Chapter 5

A couple of weeks later, Sarah stared down at the container of yogurt that was her lunch. “I hate yogurt.”

“Worrying about your mother?” Beth asked. “As if it could be anything else.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. That had been a distinctly I’m-five-years-old-and-I’m-feeling-left-out tone of voice. She really should make more of an effort with Beth, who was a good friend, after all. “I know this is dull for you, and I’m sorry. But I just don’t have the time or energy for anything else.”

“Like friends?”

Yep, Beth was ticked. And this was just one more thing to feel guilty about. “I hate to think of it that way, but yes. You know you’re my closest friend.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I know. I do understand. Tell me what’s wrong.” She leaned forward, managing to look interested and ready to listen.

Whatever would Sarah do without Beth? Just having someone to talk to was such a help. A safety valve, really. Even though she knew she was turning into a one-trick pony as a conversationalist, she couldn’t stop. “Well, Mama’s supposed to be getting used to not driving, but I think she’s just getting more depressed. She didn’t eat the lunch I left for her yesterday. She said she forgot. ‘Old people don’t have much appetite,’ she said.”

“She’s right. Appetite and sleep patterns, they change. Anyway, moving back to her house permanently was supposed to keep you from worrying about her. So stop worrying.”

“It’s not enough. I can’t reason with her, and I can’t stay home with her. And she’s going downhill so fast. I can’t be with her all the time. I have to be here all day. And even if she remembered to eat, would she be able to get to the kitchen? She needs to use the walker all the time now. She should, but doesn’t always do it. And she doesn’t use it correctly. If she fell again...oh, God. What if she broke her hip next time?”

“Hire a caregiver.”

“With what?”

“Oh, yeah.” Beth drummed her fingers on the table. “Your mother’s house is huge. What about a boarder?”

Sarah rubbed her forehead. “I’ve thought about that. It would mean money. I never knew how close to the bone she was living until I started doing her bills. But I don’t think she could stand having someone in the house all the time. Imagine the loss of privacy. And it would have to be someone I could trust with her.”

Beth frowned. “I’m sure you could find someone.”

“How? I don’t know what to do. Oh, God, Beth, I just don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, this doesn’t look good.”

Sarah looked up and saw Rob standing next to the table.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

Beth pushed an empty chair away from the table with her foot.

“No, but join us anyway,” Sarah said.

Rob set down his lunch and folded into the chair. “Now. What’s so wrong that your forehead needs ironing?”

“Worrying about leaving my mother home all day alone,” Sarah said tersely.

“Oh man, I hear you.”

Sarah sensed a fellow sufferer. But his problems couldn’t be worse than hers. “Your mother’s lived on her own for years. And she seems spry enough.”

Beth wasn’t so tactful. “What’s her problem?” she asked around a mouthful of tuna salad.

Rob studied his sandwich and sighed. “She’s showing her age some.” He looked up. “She has moments when she’s...ditzier than usual. I’m afraid she’ll do something really off the wall.”

Sarah put her hand over his. “It’s hard, isn’t it? The continual worry.” She caught Beth’s bright-eyed glance at her hand and moved it as though Rob’s were on fire.

“You got that right. That what’s bothering you too? I thought your mother seemed pretty together when I was there working on the elevator.”

“She is.” If you didn’t count the increasing stubbornness, or the refusal to take proper precautions for safety, or the way she’d lost her temper in Uncle George’s office. Thank goodness she wasn’t all forgetful and senile. “It’s just that she’s getting so weak physically that I’m afraid to leave her alone all day. And she gets mad if I phone her all the time. Says it’s too hard to get to the phone, and she won’t carry the cordless.”

“Part of it’s the new technology. Remember, cordless phones aren’t something she grew up with. And at least she has a home. My mum’s apartment building is being torn down, and she’s been out looking for a new place. She was over in Dockside looking at some rooms over a tavern yesterday. If the bartender weren’t a friend of mine, I’d never have known until she’d signed a year’s lease.”

“Dockside. Good grief. She’d be mugged and murdered within a week. That’s the roughest place in three counties.” And what was he doing with a Dockside bartender as a close enough friend to make a call like that?

