Love Proof (Laws of Attraction)

Forty-one

“I’ve never seen you in these before,” Joe said, holding up a pair of modest-looking cotton underwear. “Sexy.”

Sarah grabbed them from him and added them to her suitcase. “They’re part of my special ‘going home’ collection.”

“What else do you have in there?” he asked, craning his neck to see.

“Long dresses, pinafores—we’re very Little House on the Prairie.” She zipped up her bag before he could snoop anymore. All she really had in there were jeans and T-shirts and sweats.

She shifted the luggage from her bed onto the floor, then took its place. Joe stretched out next to her on the bed and wrapped her up in his arms.

“What time do you have to leave?” Sarah asked him.

“About an hour.”

“Nate’s picking you up at the airport?”

“If he feels like it,” Joe said of his older brother. “No guarantee. Otherwise I’ll take a cab.”

Both of them would be spending the long weekend with their families. Sarah wished she could be with Joe on Christmas, but they would have to create their own holiday later. She had plans with her parents, and Joe needed to be with his father.

“He gets pretty down around Christmas,” Joe told her, which was understandable. Sarah had noticed Joe’s own quiet mood throughout the day on the anniversary of his mother’s death. It must be hard for them all, she thought, seeing all the trappings of Christmas in the stores as early as Halloween some places, knowing it meant something completely different to them than to most people.

Sarah snuggled up closer and threaded her hand under Joe’s shirt so she could feel the warm skin of his chest.

“Good idea,” Joe said, tugging her own shirt up her torso.

“No,” Sarah said, laughing and angling away. “I have to go.”

“Come on, Red . . . ”

“Seriously,” she said, forcing herself off the bed. “I told them I’d be there this afternoon, and I still have to stop by Angie’s.”

Joe groaned. “Four days is a long time.”

“We’ll survive,” Sarah said. “Think of me in my granny panties. That ought to cool you off.”

“Not possible,” Joe said.

As Sarah bent over to tie her sneakers, she cast a sideways glance at Burke.

“I’m going to have to tell my mother about us, you know.”

Joe propped himself up on one elbow. “Why does that sound like a bad thing?”

“Because she doesn’t like you,” Sarah said. “She thinks you broke my heart. Actually, she knows you did, but she thinks it’s still broken.”

A look of—what? Concern? Guilt?—crossed Joe’s face, and Sarah realized he didn’t like her making light of what had happened.

She dove back onto the bed and pinned Joe beneath her.

“But you’d never do that again, right?” she said.

“Not in this lifetime.” He tried to flip her over, but for once Sarah had better leverage.

“And you’re very, very sorry you were such a stupid ass and ever left me, right?”

“You don’t know how sorry,” Joe said much more sincerely than her playfulness called for.

“So it’s fine,” Sarah said, giving him a deep and tempting kiss before finally releasing him and sliding back to the floor. “I’ll explain it all to my mother, and one day she might forgive you. Eventually.”

“Should I send her something for Christmas?”

“Chocolate is always nice,” Sarah said. “And a happy daughter—what mother can resist that?”

***

“What’s this?” Angie asked.

Sarah set out five tall containers on Angie’s desk.

“Crack?” Angie said, her pupils dilating. “Oh, my God, you’re the best.”

Sarah was glad she thought so, since it was all the holiday bonus she could afford.

Angie glanced at the clock. “I don’t have anyone for fifteen minutes. Mind if I heat some up?”

“Go ahead. But you know there’s always a three-bowl minimum.”

“One will have to do.”

Angie poured into a microwave dish a huge portion of the vegetable soup she’d renamed Crack Soup. Sarah couldn’t disagree with the title—the soup was positively addictive. She had perfected the recipe, figuring out how many vegetables she could throw in, in what combinations, and which spices to use. She had also gotten over thinking of parsley as just a garnish, since she added a whole head of it, chopped fine. The result was a soup so delicious it tasted almost like dessert at the same time as dinner. Both she and Angie were notorious for eating through half a pot of it before finally retiring their spoons.

