She studied the photographs again. They all meant so much to her. “You are a kind man.”
“Maybe, or maybe I have an ulterior motive.”
“Such as?”
“Not what you’re thinking.” His smile was rakish. “If we ever do go to bed together, it will be because we both want it. I guess I just want to give you back something you lost, the way you gave me back something I lost. You’ve got a great smile, Sara. I see it with Amy all the time. But other times, I just sense sadness.”
“You’re wrong.”
“No, I don’t think I am. You not only regret what happened in your marriage, I think you regret your marriage.”
“I loved Conrad. We had Amy. How could I regret that?”
“Maybe that was a bad choice of words. But don’t you wonder what might have happened if you’d married someone else?”
She looked away and shrugged. “The grass is always greener.”
“Sara, it’s not a sin to wonder what you could have done differently.”
She looked back to him. “No, it’s not, but I can’t change my history. So the best thing to do is learn from it and move on.”
“Are you moving on?”
They stared at each other for at least ten very long seconds. She felt battered by his conclusions and questions as if she’d been tossed in a storm of wrong decisions...wrong moves...wrong choices.
And if she’d been wrong before, she could be wrong again.
“Did you come over tonight to ask probing personal questions or to give me the pictures?”
“I came over because I wanted to see you...because I wanted to do this.”
He moved so fast and took advantage of her surprise so masterfully that she didn’t even know she was responding until she heard herself moan, until his possessiveness claimed her, until his kiss became deep and hungry and totally consuming.
Jase was more than temptation. He was passion, excitement and everything she’d ever longed for and hadn’t known. That’s why he was so hard to resist. That’s why she was kissing him back, responding as if her life depended on it.
When Jase ended the kiss, she tried to clear her head but he nuzzled her neck and she was still caught up in his touch.
“The earth shakes when you kiss me,” she finally managed to murmur.
“And fireworks explode?” he asked with a throaty, sexy chuckle.
She didn’t answer and he stopped nuzzling her neck. Hooking his thumb under her chin, he turned her face toward his. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering where we go from here.”
“Do you always need a plan?”
“I have a daughter.”
“I’m not forgetting that.”
Jase ran his hand over his face as if he needed a moment. Then he said, “I did come over for another reason. Have you considered letting me interview you?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all evening. I saw the comments on the newspaper’s website.”
“Marissa still won’t budge. Kaitlyn is on the fence. I do have another mother of two, Ann Custer, whose husband is in Afghanistan. I’m doing her interview tomorrow.”
Sara thought about it a last time. “We can stick to the fire and moving into the cottage here?”
“Yes, but I’d also like to mention you’re a widow and single mom. That’s The Mommy Club lead-in. I’d like your thoughts and feelings on losing things you held dear. I’d like you to express how you felt when you saw volunteers carrying in everything you might need.”
“You want me to turn myself inside out.”
“A part of yourself, maybe. Not everything.”
No, not everything. Not for the article. But maybe for him. He was looking at her as if he expected no less than her best. He was looking at her as if he wanted to make love to her right here...right now.
“Jase...”
“Why don’t you just start talking? Remember as best you can the fear when you smelled the smoke and tell me what came next.” He took out his phone, pressed an app she assumed was a recorder and nodded.
She started with the smoke.
An hour later, she felt more exhausted than she could ever express. Remembering waking up unable to catch her breath, immediately stricken because Amy seemed so far away, had brought back fear and panic that had almost made her break out in a sweat. Only Jase’s voice and the next question had kept her in the here and now. Until he probed again and she’d relived the house burning down in front of her eyes. It had gotten easier after that, but still...
After Jase attached his phone to the holster on his belt, he moved closer to her and wrapped his arm around her.
She would have pulled away if they kissed again. Tonight she wasn’t sure she could resist making love with him.
Making love with all its consequences.
“Settle down,” he urged her, holding her a little tighter. “I know what it’s like to tell your story. Remember, I did it with you.”
Tucking her head against Jase’s shoulder, she didn’t think anything had ever felt so right.
That thought scared her as much as telling her story to the world.
* * *
Sara arrived to work early the next morning, still remembering the strong feel of Jase’s arms around her, the way he represented comfort as well as temptation. He hadn’t kissed her again, though he’d looked as if he wanted to. And she had wanted him to. But at some point, neither of them would stop, and they had to be prepared for the repercussions of that.
Since she was a few minutes early, curiosity drove her to the newspaper’s website and Jase’s article. There were more comments now. She ran her gaze over the list and then froze at a whole batch of them. It took her a moment to realize the thread was discussing her.
Interested Party in Fawn Grove mentioned the story on the news about her house burning down. The person went on to state The Mommy Club brigade had gathered furniture for her.
That was fine, but someone else said, Where did all the furniture go?
A new comment by Gossip Lady stated, I heard Sara Stevens is staying at Raintree Winery.
