The restaurant was one of the more upscale places in the village. She had never been there before and was a little surprised when David suggested it. As she was waiting for her appetizer, Sara stifled a yawn behind her napkin. Across from her, David was perusing the wine list. He was still wearing his dress shirt from work, the pastel highlighting his tanned face. His tousled hair was the only thing that reminded her of the avid outdoorsman she knew him to be. A caveman, she recalled angrily. That was what Sid had called him. Her cheeks flushed.
“You’re staring.” There was a half smile on his face. “And blushing. I wonder what goes on in your head. Nothing indecent, I hope?”
“Never. I’m as pure as snow.”
David laughed out loud. “I will wisely refrain from commenting.” He reached across the table and took her hand, his warm skin against hers.
“Your hand is cold.” His strong fingers, long and slender, intertwined with hers.
“I’m a little tired.”
“I bet. Busy girls’ weekend, partying in fancy dresses… did you get any sleep?”
“I did.” The waiter arrived with their wine, and she waited until he had left to say more. “I had more dreams, though.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Really? But you didn’t have any here. That’s interesting… What were they about?”
She filled him in. “I think,” she said, “something happened to Julia when William went back into the house. That’s the part that’s missing.”
“You could be right. He obviously wanted more from Julia than she was willing to offer. Jealous men can be…” He stopped, looking straight at her with his grey eyes. “Unpleasant,” he finished.
Sara squirmed in her seat. What in the world did he mean by that? She cleared her throat. “Uh, David, I should tell you—the best man at the wedding yesterday, it was Sid. I had no idea,” she added quickly. “Neither did Phoebe.”
“And you’re telling me this why?” His tone was not accusatory, but she noticed him tense up.
She felt as if her body had turned to stone. Her mouth went dry. “Well, I guess I didn’t want you to think I was going behind your back. I don’t want to keep secrets from you.”
“Did anything happen?”
“No…” Damn those cheeks again, she thought as they heated up again.
David raised one eyebrow.
“Nothing happened, but he tried… He was drunk. He tried to kiss me. I pushed him in the pond.”
“Impressive. Did he hurt you?” David’s tone remained friendly, but his eyes held a threatening glint.
She shook her head. It took her a while to find her voice. “Not nearly as much as I hurt him, I believe.”
“Good.” His hold on her hand had turned into a rather tight squeeze. His other hand was clenched around his napkin.
“You’re killing the napkin.”
He blinked a few times. “Sorry?”
“Your napkin.” She pointed. “You’re strangling it. And my hand too.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He released his grip.
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t bother. He’s not worth it.”
“Maybe not. But it might make me feel better.”
She shook her head. “I feel like such an idiot. Here I was, thinking he was such a nice guy. What a fool I was.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“You say that, but—”
“It’s not your fault. Please believe me.”
She nodded. At a loss for words, she took some bread and dipped it in the olive oil.
“Would you have told me? If it weren’t so obvious you were hiding something from me—the blushing gives you away. You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” She looked up.
“Would you have told me? It’s a pretty straightforward question.”
Sara played with her piece of bread, watching it soak up the oil, until it reached her fingers. She dropped the bread on her plate and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
The waiter returned and placed their appetizers in front of them. They waited in silence. David was barely managing to contain himself.
“Maybe?” he said when the waiter had left.
“I knew it would upset you. Like it did. You’re upset. Angry. I can see it. Plus, I was worried. That you would blame me.”
“Blame you? Of course not. That’s ridiculous. And yes, I’m angry. I wish I’d been there to beat him up. But Sara, you need to trust me. I want you to feel like you can tell me this stuff. I don’t want you to keep secrets.” He reached over the table again, placing his hand over hers. “Sara, I want you in my life. I tried to ask you three days ago, before you left, but I never got to it. I was wondering—would you like to move in with me?”
Sara fought the urge to gasp for air as she tried to process what he had just asked. “Move in?” she repeated, rather stunned. “You mean like, live together?”
“Yes. That’s typically what moving in entails. You know, we would wake up together, eat together, share a bathroom—like we’re already doing, but more official. That sort of thing.”
A piece of tomato seemed to be stuck in her throat—a vague taste of something sour in her mouth. The irony was infuriating. Only six months ago she would have jumped at this proposal. In fact, last winter, when he had suggested she move to a new apartment, she had been disappointed he had not made the offer. But now things had changed. If she said yes, she would be living here, in Dunnhill—possibly for the rest of her life.
“You’re not saying much.” Slowly he let go of her hand. “That’s not a good sign, is it?”
The hurt on his face made her want to scream. There had to be some way to make this right. “Oh, David, it’s not that I don’t want to move in with you—I do. I love you—but… I don’t want to live here.” There, she’d said it. A weight lifted off her shoulders.
“You don’t want… why? I thought you liked it here.”
“I do. It’s beautiful. But—I don’t want to spend the rest of my life here. I miss the city.”
“But I live here. This is my home, Sara. I don’t want to live anywhere else.”
