Then There Was You Page 4

  “God, Gabby.”

  “I know. Please don’t tell Dad, but I’m working on an exit plan. Besides, for now, Malcolm makes up for how crappy I feel about my job.”

  Worry riffled through Sara like a good strong wind before a storm. Their father had urged Gabby, wonderful, artistic, creative Gabby, to go to law school. It had probably saved her from becoming a hippie. It also appeared to have made her very unhappy.

  Despite the bad vibes, Sara put on a cheery smile. “Well, we can’t wait to see him again.” She pulled something out of a box. “Oh, look what I found!”

  “Is it the dessert plates?” Gabby asked.

  “No, it’s my beat-up old copy of Pride and Prejudice. Look.” She held up the battered book with curled edges and yellowed pages, which looked as if it had definitely seen better days. The first thing she did was to put it to her nose and sniff it. God, she loved the smell of real books. Especially old and beloved ones, and this one had been—and still was—her favorite.

  “Oh, you carried that thing around for years,” Gabby said.

  Sara grinned. “I love it. I just never thought Pride and Prejudice would become my life.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, just Tagg. I mean, I thought he was my Darcy.” She sighed.

  Gabby sat down beside her and gave her a squeeze. “Tagg would definitely play the role of the perfidious Wickham in your life. But then who would be Darcy?” She tapped a finger against her lips. “Oh, I know. Colton!”

  “I was just going to tell you how much I missed you and how happy I am to be home because you’re here. But after that comment I can’t.” Sara paused. “And besides, Colton would have to be Mr. Collins,” she said, pulling a face.

  “First of all, he can’t be Mr. Collins because he’s not our cousin.” Gabby laughed. “Plus he’s nowhere near hideous.”

  “Not in looks, but in personality he is.” Sara rose and headed to the stairs. “Come down and help me fix Nonna’s creative table setting before everyone gets here.” There were definitely no Mr. Darcys on her horizon. She certainly hoped for Gabby’s sake that Malcolm had transformed during the intervening years from a Wickham to a Darcy, but she seriously doubted it.

  Chapter 4

  When Sara and Gabby returned from the attic, Sara helped Nonna set the old Duncan Phyfe dining room table with the pretty floral bone china passed down from Nonna’s grandmother, quietly subtracting extra forks as necessary.

  Sara took a plate from Nonna. “I’ve always loved these,” she said, smoothing her finger over the intricate pattern of pink roses intertwined with English ivy. They reminded her of being a child, sitting at this very table with her mom and dad. She used to study the flowers and the twists and turns of the ivy as she waited impatiently for all the big Italian dinners they’d eaten every Sunday, every holiday. She always called them the rose plates, not just because they had roses on them but because that was her grandmother’s name too.

  “My mother’s mother brought these dishes from Italy,” Nonna said. “They were a gift from her parents for her wedding. Then my mother gave them to me for my wedding.” They were beautiful and old-fashioned and delicate, yet they’d withstood many years of wear.

  Although Sara loved them for another reason too. “Remember the bullies?” It had never been easy being the fair redhead among a bevy of dark-eyed, dark-haired siblings: her older sister Evangeline, her younger sister Gabriella, and Raphael, their baby brother. Kids at school loved to tease them for having all been named after angels. The story went that after Evie, their mom couldn’t get pregnant, and prayed and prayed for a child. Four years later, she found herself pregnant with Sara, then Gabby was born just fifteen months later, and Rafe came along two years after that. “I’m the luckiest mother in the world to have four beautiful angels,” her mom had said. Sara loved the story, and her name, but it was just one of the many things that had made her a target at school.

  It didn’t help that their parents had chosen their names despite the fact that Angel Falls had an angel legend of its own. The centerpiece of downtown, beautiful cascading falls that used to power paper mills in the 1800s, were flanked by a quaint bridge guarded by a bronze statue of two angels. Any couple who kissed in front of the angels (and had their picture taken) was supposed to have true love forever. People came from all over to see the falls, shop along the quaint Main Street, and of course get their photo taken in front of the angels.