Bystander listed a link to the winery’s social media page and said, See discussion there. Really interesting.
Sara knew she should walk away from the computer. She knew she shouldn’t care what was being said. But this could affect Amy as well as her. It could affect Jase and business at the winery. Had he realized that might happen? Or had it been part of his plan to get publicity for Raintree?
No, that wasn’t Jase.
But she remembered when Conrad’s car had been repossessed and the thoughts that had rolled through her head then. This must be a mistake. Conrad would have told me if we were in trouble.
So, yes, she had doubts about her judgment in men. She clicked on the link.
She was appalled at the discussion on the winery’s social media page. Someone named Orange Maiden posed the question, Just where at the winery is Sara Stevens staying?
SunnyGirl’s response to that was, Maybe at the main house. Maybe she has more on her mind than a temporary place to live. After all, Jase Cramer is a very eligible bachelor.
That comment alone could fuel Ethan Cramer’s belief that she was a gold digger!
Now Sara did stop reading and picked up the phone, speed dialing Jase’s number.
He answered immediately. “You saw the comments,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, I saw the comments, and I don’t like them. What are we going to do about this?”
“I don’t see that there’s anything we can do except to go ahead with the interview.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I’m serious, Sara. The questions raised will be laid to rest by my interviewing you.�
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“Jase, I just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t want people to get the wrong impression about me.”
“They won’t. Let me write up the interview and let the newspaper run it.”
“I need some time to think about it. Can you give me that?”
“I’ll hold the article for now. But I don’t think that’s the best thing to do.”
They were going to have to agree to disagree on this one because she wasn’t ready to go public with her life.
* * *
The following Monday, Sara picked up Amy and Jordan at day care. After carrying Jordan inside the winery offices to Marissa, she set him on his feet.
Spotting them, Marissa clapped her hands. “Come here, honey.”
Jordan had taken his first steps over the weekend, and he now babbled and smiled and walked toward his mommy with an exuberant, if halting, gait.
“At the day care they said he was walking everywhere he could today,” Sara explained.
Marissa clasped her son in her arms.
Amy looked up at Sara. “Can I draw?”
“Stay a few minutes,” Marissa suggested to Sara. “We haven’t talked since Jase’s article drew so many comments.”
The front door opened and Liam came in. After a “hello” to them both, he handed Marissa flyers. “These show what our competitors are doing.”
Marissa thanked him.
Amy pulled on Sara’s arm. “Can I draw, Mommy?”
After a look at Marissa, Sara suggested to her daughter, “I think you can draw at home.”
Home. She reminded herself she couldn’t think of the cottage that way.
“Did I interrupt something?” Liam asked, perceptive enough to sense the unfinished conversation between her and Marissa.
“We were about to have a discussion about the comments concerning Sara online,” Marissa responded honestly.
Sara shook her head, indicating she didn’t want to talk about it.
But Liam easily picked up the idea and the thread. “Jase told me he interviewed you. When’s that coming out?”
“I don’t know if I want him to go ahead with it.”
“You want rumors floating out there about you living here and your motives?” Liam asked with a penetrating look that surprised her. He wasn’t all charm, now, but blunt honesty.
“Of course not. But I also don’t want to feed more rumors.”
“Without putting rumors to rest in Jase’s interview, there’s supposition, Sara,” Marissa said softly. “With your job, do you really want that?”
Could her job be in jeopardy if the rumor mill really got going?
With a wave toward the door, Liam gestured to the outside world. “People are going to say what they want, no matter what the truth is. They talk and make up things and spread rumors. That’s just the way of life in a small town like Fawn Grove. Don’t you think I know people talk about me in unflattering ways? I’m not the lady-killer everybody thinks I am,” he admitted with some chagrin.
Sara had to smile. “You’re not?”
Scowling at her, he said decisively, “No. Sure, I don’t stick around much with any one woman. I’m just not the sticking-around type. But if I were the Casanova everybody says I am, I’d be too exhausted to make wine. The thing is—there’s a difference between me and you. I don’t care what everybody thinks. But you do. Right?”
Yes, she cared, because she had clients who had to believe in her, because she wanted Amy to be proud of her, because she didn’t want anything negative to touch her daughter.
“This is the way I see it,” Liam went on. “All you can do is put the truth out there. It won’t hurt to provide the public with it and you might be doing other women a service. Jase is a wonderful journalist. If anyone can sell your story, he can. Maybe you should let him give it a try.”
When Sara glanced at Marissa, Marissa nodded. “I agree with Liam. Jase knows how to slant an interview. You know that. Give him a chance with yours.”
Should she give Jase Cramer that chance?
* * *
Holding Amy’s hand, Sara strolled with her daughter through Raintree’s Wine and Music Festival on Saturday afternoon. The event was a landscape of color, sounds and scents. Chefs in canopied booths offered delicacies from lobster tails to egg rolls to endive wraps stuffed with goat cheese. Miniature orange trees as well as trellises laced with flowers separated the booths and led the guests along pathways, where they could sample food and wine in a garden-party atmosphere.
