Cynicism and anger just made her feel worse.
"But I don't think you're a hundred percent," Leslie said. "Earth to Sarah."
"Sorry. I'm functional, just a little slow."
"Decongestants do that to me too." Leslie put a paper towel on Sarah's desk. "This will make you feel better."
"Chocolates," Sarah said, finding a little enthusiasm from somewhere. "You're a good woman."
"There was a huge box yesterday, which is long gone, but I saved these for you. I've always found that a Bordeaux and a cup of tea is downright medicinal. I can get you the tea now."
Sarah blinked back tears. Leslie's kindness was melting her resolve to keep her anguish to herself. She wiped her nose and said, "Maybe later. I'm not sure I'm going to make it all day, anyway."
"You don't look like you could turn on your computer, much less type."
"I feel like a popped balloon," Sarah admitted. "But I've got my archery class this afternoon, and it's the last one of the year. I've got presents for the kids, so I'm going to try to stick it out."
"You poor thing," Leslie said. "Well, if you want any tea and aspirin, you know where to find it."
"Thanks, Mom," Sarah said.
Leslie smiled brightly and, much to Sarah's relief, left without another word.
Leslie was glad to see Sarah looking a little more alive on Thursday. She was still red-nosed and bleary-eyed, but at least she was walking around at her normal pace, and she seemed able to follow a conversation. With any luck at all, she wouldn't call Leslie "Mom" anymore. Her feelings were far from maternal.
The day was winding down when she realized she hadn't heard Sarah laugh all day. Nor had she been talking much at all. Maybe she had a sore throat, Leslie speculated. Unable to help herself, she decided to do a "mom" thing.
"You still look like you could use this." She set the cup of chamomile tea down on Sarah's desk. "And I've got one last Bordeaux."
"That's sweet, no pun intended," Sarah said. "Thanks."
"Are you feeling better?"
"Uh-huh." Sarah sipped the tea and smiled somewhat in her usual way.
She's lying, Leslie suddenly thought. And that smile is a fake. But whatever it is, she's not talking, so leave her alone. "That's good. You wouldn't want to be sick for the holidays."
Sarah's eyes turned a shadowy blue, then she lowered her gaze to the tea mug. "I'm sure I'll be over this by then."
Back in her office, Leslie decided to clean out her middle desk drawer. It was mindless, and she needed to think. Something was wrong with Sarah. Leslie puzzled over the few clues she had while she sorted her vast collection of paperclips and pens. Everyone accused her of walking off with their pens.
Well, the problem couldn't be Melissa — they had been the picture of happiness on Saturday. Even if they'd had a fight, it wouldn't have put Sarah in that condition. A death in the family? Well, then why wouldn't she just say so? A head cold did seem the most likely explanation, but Leslie wasn't buying it.
She had made neat piles of the different-sized clips, when she heard Sarah leaving. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she hurried out of the building after her. The cold wind made her wish she'd brought her coat.
"Hey, Sarah!" She rubbed her arms and hurried toward Sarah. "I have a quick question."
Sarah turned back. The knife-edged wind caught her hair and blew it into her eyes. She brushed it back as she walked toward Leslie. "Where's your jacket, young lady?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Leslie said. "Have you done contracts for outside consultants?"
Sarah blinked. "Yes."
"Well, when you get in tomorrow, maybe we could talk a little bit about it. With the new timeline for beta testing I should be thinking about hiring technical writers, and they'll need nondisclosure agreements."
"Sure," Sarah said. She sniffed. The wind was further reddening her nose and ears. "How about over that first cup of coffee?"
"Great," Leslie said. "Give my regards to Melissa. When does your plane leave tomorrow?"
Sarah's mouth opened as if she were going to answer, and then she stopped.
Leslie put her hand on Sarah's arm. "What's really wrong?"
A tear gathered in the corner of one murky blue-violet eye. Sarah whispered something, but the wind snatched it away.
"What?" Leslie leaned closer, and she felt Sarah's arm tremble under her hand.