“You’d better be here to give me a report,” Angie said, cutting right to the point.

“I think you deserve that,” Sarah agreed. She waited while Angie removed the soup from the microwave even before the timer buzzed. Sarah could understand that, too. She could never wait for it, either.

“So,” Angie said, “did I give you good advice or bad?”

“Good. Some people might not think so if they saw where we are right now, but I’m telling you: good.”

She filled Angie in on everything that had happened since the last time they sat together in that office. Meanwhile Angie powered through her bowl and quickly heated another.

The door to the gym opened, and Angie’s next client came in. He was a tall, gangly man with bright red hair and an immediate smile for Sarah.

“Hello, fellow ginger.”

She laughed. “Hello.” She started to stand, but Angie motioned her down.

“Go ahead and warm up,” Angie told the client. “I’ll be out in five.”

The man nodded and left the two of them alone.

Angie lowered her voice. “So. You’re both without jobs, but you’re deeply in love, and you have me to thank for both.”

Sarah smiled. “Something like that.”

“When are you coming back to workout?”

“I’m not sure. Depends on . . . ” Sarah rubbed her thumb and her third finger together, in the universal sign for money.

“You can always go on credit,” Angie said.

“Not this time, but thank you. I know you have a business to run. I’m not going to be one of those dead-beat clients who keeps using you but never pays.”

“Sarah, you know I don’t think that about you.”

“I know. And I appreciate that. But I’d feel better if I could pay as I go.” Sarah stood and stepped toward the door. “And it’ll happen—I know it will. Then I’ll be back and you can kick my butt again.”

Angie walked her to the front door. Then she gave Sarah a hug. “I have a couple’s discount, you know. Get your man in here, too. I’ll be happy to boss you both around.”

“I’ll call you in the new year,” Sarah promised. Then she waved to the tall redhead. He kept jumping rope, but gave her a nod.

“Thanks for the Crack,” Angie said.

“Any time. Thanks for calling me a wuss. I needed it.”

“Hey,” Angie said with a smile, “whatever it takes.”

***

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her mother greeted her at the door wearing her traditional Christmas apron, the same one she had put on for holiday cooking for as long as Sarah could remember. The snowman on the front was looking a little tattered, but otherwise as cheerful as ever.

Sarah interrupted her father’s football watching long enough to give him a hug, then carried her bag to her old bedroom. The room was still pink and white, the way she’d kept it since she was a little girl and even later in college. She still had her old canopy bed, too: her first experience in Flourish back when her parents could barely afford it. It had been a big deal then, and it still was to her. Even though she knew any other adult woman would look at her room and snicker.

Sarah set her bag on the floor, then lay on her bed for a few minutes, just soaking in the place. This was where she had studied her brains out night after night. Where she made lists and plans for her future.

Where she had tried again and again to call Joe on Christmas six years ago to find out what was going on. That’s when she finally took matters into her own hands and searched the public records. And when she had cried on Joe’s behalf when she saw the notice about his mother.

A long time ago, Sarah thought. A long way to finally come around full circle.

Her mother knocked on the open door. She smiled at the sight of Sarah stretched out on the frilly bed.

“You still don’t want something more modern?” her mother asked. “Something more grown up?”

“Absolutely not,” Sarah answered.

She wondered if little boys ever felt that way about the race car beds they finally outgrew. She could think of a few men she had met who probably wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bed frame shaped like a Ferrari.

“Dinner’ll be ready in about an hour,” her mother said. She came in and sat on the edge of Sarah’s bed. “How’s work been? How’s Joe?” she added in an icy tone.

“Good . . . fine . . . ” Sarah wondered if her mother could hear the falseness in her voice. She had meant to tell her about Joe right away, but somehow now didn’t seem like the right moment.

Wuss, she could hear Angie say.

“Well, come out and talk to us. Your father’ll turn off the game. We want to hear what you’ve been doing.”

Sleeping with opposing counsel, declaring my love to opposing counsel, resigning from my case, losing my job, bombing out at interviews . . .

“Great,” Sarah said. “Sounds great.”