  Despite being the only redhead, Sara was also the only sibling with glasses, which she’d worn from the age of four. Every year it seemed they got thicker and thicker. One afternoon in fourth grade, after she’d been made fun of by some kids on the playground, her mother had sat her down at this very table and told her how special she was, and how loved. “We wouldn’t want any of you kids to be the same as anyone else. You’re all unique, on the inside and out,” her mom had said.

  Nonna had pushed a glass of milk and one of these very plates, full of warm chocolate chip cookies, in front of her. Sara hadn’t been hungry until she’d smelled the cookies. Nonna had sat down beside her and put an arm around her. “My little Serafina, the ivy is very different from the roses, yet they’re still wrapped around each other tight. They still belong together. That’s how families are.”

  That’s exactly how her family was, thank God. In some ways she and her siblings couldn’t be more different, but they were all bound by an unalterable I’ve-got-your-back mentality.

  And that family bond had been in full force over the last year after Sara’s wedding imploded and she’d taken a position as a temporary physician out west, getting as far from Angel Falls—and Tagg—as she could. Nearly every day that she’d been gone, one of her siblings, Nonna, her stepmother Rachel, or even her father had called her to tell her crazy stories about their days, to entertain or amuse her, or just to ask how she was. They must’ve had a rotating schedule, and she’d worried that she was becoming yet another to-do item in their already busy lives. But those calls had gotten her through a really rough time, and the knowledge that her family stood behind her had helped give her the courage to come back to a town with a long memory for mistakes.

  Sara ran her finger around the delicate pattern on the plate before her. She could almost see her mom sitting here. What would she say about the state of Sara’s life now? The humiliation of an embarrassing failed engagement with no romantic prospects in sight, and going AWOL from academia to work in their tiny town?

  All of Nonna’s memories connected her to her mother. Now Nonna was unable to offer her usual loving advice, but she still had a great reserve of memories. If Nonna lost that thread, would Sara lose it as well?

  “You always did love these plates.”

  “They’re very special, Nonna,” Sara said.

  “That’s why I’m leaving them to you. Because you’re very special too, Sara Jane.” Her grandmother’s voice cracked with emotion as she wrapped her arms around Sara.

  Sara spoke past a tangle in her throat. “Nonna, please—let’s not talk about that. I don’t need the dishes.”

  Nonna grasped Sara’s hand and pierced her with vivid blue eyes. “It’s important. I’ve got something special for each of you girls. But the china is yours. Now that’s that.”

  That’s that. One of Nonna’s favorite sayings, and an excellent way of cutting off all further discussion.

  “Is Tagg coming for dinner, dear?” Nonna asked.

  Sara’s stomach seized up. The comforting smell that had made her so hungry a moment ago now made it churn sickly. “Tagg and I broke up, Nonna,” she said quietly. “He won’t be coming.”

  “Oh yes, of course!” Nonna said, nearly dropping one of the dishes. “I meant to say Rafe. Is Rafe coming?”

  “He’ll definitely be here,” Sara said just as they heard the front door bang open.

  Rafe walked into the dining room, placed a big white ceramic bowl and a brown paper bakery bag on the sideboard, and immediately
wrapped up their tiny grandmother in his big arms. Gabby came out of the kitchen to greet him carrying a giant bouquet of orange tiger lilies and set them in the center of the table. Rocket, never good at being ignored, leaped up and down until Gabby broke down and petted him.

  “Those are beautiful, sweetheart,” Nonna said to Gabby.

  “Thanks, Nonnie,” Gabby said. “I picked them in the field next to the grade school this morning.”

  “You’re not supposed to pick the flowers at the school,” Evie said, walking in behind them. She was the oldest and the stickler of the family, the only one married or with kids, whom she’d quit her job as a pottery artist to stay home with. In practical mom style, she’d brought a bagful of paper plates and cups for easy cleanup. Sara took them and hid them in Nonna’s pantry. They’d be using the rose plates, even if she had to stay up until midnight doing the dishes.

  Gabby shrugged. “I just took a few of them. No one will notice.”

  “You look extra beautiful tonight, Nonna,” Rafe said, grinning his handsome smile. He looked around at the food that was already spread out on the table—pork tenderloin, antipasto salad, rolls wrapped in a linen towel to stay warm, some prosciutto and cantaloupe sliced thin, a pasta dish with chicken, and the massive bowl of pasta waiting for Nonna’s favorite sauce front and center.