Rob grimaced. “Tell me about it. She told me the bus service was good because not everyone there has a car. And she just waltzes in to this bar and says, ‘I’d like to look at the apartment you have advertised, please.’ Sunday hat, white gloves and all. I think everyone was too stunned to think of mugging her.”

“It sounds to me like a match made in Heaven,” Beth announced.

“Are you crazy?” Sarah demanded. “Rob can’t have his mother living upstairs from that bar.”

“Not living in Dockside, silly. Use your brain. Ding! Your mother is weak but not fuzzy. His mother is fuzzy but not weak.

“You’re so tactful,” Sarah murmured.

“I cut to the chase,” Beth retorted. “To continue, your mother has a huge house. His mother needs a place to live. You don’t want a stranger in the house. The two moms have been friends since God was a pup. Get it? Get it?” Beth sat back, looking pleased with herself.

Sarah’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Rob.

He looked as astonished as she felt. After a long moment, he said, “Well.”

“What you said,” Sarah responded. “I wonder if it would work.”

“If we could talk them into it. From my point of view, it sounds perfect. But would your mom go for it? Would you?”

Sarah squelched the niggle of worry about Violet’s ditziness and her mother’s recent tantrum in George’s office. Surely that was just resentment about losing her license. Violet’s company would probably be good for her.

“I’ve always liked your mother, Rob. I like the idea quite a lot. We just have to get them to agree.”

“Yeah,” Beth said. “And with the two of them looking after each other, Sarah, you’ll have more time for yourself. Maybe you could even get your own place again. Or even have time for friends again, hmmm? “

Oh, Beth. You silly girl, you just don’t have a clue. Sometimes she really had to wonder if Beth was jealous, or just lonesome, or if the girl saw her as some kind of surrogate mother instead of a friend.

****

“Did you hear they’re going to tear down the Sylvester building, Mama?” Sarah asked at the dinner table that night.

“No. Why in the world are they doing that?” Hilda said, looking up from her chicken and rice casserole.

Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Going to put in some over-sprawling mall is what I heard.” She tried not to hold her breath while she buttered a home-made roll and waited for her mother’s response.

“Well, that’s silly. Crowley Falls doesn’t need another mall. Pretty soon we’re going to have nothing but stores, and no place for the shoppers to live. Oh, dear.” She put down her fork. “What about all the people who live there?”

“They’ll all have to find new apartments, I guess.” Sarah shrugged, trying to look sympathetic but disinterested.

Her mother frowned and took another bite.

Sarah waited to see if she’d say anything more, but the shrill ring of the telephone split the silence. Damn. Sarah went to the door and stood there, listening for the answering machine message. She’d been trying to get her mother to screen calls, and every chance to set an example was welcome. The tinny sound of an aluminum siding solicitation came down the hall and she returned to the table. “Just another salesman, Mama,” she reported.

“Mmm. Just as well you didn’t answer then. You’d think they’d realize someday that we never ever buy anything.”

Sarah thought about trying to explain about companies selling phone lists and mailing lists, but decided to let it go. “What were we talking about before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dear. Nothing important, I imagine. Oh, did I tell you what Miranda Hogbinder said to Mr. Dobbs this morning?”

“No.” Sarah swallowed a sigh and settled down to hear the day’s gossip. Make haste slowly. She’d give her mother a chance to sleep on the news of the apartment tearing-down and see what happened.

The next morning, the coffee had just finished perking when she heard the elevator. A few moments later, her mother came into the kitchen. It was going to be a bad day, because she was leaning heavily on her walker. “Pretty stiff this morning?” Sarah asked, simultaneously flicking off the heat under the bacon and pouring another cup of coffee.

“A little stiff every morning, as you well know. If Rob hadn’t put in that wonderful elevator, you’d have to carry me down those stairs.”

Sarah did know. “Well, we have it and it’s a good thing. I know I’m very grateful to Rob.”

“Yes. Violet can be very proud of that boy.” Hilda settled herself at the table. “Actually, I’ve been thinking, dear,” she said.

“I know that tone of voice. It usually means you’re going to suggest something that I don’t like,” Sarah replied, hiding a leap of hope.

Her mother sat up even straighter and managed to look down her nose. That “you’re-such-a-problem-child” look. “I should hope you’re a more generous person than to object to this,” she said.

