dad’s ears perk. Did he have a problem with selective hearing? “Don’t let that rebound thing fool you, Sarah Elizabeth.”

  “No rebound thing is fooling anyone, Dad. Did I mention he’s a tad bit older?”

  “You’ve always acted older than you are.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’ve probably got you to thank for that. It was only when I turned nineteen did I wear my first skirt above the knees.”

  “What’s so great about going out half naked? You get more respect when you dress like a young lady.”

  “I’m not sure if you realize this or not, Dad, but a guy isn’t attracted to wool frocks and turtlenecks.”

  “No decent guy, anyway.”

  “Okay, listen, I appreciate you dressing me like I was Sister Sarah Keller for all my teenage years, but I’m looking for someone cute, funny, and romantic—not someone so settled. Sam already has it all: the car, the house, and the cute daughter. I’m looking to build all that with someone. Not have it pre-packaged. But this job isn’t in vain. I’m getting some great practical training. I love taking care of Sophie.”

  “I don’t doubt you’re not taking notes, dear. Just be careful. Getting attached to his daughter could break your heart when it’s time to move on. You’re used to leaving guys. Little girls are a different ballgame. I know I could’ve never left you.”

  After Mom died, my Aunt Heidi offered to raise me with Uncle Pete. Dad was so heartbroken, he told me, that he almost took her up on it and moved far away. He couldn’t take seeing things that reminded him of Mom. And the fact that I was made in her spitting image, he cried almost every day. But in the end, he stuck it out, knowing he could never leave the only thing that was a part of Mom.

  “Dad, I’ve got to go. Please kiss Aunt Heidi and tell her I’m thinking of her.”

  “You bet. And don’t get discouraged, pumpkin. Your Prince Charming is out there. I hope you have a good birthday. I didn’t have an address to send your present, but now that you’re out of school, think about coming home for a visit.”

  “All right.”

  It’d been a long time since I’d been home. It always made me feel like all the things I missed out on were back there: a mother I never knew, a home, my dad. But returning only brought it to light. As much as I wanted Dad to find someone to make him happy, he seemed resolved to live alone. I remember filling out college applications, giddy with the idea of getting off the farm and finding my own happiness. I was sad to leave Dad, but I knew he wasn’t going to change.

  I popped my head in the door, where Sophie poured pretend tea to her dolls. “Wanna go to the knitting store with me?”

  “Knitting store?

  “Yes, they have pretty yarn. Like the kind in your dollies’ hair.”

  “Yay.” She bounced up and down, smiling.

  I’d gotten a message on my phone from Marta to come into the store that day. She didn’t say why, and because I missed the last meeting, I was paranoid. Maybe they were kicking me out or something. Sam had left after breakfast, saying he was going to the gym, so I thought I’d get groceries on my way back home. Something stir-fry sounded good for my birthday. Even if I had to cook it myself.

  Sophie ran in front of me, touching all the baskets of yarn within her reach. Marta looked up from the cash register where she was ringing up a customer and smiled. I saw Robena back at the round table, spinning blue yarn around her needles.

  “Sophie, leave her alone,” I called out to the curious toddler, who was now very close to the invisible cage door of Robena Hummel.

  If Robena could chew up and swallow the hopes of adults, I had no idea what she was capable of for small children. Instead, a smile spread clear across her face when she looked at Sophie.

  “And who is this?” She stared at the little girl who was leaning on her palm, watching the yarn spin into perfect loops.

  “This is Sophie Turner.” I spoke up. “She’s the little girl I get to help out in taking and picking up from preschool.” Although those duties had grown into cooking for, cleaning for, and reading bedtime stories to sometimes.

  Robena’s smile faded slightly as she looked up at me. “Yes, I know who she is, Sarah. I was just saying it to get her to answer. Gennifer has brought her into the shop before.”

  “Hello.” Sophie smiled at Robena with her cute dimples. “What cha doing?” She stood on tiptoes, looking at the net of yarn Robena had already knitted.

  “I’m knitting a sweater. And just look at how you’re growing! Just like my sweater!” Robena pinched her cheeks.

  Marta walked up to the table, holding a small vanilla cake with a lit birthday candle on top. I opened my eyes wide with surprise.

  “Marta!” I gasped, holding my hand over my mouth. I saw all Sophie’s teeth as she grinned.

  The store was bustling with customers and I felt like the o
ne in the restaurant, scrunched underneath the table while the congregation of waiters sang. Although thank the Lord no one was singing.

  “Happy Birthday, Sarah. Make a wish.”

  I looked around at everyone staring at me, feeling my face flush as I did so. I closed my eyes and wished not to be single by my next birthday. It was a standby wish for all occasions—shooting stars, going broke at public fountains, pulling on a turkey carcass just to find the wishbones…you name it.

  I blew the candle and took the cake. Sophie squealed with delight, and some of the customers nearby quietly clapped.

  “How did you know it was my birthday?” I held the cake so Sophie could smell the icing.

  “It’s in your profile. You know, the one I make students fill out in order to get customer points. I’m such a celebrator of everything.”

  “Tell me about it.” Robena grunted. “She brought in brownies the time after I announced my cat had a litter of kittens.”

  Which was how often, I wondered. Now I know where the extra stomach came from that acted like a shelf to hold her hand to knit. I smiled, although the gruff lady was looking down at her project. “You’re such a considerate person to think of the little things.”

  “I hope you’re having a wonderful day, and you didn’t mind coming in. I can imagine you’re doing a million things today, but I wanted to get this to you. I’d bought you a cake for the last session, but when you didn’t show up, we sort of ate it without you. I didn’t want to wait until after your birthday at the next meeting to get you another one.”

  “Yeah, she planned a small feast for Gennifer’s going-away, but she never showed up, either.”

  Marta frowned. “I think I need to start coordinating these milestones with the recipients to make sure they’re coming.”

  “We had no problem eating it.” Robena licked her lips. The pearl necklace that adorned her neck seemed to be getting lost in the folds of her skin.

  “Marta, this is the sweetest thing ever.” I touched her hand and smiled. “I need to get your birthdate so I can do something amazing for you.”