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The next twelve weeks passed in a flurry of activity.
Local businesses had reacted positively for the most part that there would soon be someone new in their ranks and Jamie had worked his magic in introducing Sarah to key people in the local business community. Although it had been known for months that a business would be moving into the old bank building, it had still surprised some of the people of Mount Kiernon that the new owner was a woman in her mid-twenties. Sarah had rolled her eyes at this fact as she sat with her group of friends and told them about a discussion she’d had with the business owners association one night at the pub. Gabe had just laughed and told her that it wouldn’t have been her gender that surprised them, but her age. “People under thirty tend to move away from Mount Kiernon, not to it,” he reminded her.
The fit out of the café was almost complete and the short term labourers who’d been hired would soon no longer be needed. Sarah had been ecstatic to find that Jamie had been right about Frank Towne and his crew when he’d first mentioned them to her back on the day she’d arrived unannounced at the garage. They were solid workers and the quality of the work they’d produced had her ready to rave about them to anyone who would listen.
As different crews and tradespeople had been through the building Sarah had had several of the workers approach her about their wives or partners who they thought might be able to work in the café alongside her. Sarah had smiled politely at each suggestion and gently informed them that when she was ready to hire she would advertise and they would be welcome to apply then.
Becca had faced off with Sarah one night a few weeks after the incident with Jamie demanding to know what had happened between the two of them. Sarah at first had hesitated with her forwardness and the thought of telling someone what had occurred, but after some persistence by Becca, she had finally spilled the beans. It had felt good to share with another woman in a way she hadn’t shared in a very long time and Becca had been nothing but supportive. Becca freely admitted that she didn’t understand why Sarah would push Jamie away but she respected her choice to do so. When she’d asked why, Sarah had lied and said she felt nothing beyond friendship for Jamie. The look on her new friend’s face told Sarah that she didn’t believe her, but Sarah was grateful that Becca didn’t press the matter any further.
Sarah still wasn’t even sure how Becca had even found out that something had occurred between her and Jamie. Irrespective of what had – or hadn’t – occurred between her and Jamie she had been welcomed into the close knit group of friends with open arms and spent many hours with them. Not too surprisingly she and Becca as the only women in the group naturally gravitated towards one another and had become close friends in the process.
It wasn’t only Becca though that had proven to be curious about whether there was more than friendship between Sarah and Jamie. When Sarah had suggested to Becca one Saturday that they head to Penwick for a coffee, Becca had laughingly accused Sarah of wanting to check out the competition. While they had been there Becca had gleefully informed Sarah of the few rumours that were floating around town about her and Jamie. According to the whispers Becca had heard Sarah and Jamie were either secretly engaged or already married but Don and Emily didn’t approve of the marriage. Having been the subject of rumours before Sarah was at first angry at the thought that she was again the subject of speculation. Becca had just laughed and told her to get over herself. Pointing out it hadn’t bothered Sarah when people had talked about the opening of the café and that she just needed to see the rumours for what they really were. “They’re just a bunch of bored people in a small town trying to find excitement where there is none” Becca had calmly explained to Sarah’s overreaction.
Betty though hadn’t been one to leave the topic alone and had approached Sarah to ask her outright about the gossip. The older woman had seemed crestfallen when Sarah broke it to her that Jamie was nothing more than a friend. When she’d added that she cherished his friendship Betty had perked up. “So there is still hope between the two of you then,” she’d commented upon hearing the nugget of information. Sarah had been too gobsmacked at the time to say anything in return watching Betty walk away with a smile on her face.
But regardless of whatever hope Betty or even Becca may have held out for the pair, Sarah had come to the conclusion that Jamie didn’t feel for her as much as he had first suggested. Almost four weeks after the night when they’d kissed she and Jamie had been sitting and enjoying a glass of wine on her porch and discussing whether or not she should paint the cafe herself or hire the people that he had suggested. Sarah had been adamant that she would do it until Jamie mentioned how long it had taken Becca to repaint her bedroom the previous summer with Cam’s help. The conversation had then naturally progressed into how long Cam and Becca had been together and whether or not they might get married in the future. Then Jamie slipped in a piece of news Sarah hadn’t been expecting at all.
