The Promise of Change

by Rebecca Heflin

  “Alex?” She ran to the foyer.

  Wrenching open the door, she found a police officer, with a chagrinned Alex standing next to him, hair disheveled more than usual. “Ma’am, does he belong to you?”

  “Yes,” she said, confused, and not a little worried.

  “If he has a tendency to get lost, you might want to consider micro-chipping him,” Officer Friendly returned, tongue clearly in his cheek. “Had a yellow lab who wandered frequently. Worked like a charm for her.”

  “Thanks,” Sarah said, taking Alex’s arm and pulling him into the house. “I might just do that. Good night.”

  Head down, hands in his pockets, Alex said, “I’d have been back sooner, but I got a little lost. And I didn’t have my mobile. Am I still welcome?”

  “Oh Alex. Like you have to ask.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “I’ve been so worried.” Just as he wrapped his arms around her, she shoved him away from her. “Alex Fraser, Earl or not, don’t you ever do that to me again. What the hell was that about?”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t know . . . other than Michael’s fruitless advances to you, I’ve never been a jealous man, but then again, I never had reason to be.”

  He pulled her close again. “No one has ever meant so much to me. The thought of another man, especially your ex-husband, putting his hands on you, kissing you . . . against your will, well I just . . . cracked. It was a powerful emotion for me. Clearly, I didn’t have the intellectual or emotional tools to handle it.”

  Pulling away, she said, “I guess I should be a little flattered, but right now I’m just emotionally drained.” She sat down on the bottom step, where she’d kept her vigil when she wasn’t pacing.

  He hesitated and then sat next to her, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up at her. “Sarah, I am mortified by my conduct, and deeply sorry for causing you any pain or worry. Can you forgive me?”

  She leaned over and kissed him, nibbling at the corner of his mouth. “Yes. I guess you’re entitled to a meltdown every now and then, especially if you’re going to keep up with me.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “Tell me, have you forgiven him?”

  “Yes. I have. What’s done is done. And if you think about it, if he’d never been such a louse, I’d never have met you.” She considered it a moment, “So, in a way, maybe I should thank him.” She tilted her head and shrugged.

  He hadn’t thought of it like that. Maybe he should find him and . . . no, he couldn’t thank Adrian. That was asking too much.

  “Now come,”—Sarah held out her hand—“let me show you just how much I forgive you.”

  They turned to climb the stairs. “So, you bit him . . .”

  “Uh huh. I made him bleed.”

  “Good.” Then he winced. “Remind me never to piss you off while I’m kissing you.”

  Chapter 16

  “Don’t cry, Sarah. It’ll be all right,” Alex said with mock concern.

  Sarah sniffed again, and he laughed. “Here, let me do that.”

  Tears ran down her face from cutting onions for the dressing for tomorrow’s Thanksgiving dinner.

  He took the knife from her hand and using his hip, bumped her aside.

  The kitchen was fragrant with a combination of pungent chopped onions and the smell of nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves from the pumpkin pies that were already baking in the oven.

  The huge bird was thawing, the fresh cranberry chutney was chilling in the fridge, and the vegetable chopping was underway. Two pecan pies stood ready for the oven as soon as the pumpkin pies were done.

  Tomorrow Sarah would prepare the turkey, of course, and homemade biscuits, dressing, giblet gravy, green beans, and sweet potato soufflé. A true Southern Thanksgiving, of which her mother would have been proud.

  “How many people are you feeding tomorrow? It better be the whole neighborhood, considering the amount of food here.” He shook his head at her excesses.

  It was true. She was making enough food to feed an army. “Overeating on Thanksgiving to the point that you can only lie on the couch and groan while you watch football is an American tradition dating back to the Pilgrims. Okay, well maybe not to the Pilgrims.” She wiped her watery eyes with the back of her hand. “I want you to get the full effect,” she said, then giggled at her pun.

