Starting Over. PENNY JORDAN
he could see the bright light glinting on the river. He paused to study it. Nick had always loved water. His farmhouse was on a hill overlooking the sea off the Pembrokeshire coast.
He didn’t own a boat himself but he sometimes crewed for a friend who did. Automatically he started to head for the river.
Sara paused to laugh at the antics of some ducks as they dived into the water for unseen food. Further downstream she had seen some swans, their stately elegant progress so at odds with the frantic paddling that must be going on beneath their gently floating bodies. Like galleons in full sail they seemed to glide effortlessly over the water. Hers was the only human presence here on the river path and Frances had urged her not to rush back.
‘I can’t believe how much work you’ve done already. You really are a marvel … I’m so grateful to you,’ she had praised Sara. Sara reflected on the telephone call she had taken earlier from the frantically apologetic employment agency explaining they had been let down by the girl they had intended to send to the restaurant. It didn’t matter now Sara had told them—the job had been filled. Why had she decided to stay on? She liked Frances yes, but … Unbidden a mental picture of Nick Crighton came into her head. She was not staying because of him! She loathed him. He was arrogant, humourless, contemptible—and worse! Angrily she sucked in her breath.
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