“Okay, let me have it.”

“Violet lives in the Sylvester Building. She won’t have any place to go. I think we should invite her to live here. She could have the bedroom with the China roses. It’s a lovely big room, and there’s a bath right across the hall. After all, she’s been living in that tiny apartment, so it shouldn’t be too hard for her to settle in there.”

Sarah swallowed a grin. Just what she’d hoped for. She’d counted on her mother coming up with the idea all on her own. But she’d play devil’s advocate, just to make sure her mama was sure about this. “That’s very generous of you, Mama. But would you be comfortable with someone here all the time? You weren’t very happy with that caregiver. And I’m not sure you’re really all that happy having me here.”

“Having you here is fine. And Violet has been my best friend since kindergarten. I’ve thought about this all night, and I think it would be good. Unless you object. You should have a vote, too. It would make more work for you to have another person here.”

“I think it’s a great idea. And very generous of you. “I’ll talk to Rob today at work, if you like. I think he’s still working on some project there.”

Her mother gave her the patented stare that was as effective as a verbal scolding. “Violet’s an adult, dear. I thought I’d ask her myself. Or did you think she might need Rob’s permission?”

“Sorry, Mama,” Sarah murmured. “Of course she doesn’t.”

****

A few weeks later, Rob pulled up into the driveway with a rental truck and a wildly excited Violet.

Casey’s thunderous barks left no doubt that she was a watchdog. Sarah took her out to the big, shady dog run that now graced the back yard and rushed to shut Fred in her bedroom. “Mama? They’re here. Were you expecting Violet to bring furniture?”

Her mother frowned. “No.”

“Well, they brought a truck. Where are we going to put a truck full of furniture? It’s not going to fit in the Blush room.”

“I must say,” Hilda said, struggling to her feet, “that this is most unlike Violet.”

“Morning,” Rob said from the kitchen door. “Are we too early?”

“No, of course not. But we might have a problem.”

“Oh, Sarah, dear. Good morning. Isn’t this too exciting?” Violet burbled.

Rob stepped aside to let her in the room.

“Good morning, Hilda. How are you today? Isn’t this like moving into the dorm at school? It will be just like old times.” Violet sank into the chair Sarah held for her and accepted the proffered cup of tea. “Now, if you’ll just show Rob where my things go, Sarah dear, I’ll be all settled in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

“Of course, but I don’t know where all the furniture is going, Violet. Your room already has about all it can hold.”

“Oh, I’m not bringing furniture. Your mother and I talked about that, didn’t we?” She nodded at Hilda. “Rob is going to take my furniture on to a storage place, a very good one, with insulation and everything. So I just have a few boxes of things in the truck. Just as we agreed, Hilda.” Violet jittered to a stop and smiled at everyone.

Sarah smiled back and tried not to look embarrassed. Of course Violet would never have done anything so thoughtless.

****

Rob pulled the U-Haul truck to a stop in front of locker B87 of StoreMore, Crowley Falls’ only storage rental. His mum was right. If things didn’t work out at the Gault’s, she’d want her furniture for whatever new apartment she found. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, if he wasn’t going to end up paying for this space for as long as she lived.

His mind shied away from that thought. Ditzy as she was, she was his mum and he couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. Even when he’d been doing unbelievable things in unpronounceable places that scarcely showed on most maps, she’d been a warm place in his mind, a place that said home.

He swung down from the truck and got to work, packing the furniture carefully so nothing would get ruined and knowing full well that if his mum wanted a piece it would be sure to be the one at the very back of the storage unit. And under everything else, to boot.

That was his mum, all right. He could count on it. And wouldn’t have it any other way, to be honest.

Furniture properly settled, he got in the truck and started down the driveway. Susanville was a good hour away, and he needed to return the truck before he racked up overtime charges.

Too bad Mel hadn’t been around. It would have been a lot easier to borrow the Dockside Tavern van for the move. Of course, Hilda probably would have had a cow, proper lady that she was, if she’d seen the van with its topless dancer blazoned in living color on both sides.

He drove out of the storage facility and waited to be sure the gate closed properly. Before he could pull out into traffic, a car swooped into the driveway and stopped in front of him.