“I know.” She bit her lip, trying to keep it from trembling. “David, I want to do more than sub every now and then and go for walks. I want to teach, visit museums, go to concerts, eat at little restaurants, go out—I love the city life. I won’t be happy here.”
“So I am not enough.”
“That’s not it—you are! I just don’t want to live here. Have you ever considered moving back to Seattle?”
“Actually, no. I am a thirty-two-year-old man, Sara. At some point I’ll want to settle down, have a family. I don’t see that happening with someone who doesn’t want to live here.”
“I got a job offer.” It flew out of her mouth before she could formulate a way to cushion the blow.
“Sorry, what?”
“I got a job offer from a school in Seattle. It’s a great opportunity. A full-time job. A nice school.”
“I—I wasn’t aware you went for an interview.”
“They called me out of the blue for an interview when I drove down to San Francisco. They had my paperwork from when I applied as a sub, before I moved here last winter. I interviewed last week, but you have to realize, I never thought I would get it. I just thought it would be good practice. It totally caught me by surprise when they came through with the offer this afternoon. I didn’t tell you beforehand because I didn’t see the point, you know.”
David was quiet for a while. Eventually he said, “I think the fact that you went says enough. I assume you want to take it?”
She nodded.
David swallowed something away. “I don’t want to hold you back, Sara. If this job is important to you, then you should take it. I understand—on some level. I want you to be happy.” He abruptly got up. “I’m sorry, I need some fresh air, some space. Don’t worry about the bill. Maybe we should sleep at our own a
partments tonight.” He turned around and walked away, leaving her alone at the table. She felt like an abyss had opened up in front of her and swallowed her whole.
She felt the stares of the people around her. Some women gave a few small headshakes of disapproval, following David with their eyes, softly tsking to their partners. Others were more focused on Sara, with probing eyes, wondering what she had done to make her date walk out on her. The waiter came by, too well trained to show his pity, but asking discretely if she wanted more wine. She wondered what he would say if she requested the whole bottle. Instead she shook her head, got up, and left the restaurant, walking away from the whispers while trying desperately to silence the little voice in her head telling her she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter 24
It was windy in Seattle. Sara zipped up her jacket and tightened her scarf around her neck. Fall was rapidly moving toward winter, and the wind had a bite to it. Other than that, it had been a beautiful day. She enjoyed her walk home, as always. The University District, a lively neighborhood with a funky vibe, was full of young people, small cafés, and shops.
Her new place was a small townhome she shared with a friendly lady. Seattle was expensive. It had been a bit weird, going back to sharing a household, and with a virtual stranger—but so far it seemed to be working out well. Her roommate was polite and considerate, and she was often gone during nights and weekends for work, which meant each of them had the house mostly to themselves during the time they were there.
The house was quiet as usual when Sara entered. Her roommate was on vacation this week, making the place feel like hers. Sara had been working ever since she moved, and though she was enjoying her new job, she was looking forward to the weekend. She crashed on the sofa, stretching out to her full length, still wearing her jacket. A set of quickly padding footsteps rustled past her ear. Something nudged her and gave a hushed meow.
“Hello, Mr. Houdini. Did you miss me?” She stroked the cat’s orange fur.
The tabby settled himself on her chest, purring contentedly. She had adopted him from the pound about a month ago. It was a perfect match. They were both in need of some TLC, and Houdini always greeted her with affection, taking away the sting of coming home to an empty apartment.
Sara loved living in Seattle. The city and this neighborhood had everything she wished for. Everything except David. The thought of him made her heart implode for the gazillionth time. She pictured him walking away the night she told him she did not want to stay in Dunnhill. Out of the restaurant, and out of her life. Days of torment had followed. It had felt like someone continually punching her in the gut—a relentless, nauseating ache deep inside her. But she had packed up her things and left. And he had not tried to stop her.
She felt torn between a strong desire to run back to him, to end this misery—and the knowledge that it would not, in the long run, make her happy. Besides, their compatibility had been questionable. David needed to find someone who liked rock climbing and skiing, and Sara needed someone who enjoyed museums, hip restaurants, and hustle and bustle. Still, it seemed like a waste of love—two people who wanted to be together but still could not make it work.
“Houdini, you will be left to your own devices this weekend. I hope you’re up for it.” The cat did not respond. He would be fine, of course. He was older and slept most of the day anyway. She gently picked him up and carried him to her bedroom so she could pack. While Sara grabbed some clothes to put in her carry-on, the cat kept rubbing his head on her legs, meowing loudly, as if he knew what she was doing. “Oh, Houdini, you’ll be taken care of. Aunt Shelley will come visit you tomorrow. You won’t be alone the whole time.” It was a pity Aunt Shelley could not come with her, actually, but Uncle Joe was sick and her aunt did not want to leave him for a whole weekend. Sara hugged the cat close before placing him on her bed. “You’ll be sleeping alone, though.”
