Chapter 3

Sunday afternoon tea at Meredith’s had been a staple in Sarah’s schedule for the better part of a decade. Meredith provided the tea—a strong black blend with a carafe of half-and-half on the side—and Sarah brought a treat for them to enjoy. The treat was often freshly baked, but since her kitchenware was now packed in boxes in Mom’s basement, today she’d splurged on confections from a popular Georgetown bakery.

She opened the pink box containing four gourmet cupcakes: one for herself, one for Meredith, and one for each of Meredith’s two children. For Amber, her friend’s five-year-old daughter, she selected chocolate cake with strawberry icing, and for Steven, her three-year-old younger brother, she’d chosen vanilla on vanilla with rainbow sprinkles. Sarah smiled, cut Steven’s into quarters, and placed them into a small plastic bowl. Amber would only lick off the frosting, so she handed the cupcake to her in its paper wrapper.

The children ran off with their sweets to the den, adjacent to the kitchen.

“No crumbs!” Meredith called after them. She topped her tea with cream before taking a seat next to Sarah at the counter. “They’ll miss you.”

Cupping the warm drink in her hands, Sarah leaned forward on her elbows. She tried to recall when she had gone more than a week without seeing her friend’s young children, but she could only think of her extended vacation with Philip, just after Steven was born. The relaxing cruise to the Caribbean was the last trip they’d taken together. They’d walked on the beach hand-in-hand and wasted away mornings snuggling in bed. The two weeks had been a stark contrast to the struggles they’d encountered afterward with the in vitro attempts for a family like Meredith had, and Sarah didn’t.

Sarah pushed away the thought and looked across to Steven and Amber. That today would be the last time she would see them made her chest ache. “I’ll miss them, too.” Her voice cracked, the bittersweet memories cinching her throat.

Meredith nudged Sarah’s side. “Don’t look so drab. You’re off for a year to explore Italy. You’re going for adventure…to find yourself.”

Her friend’s dreamy gaze meant she probably fantasized about some romantic nonsense. Sarah took a sip of her tea. “I will be working, you know. My visit’s not like I’m on an all-expenses-paid vacation or something.”

“Would you stop grumbling? It’s going to be great. I’m jealous.”

Sarah winced.

Meredith pulled back her hair in a ponytail, exposing gray hairs around her hairline.

Another reminder to Sarah that time was passing her by.

“Aunt Sarah!” Amber called from the den. “Come have a tea party with us!”

She forced a smile, grabbed the cream cheese-frosted carrot cupcake and her cup of tea, and raised an eyebrow toward Meredith. “My playmates await.” Sarah headed for the den.

Meredith rolled her eyes. “I swear, sometimes I think these visits are more for the kids than us.”

Sarah sat cross-legged at the spot on the carpet where the kids had already set up plastic teacups and saucers. She dined alternately on her dreamed-up scone and the actual calorie-laden miniature delicacy then she passed around a pink pot filled with make-believe sugar. Why couldn’t she pause this moment in time—encapsulate the memory of Steven counting the sprinkles on his cupcake and Amber asking if she could trade her cake for his frosting? Talking to them on the phone, video or otherwise, wouldn’t be the same as being here with them.

When she’d finished both her real and fictitious tea and cake, Sarah returned to the kitchen, where Meredith was busy chopping vegetables for what appeared to be a stew. Sarah sipped her tea, washing away the buttery frosting and sweet vanilla cake. “Are you sure it’s okay to leave now?” she asked. “I mean, with things so up in the air?” She picked up a knife and a bunch of celery.

“Oh, stop worrying. The house is under contract, and the two of you are in agreement. What could go wrong?”

The contract could fall through, or the separation papers could get lost in the mound of documents on her lawyer’s desk. Sarah hacked at a stalk of celery. “I don’t know. I haven’t signed anything yet.”

“Would you relax? Everything will be fine.” Meredith put onions in a pot and smiled. “Now, let’s get on to the more important details. Pictures.” She waved her knife at Sarah. “You’re to send me pictures of every place you go.”

Meredith taunted her with the knife, and Sarah leaned away. “Yes, Mother.” She added her diced celery to the pot and returned to enjoying her freshly poured tea.

Meredith slammed the knife on the cutting board. “I assure you I am not keeping you on a short leash. I’m encouraging you to go out and have fun.” She lowered her voice and leaned across the counter. “To have more nights like you know what with you know who.”

Uh-uh. She did not just bring up that incident. Sarah put down her cup of tea with a heavy hand, the china clinking on the saucer. “Meredith! I thought we agreed never to bring that up.”

“Come on, Sarah.” Meredith snorted. “At least fifteen years have passed. Don’t you find it the least bit humorous?”

Sarah pursed her lips. How was a one-night-stand with the infamous Ben Carter funny? “No,” she grumbled.

“Ugh. Well, I would have taken your place. He was by far the cutest guy on campus. I still daydream about him sometimes.”

“Meredith, would you stop?” She caught Amber spying from the den and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I told you a thousand times, I don’t remember what happened.”

Meredith cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, we all know what happened. He wasn’t shy about telling everyone how he laid the beautiful, goody-two-shoes Sarah Miller.”

“And that, my friend, is why tea is now my drink of choice.” Sarah sighed, picked up her teacup, and raised it in a toasting jest. She brought the cup to her lips and paused. Would tea still be her drink of choice in Italy? She shrugged. She’d find out in a few days.

****

A week later, the sun streamed through the arched glass entrance of Dulles International Airport. Amber and vermilion hues reflected off the metal International Departures sign. Suitcase wheels whirred, and the heels of business-women clacked. A tingling rushed through Sarah’s fingers—was the rush excitement or trepidation?

The rolling suitcase in front of her inched forward, and the line of passengers followed like a row of dominoes. But Sarah’s sneakers felt more like steel-toed boots. Perhaps the ten-minute cab ride hadn’t been long enough to say good-bye.

“Next!”

Sarah lifted her bags onto the conveyer belt and handed the agent her passport. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the last of the sun’s rays before the orange disk melted into the horizon. She stared through the wide, sweeping glass wall. The sky of the city—a city that held so many memories she wanted to forget—was a mixture of colors as alive as Vermeer’s painting. Her eyes dampened with tears, but Sarah squeezed them away. She faced the counter and looked at the clerk.

“Do you have any questions?” The woman behind the counter handed her a boarding pass.

Questions? Sarah slumped her shoulders, and she struggled to see through the welling tears. She had too many questions. Was she making the right decision leaving D.C.? Would she ever forget Philip? Again, she tipped her head in the direction of the sunset—the brush-stroked sky. And would she ever attain Vermeer's idealized balances?

Sarah turned back to the attendant. “No questions." She forced a smile, kept her back toward the sunset, and strode forward into her future—whatever that might be.