Mercedes. Driven by a little old lady. Correction, substantial old lady. Miranda Hogbinder. He resisted the urge to crawl under the seat and climbed out of the truck. “Morning, Mrs. Hogbinder. Haven’t seen you driving yourself in a long time. Hope James isn’t sick.”

“No, no. I like to drive myself. I only use him on Sundays to go to church.”

Where the most people could see her arrive in chauffeur-driven glory. “What can I do for you this morning?”

“You can tell me what in the world you’re doing here, Robert. Is your mother moving in with you? I do declare this whole business of tearing down the Sylvester building is such a bother.”

Sure, it was a bother, but also the most exciting thing that had happened to her in years, the old gossip. “Yes, it surely is,” he agreed. “But Mum isn’t moving in with me. She’s moved in with Mrs. Gault and Sarah.”

Miranda’s jaw dropped and her face flushed. “In with Hilda?” she said in a strangled voice.

He pretended not to notice. “Yep. Seemed like a really good solution for both of them.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wanted to take them back. He wasn’t about to discuss Hilda’s health or the Gault finances with this old harridan.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem inclined to chat any longer. “Yes, a splendid idea,” she said. “I won’t keep you, Robert. Ta-ta now.” She minced back to the Mercedes and left.

Weird. Well, none of his business. He got back in the truck and headed for Susanville. Having Mum live at Hilda’s was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, he’d have a built-in excuse to spend a lot of time with Sarah. His high school crush had resurfaced with a vengeance when he’d gone to her house to put up the safety bars, and had only gotten worse since. Something about Sarah shot him straight back to school-days awkwardness. He’d never been a sailor with a girl in every port, but he’d never been exactly clumsy with women either.

He wouldn’t mind being not clumsy with Sarah, but damn, he just couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

She didn’t seem to be interested. Except for the occasional glimpse he’d seen in her eyes. Almost as though she were attracted in spite of herself. Was it him or was she massively disinterested in all men?

He hoped not. In addition to that juvenile crush, she was first woman in a long time he genuinely enjoyed being with, just to talk, and he had every intention of following up on that and seeing where it led.

****

“So,” Beth said at lunch. “Violet’s been living with you for a month now and I don’t see any big changes. I guess you’re a little bit less worried, but I was hoping you’d have more time...” She shrugged. “How’s it working out? I mean, really, not just the ‘oh, everything’s wonderful’ bit.”

Sarah laughed. “Pretty well. My mother loves it. And the money is a big help. Especially now. My car died. I walk to work a lot of the time, so I didn’t even notice until last night after work. Thank goodness Rob was there to drive me to the grocery.”

“Bummer about the car.” Beth unwrapped her sandwich. “Not bummer about having Rob on hand to help.”

“Oh, Beth, will you stop? Rob is very helpful because he’s a genuinely nice person and his mother lives there. That’s it. I can’t keep leaning on him to take me places, and I’m not getting involved.”

“I’ll bet he could take you places you’ve never been.”

“Beth,” Sarah warned. “Don’t go there.”

“Can’t you use your mother’s car?”

“Sure. In fact, I guess I’ll have to use it until I can figure out how to pay for getting the VW fixed.”

“Why bother?” Beth mumbled through ham and cheese. “Just use the Caddy. God, it’s so Retro. I love it.”

“I don’t love paying for the gas. It gets about six miles per gallon.”

Clearly uninterested in the price of gas, Beth reverted to a more interesting subject. “Is Rob at the house every day? Talk about fringe benefits.”

“Honestly, Beth. You’d think you were still in junior high. I don’t know if he’s at the house every day or not. I’m here, remember?”

“I just think you ought to take advantage of your opportunities, that’s all. And opportunity’s aknockin’ on your door, girl. You might even get a husband out of the deal. You should try one of those.”

Apparently Beth hadn’t heard the gossip about Sarah’s long-ago marriage. The juicy stories that had been passed around covered every possible scenario. Except the one that was true. “Getting married isn’t exactly a big dream of mine. I gave up wanting to get married a long time ago. I like being single.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Sarah still hoped that the details of that awful time would never make it from Kansas City to California. She surely wasn’t going to tell anyone after all this time. “No one to answer to. No one to leave the seat up. No one to object if I have cold pizza for breakfast or cereal for dinner.”

“No one to talk to when you come home.”