  Standing at the island, a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, he chopped the onions and celery like an expert. Tilting her head, recalling his skills in the kitchen in his flat, she asked, “How is it the Earl of Rutherford knows his way around a kitchen so well?”

  He chuckled, the knife slicing deftly through the celery. “You’ve seen the flat. Not exactly the kind of place for a bevy of servants. I needed to take care of my own nourishment. But it started when I was a little boy, visiting Rutherford’s kitchen where Mrs. Watson would bake cookies.”

  He wiped his hands on the towel and braced his hands on the island. “Like Pavlov’s dog and the bell, I learned quickly that if I helped her with the baking, I got to lick the bowl.” He grinned.

  “Before I knew it, she was teaching me other skills. By the time I figured it out, I realized I was enjoying myself.” Picking up the cutting board, he scraped the diced celery into a bowl. “It paid off.”

  “You’re just full of surprises.” She turned to check on the pies. “I think I’m beginning to like surprises.”

  She liked the feel of her home with him here. She’d always been content in her home, but with his presence, a different feeling settled over her, something more than contentment, something she hadn’t felt in a very long time: bliss; pure, unadulterated bliss. It permeated everything she did. Even the most mundane tasks were pleasant.

  His previous meltdown was history, especially after the best make-up sex she’d ever had. They’d also ironed out the Adrian issue, whose wife was not cheating on him after all.

  It had all been a terrible misunderstanding. The man he thought she was seeing was actually an exotic car dealer. Turns out she was buying him a lovely little Alpha Romeo for his birthday–with his money of course, since she’d promptly quit her job after marrying him.

  That morning, Alex had helped Sarah water the garden and cut camellias for tomorrow’s table arrangements. Before they could complete the task, he’d pulled her beneath a secluded, vine-covered trellis, slipping his damp hands beneath her shirt at her waist, making her squeal when his cold hands brushed her warm skin.

  The squeal quickly turned into a sigh once he started kissing her. This encounter led to a detour to the living room floor, the closest thing to privacy they could find in their haste. After all, they wouldn’t want to shock Mr. Waters, her elderly widower neighbor.

  “Sarah. What are you thinking about?”

  She could hear Alex scraping vegetables from the cutting board. She realized she had stopped scrubbing the pot she held over the sink.

  Glad her back was to him so he couldn’t see her blush, she used the one niggling factor that invaded her bliss as an excuse for her distraction.

  “Are you nervous about tomorrow . . . I mean, about meeting my family and friends?”

  “Should I be?” he asked, as his eyebrows shot up. “After all, I’ve spoken to Ann and Becca on the phone, and you’ve told me so much about them, it’s not like we’re total strangers.”

  “But you haven’t met Mark and Rob, and of course the Admiral. Since . . .”—she turned back to the sink—“well, they can be pretty protective of me.” They’d been spitting mad at Adrian when they’d found out about his affair.

  Wiping his hands on the towel, he crossed the kitchen to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his chin on her shoulder. “Sarah, of course I want them to like me, but there’s not much I can do about it either way. It’s you I love, and it’s you I want to make happy.” He kissed her shoulder.

  “You seem nervous enough for both of us anyway,” he chuckled, turning her around to fac
e him. “What’s next, chef?”

  “Um, can you put the eggs on to boil?”

  “Yes, ma’m.” He managed to mimic a Southern accent quite well. He kissed her nose before going to do her bidding.

  She turned back to the dishes in the sink. “Alex?”

  “Yes.”

  She hesitated, biting her lower lip. “I’ve been wondering . . .”

  “What have you been wondering, Love?”

  “Well, it takes a large sum of money to produce a film, right?

  “Yes, but one can also find other backers, so that the entire financial burden doesn’t fall on one person. Of course, the producer is responsible for making sure the production doesn’t come in at a loss to the financial partners.”

  “Is that what you did, had financial partners I mean?”

  “Sarah, what are you dancing around?”