"She left me."
"Oh, my God," Leslie breathed. Anger exploded right behind her eyes and she literally saw red. That little bitch. "She left you? How could she leave you?"
"Easily. Without a glance backward." Sarah's voice was far too calm and it chilled Leslie in places the wind couldn't reach.
"Stay right here," she said firmly. "I'll be right back."
She flew back into the building, passed a startled Melody and scrabbled up her belongings from behind her desk. She dashed into the Cave to find Angie, who biked to work and lived just a few miles from Leslie.
Angie was just strapping on her helmet.
"Angie, do me a favor, would you?"
"Sure, Les."
Leslie handed Angie the keys to her car. "Could you drive my car home? I don't want to leave it in the lot — Sarah's feeling a lot worse and her girlfriend is out of town, and I don't want to leave her alone, so I'm going to take her to my place until she feels better. And if my Volvo's not safe in the lot overnight, her car certainly isn't."
"No problem. I wasn't looking forward to the entire ride anyway — not with that wind. I'll drop it off at your house and ride home from there. It's all downhill."
"You're a peach," Leslie said over her shoulder.
She dashed past Melody again. "Tell Richard I'm canceling dinner. And don't say another word," she admonished. "Not a word." She stopped just inside the warehouse door, took a deep breath, then made a calm exit.
Sarah was standing where Leslie had left her, though with her jacket unzipped she must have been freezing. She didn't say anything as Leslie approached.
"Give me your car keys."
She handed them over wordlessly.
"I'm going to take you back to my place. I think you could use a long soak in a hot tub."
Sarah slid into the passenger seat without a sound, and buckled up when Leslie told her to.
Leslie studied the instrumentation on the dash, then decided she would not think about how expensive the car was. It had a steering wheel and four tires, just like any other car. She looked for the keyhole on the steering column, then the dash, but couldn't find it.
"Sarah, help me out."
Sarah stirred, then pointed at the console dividing their seats. The keyhole was just in front of the gear shift.
"I'd have never found it. Well, here we go."
She managed to back out without damaging anything, and just a few minutes later she was competently negotiating the short freeway trip down 101 to her exit. She was used to the Volvo's slower reflexes, but Sarah didn't say anything when Leslie stomped on the brakes to avoid a truck and nearly put them both through the windshield.
She slipped the Jaguar into the Volvo's usual parking place in the garage, then navigated the numb Sarah through the house to Matt's bedroom. She returned in a few minutes with an extra swimsuit.
"This is going to be too big for you, but it'll preserve your modesty."
"What's this for?" Sarah hadn't even taken off her jacket.
"Hot tub. It'll do you a world of good. I'm going to make a couple of sandwiches."
She shut the door to the bedroom behind her and hoped Sarah would continue to respond to her suggestions. She turned on the Jacuzzi jets and took off the cover triggered the furnace and went to the kitchen. Sarah was obviously in shock, and Leslie was willing to bet she hadn't eaten since — Tuesday, when she'd called in sick. Leslie mentally reviewed all the synonyms she knew for bitch as she spread mustard on bread.
Sarah appeared a few minutes later. The part of Leslie that never behaved appropriately in any si
tuation hooted at the sight of Sarah in a swimsuit, but Leslie gave it a smack on the butt and sent it to its room without supper. "There are towels in the cupboard right next to the hot tub, and robes on the hooks. Through that door, then up the stairs." Leslie pointed. "I'll be right out with sandwiches after I change."
She heard Sarah sliding into the water and finished making the sandwiches. She changed quickly into her own suit—which hadn't been used since Matt left — grabbed a couple of peach Snapples and joined Sarah.
Sarah was waist deep in the bubbling water. Leslie handed her half of a sandwich. "Eat fast or it'll get soggy and taste like chlorine."
To her relief, Sarah complied, then accepted the Snapple, then the other half of the sandwich. The hot water had taken care of her red ears and nose, but the red rims of her eyes hadn't diminished.