“Casey. Fred,” Sarah reminded her. “And there’s no one to object if I stay up all night.”

“Right. Like Ms. Eight-Hours-A-Night-Every-Night-Or-Else is gonna stay up all night.”

Sarah ignored that. “No one to object to a cat on the bed. No one to argue if I want ten cats.”

“Okay, okay. You don’t have to marry him. There’s always just sex. You’ve heard of sex?”

“Rob is very nice.” As well as good looking. And hot. Very hot. Hot enough to cause a few dreams that she’d never tell anyone about. Not to mention that his quiet strength was more appealing than was good for her common sense. “But back off. I’ve got enough on my plate with the moms right now.”

“The moms. That’s cute. Sounds like bonding to me, but that’s just the trouble. You’re so wrapped up in their lives that you’re not living your own.” Beth looked shocked at what she’d said, but she didn’t back off. She took a deep breath. “I wasn’t going to say that. But you’re a grownup. You’re not supposed to live with your parents. It’s like you’re still attached to the umbilical cord. It’s not healthy. You need your own life.”

Anger and frustration blazed through Sarah, loosening her tongue. “There is such a thing as responsibility, Beth. Also love. You might stop and consider that the current norm in our country isn’t ‘the way it’s supposed to be’ at all. We’re supposed to live with our families and take care of each other. I think you’re letting your problems with your mother blind you, and you might just be very sorry one day.”

Red-faced but defiant, Beth squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have said all that. But it’s true. I thought after Violet moved in you’d have some time for your own life. You need to take time for yourself. You need to have some fun.”

It wasn’t true. She had plenty of time for herself. Beth was just too damned young to understand what it was like to have an aging parent whom she loved. Sarah’s anger dissolved in the face of the obvious concern that she could sense under her friend’s selfish pushing. “I’m sorry I yelled. I do have fun.”

“Playing rummy with two elderly ladies? Give me a break.”

“Also walking Casey.”

“A real laugh riot, I’m sure.”

“And I’ve got my stained-glass stuff set up out in the old workshop. I’m repairing the original leaded windows for the whole downstairs. You didn’t think stained glass was a bad thing for me to do when I made those windows for you.”

“True,” Beth admitted. “I love them. But you need to have fun with people.”

Like Beth. Sarah really had been neglecting that friendship, but she just couldn’t be all things to all people. She stood and scooped the trash from her lunch together. “I’m with people all the time. What I need is peace and quiet.” Especially from you right now.

“Don’t be mad, Sarah. You know I wouldn’t hassle you about this if I didn’t care about you.” Beth got to her feet.

All the irritation vanished, and Sarah hugged her. “I know you do. And I’m not mad. Not really. But it’s time to get back to work.”

“Okay. But I’m not giving up.” Beth stood back and gave Sarah a measuring stare.

One that made her very nervous.

****

Two weeks later, Sarah sat in the lunchroom waiting for Beth and still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Beth didn’t make idle threats, and there was no telling what she might do. She’d be constrained only by money, not good sense.

“Hey, Sarah.” Beth jogged into the room and plunked into a chair. “I thought I’d never get off the phone. So, what did you do for fun last night?”

Oh, great. The “what do you do for fun? When do you do something for you?” conversation she’d hoped Beth had forgotten had come back to bite her. “I thought we settled this,” Sarah began.

“You couldn’t even tell me what fun is. I think you’ve forgotten how to spell the word. You need help, and honey, I’m gonna give it to you.”

“I don’t want help.”

“When was the last time you just kicked up your heels?”

She couldn’t remember.

“It was when you still lived in your own house, wasn’t it? It’s been almost a year since your mother’s surgery and, as you pointed out, she’s not getting any younger.” Beth frowned, suddenly serious. “Sarah, you think you have to spend every minute with her because of that, but if you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll burn out and not be able to do anything. And that won’t be good for you or your mother. Or Violet. You have to listen to me.”

“But she needs me. They need me. I can’t just go flipping off whenever I want to.”

“No, but you can go once in a while. You have to. Look, Sarah, I know I’ve been sort of jealous of the time you spend with your mother instead of me, but honest, this isn’t about me. It’s about you. I’m really worried.”

