#
After reading Jennifer Standish's will, George Gunthry laid it on the blotter in front of him and summed it up. "In essence, Jennie's personal effects as well as the proceeds of the property she owned in Arizona go to Sara. Do any of you have any questions?"
Sara's mom and dad had bought the property in Arizona, thinking it a good investment for their later years, hoping the value of it would soar.
Jake shifted in the straight-back chair beside Sara's.
On Sara's other side, her aunt asked, "So what do you suggest we do first, Mr. Gunthry? How long does my niece have before she has to vacate the house?"
The white-haired lawyer responded kindly. "Spend some time in the house sorting through Jennie's things. Decide what you'd like to keep. I suggest we call an auctioneer for the rest. Because Jennie rented from Mr. Hale for so long, he's giving you until the end of October to vacate."
Sara tightened her hand around her purse. "It will be difficult auctioning furniture I've seen my mother use all her life."
"Would you rather keep it?" the lawyer asked.
"I have to find a job and rent a place for us. I don't know if I can do that in a month."
Her aunt asked the lawyer. "What if she'd rent her mother's house?"
Sara shook her head. "It's too big. We don't need that much room. Besides, I can't rent anything until I find a job."
Jake shifted again and asked, "How soon would you have to set up the auction?"
"That depends on Sara," Gunthry responded.
"I'll need a week or two to decide..." Sara's voice trailed off as she thought about it.
"I'm afraid that's all the time you have, Sara, unless you want to put the furniture in storage. Let me know by October first, all right? That way we can set up the auction and advertise it."
Christopher, who was sitting at Sara's feet with his coloring book, tugged at her hand. "Look, Mommy."
She smiled at her son. "That's nice, honey."
He tugged at her hand again. "Mommy..."
Jake crooked his finger at the little boy. "Come here and show me. Your Mom's trying to talk to Mr. Gunthry."
Both Sara's and Christopher's heads swung toward Jake. It seemed strange having someone else directing her son. But if Christopher was going to see Jake as his father, she had to back him. "Show your dad and I'll look at the pictures later."
Christopher's lip sagged in a pout until Jake held out his arms, then Christopher crawled onto his father's lap and pointed to the picture he'd just colored. The two of them were definitely forming a bond.
Sara realized she had to get on with her life, not look toward the past. "I'll make up my mind soon. You'll take care of the property in Arizona?"
"I'll research the real estate companies in the area and find the most competent one. But it could take a while to sell it with the market the way it is. From what I understand, it's in a remote area." He paused. "Do you have any other questions?"
"Not now," Sara answered.
While Eloise asked the attorney a question about inheritance tax, Jake leaned toward Sara, his arm brushing hers. "What is the property in Arizona?"
"Just a little plot of land Mom and Dad bought because they thought it would increase in value for their retirement. But it's in the middle of nowhere and I doubt if it has." Her throat tightened. This appointment had been difficult for her. The reading of the will made everything seem more final. She'd lost both of her parents and hanging onto their possessions wouldn't help. She'd just have to hold onto them with her heart. If she only had a short time to make decisions, she'd better get busy.
"Jake, would it be all right if you saw Christopher tomorrow evening? I'm going to spend the day at Mom's."
He searched her face, then nodded. "No problem."
Where their son was concerned, they didn't have a problem. At least not yet. But from Jake's pensive expression, she wondered if they might not have a problem soon.
#
The next afternoon, Sara laid her mother's clothes in piles, sorting the casual everyday slacks and tops from the dresses her mother had worn to church. Eloise had insisted Sara go through her mother's personal effects herself while she worked in the kitchen and kept Christopher occupied.
Sara was buttoning a blazer when she heard footsteps on the stairs and knew instantly they were Jake's. Why was he here? After the reading of the will, he'd been quiet. He'd given Christopher a hug outside the lawyer's office and told Sara he'd see her this evening.
Jake came into the bedroom. His navy shorts, red polo shirt and sneakers made him look more like a tennis coach than a PI. Although she could feel his gaze on her, she positioned the blazer on top of the other clothes and returned to the closet, removing a handful of dresses.
"How's it going?" he asked gently.
"Fine."
"Christopher looked as busy as your aunt. He's helping her empty the kitchen cabinets."
Sara could still see her mother cooking in that kitchen, still almost smell the pumpkin bread and apple pie that were her specialties. She spoke past the lump in her throat. "Helping?"
Jake chuckled. "He was using two lids as cymbals."
Sara put one of her mother's dresses on the pile on the bed. "Maybe I should bring him up here for a while and give Aunt El a break."
"Maybe
you
should take a break. Eloise said you've been at this since nine o'clock this morning. It's almost two."
"I took a break for lunch." She gazed at a green and white print dress that was one of her mother's favorites.
Jake crossed to the middle of the room where three cardboard boxes stood, one with purses, one with shoes, one with odds and ends. "Sara, you don't have to do this all in one day."
"It won't get any easier. I just have to do it." She laid the green and white dress with the others. "Did you need something? I mean since you came over?"
"No. I thought I could take Christopher to the playground so you and your aunt can work uninterrupted."
Jake's unexpected appearance and kindness was more than Sara could handle at that moment. The ice blue suit of her mother's she held in her hand had been special. She had helped her mother pick it out. Jennie Standish had worn it for her twentieth wedding anniversary the year before she'd lost her husband.
Suddenly, the immensity of Sara's loss shook her. She couldn't keep her chin from quivering as her eyes filled with tears. This time she couldn't stop them. Turning toward the closet, she hoped Jake wouldn't see.