***

“How’s business, Dad?” Sarah wasn’t just deflecting the attention from herself, she honestly wanted to know. Her parents had always included her in their money and work discussions, even when she was still too young to understand all the details. She grew up feeling like a partner in both of her parents’ businesses.

“Oh, you know,” her dad said, “always slow this time of year. But it’ll pick up again in January—always does.”

“How’s all the equipment holding up?” Sarah asked.

“Mostly good. I’ll probably have to upgrade some of it next year. I’ll work it out.”

Sarah could hear the worry in his voice, but there was no point in pressing it. She couldn’t help him right now anyway.

“How’s Grady been?” she asked.

“Meaner than ever,” her father answered with a laugh.

Grady was his oldest employee. He’d been with Sarah’s father almost as long as her mother.

“How about you, Mom?” Sarah asked. “Busy this month?”

Mrs. Henley gave a weary laugh. “Just like every year. Relatives come to town, holiday parties, so everybody needs their houses to look perfect ahead of time. Then all those cleanups from office parties—I’ve been working double-time for the past three weeks. But the money’s good, so who’s complaining? It’s nice to be busy when your dad’s work is slower.”

That’s how it had always been, Sarah thought: the two of them taking turns supporting the family, riding the highs and lows of the economy, always treating each other like equal partners in keeping the family afloat. It was why Sarah had always looked forward to playing her own part in it, helping her parents out with whatever money she could.

“But we want to hear about you!” her mother said. “You know everything about us. Come on, tell us what you’ve been doing.”

Here it was, Sarah thought, her chance to tell them everything.

“Work’s been . . . good,” she began, testing the words on her tongue. “It’s, you know, challenging . . . ”

“Especially with that Joe Burke there, I’m sure,” her mother added.

Now there’s an understatement, Sarah thought. “Right . . . ”

“Any word yet on the job turning into something more permanent?” her dad asked.

“Um, well, that’s kind of interesting,” Sarah said, again seeing her opening. “I think—” She paused to clear her throat. “There’s some stuff going on with the case right now. I think my part of it might actually end a little earlier than I expected . . . ”

She hated to lie to her parents, but it wasn’t technically a lie, she told herself. Except for the word might.

“How much earlier?” her father wanted to know. “I thought you had at least five months guaranteed.”

“Yeah, well, not exactly.”

“So you’ll be out of work again?” he asked, making no effort to hide his concern.

“Just until I find something else,” Sarah said. “It’s fine. I’ve already started interviewing.”

“Well, that’s smart,” her mother said. “Better to be ready than sorry.”

Sarah nodded. She hadn’t exactly been living by that motto for the past few weeks.

On the other hand, she hadn’t exactly been this happy in her personal life for the past several years.

“I bet that Joe Burke will be sorry to see you go,” Sarah’s mother said. “He should have been nicer to you in the first place.”

“He’s been nice lately, Mom,” Sarah said. She couldn’t bear to just sit there and hear Joe maligned, even though she still didn’t feel ready to confess everything. She dreaded seeing the disappointment on her parents’ faces when she explained that she lost her job because she had been doing something unethical. Not just doing something unethical, but been caught doing it.

Sarah’s mother patted her hand. “Like I always said, you were too good for that man. I’m sure he always sees you as the one who got away.”

“So,” Sarah said, blatantly changing the subject, “what’s our cookie schedule tomorrow? How many batches are we making?”

“I think at least seven this time,” her mother said. “I have some new clients, so I want to make sure there’s enough for everybody.”

It was her holiday gift to her clients, which used to drive Sarah crazy. She argued for years that the clients should be giving their cleaning lady a year-end bonus, not the other way around. But her mother continued to think it was good business to bake treats for her customers, so Sarah had finally given in and simply offered to help. She had been her mother’s chief cookie decorator for the past several Christmas Eves.

“Sarah, you going to be okay?” her dad asked. “With that job situation?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m sure I’ll be fine. The law business is the same as yours—really slow this time of year, but then people will start hiring again in January.”

She tried to say it like she believed it. She had already lied to her parents enough.