He had a date that coming Friday night with a woman from Gabe’s office in Penwick.
It had stung at first when he’d told her, but she hid the hurt as best as she could, figuring that she had no right whatsoever to feel sorry for herself. She had been the one to push Jamie away and tell him that she wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. So instead she had politely asked about the woman and where Jamie was planning on taking her.
Eight weeks later the café had finally been painted, the new flooring down, Frank Towne and his boys paid and thanked for their time together with a promise of a glowing reference should they ever need it, and the final touches were being put into place. That evening Sarah and Jamie were due to meet for dinner to discuss a produce supplier he had in mind who would potentially become the main supplier for the cafe. So far he had been on the mark with the two he’d suggested and Sarah had been happy with each, but neither was able to supply all year round, instead choosing to focus on seasonal summer produce. With the opening only weeks away the need to find a local supplier was now quite pressing, but Sarah already had a contingency plan up her sleeve if she needed it. She had lined up a company in Penwick that would deliver fresh fruit and vegetable several times a week, but it came at a premium price. It wasn’t ideal, and nor was the produce organic as she had been hoping for, but it seemed like she was now rather limited in her options.
It wasn’t unusual for Jamie to join Sarah at her place for dinner at least once a week. The kiss between them was now almost three months in the past and Sarah hadn’t lied to Betty when she’d said that she cherished Jamie’s friendship. As close as she and Becca had become over the past few months her friendship with Jamie was still stronger. While they hadn’t particularly talked about her past as Sarah always glossed over the details, there was very little else they hadn’t spoken about. Granted there were a few things she didn’t talk to Jamie about, but these she discussed with Becca. Like the cramping she was currently experiencing with her period.
Sarah had also chosen to look at his visits for dinner as an opportunity to try out new recipes she was considering using in the café. Jamie was only too happy to be the sounding board as it meant he had a meal he didn’t have to think about cooking himself. Looking at the clock on the wall of the living room she wondered where he was. It was unlike him to run late and certainly not by nearly twenty minutes.
While she was waiting for his arrival she had been curled up on the couch with the television quietly on. It was an unseasonably warm day for the start of winter, and Sarah had opted to have the front door open allowing the breeze to come in freely through the screen door she’d had installed. Colder weather was predicted for the next day, but Sarah was sure that the weatherman was wrong. After all, didn’t they get it wrong more often than they got it right? Tristram was sitting on her lap, gently cleaning the fur behind his ears when the knock on the door finally came. At the sound of the noise coming from the door the cat stopped his ministrations and offered a glare in its direction instead.
“Hey you,” Sarah said seeing Jamie through the screen of the door. Jamie had teased her when she had gotten the security door installed, citing that the crime rate in Mount Kiernon was practically non-existent. Sarah had told him that it wasn’t for security so much as to allow movement of air through the house. It had been the truth, but the reality was also that Sarah felt safer with the extra security on her home and wouldn’t have been without it.
Sliding Tristam off her lap and onto the couch elicited a meow from her furry friend. Ignoring his protest at being moved she unlocked the door for Jamie, allowing him entrance into her home.
“Hi.” He walked in, and went straight over to a small alcove near the front door to kick off his boots. Not that Sarah minded people wearing shoes in her home, but it had become Jamie’s habit to take them off as soon as he entered her home as often his boots still had oil or funk on them from the garage. Once he’d removed his boots he took a few steps into her home and spotted Tristram on the couch. “Hey Fuzzball,” he said, walking over to the cat and started scratching him behind his ears. Even though he had known for months that Sarah had chosen the name Tristram, Jamie had never seemingly been able to get past referring to him as Fuzzball.
“Wine?” Sarah called from the kitchen. She’d moved into the other room while Jamie was taking off his work boots. The friendship had grown to the point that she knew well enough that he would walk in and join her when he’d finished saying hello to her cat.
“Red if you’ve got it,” he called from the living room.
She poured a glass of cabernet sauvignon for both of them. Taking a sip she closed her eyes and relished the warm bloom the wine created as it travelled through her body. Hearing Jamie enter she looked up at him as he joined her at the island bench in the middle of the farmhouse kitchen.
“You look like hell,” she noted bluntly taking in his appearance.