Sudden tears clogged Sarah’s throat, further proof of how tired she was. “Oh, Beth.”

“You have to listen to me. Because they do need you. If you don’t believe me, I can show you dozens of articles about care-giver burnout. And if you think about it, you’ll know I’m right.”

Maybe. Maybe she was just worn to the bone, but she could barely remember when she had her own life, when her mother didn’t own every non-working minute. Not that she minded helping her mother. Of course she didn’t, but...

A rush of something that wasn’t anger or resentment, but wasn’t far off, some mix of all the feelings she’d suppressed for the last almost-year, swept through her. She minded. She was selfish, a bad daughter, a terrible person, but she wanted a life. Her own life. And in time, she’d get it, and it would be everything she’d ever feared the most. And she’d deserve it for thinking about herself instead of her mother.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it,” Beth ordered. “Doing stuff to take care of yourself doesn’t mean you’re selfish or a bad person.”

Sarah jumped. God, had she said any of that out loud?

“No, you didn’t say that. But I know how your mind works. So are you going to cooperate or do I have to use force?”

****

Hilda and Violet were still upstairs when the doorbell rang. Sarah opened the door to the Reverend Mr. Dobbs. “Come in. Mama and Violet will be ready in just a minute.”

“Thank you, Sarah.” Mr. Dobbs stepped inside. “We’re delighted that they are joining us this evening.”

“It’s nice of you to volunteer to pick them up. Mother doesn’t drive any more, and Violet doesn’t like to drive at night.”

Mr. Dobbs smiled. “I wouldn’t tell Hilda this for the world, but I think the time had come for her to stop driving. I was quite worried about her.”

“So was I,” Sarah admitted.

“Normally people don’t take well to that particular rite of passage, as I’m sure you realize. It’s one of the reasons I’m hoping to raise money for a shuttle van for the church. It might make things a little easier for some of the older parishioners if they knew they could always get a ride to church functions.”

The sound of the elevator on its way downstairs put an end to the conversation. Mr. Dobbs helped Violet and Hilda on with their coats. Sarah stood in the doorway to wave goodbye. “Have a good time, Mama, Violet,” she called, and turned back to the blissfully empty house.

After she closed the door, she stood for a moment listening to the silence. A whole evening to herself. She could do anything she wanted. Or check the doctors’ bills and Medicare statements. Sort laundry to be sure none of her mother’s handwash items got into the machine. Iron her mother’s blouses. Make a new grocery list so she wouldn’t forget her mother’s favorite cereal or Violet’s English muffins.

Or maybe Beth was right. Maybe she should take Casey for an extra-long walk. Or go to the movies. Except that movies cost money, and after the rain this morning it was very clear that they needed a new roof. She sighed. That would take care of the last of her savings, and leave her without the start-up money for Gault Accounting Services.

And didn’t that all sound pathetic? Worrying about a hypothetical business instead of her mother’s well-being. Face it, Beth had a point. She was leading a pretty narrow life these days.

The doorbell rang and she jumped. Someone must have forgotten something. But when she opened it, it was Beth. “Was I expecting you?”

“No.” Beth pushed past her, carrying a bulging tote. “Unilateral decision. You don’t have anything to do this evening.”

Sarah’s voice rose indignantly. “Of course I do. I always have work.”

“That’s the problem.” Beth’s voice was grim enough to give Sarah prickles of alarm. “Let me restate that. You don’t have anything urgent to do this evening and you’re going to have some fun.”

Oh, great. “I thought we settled this,” Sarah began.

“I’ve settled it. We’re doing it my way, for a change.” Beth was three inches shorter and who knows how much lighter, but Sarah didn’t doubt for a minute that she meant it.

Sarah considered. Maybe Beth was right. Maybe she would more patient if she took some time for herself. Life was lived one moment at a time, and now she had one hundred and eighty moments before her mother and Violet came home. “We have three whole hours,” she said. “We could go to a movie. Or we could go bowling.”

“At least you remember some of the things you used to do for fun,” Beth said. “But I have a better idea. Come on.” She picked up the bag and grabbed Sarah’s arm, towing her toward the staircase.

“Wait. What are you doing?” Sarah held on to the door frame as Beth pushed her out of the kitchen toward the hall.

