Lakeside Romance. Lisa Jordan
Eleven
Sarah needed to get rid of the dress.
Her pity party had gone on way too long. She wasn’t the first woman to be dumped, and she wasn’t about to let Adam’s commitment issues color her against marriage. After all, her brother, Caleb, had managed to find love a second time around with Zoe.
There was hope for Sarah, too.
Someday.
Even if the memories hadn’t faded, it was the only way to put the past where it belonged, so she could focus on her future—find a new purpose for her life. Whatever that may be. Holding on to the dress served only as a reminder that she wasn’t worth committing to.
For now, though, she’d sell the strapless gown studded with Swarovski crystals and seed pearls on eBay or perhaps find a consignment shop. Wasn’t there one in town—Christy’s Closet or something like that?
Until she could get rid of it, though, it would still be hanging in her closet...taunting her about her single status.
She couldn’t allow that. The dress had to go now.
She wadded the satin creation into a ball, stuffed it into a garbage bag and tossed it on top of a pile of empty boxes that needed to be recycled first thing in the morning.
Across the room, a breeze carrying the scent of pending rain rippled through the curtains, ushering in the whispers of the night through the window.
With renewed energy, Sarah tore open the flaps of one of the boxes stacked under her window. She pulled out an armful of romance novels, carried them into the living room and stacked them on the shelves of the empty bookcase standing next to her favorite chair. She returned to the bedroom for another load.
Finishing her unpacking now would give her time this weekend to get settled before beginning her new job on Monday—teaching life skills to teenagers in a summer outreach program through her church. She hadn’t expected to be adding that to her résumé, but then she’d never anticipated having her life turned upside down, either.
Cool air whisked over her bare arms. Leafy branches scratched at the window. Sarah gathered the books to her chest and pressed her forehead against the pane. The glass chilled her head, but did little to stop the familiar tension headache forming at her temples.
She’d done enough for tonight. It was time to wind down with a cup of tea.
Her stomach rumbled. And apparently a snack.
She pushed away from the window, set the books on the floor, reached for a pink sweatshirt and tugged it over her head, covering her white tank top and blue polka-dot pajama pants.
Feeling her way along the unfamiliar wall of the small second-floor apartment of the old Victorian house she’d moved into this morning, Sarah fumbled for the kitchen light switch. As she flicked on the light, she caught her big toe on the corner of the cabinet. Pain lanced her foot. She bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out. Releasing a halfhearted string of whimpers, she hobbled over to the counter to turn on her Keurig.
Spying the apartment-warming basket her family had given her after dinner, she waded through ribbons and cellophane to find a package of popcorn. Comfort food—that’s what she needed.
While the popcorn popped in the microwave, she searched the white cabinets for the mugs her new sister-in-law, Zoe, had washed and put away. Grabbing her favorite Bartlett University ceramic mug, she dropped a decaf vanilla chai tea bag into the machine, slid her cup under the brewing station and pushed the button. The buttery scent of popcorn wafted her way, causing her stomach to growl even louder.
Once the water finished streaming into the mug, Sarah cupped it, inhaled the rich aroma and pressed her back against the gray L-shaped countertop to survey the newly updated kitchen.
With its white walls and the arched window over the sink, which looked out into the trimmed backyard with its large weeping willow bowing over the stream that sliced through the property, she had fallen in love with this room when she viewed the apartment. Too bad she wore the World’s Greatest Cook apron ironically. Otherwise, cooking on the shiny surface of the stainless-steel stove would bring her great pleasure. So would actually having someone to cook for.
Her mother kept telling her she wasn’t going to find a husband if she didn’t learn to cook. But she didn’t even want to think of that right now. She didn’t need a guy in her life.
She’d moved to Shelby Lake, the lakefront community in northwestern Pennsylvania, nine months ago—two days after Adam decided to end their engagement six weeks before their wedding. She’d helped her brother with his two young daughters and had pieced together her broken heart with tears and whispered prayers.
Now that Caleb and Zoe had returned from their honeymoon, they needed privacy to blend their families together. And Sarah needed the freedom to explore her future. She’d also concentrate her efforts on making the summer outreach program a success in order for the church board to continue the program on a permanent basis.
A sense of anticipation tickled her sternum.
She took another sip of her tea, then set it on the counter.
Shouldn’t that popcorn be almost done?
Sarah glanced at the microwave. Smoke blackened the door. She wrenched it open. Gray billows escaped and spiraled toward the ceiling. She coughed at the acrid smell burning her nostrils and throat.
Burrowing her nose into the collar of her sweatshirt, she grabbed a dish towel and waved the smoke away so she could pull out the charred bag. Heat burned her fingers as she tossed the smoking mess into the sink and turned on the water.
Sarah glanced at the timer on the microwave. Instead of three minutes, she had added an extra zero.
Way to go.
A shrill sound pierced the air.
She threw open the window over the sink, then darted across the room to wave the dish towel in front of the smoke alarm to stop the offending sound before it woke up the neighborhood.
Her arm ached as she stretched on tiptoes and flapped the towel like a hyperactive bird. Once the noise stopped, she sagged against the wall and blew out puffed cheeks.
Heavy footsteps thundering up the stairs and a pounding on her front door jerked her to her feet. A male voice yelled through the steel door. “Open up!”
Heart hammering, she dropped the towel in the sink and raced to the door, then threw it open.
A man