  “What, only five courses today, not six?” Rafe asked.

  “I’m glad you’re hungry,” Nonna said, patting Rafe’s stomach. “We missed you last week.” Funny how Nonna could be forgetful about a lot of things but certainly remembered dinner attendance.

  “There was a fire last Sunday, Nonna.”

  “Fire, schmire. You have to eat, don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I’m very hungry now.” He sneaked an olive.

  “Where’s that nice girl you bring sometimes? The one who owns the coffee shop?”

  “Kaitlyn?” he asked. “We’re just friends, Grandma. And she’s busy baking this afternoon. Oh, I almost forgot. She wanted you to have something.” He walked over to the sideboard, picked up the white bowl, and set it on the table, then presented Nonna with the brown bakery bag.

  “Rafe, you made salad!” Evie said, inspecting it. Romaine, cut-up veggies, grated cheese, croutons. And a cruet of homemade dressing to boot.

  “Hey, I can cook now,” he said. “Have to at the station.”

  Gabby pinched his cheek. “Some little woman is going to be so happy because of those culinary skills.”

  Rafe gave her a little push on the shoulder. “Number one, I have many other skills that women would find far more appealing than cooking, and number two, only Nonna’s allowed to pinch my cheeks.”

  “Kaitlyn sent something with you?” Sara asked.

  “Yeah. I ran into her at the coffee shop and she handed me this.”

  Sara made a mental note to call Kaitlyn ASAP. Between Sara’s getting settled at Nonna’s and starting work and Kaitlyn’s busy schedule as owner of the Bean, the coffee shop downtown, they hadn’t had a moment to sit down and catch up. Sara and Kaitlyn had been best friends since third grade, and yet it was surprising to hear Kaitlyn had been coming to Sunday dinner, something Sara would have thought her friend might have mentioned. The fact that she hadn’t made Sara wonder if Kaitlyn still harbored her long-standing crush on Rafe, which, given Rafe’s theories on “dating,” could only end in disaster.

  Nonna peeked inside the bag Rafe handed her. “Blueberry muffins. My favorite. Tell Kaitlyn I’ll enjoy them with my coffee tomorrow morning.” She pinched Rafe’s cheek. “Sara and I baked brownies and made extra for you to take to the station. I have them all wrapped up for you already.”

  “Thank you, Gram,” he said, kissing her on the cheek and shooting his sisters the I’m-her-favorite look. Rafe walked over and made Sara the next object of his bear-hug affection. “Anything else exciting happen last night in the ER besides stitching up our heroic police chief?”

  “You stitched up Colton?” Gabby asked, unwrapping a plate of some kind of orange-colored dip and chips and placing it on the table. “And he made it out alive?”

  Sara made a face. “I’m a professional, Gabby. I’m capable of doing my job, no matter what my personal feelings are.”

  “Yeah,” Rafe said, chuckling. “You did a nice job with the fifteen stitches, but the tetanus shot in the butt was a little over the top.”

  “What do you mean over the top?” Sara asked, then regretted not changing the subject entirely when she felt her face heating up.

  Gabby’s mouth fell open. “You saw Colton’s ass? How’d it look?”

  “Gabby! He needed a tetanus shot. I gave him one. End of story.”

  Rafe gave her a look. She tried to signal him with her eyes to please shut the hell up. “I’m a paramedic, remember?” he said, clearly not taking the hint. “You don’t usually give tetanus shots in people’s butts.”

  Busted. “Well, I did, OK? His left arm was all messed up and bloody and he’s right-handed. So that left giving it to him in his butt.” Or his leg, but she didn’t have to say that.

  The door opened again, thank God, bringing Dad and Rachel and Evie’s husband Joe with their two little kids, Julia, who was five, and Michael, who was three.

  The kids ran over to their mom—or tried to, until Rafe scooped them up and ran around the living room with them, eventually tossing them onto the couch, where they landed laughing and squealing. Rocket, never one to miss out on the action, ran over to join the fun.

  Julia tumbled off the couch and came running over. “Aunt Sara,” she said, holding up a pink furry purse, “I brought barrettes. I’m going to fix your hair after dinner.”