Leslie decided that silence was the best approach, and her patience was rewarded when Sarah suddenly stirred.
"Thank you," she said softly. "I needed... someone else to be in charge for a while."
"You don't have to tell me about it, if you don't want to."
"What's to tell? She found the allure of Los Angeles more potent than mine. I guess I wouldn't feel so bad if I'd seen it coming."
Leslie wanted to tell her that Melissa was a manipulative bimbo, but she caught the words before they spilled out. Sarah might agree, but she would never thank Leslie for being the person who told her so.
"I can't believe it," Leslie said. "You seemed so happy."
"I was. She wanted me to go with her to L.A. She was sure I would go." She chuckled humorlessly. "She was sure I'd go and I was sure she'd stay. What a pair." A gust of wind shook the redwood enclosure and Sarah slid to the lowest seat, up to her chin. "The water — the heat is great. Why are you being so good to me?"
Leslie started to say, "Once a mom, always a mom," but thought better of it. "I'd like to think — even though we got off to a rocky start — that we're friends."
Sarah's lips curved ever so slightly. "Friends," she echoed. Her lower lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. "Do friends hold you when you're going to cry your eyes out?"
"Yes," Leslie said, feeling tears of sympathy start. She waded from her seat to Sarah's and wrapped Sarah in her arms. "I'm here for you."
Sarah struggled to wake up. Her eyes felt like two cotton balls rolled in gravel. She managed a glance around through tiny slits, and then she remembered where she was. Matt's room.
Her nose twitched. Bacon. Definitely bacon. Her stomach growled. God, she thought, I am alive.
She was also naked, a fact she discovered when she got out of bed. She saw a robe on the foot of the bed, then remembered Leslie handing it to her in return for her wet suit. Nothing to be embarrassed about. She put the robe on and then let her nose find the kitchen.
Coffee and bacon. Leslie was forking crispy strips onto paper towels. She glanced up as Sarah came in.
"Welcome to the first day of your vacation," Leslie said. "I took the liberty of calling in for you. For me, too. I didn't have a damn thing worth doing, and cleaning my desk can wait for the new year."
"I didn't leave my desk in the best shape," Sarah said. "I should really take care of a few things —"
"What's the worst thing that can happen if you don't go in today? The mugs are in the cupboard next to the dishwasher."
Sarah found a mug and poured herself what smelled like the perfect cup of French roast. "I guess — well, it'll all be there when I get back from Washington. Just because Richard gave me two weeks off doesn't mean I have to take every single day."
"Yes, it does," Leslie said. "You need to be a little selfish. As your supervisor —"
"Oh, God," Sarah moaned. "I cried all over my boss." She was surprised that she could laugh about it. "I'm sitting in my boss's kitchen, in a robe, scarfing up her coffee, which is excellent by the way."
"I'm sorry I reminded you I'm your boss," Leslie said. "I'm not going to work today either, which makes me officially not your boss at this moment. I hope you like bacon."
"I love it," Sarah said. "I haven't had it for—"
She broke off, and blinked back sudden tears. She hadn't thought more tears were possible.
"Oh, that's right. She was a vegetarian."
Sarah was grateful that Leslie hadn't actually used Melissa's name. "Am I going to be doing this for long?"
"Doing what?"
"Getting teary every time I think about her?"
"Yeah, probably. But you're going to live, and yesterday I wasn't so sure."
"Neither was I. Thanks."
"Don't mention it," Leslie said.
Sarah watched Leslie scramble eggs and told herself she was very lucky. Melissa may have ripped her heart out by the roots, but it could have been worse. She could have been friendless too.
"How would you like to go to Washington for Christmas?" The words were out before Sarah realized she was going to say them.
"I wouldn't want to intrude—"
"You won't. You'll be doing me a big favor. If you'd rather go to Richard's —"
"What do I need to bring?"
Sarah surprised herself by grinning. "Warm clothes. Really warm clothes."
"Okay, I can manage that. I'll go on one condition."
"Which is?"