“Clothes,” Beth said, tugging harder. “Trust me.”

If ever there was a phrase that meant trouble, that was it. Sarah was still wondering why she allowed herself to be pulled up the stairs to her bedroom when Beth gave a final shove and she fetched up against the bed.

Twenty minutes later, she stood in front of the full-length mirror on her closet door, wearing a much-too-tight dress of Beth’s. It had looked so innocent on the hanger, a high-necked column of black. On her, it didn’t look innocent at all. She turned to get the back view, and realized the dress was almost backless. It clung from neck to top of her thighs, then belled out.

“My God, Beth. No one over twenty ought to appear in public in this.” In spite of the high neck, the bodice wrapped lovingly over her breasts and showcased them in a way that didn’t look at all proper.

“You look perfect. You may be forty-something, but you look great. Hot. We’re going to DiLucca’s.”

DiLucca’s. It sounded like a nice, family-style Italian restaurant, but Sarah had lived in Crowley Falls long enough to know about DiLucca’s, the swingingest—and only—nightclub in Crowley Falls. A place she’d never been, on her own or in response to Beth’s many invitations. She’d never wanted to go there, so why was she letting Beth hypnotize her into an evening that didn’t even sound like fun? “I can’t go in there.”

“Of course you can. It’s just what you need. You like to dance, and you’ve never gone there with me even though I’ve asked you a million times. Besides, we haven’t done anything together for so long. I feel like I’m not very important to you. Maybe you don’t even like me anymore.”

The guilt card. But she couldn’t say Beth was wrong. It had been a long time since they’d done anything except have lunch together at work.

Beth considered her handiwork, head tilted to one side. “Almost,” she said, and rummaged in Sarah’s jewelry box. She came up with a pair of earrings from a long ago office gift exchange. Sarah had never had the nerve to wear the three-inch dangles of silver stars, but when Beth gave her a no-arguments glare, she put them on.

“Now makeup,” Beth said. “Sit down. I’m going to do this. You never put enough on.”

Sarah didn’t dare move while Beth swiped recklessly with the mascara wand and slashed scarlet across her mouth. When she was done, someone else looked back out of the mirror. This wasn’t calm, steady Sarah Gault, nit-picky accountant, loving caregiver, and all-around good girl. Whoever she was, she looked ready to party.

Beth stepped back. Her gaze met Sarah’s in the mirror. “Okay, babe. You and me, we’re going to paint the town tonight. You’re gonna get a life.”

Sarah inspected herself. Was that really her? Yes, she wanted a life, but this didn’t look like the one she wanted. She didn’t even know this woman with the do-me outfit and yearning eyes.

Yearning. That was what she felt. Not to be free of responsibility, but yearning to be free of this insidious, ever-present worry, and the guilt that went with every bit of discontent.

A tiny bubble of guilty excitement began to burn deep inside her. “I can’t do this,” she said, but her voice sounded unconvincing even to herself. “I have to be home by ten.” That made her feel about sixteen.

Beth hustled her out the door before she could protest, out the door. Mr. Reynolds across the street dropped his briefcase when he saw Sarah, and she would have bolted back into the house but Beth pushed her into the car. Sarah couldn’t believe she was doing this, hoped this was all a joke, a dream, but Beth drove, kept on going, right through downtown, past the stoplight, out onto Highway 72, and into the gravel parking lot in front of what looked like a garden shed on steroids.

“We’re here,” Beth said unnecessarily.

“Yeah.” Who could miss the plastic beer bottle on the roof? Trucks and cars already jammed the parking lot. Sarah had three hours, well, two and a half hours, of life. She’d better start having what Beth called fun.

Beth gave her a shove toward the entrance. Sarah tossed the long chain strap of her tiny black suede purse over her shoulder and picked her way across the parking lot.

The wall of noise that greeted her would have stopped her in her tracks if she hadn’t slammed into an immovable object first. Hands grabbed her upper arms to steady her, so she figured she’d met someone. She looked up.

“Sarah, is that you?”

Brent. Oh, hell. Didn’t it just figure?

“What in God’s name are you doing here, Sarah?” he asked. “Where’s your mother?”

Sarah grimaced. Maybe she could pretend she hadn’t heard him. But no.

He looked over her shoulder. “Beth. I suppose you put her up to this.”