He really did look awful. With a pale tinge to his skin and dark circles under his eyes it appeared as if Jamie hadn’t slept in at least a few days.
“And you’re an oil painting?” he replied sarcastically as he reached for his glass of wine. Taking a sip he exhaled with appreciation. “That’s good.”
“It is, isn’t it? It’s one of my favourites,” Sarah replied as she began to pull some ingredients for a salad out of the fridge.
“Where’s it from?” Jamie asked reaching for the bottle to look at the details of the label.
“A winery on Penguin Island. It’s a little family run place,” she said, naming a small island off the mainland on the other side of the country.
“How’d you ever find out about them? That’s in the middle of nowhere.”
Sarah set the vegetables she’d collected on to the bench and began chopping a cucumber into chunks. “I visited it once when I was on honeymoon. A friend of mine remembered how much I liked it and sent me two cases last week.”
Jamie stopped and stared at Sarah, wine bottle in hand, genuinely shocked. “Honeymoon?” In all their time together Sarah had rarely mentioned anything about her life prior to moving to Mount Kiernon. “You were married?”
Sarah looked at him her mouth in an o shape, her eyes wide. “I said that out loud?” he could hear the surprise in her voice. Foolish girl. I know better than to be blurting out stuff like this, even if it is to Jamie.
He nodded, taking another mouthful of wine before setting the bottle down on the counter. “Cat’s out the bag now.”
Shut it down. Get him to think about something else. “I got married, it went bad and we divorced. It was pretty much enough to turn me off men for life. End of story.” She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Now tell me, why do you look so awful?”
“Oh, no, no, no. You’re not getting out of this that easily. What happened?” he grinned at her as he pushed for more details.
Honesty time.
Sarah took a deep breath. “It’s really not something I like to talk about,” Sarah said refusing to meet Jamie’s eye as she busied herself with the task of chopping the cucumber. “I didn’t even mean to tell you. The fact that I was married isn’t something I like people knowing.”
“But he put you off men for life you reckon?”
“Something like that,” Sarah agreed sliding the chopped cucumber into the salad bowl. Picking up a carrot she began to give it the same treatment as the cucumber.
“I bet it wasn’t all bad. There had to have been some good times to your marriage before it went pear shaped.”
Not really.
Jamie seemed to sense her hesitation and gave her a surprised look. “You can’t seriously tell me you’re off men just because of one. We’re not all bad you know.” When there was no denial from her he got serious. “Sarah, one day the right guy is going to come along and he’ll show you that you’re more precious than all the stars in the sky put together. He’ll want to give you the world and all you have to do is just give him a chance.”
“Maybe,” Sarah responded shrugging off what he’d said. Finishing off the carrot she added it to the bowl and picked up the tomatoes to wash them. “But who needs a man when I’ve already got all the man I can handle right here in Tristram? He’s just like any other man. He keeps me warm at night, and he hogs the bed covers.”
“But can he make you a cup of tea just the way you like it first thing in the morning?”
“Maybe not, but he does leave me presents in the night. You should see his litter tray some days.” Sarah knew she was trying to deflect the conversation away from her failed marriage. As much as she liked Jamie and his company, it was not a subject that she was willing to discuss with him – or anyone.
“Yeah, you can keep those kinds of presents all to yourself,” Jamie agreed.
She shook off the excess water from the tomatoes and plopped them on the bench. Jamie picked up the knife before she could and started slicing them. Giving him a gentle shove Sarah asked again. “So come on then, why do you look so tired?”
He returned the playful bump and smirked. “I work hard. You should try it some time.”
“Oi, less of that mouth, or you can go home hungry boy-o,” she quickly retorted, smiling.
“What’s for dinner anyway? I’m starving.”
“Onion tart with salad.”
“Oh.” Jamie’s face fell. “Onions and salad for dinner huh?”
“It’s an entrée dish. There’s a main as well,” she added.
“Thank God for that. For a second I thought I was going to have to stop by Mum and Dad’s on the way home to get some real food.” Jamie opened the door to the pantry and pulled out a box of crackers and helped himself to several stuffing one into his mouth as he talked.
“Hey, I’ll have you know an onion tart is real food,” Sarah insisted.
“If you say so. Just tell me there’s some meat in the main.”