"I pay my own way—"
"I've already bought the tickets, and they're not refundable, so you're not costing me a thing."
"I can still reimburse you for the ticket."
"It's not necessary," Sarah said firmly.
They locked gazes for a long minute, then Leslie finally said, just as firmly, "I'll buy the groceries."
Sarah sighed with relief. "It's a deal."
The weather gods granted them an on-time flight and clear roads. Leslie could tell nothing of the area surrounding the cabin because it was dark — truly dark. There was no moon, no street lights, and the stars seemed very far away.
"We might have to backtrack to that motel anyway," Sarah was saying. "If we can't get the stove going, or if the electricity is down, it'll be too cold to sleep here without sub-zero sleeping bags."
The ice in the air took Leslie's breath away. "Let's leave the stuff in the four by four, then. Until we're sure."
Sarah was already bounding up the steps to the door. A light came on and Leslie followed more slowly.
"This is great," Sarah called. "The last relative to stay here was my cousin John — he knows how to take care of things. I'll bet he even drained the pipes. I'll go turn the water on." She disappeared into another room, then the back door banged.
Leslie took the opportunity to study the little cabin. The furniture, rugs, curtains — all were unexpectedly clean and in good condition. Some of the tables looked handmade from knotty pine and maple.
The kitchen had a recently purchased refrigerator, and a small microwave on the counter, but the rest was like stepping into a time warp, right down to a squat, wood-burning stove made of cast iron. The counters were tile, but Leslie had never seen a basket weave pattern like it before. And the linoleum — a deep green with white flecks. It took Leslie right back to the first grade.
A note was on the well-scrubbed maple table from cousin John, thanking Sarah for the use of the cabin over Thanksgiving. He added a list of things he thought needed to be done around the place and said he and the kids had cut back the blackberry bushes that had overgrown the gate.
Blackberry bushes. Wouldn't Matt love it here in the summer? Leslie had a fond flashback to the early days of the organic farm she and Richie had run — blackberries so ripe and full they were like wine, right off the vine. Visions of cobblers and pies danced through her head.
Sarah clumped up the back stairs. "The water is on. Open the taps in here, and I'll take care of the bathroom and the water heater."
After the spluttering died down, Leslie turned the taps off. She lifted the fire cover off the stove and found it ready to light—John was a good guest.
Sar
ah peeked over Leslie's shoulder. "Great, I'll get the matches. Go check out the bedrooms — take your pick."
The bedrooms were similar, just small rooms with full-sized beds and a wardrobe. The wallpaper looked fairly recent, and Leslie ran a hand over the linen texture, liking the small slivers of wood woven into it. The floors were linoleum of the same antiquity as the kitchen's, but they were obscured by thick Berber rugs in deep forest green. She called, "I'm left-handed, so I'll take the left one, okay?"
"Sure. The stove's going. Let's get the stuff."
Obviously, Sarah loved this place. She was pinging around with more animation than she'd shown on the trip so far.
Another half-hour's labor had them both unpacked, the groceries put away and a fire lit in the living room fireplace to help take the chill off.
They settled in front of the fire with mugs of apple cider heated in the microwave and the last of Melody's mom's gingerbread cookies.
"This place is so you," Leslie said.
"How so?" Sarah nibbled her cookie. Leslie noticed that in firelight, her blue-violet eyes had turned dark purple.
"It's... real. I'm feeling like I'm back on the organic farm. It's rare these days a place takes from me instead of me from it. Do you know what I mean?"
Sarah nodded. "This is a far cry from a resort. It takes a lot of work to be comfortable here. My grannie kept it up all by herself for the last thirty years of her life, which is pretty incredible. Well, she had a crew of helpers throughout the summer. Like me, and my cousins. And she stopped chopping her own wood a couple of years before she died."
"She sounds like an amazing woman."
"She was," Sarah said. "She fell in love with an American flyer during World War Two, came to America on the Queen Mary with three thousand other war brides from England and followed my grandfather across the continent, making a home wherever they settled."
Embrace in Motion Page 17