And he had to admit that a fashion plate of a woman who was raising a soccer-playing tomboy daughter kind of intrigued him on some level. Yes, her appearance and her occupation represented things he didn’t much care for, but were those sensible shoes an indication that she had more substance than he gave her credit for? Time would tell.
SARAH’S PHONE LIT UP as she was writing up her final sale of the day. A discreet glance showed a text from her daughter, which she would read after she locked up. She’d had a productive afternoon, and that was a good thing since she’d frittered away most of the morning. She was ready for some mother-daughter time, but her customer didn’t need to know that.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bentley.” Sarah folded a brightly patterned silk scarf in pale pink tissue paper, admiring as she always did the delicate fabric as it slid between her fingers. She sealed the paper with a To the Nines label and slipped it into the shopping bag with the blouse and jacket her customer had purchased. “I’ll have our seamstress shorten the skirt as soon as she comes in next week and call you when it’s ready.”
“Thank you, dear. I want to wear this to my grandson’s christening in Vancouver next Sunday.”
“You’ll be the most elegant grandmother in town.” Eleanor Bentley had a husband with deep pockets, a hairdresser who kept the gray away and a wardrobe most women would die for. “How is the new baby?” she asked.
“Oh, he’s the cutest little fellow. I know everyone says that about their grandchildren, but he really is,” the woman said, beaming as she opened her black patent Louis Vuitton clutch and produced a photograph.
“He’s adorable.” He really was. Sarah made a point of getting to know her customers on a personal level, and Eleanor Bentley was one of her most devoted. Sarah would agree to pretty much anything to make sure she was also a satisfied customer. “He looks like his grandfather.”
The woman’s smile widened. “He does, doesn’t he? The Bentley men are a handsome bunch.”
Sarah had learned that Eleanor, while tiny in stature, had raised four sons who all had their father’s height and good looks. The youngest had recently passed the bar and was now practicing law with his three older brothers, as their father had before retiring with his wife to Serenity Bay.
In some ways, the elder Bentleys’ marriage reminded her of her parents’, minus the bank account, of course. Her mom and dad still lived in Ucluelet, where Sarah had grown up, in a house full of books and cats where her mother gardened and cooked organic food and her father tinkered with various inventions and engineering projects. No designer duds for them and no sign of retirement, either. They were good people and she loved them dearly—so did Casey—but there had been times growing up that she would have given anything to have a conventional family.
“Speaking of handsome...” Eleanor said. “I understand the new high school teacher moved in next door to you. Have you met him yet?”
Sarah’s face went warm as she stepped around the counter and handed the shopping bag to the Bentley family’s matriarch. “Just briefly.”
Handsome hardly did the man justice, but that was no reason for her to be blushing like a schoolgirl.
“I’ll see you next week, Mrs. Bentley. If you bring the jacket back with you, and shoes you’ll be wearing with this outfit, you can try everything on while the seamstress is here and she can make any little last-minute adjustments.”
“What a good idea. Thank you, dear.”
After Eleanor left the store, Sarah flipped the dead bolt in place and returned to the sales counter as her assistant Juliet came out of the back stockroom that doubled as Sarah’s office.
“The back door’s locked and I shut down the computer,” Juliet said. “And I unpacked the dresses that came in this afternoon. They’re on hangers and I’ve gone over them with the steamer, but they may still need a little touch-up on Monday morning.”
“Thank you so much. Before you leave, could you put this skirt in the alterations cupboard while I close up?” Sarah checked her watch, then remembered Casey’s text message. She read it while she tidied up the sales counter and slid some paperwork into her briefcase.
Got the last Twilight movie. Luv ya! PS: 1 ham n pineapple, 1 pepperoni!
Sarah smiled at the reminder as she replied to her daughter’s message.
Leaving now. See you in a half hour.
Today had been busier than usual, but thanks to Juliet’s help with the hordes of back-to-school shoppers, Sarah’s financial records were up to date and ready to go to the accountant, and she’d entered the new merchandise into the inventory database. Now she could go home, change into comfortable clothes, and settle in for movie-and-pizza night with Casey.
They’d started the tradition right after Sarah opened the store, when Casey was only seven years old, and she was grateful that her daughter was still enthusiastic about it. Yes, she’d raised a great kid, but outside of school, Casey still spent more time with her menagerie of animals or her nose in a book than with kids her own age. Would that change after she started high school? Would her daughter want to spend Saturday evenings with friends? Maybe even a boyfriend, perish the thought.
Sarah often reflected on her own childhood and teen years spent as an avid bookworm and a committed wallflower. She’d missed out on a lot and she wanted more for Casey, she really did, but for now these precious Saturday nights were theirs, and Sarah intended to cherish each and every minute of them.
* * *
JON PULLED INTO the parking lot next to Paolo’s Primo Pizzeria. He doubted a “primo” pizza could be found in an out-of-the-way place like Serenity Bay, but as the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers. If it were just him, he would have settled for whatever he could find in the boxes in the kitchen, and then power through till he had everything unpacked. Kate was “starving,” though, and the only thing harder to handle than a hormonal teenager was a hungry hormonal teenager. Besides, they could both use a break, and one night of cardboard pizza wouldn’t kill them.
Inside, the warm air scented with freshly baked crust, spicy tomato sauce and melted cheese almost had him buying the primo promise. Two of the half dozen booths were occupied, one by a family of four and the other by a pair of teenagers, maybe sixteen or seventeen, who were obviously on a date, judging by the way they were nestled together on the same side of the table.
“Be right with you,” a dark-haired woman said, clearing plates and napkins from a recently vacated table, her Italian accent in perfect keeping with the ambient aromas.
“No hurry.” He scanned the menu options on the wall behind the take-out counter. One large should be plenty for the two of them if they would do different toppings on each half. Kate, who three months ago had announced she was vegetarian, wanted a Neapolitan pizza because everything else was gross. He was debating over pancetta or prosciutto for his half of the pie when he was greeted by a soft female voice.
“Jonathan? Hi.” His new neighbor smiled up at him.
“Oh, Sarah. Hi.” She appeared as freshly starched as she had earlier, making him glad he’d pulled on a clean T-shirt before he’d left the house.
“Are you settling in?”
“Getting there. Still haven’t tackled the kitchen, though, and the gas for the barbecue hasn’t been turned on yet so we have to settle for takeout tonight.”
“You won’t be disappointed. Paolo’s pizzas are incredible. Best in the world, according to my daughter.”
“Sarah!” A