Beth grinned and dashed inside without answering.

Brent shoved Sarah back through the door into the relative quiet of the parking lot where he looked her up and down in the blinking light of a Coors sign. “And what the hell are you got up as?”

She sighed. “Mama and Violet are at the church for bingo night, Brent. I’m got up as an adult out for an evening of fun. Or so Beth tells me. Does that meet with your approval? May I go in now? Or do I need a note from my mother?”

“Sarah.”

She tapped her foot. “Brent,” she echoed, and stared at him until he shrugged.

“All right, all right.” He stepped back and held the door for her. “But be careful. Don’t drink anything that you haven’t taken directly from the bartender. Don’t leave with anyone you don’t know. Don’t—”

“Brent!” Sarah’s shout chopped off his words. “Thank you, but I think I have that much sense. Now, may I go inside and get Beth? I think I’m ready to go home and she drove.”

Brent stepped aside with an embarrassed apology and Sarah stalked through the door. This time she was ready for the noise and the crowd, but she couldn’t spot Beth in the dimly lighted room. She slithered her way to the bar and eased onto one of the leather stools.

“Hey, is that Sarah Gault?” shouted the bartender. “Never thought I’d see you in here.”

She’d gone to school with him but couldn’t remember his name. “Hi,” she said, pretending she knew him and acting as though bar-hopping were a normal thing for her to do.

“Sarah Gault,” he repeated. “Does your mother know you’re here?”

Oh, jeez. Trying to step out of character in a small town was harder than people thought. Even though she didn’t want to be doing this, some remnant of rebellious teenager was coming to life inside her and shouting at her to do it, go for it. “Appletini,” she yelled, and plunked money on the bar.

The bartender gave her a measuring stare. “Well, I guess I don’t have to card you,” he said, and began measuring and shaking. He set a glass of something frou-frou and green in front of her. Sarah peered at it doubtfully. A slice of apple and a cherry peered back.

She picked it up, trying to look as though she did this every day, and Heaven only knew why all the pretense. Most of the people in here knew that she wasn’t a regular, that she didn’t drink more than the occasional glass of wine or sherry, that she was a middle-aged stick-in-the-mud. Heck, half of them probably knew her birth date and present weight.

After the first tiny sip, she couldn’t keep from making a face. Candy, that hard candy that came in bags at the grocery store. But candy with a kick.

The bartender smirked, so she took a second taste. She’d been right. This wasn’t her kind of drink. “Thanks,” she said, climbed down from the stool, and squirmed through the crowd in search of Beth. The dance floor was as crowded as the bar, but with more movement, and she still couldn’t spot Beth. She hoped Brent would, and warn her. But then, Beth came here all the time. She should know how to take care of herself.

Even through a noise level that could outdo LAX, she could hear the beat and catch a bit of melody. The crowd sorted itself into lines, and someone grabbed her glass. She thought about having to drink more horrible apple-flavored vodka, released the glass, and surrendered to being yanked out onto the dance floor to the strains of Achy Breaky Heart. This must be the only place in the world backward enough to still be playing that. And doing line dances.

By the time the song ended, she had to admit she was having fun. She’d been so busy concentrating on the steps that she hadn’t figured out who had pulled her out onto the dance floor. When the band swung into a slow two-step, he had her crushed against him so tightly she couldn’t move, and her cheek was firmly pressed to his chest.

Didn’t matter, she guessed. She wanted to dance. She was dancing, and even that tiny amount of vodka put little sparkles around the lights and she felt about nineteen again, and wasn’t that the whole point?

She relaxed against the Unknown Partner until she realized that he wasn’t relaxed. Far from it. His majorly aroused body pressed against her in a way that would take several gallons of appletini to make acceptable. She tried to pull away, and he ran one hand down her back and pressed her closer.

Not good. She pushed harder against him, but his arms were about as moveable as a strait-jacket. She tried to stop dancing, but he spun her in a complicated series of turns that left her dizzy and limp.

When her head stopped spinning, she tried again to push away from him. He laughed and laced her hands behind his neck. His arms clamped around her like prison bars and pulled her closer.

She couldn’t push him away, couldn’t get a deep enough breath to scream, couldn’t even move enough to use her knee.