“Yes, you big manly carnivore type, there is. The man shall have his meat,” she sighed. Jamie never seemed to be able to quite comprehend that it was possible to have a meal other than breakfast that didn’t feature meat. “I made a beef and red wine pie.”
Shoving the last cracker in his mouth he walked over and enveloped her in a warm hug. “You’re worth your weight in gold you are, you know that Sarah?”
The first time Jamie had given Sarah a hug after that night all those months ago she’d tensed up. When he had done it she’d expected him to press her for more, but he never did or ever had since. She had thought it odd that he could be affectionate in that way without ever expecting more but, as she’d gotten to know him and his friends more over the past few months she had seen firsthand that it was just his way. He often greeted Becca in the same manner, and without fail he always greeted his mother with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. It was slightly different with Don, but it made sense Sarah figured, being as the two men saw each other at work every day.
Don and Emily, Jamie’s parents, had welcomed Sarah into their home and lives with open arms and hearts. Emily and she had spent quite a bit of time together and had bonded over a love of food. It had been Emily’s suggestion to try the onion tart that was currently in the oven, that Sarah was now hoping might feature on her menu as a light lunch.
“Here, make yourself useful, grab some plates and take them to the dining table,” Sarah instructed as she continued to busy herself in the kitchen preparing the last of the salad.
Jamie dutifully obeyed, reaching into various cupboards and drawers for plates and cutlery. The amount of time he’d spent at Sarah’s house over the months meant he knew where everything was kept in the kitchen.
“So, are you ever going to tell me why you’re actually tired then? Or is this going to be a sex story that involves whatshername and I’m not going to want to hear it?” she asked.
“Fiona. And no, it’s not. Just a project I’ve got going on outside of the garage. Between you, the project and work I’m knackered.”
“Oh really? Fiona’s not involved in you being knackered at all?” she said archly.
Fiona, the woman that Jamie had told her he was going on a first date with months ago, was still on the scene. Jamie had been seeing her for a while and it had progressed into something more than just dating, but Sarah wasn’t quite sure what that title was. She was yet to meet the woman, but had heard about her from Becca and Cam who’d had dinner with her a few weeks ago. Cam had declared her a ‘stuck up tart’ while Becca had been equally unimpressed.
“Nope. It’s got nothing to do with her. Besides, we’re not serious enough that I would tell her about it,” he announced as he placed the last fork down on the table. Joining Sarah back at the island bench he leaned against it and picked up his wine glass. Taking a deep draft he smacked his lips in appreciation of the drink.
“Hang on, you’ve been together, what, six weeks? Eight weeks?” Sarah asked him surprised.
“Something like that,” he agreed.
“And you don’t consider that serious?”
“Not with her, no. She’s, um, not exactly the type of woman I would ever plan to ever bring home to meet my parents.” Jamie avoided looking at Sarah as he spoke toying with his glass of wine instead.
“Oh.” Sarah wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.
“This ‘project’ then,” she raised her fingers in the air to make quote marks as she said the word project, “any chance that she has a name other than Fiona?”
Jamie laughed. “A gentleman never tells.” He would though. Sarah knew if there was someone other than Fiona that he would tell her. Their friendship had at least grown to that stage.
Sarah laughed along with him. “Good thing you’re not a gentleman then. Here, take this to the table,” she said handing him the green salad. “I’ll grab the tarts and be there in a second.”
***
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Jamie asked.
Dinner was over and they had moved to sit together on the couch in the living room, a second bottle of the cabernet sauvignon testifying to the relaxed evening they were spending together. Tristram had claimed Sarah’s lap and was purring contentedly. Jamie had one foot up on the coffee table as he flicked through the television stations, settling on a thriller that Sarah vaguely remembered being in the cinema a few years ago. She had long since given up the battle for control of the television remote when he visited.
“I’m headed to Penwick to see the signwriter in the morning then in the afternoon I’m going to try out a couple of recipes for cheesecake.”
“Do you reckon I could swipe a slice or three of one of the cheesecakes?” Jamie asked lazily. The wine had begun to have an effect on him. He had mellowed out markedly as the night had gone on.
“If you eat any more of my food you won’t be able to fit in your jeans anymore.”