  Julia loved Sara’s long red hair, and Sara had missed playing hair salon this last year. “Can I fix yours too?” she asked, bending down to kiss and hug her niece.

  “Mine too,” Michael said. “I want my hair fixed too.”

  Joe looked a little wary.

  “Don’t worry,” Evie said, patting her husband’s arm. “It’s all right.”

  “Sara, you’re a doctor,” Joe said. “Your sister thinks it’s fine if he plays with Barbies and baby dolls. I just don’t like it.”

  “Oh,” Sara said. Evie was drilling her with a look, as if she’d better be on Evie’s side or else. “Well, of course it’s fine. I mean, boys and girls should be able to play with anything they want.”

  “Sometimes Julia dresses him up in Disney princess skirts,” Joe said.

  Sara laughed. “Once we made Rafe wear ballet tights. And then Mom took pictures.”

  “Hey, someone better have burned those photos,” Rafe said.

  “You had nice legs, Rafe,” Evie said. “That’s what Mom said, anyway.”

  “The point is,” Sara said, “Mom wasn’t too concerned. I wouldn’t be either.”

  Just then her dad, a tall, soft-spoken man with gray hair and glasses, walked over and hugged Sara. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said.

  “Hey, Dad,” she said.

  “The girls are very excited to see you tomorrow at the office.”

  Sara tried not to cringe. Or notice that her father hadn’t said he was excited. “The girls,” as her father called them, were actually two women close to retirement age who’d been working in her father’s office since before she was born. They were both really sweet, but she had a feeling they, like her father, were very set in their ways.

  Rachel placed a pie on the sideboard. This made Sara feel a little bit bad. Cake had been a part of every Sunday dinner since forever, but her stepmother knew that after the bachelor party incident, the sight of cake—any cake—still made Sara sick to her stomach.

  “Hey, Daddy,” Gabby said, giving him a hug. “Sara gave Colton a tetanus shot in the butt. I think he could have a case for malpractice.”

  Their dad raised a brow, and Sara glared at her sister. Gabby had always been the sister she told her secrets to first. Perhaps she should start rethinking that policy.

  “Colton’s suc
h a nice young man,” Nonna said. “He takes out my trash every week.”

  “He’s also really arrogant,” Sara said. “Still a first-class jerk. Some people never change, you know?”

  “I always liked Colton,” Gabby said. “I know he had a tough upbringing, and maybe he wasn’t all that nice when you knew him in high school, but he comes in sometimes to testify in the hearings for family court and always sticks up for the kids.”

  Rachel scooped up some of Gabby’s dip. “When UPS leaves my shipments at the door of the antique shop, he always helps me carry them in. Plus he’s a great police chief. Everyone in town loves him. And he’s very kind to the library ladies. Always hauling books back and forth every month for the sale. He tells them that’s how he keeps himself in shape.”

  “All the ladies love him, Rach,” Evie said. “And he loves them back. That’s the problem—he goes on more dates than Rafe. I’m with you, sweetie,” Evie said to Sara. “Avoid him and all men like him like the plague.”

  “I don’t know,” Gabby said. “I’m sort of liking this enemies vibe. Lots of sexual tension. It’s like watching a rom-com.”

  “One that will end like a Stephen King novel,” Sara said darkly.

  “Well, don’t forget your blind date next Friday,” Gabby said.

  “Gabby, we’ve gone through this. I don’t think now’s the time—”

  “Sure it is. There’s no better way to show everyone in town you’ve moved on.”

  Sara’d had a few dates in the past year, but nothing serious. She just hadn’t had the heart.

  “I’m so happy you’re back, honey, and joining your father at the practice. I think it’s going to be a wonderful partnership,” Rachel said, clapping her hands together. As always, her stepmother was quick to jump to her rescue. “And maybe now your dad will be able to slow down just a little and enjoy some golf and more time with me.”

  “Now, Rachel,” her dad interjected, “you know it’s only temporary. Sara’s going to reapply for her infectious disease fellowship next year.” Sara had given up her spot in the prestigious program at the Cleveland Clinic after the wedding that never was. Tagg had gotten a position there as well, and there was no way in hell she could have seen him every day. Not without losing her mind, anyway.