  With a little more dancing on her part, she said, “Well, acting pays well I suppose, and the estate . . .” She didn’t know what else to say about that, since she had no idea how that worked. “But the movie, the apartment, the car . . . those things add up, and well, I don’t want you spending extravagantly on me. Those things aren’t important to me.” She shrugged, thinking of the topaz and diamond necklace he’d recently given her, and Christmas only a month away.

  He chuckled, making her turn around to look at him. “Sarah, you’re asking about my finances?”

  “Yes, I guess I am.” She flushed in embarrassment.

  “That’s a fair question. I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner. Acting does pay well, even the small films that I’ve done. And although the portion I take from the estate is relatively modest, the apartment and the car are both paid for. I’ve lived a simple bachelor’s lifestyle, and haven’t required a large income.”

  Wiping off the counter, he continued. “But you’re right, acting, or at least the acting I’ve done thus far, doesn’t pay well enough to cover the costs of producing a film. Costs I choose not to take from the estate’s coffers. But with hard work, and a little luck, preparation meets opportunity,” he reminded her. “Those investments will pay off.”

  He put his arms around her waist, kissing her nose. “So, you see, Sarah, I am quite capable of maintaining you in the lifestyle to which you’ve been accustomed,” he said, with a teasing smile.

  “‘Money can only give happiness where there is nothing else to give it.’ I have you to give me happiness, and thus lack for nothing else.”

  Chapter 17

  The kitchen was crowded with Ann, Becca, Sarah’s nieces, Eliza and Kate, and Sarah putting together the final preparations for Thanksgiving Dinner. Ann’s kids, Michael and Lily, were out in the garden competing to see who could name the most bird species that visited the feeders.

  “If ya’ll don’t pipe down, you won’t be identifying any birds, because you’ll scare ‘em all off,” Ann scolded from the open window.

  The men lounged on the sofas, watching an NFL game, trying to explain the rules to Alex. “Aw, come on. What kind of call was that? He stepped out of bounds,” Rob grumbled at the television.

  “College football is much more exciting,” Mark said. “Next year we’ll take you to a Gator game. Now that’s football.”

  Sarah caught ‘next year’ and looked up at Alex, a little worried about Mark’s assumption. Alex looked up at the same time, with a mysterious smile.

  “Sarah, where’s the cranberry chutney?” Becca interrupted their interaction.

  “It’s in the blue bowl, top shelf.”

  Sarah frowned as she watched Alex and the Admiral walk in the direction of her office, but the task of preparing the meal soon distracted her.

  Alex and the Admiral sat in the relative quiet of Sarah’s office, sounds from the kitchen and the football game, accompanied by the occasional whoop from the other men, providing the background noise.

  “Sir, thank you for interrupting your game to speak with me,” Alex said, licking his lips and wiping his palms against his slacks.

  The Admiral stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, arms behind his head, enjoying the Earl’s obvious discomfiture. He supposed that when it comes to asking a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage, every man puts his pants on the same way, titled gentleman or blue collar worker.

  And there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that was the purpose of this private meeting. A charming, out-dated ritual he’d never expected to participate in.

  “Tell me what’s on your mind, son.”

  “I love your daughter, sir.”

  “Yes. I can see that.”

  “And, well, I would like your permission to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  The Admiral hesitated, letting Alex squirm. “I see. And do you have reason to believe that she’ll accept you?” Why not make the man work for it? Didn’t his daughter deserve a man who’d love her, fight for her, respect her?

  “I believe so. I hope so, because I can’t live without her.” He gave the Admiral a hesitant smile.

  “You know, son, home is important to Sarah.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve seen her interaction with her family and her friends. They are all very dear to her.”

  “We moved so many times early in my career that I lost count. My girl craves roots, stability.”

  “I’ve given that a great deal of thought, and if she wants to stay here, I’ll stay with her. Pass my title to my brother.”

  “What?” Sarah stood frozen in the doorway. She clutched her hands to her stomach.