As would she, Sara realized. And she would probably have a harder time with it. Moving to Seattle had marked the return of her dreams, although she had not had any new ones. The last two she had—the one of Eleonore with the box, stumbling down the stairs, and the one of the family evacuating the house in the wake of the fire—kept repeating themselves. She had no idea what to do with them. The dreams did not change nor reveal anything new. And they always stopped at the same moment, even though Sara was dying to know what happened to Julia. If there was a purpose to her reliving these moments every night, it must mean she was missing something.
Shrugging, she grabbed the last items she needed from her bathroom. At least the dreams were not terrifying or keeping her from getting a good night’s rest. Still, she preferred the dream of Eleonore. The sadness of the evacuation dream never failed to affect her—those poor people, wandering about with just a small fraction of their possessions. Everything burning or in shambles. And Frederick’s expression as he turned around to face the house was etched in her memory—the face of a young boy about to lose his mother.
She pushed those thoughts away again. She had other concerns at the moment, like not missing her plane. With a loud thud, she closed her carry-on. Time to go. Los Angeles was waiting.
Southern California was like heaven. The sun had set by the time she arrived, but the temperature still hovered in the mid-seventies. Santa Monica was alive with people enjoying the mild weather on this Friday evening. Sara quickly discarded her winter jacket and sweater, thrilled to be out of the cold.
“It’s so good to see you!” Phoebe gave her an exuberant hug at the door. “Don’t mind the mess, I’m packing.” She had invited both Sara and Jean over for the weekend, since Vincent had taken the twins to France to visit his parents. Phoebe would join them next week.
The French doors in the living room were open, and the table on the back patio was set. Jean was already there, sitting outside. Phoebe led the way. “Sara’s here! How wonderful to have you both over.” Estelle, the pug, was in agreement; she ran from Sara to Jean and back, snorting and wagging her curly tail, trying to determine which one of her new friends would be the most easily persuaded to pet her.
Stepping onto the patio, Sara felt like she was walking into a magazine, yet there was an element of coziness to it that made her feel perfectly comfortable. The gazebo was lit with strings of small lights wrapped around the beams, and behind it, the pool emitted soft blue hues. Soft music was playing, palm trees were rustling above, and somewhere in the back a fountain was running. She sat down on one of the pillow-covered chairs.
Phoebe placed some last dishes on the table. “You must be hungry. Please, let’s eat.”
A warm furry body launched itself into Sara’s chair, jumping up and down on her lap. “Estelle! Get off. I swear, Phoebe, my cat has better manners than this dog of yours.”
“I know.” Phoebe poured some wine. “I blame the kids. And Vincent. It’s definitely not me.”
The dog finally settled underneath Jean’s chair, panting loudly as they ate. Dinner was amazing. Much had changed in the last two months, and there was quite a bit of catching up to do. Sara was grateful the women were going easy on the topic of David; in fact, they seemed to be avoiding it as much as possible.
Jean had done some research on the San Francisco earthquake. The devastation had been incredible, with half the people in the city losing their homes. Jean told them that initially, the death toll after the earthquake had been set at 478, which was incredibly low for a population of 400,000 people. Only recently the true number of dead had been readjusted to 3,000, after research on all the people who went missing. The dead had most likely never been counted properly, their bodies presumably lost under rubble or burned in the fire. And who knew whether the number was even higher in reality.
As they were enjoying the last of the wine, the conversation returned to Sara’s dreams.
“Do you know why those two dreams keep recurring?” Jean was petting Estelle, who had squirmed her way up into the seat and was now lying curled up on
Jean’s lap, happily grunting.
“I don’t. It’s like a broken record. I wish they would show me something new.”
“Can you exert any control over your dreams? Like—can you move around?”
“Sometimes. If I think about it really hard.”
“Maybe you should give it a try. Couldn’t hurt.” Jean got up from her seat, placing the pug on the floor. “I’ve been thinking about the dream with Eleonore and the box. I want to show you something.” She disappeared inside with Estelle at her heels.
“I think you’ve lost your dog,” Sara said to Phoebe.
Phoebe lazily leaned back in her chair. “I know. Maybe Jean would like to take her home? I could tell the kids that Estelle decided to adopt Jean, since she actually pays attention to her.”
Jean reappeared, without Estelle this time. She was carrying a small chest. “Does this look familiar?” She set it on the table.
Sara’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god, that’s the box! The box, the one Eleonore drops.”
Phoebe immediately sat up straight. “No way.”
“How did you know?” Sara was astounded.
“I didn’t, but it seemed to make sense. This is the box with the letters I found, which started this whole darn business. And the box was cracked, remember? You dreamed about a box, which got dropped and broke.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Sara felt a bit stupid for not thinking of it herself.
The box was like a miniature treasure chest, with a curved lid. She reached out and pulled it toward her. It felt as if it were humming with electricity, but not in a painful or shocking way—almost like it was brimming with excitement. “It feels… odd, somehow. Like it’s alive.”
Jean raised an eyebrow. “Not to me, it doesn’t. But the dog definitely thought there was something funny about it. Took off with her tail between her legs the moment it came out of my suitcase.”
“Seriously? That’s weird.” Phoebe eyes lit up. “And exiting. Maybe it’s possessed.”
A Dose of Deadly Intentions Page 13