Her daughter seemed to be enjoying their stroll, too, as she pointed and chattered and played with a yellow balloon tied to one of the booths. Sara was looking for Marissa, who’d planned much of the festival, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found Rodney Herkfeld, who had been a friend of Conrad’s.
“I thought that was you,” he said with a huge smile. “I haven’t seen you since...”
Conrad’s funeral, Sara finished in her mind.
He remembered, too, but didn’t say the words. Instead he said, “It doesn’t matter when I last saw you. It’s been too long. I read that article in the paper and the follow-up conversation online. That’s one of the reasons I came today. I wanted to see how you were.”
Her worst fears had materialized. More people than she’d expected had read the comments online. “I guess everyone knows I’m living here. In the cottage behind the main house,” she added for good measure, wanting him to know the truth.
“It’s hard to keep anything quiet in Fawn Grove. You do know that, don’t you? Conrad told me you moved here for a position before you were married, so you haven’t lived here all your life. But small towns are small towns.”
How often had she heard that in the past week? Maybe because it was true.
He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry about everything that happened to Conrad. As the store’s accountant, I was aware of his financial problems, but there was nothing I could do to help him turn things around. The store he managed was headed downhill because of the bigger chains. He did the best he could and I wanted you to know that.”
Conrad might have done the best he could with the store, but Rodney didn’t know about the lies. Rodney didn’t know how betrayed she’d felt because her husband hadn’t shared his problems with her.
Suddenly Kaitlyn appeared, strolling down the path, looking like a model. Casual and classy, she was dressed in a summer-flowered sheath with white sandals. Her gold earrings glinted in the sun. When she caught Sara’s eye, it was as if she was asking a question. Sara answered it by waving to her.
Taking the cue, Kaitlyn approached Sara and Rodney.
After introductions, Rodney said, “I just want to give you my card.” He slipped it to Sara. “If you need any help with numbers or budgets or taxes, give me a call. I mean it, Sara. I couldn’t help Conrad, but I’d like to help you.”
A jazz band began playing and Rodney gestured to it. “Ah, the music’s started. What a wonderful place these festivals can be. I hear they’re starting with jazz, leading into the forties, then going up the decades with the music we all loved most. That could have some guests staying here all day. I’m going to sample more of the food. Sara, it was good to see you. Dr. Foster, nice to meet you.”
After Rodney had ambled away, Kaitlyn glanced around. “Everyone’s not only eating, but sampling the wine. These festivals help sales, no doubt about it. The guests not only buy for themselves, but for their friends and families, too. They’ll buy wines for birthdays and Christmases.” She took a sip from the wineglass she held and savored the taste. “There are companies trying to bottle wines the same way companies make soda. It’s just not possible. As long as Raintree keeps their wines pure to the idea they had when they began, they will never make run-of-the-mill wines.”
“You sound as if you know a lot about it,” Sara said.
“My husband was in marketing for a rival winery.”
That was the first Sara had heard anything mentioned about Kaitlyn’s past life.
“Let’s go over here and get you a balloon,” Kaitlyn said to Amy. “I know one of the chefs. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a balloon missing from his display.”
Sara led Amy over to a booth where Kaitlyn exchanged a few words with the chef making a delicious-looking fried crab ball. She plucked a light blue balloon from the array flying toward the sky. Opening her purse, she found a ribbon there. She tied the balloon onto it, made a little loop so it would be easier for Amy to hold on to or slip her hand into. Then she gave the balloon to her.
“Here you go.”
“You’re so good with kids,” Sara complimented her.
This time, when she gazed at Kaitlyn’s eyes, she saw sadness there, something she hadn’t noticed before. As they strolled through a throng of people and found an empty bench, they sat and Amy bobbed her balloon up and down.
Sara asked, “Are you going to let Jase interview you for an article?”
Kaitlyn, usually a decisive person, looked undecided. “I’m weighing the possibility, but I don’t like the idea.”
“I know what you mean. But I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d like the truth out there, and maybe my story will help someone else.”
“We all have stories, and none are easy to tell.”
“Do you tell yours often?”
“Hardly ever. Even Jase doesn’t know why I’m so involved in The Mommy Club.”
“Do you want to tell me?” Sara asked gently, wondering if Kaitlyn needed a friend just like everyone else.
She hesitated, then said in a low tone, “My husband and I had a premature baby who didn’t make it. Preeclampsia snuck up on me. Because I was a doctor, my husband thought I should have realized what was happening sooner. Maybe I should have.”
Sara clasped Kaitlyn’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t imagine losing a baby.”
“Neither could I. I was in a deep funk afterward, and Tom and I grew further and further apart. He asked for a divorce. I suggested counseling, but he didn’t want any part of that. Looking back, I have so many regrets.”
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