"Do you think Christopher will go with me without you?"
All she could do was nod as she tried to swallow a sob.
"Sara?"
She managed, "I'm sure he'll--"
The hand on her shoulder stopped her pretense. Jake nudged her around and saw the tears coursing down her cheeks. "What's wrong?" he asked so gently her tears flowed freer.
"I miss Mom so much. And Dad. It's like I lost him all over again. I can't believe they're both gone." Her shoulders shook, and she bowed her head.
Blessedly she felt Jake's arms around her, and she sobbed into his chest. He held her close, and she cried as she hadn't been able to since her aunt notified her of her mother's death.
Jake didn't say anything, and she was thankful because there was nothing anyone could say. The loss was too fresh, the pain too sharp for words to comfort. But the warmth of Jake's body against hers and the strength of his arms did comfort. They stood that way a long time, her cheek and hands pressed to his chest. The feel and smell of him were familiar, awakening more than comfort, reminding her of the night they'd shared.
The beat of his heart, strong and rhythmic, hastened under her hand. His heat surrounded her, becoming steamier the longer they stood together. His muscles grew taut, and she could feel tension spread through him.
He pulled away and she felt cold and alone...alone enough to look up at him with the longing she felt. His jaw tightened, and he took another step back. She saw his chest rise and fall as he pulled a long draught of air into his lungs. The next instant his expression was set, control and restraint evident in the straightness of his shoulders, the rigidity of his stance.
The same control made his voice even. "I'll send Christopher up so you can talk to him about going with me."
Just as quickly as Jake had entered the room, he'd disappeared.
Sara pulled in a few deep breaths of her own. Taking a tissue from the box on the dresser, she blew her nose. The tension between her and Jake was getting worse instead of better, and she didn't know what to begin to do about it.
#
Three weeks had passed. Sara pushed a carton aside with her foot as she readied her mother's belongings for public auction. Just last week, she'd gone to two preliminary job interviews. But she hadn't heard anything yet. She had some savings, but not enough to put her mother's furniture in storage. So she'd had no choice but to go ahead with the auction. Without a job, she couldn't rent an apartment. Eloise was insisting she and Christopher could stay with her as long as they needed to. But Sara had always been independent. She'd raised Christopher on her own, and she wanted them to be on their own now. But until she found a job, that wasn't possible.
Many days during the past three weeks, Jake had come to entertain Christopher so Eloise and Sara could work without distraction. Sara had thanked him often, but he didn't seem to want her thanks. He didn't seem to want anything from her except time with their son.
Two days she'd gone back to Wasco, packed up her apartment, closed it, and left the boxes she couldn't fit into her car with the apartment manager. She'd taken Christopher along and Jake hadn't protested. He seemed to think about what was best for Christopher as much as she did. He'd realized Christopher needed to say goodbye to Wasco, too. Today, the day before the auction, Jake had offered to help with the heavy work. Between watching Christopher and dealing with memories associated with her mother's possessions, Sara hadn't had time to think about herself and Jake...at least not this morning.
She opened the upstairs hall closet. It seemed empty, but she knew she should check the back of the top shelf. She found a stepstool in one of the bedrooms and climbed up. A large shoebox zigzagged across the back corner. Leaning forward, she tried to catch the lip with her finger. She'd managed to snag it when the stepstool tilted. The next thing she knew the box had spilled over the shelf, and Jake had swept her into his arms.
Her heart raced and her throat went dry. He'd discarded the cotton shirt he'd worn with his jeans. The muscle shirt he'd worn underneath left nothing to her imagination--not his muscles, not his tanned skin, not the springy hair tickling her arm.
"You should be more careful." His husky voice fell over her, and although it was October, she felt as hot as she would in August.
"I will be," she squeaked, aware of the rise and fall of his chest, his heart speeding with hers. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I'll put the phone book on the stool."
He arched his brows and grimaced. "Oh, that's real careful," he drawled as he set her on her feet.
"I have to finish emptying everything."
"So call if you need help."
"I don't want to take advantage of your help."
Jake's brown eyes held her for an interminably long moment. "I'll let you know if I think you're taking advantage."
She knew he would. Maybe she was afraid to put any pressure on their relationship, any more than was already there.
Jake mounted the stool, lifted the box, and with his other hand, scooped up the contents that had spilled out. Jumping off the stool, he laid the papers on the top step. One of the photographs floated to the carpet.
Sara picked it up, recognizing it immediately. It was a picture of her and Jake her mom had taken the day they'd become engaged. Had she subconsciously left this box for last? She knew what else was in it. Her gaze went to the stepstool the same time as Jake's. A wedding invitation lay there. Their wedding invitation.
Venturing into frozen territory, Sara laid the photograph on top of the invitation. "The night I called off the wedding--"
"Sara, this won't do any good."
"Please let me tell you, Jake. It might help you understand."
When he remained silent, she took that as a sign he'd listen. "That night when I came in, I heard you and Mom. The doctor had just told me I was pregnant. I heard Mom ask you why you felt the way you did about children. Your response was so vehement, so absolute, that I knew if you couldn't accept children, I couldn't marry you."
"You didn't tell me you were carrying our child."
"But, Jake..."
"Like I said, Sara. This won't do any good." He glanced at the shelf in the closet. "There's nothing else up there. If you need any more help, I'll be downstairs."
She needed Jake. She needed him to open his heart to her as he'd opened it to his son.
***