He chuckled gently. “Not for me. It’s mum’s birthday on Sunday. Thought I could take her and Dad a slice to celebrate.”
“Jamie Preston, you are not taking your mother one single slice of cheesecake for her birthday!” Sarah admonished giving him a light slap on the arm. “I’ll bake her something proper on Saturday and you can take that to her instead.”
“Can you do a carrot cake? She really liked it when she tried that the other week.”
“Sure.” She reached forward for her wine glass that rested on the coffee table in front of her. She looked at Jamie sharply. “Hold on a second. Did you just set me up to make your mother’s birthday cake?”
“The way I remember it, you offered,” he responded smugly.
“Some days you are too smart for your own good, you know,” she drained the last of her glass.
He smiled at her and reached for the wine bottle that sat on the coffee table. Unscrewing the cap he poured the last of the contents between their two glasses before reaching over to ruffle Sarah’s hair. Tristram opened his eyes and glared at Jamie for having dared to move closer to his beloved owner.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” she asked smoothing her hair back into place. “For being ever so subtly railroaded into baking a cake for your mother?”
“Yep. She loves you, you know.”
“That’s a good thing. I love your parents, they’re my family here.” They settled back into companionable silence to watch the film. As the adverts came on Jamie muted the television.
“Where do your parents live, Sarah? You never talk about them.” Jamie took another drink as he slouched against the couch the remote still in his hand. Even as well as Sarah and Jamie had gotten to know each other, she knew without the wine that he’d consumed that evening he would never ask such a question of her.
“They died a few years ago,” she replied quietly.
He looked at her, surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.”
“Don’t apologise, it’s not your fault.” Jamie could see Sarah getting tense as she spoke, her back having become rigid and the grip on her glass firm.
He took the glass from her hand and set it down. Lifting Tristram off of her lap he placed the cat onto the floor. Meowing in protest he gave Jamie a glare before stalking off into the kitchen in search of his food bowl. Enveloping Sarah in his arms Jamie kissed the top of her head. “You can share my parents with me if you like. They’re pretty all right as far as parents go.”
“Yeah, they are.”
As he released his embrace of her Jamie was surprised to see tears on Sarah’s cheeks.
“Hey, no tears,” he said, his voice full of concern. He brought his hands to her face and gently swiped his thumbs across her cheeks to remove the tears.
“Sorry. Too much wine,” she smiled lamely indicating to the empty second bottle on the coffee table.
“Bollocks. We all hurt sometimes.” He kissed her forehead before letting her go and settling back into his space on the couch.
“You realise you get very philosophical when you’ve had too much wine to drink,” Sarah smiled at him from where she sat on the couch.
“Probably talking a whole bunch of crap aren’t I?” Jamie waggled his foot on the coffee table backwards and forwards. “Meaning of life stuff and all that crap.”
“Nah, you’re alright, even when you talk bollocks. You’re a good guy Jamie Preston.” Sarah could feel the wine affecting her also. While Sarah loved her wine she was usually very careful about the amount that she drank. Tonight she had consumed far more than she usually would.
“Naw shucks. You’re not so bad yourself Walker,” Jamie slumped down against the couch until he was down at Sarah’s height. Leaning across the space between them he rested his head on her shoulder before pressing the mute button on the remote again to return the sound to the television as the adverts came to an end.
They sat watching the movie together, Jamie commenting every now and again at the stupidity of the female lead character as she walked into a room where the killer was clearly laying in wait for her. “God, why are movies like this always so predictable?” he complained as the station took a break from the film for more commercials. “Could you put off doing the cheesecakes for a few hours tomorrow?” he asked
“Why?”
“I want to show you a property I know that grows organic produce. It might suit what you need for your business.”
Sarah looked across at Jamie, surprised that he hadn’t brought this up earlier over dinner when they had been talking about the café.
“I guess they can wait a few hours. What time did you want to head over?”
“What time do you think you’ll be back from Penwick?”
“Should be home by twelve I think.”
“Pick you up at two?”
“Okay. Who’s the grower?”
Ignoring her question as the movie resumed he nestled further into her shoulder. Not bothering to ask anything further Sarah turned her attention to the movie. She would always find out tomorrow, she figured.