  Alex wasn’t sure how much she’d heard, but it was clear from her face that she’d heard the last thing he’d said.

  “No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

  Was she saying no to his marriage proposal? His heart dropped to his feet as he stood up. “Sarah–”

  “Look, I don’t know the totality of your conversation, but I do know that I would never let you give up your title for me.”

  She closed the gap between them. “The day we rode the grounds of Rutherford I saw the love you have for the land, for the people who still make their livelihoods there. I also saw the pride. You may not flaunt your title, but you carry it, and the burdens it entails, with an honor and dignity that I know would make your father proud. Rutherford is part of you, and you it. I could never take that away from you. That’s a deal-breaker.”

  The Admiral walked over and kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Well, son,” he said with a smile at Alex, “There you have it.”

  “Dinner is served,” Sarah announced to the group.

  “Oh boy.” Rob stood up and rubbed his stomach. “I’ve been saving up all week for this. Alex,”—he put his arm on Alex’s shoulder—“you’re in for a treat. Sarah is the best cook I know. Er, sorry, honey, you’re a good cook, too.” Rob stammered in the face of Ann’s irritation.

  “You better eat up. This may be the last meal you get for some time.” Ann smacked him with the dishtowel she held.

  Everyone chuckled as Rob released Alex to wrap his arm around Ann’s waist and place a repentant kiss on her cheek.

  The mild, sunny Florida fall day was picture perfect. Taking advantage of both the weather, and the needed space, they dined al fresco on the back patio, where there was room to line up two long tables and enough chairs to accommodate the large group, not to mention the abundant food.

  Once they were seated at the table, and the food was being passed around among murmurs of appreciation, Sarah glanced at Alex in his seat at the head of the table. He was relaxed, appearing to enjoy himself surrounded by those dear to her.

  She heaved a sigh of relief, both because her family and friends welcomed him, and because he fit right in as if he’d always been part of her life.

  The discussion in the library ended with his solemn promise that he would not step down as Earl unless and until he believed he no longer wished to retain the title.

  The feeling of bliss that returned was complete, no more doubts. Everything
was perfect. As she looked around the table at her dear friends, dearer family, and dearest Alex, she realized George Sand, and Lady Clara, had been right. ‘There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.’

  The Admiral raised his glass for a toast. “To my circle of friends, which now boasts our newest member, Alex, and to my dear family, Happy Thanksgiving.” The adults raised their wine glasses, while the kids raised their iced tea glasses.

  The quiet that descended as everyone dug in was only interrupted by the occasional compliment on the fare. Sarah gave credit where credit was due, telling everyone that Alex had a hand in the meal’s preparation. Ann and Becca were suitably impressed, while Rob and Mark appeared chagrined at the looks from their wives.

  Everyone lingered over dessert, simply enjoying the food, the company, and the soft afternoon. The sun began to set, filtering through the trees and casting shadows across the garden.

  As the sun dropped behind the trees, it grew chilly. Sarah shivered a little and rubbed her arms, not wanting to get up and break the spell of this most perfect Thanksgiving.

  Alex excused himself and rose from the table, caressing Sarah’s shoulder as he passed. As any good actor knew, timing was essential to any memorable scene, and he wanted this scene to be memorable. The timing couldn’t get any more perfect.

  He returned a few minutes later with one of Sarah’s sweaters, wrapping it around her shoulders. Becca raised her eyebrow at Sarah, again impressed. Sarah smiled at her and shrugged her shoulder imperceptibly.

  “Could I have everyone’s attention?” Alex stood behind his chair. “First, I want to sincerely thank you for opening your hearts to me and for making me feel like a welcome addition to your group. It means more than you know.”

  “Second, I want to thank Sarah for this bountiful meal in this tranquil setting, and for giving me the happiest five months of my life.” He came to stand next to her.

  Sarah looked at him askance, expecting him to lean over for a kiss.