WINDMILLS
Sarah's
thin fingers rest along the
stem of the curvaceous glass. She watches her unpainted nails wrap around
the thin pole and then unwind. With a sigh, she lifts the glimmering glass
of champagne to her lips and draws a lengthy sip.
This isn't something she would normally
do, going to sit at a bar by herself in the evening. Tonight, though, it
seemed like an appealing change of pace.
Matt called earlier and wanted
to spend the night with Victoria,
so she granted his wish. With nothing
else to fill her evening and no particular desire to eat dinner, this seemed
like a good place to pass some time and think.
Matt hardly said a word to her when
he came by to pick up Victoria. The whole visit must have taken less than
five minutes, amazing considering how much baggage Victoria required for
one night away. He must have been very focused on getting in and out of
there quickly.
Sarah had been hoping that his coldness
toward her would subside over a few days or weeks, but no such luck. Actually,
he isn't being cold anymore -- just indifferent. Very professional and
removed. He's always like that, in a way, she thinks with a tinge
of frustration.
Truthfully, she's been trying not
to worry about too much. But she has been, probably more than she realizes
or would like to acknowledge. Particularly in light of the talks she's
had with Paula
lately ... she could use Matt around to talk to again. That
can't really be gone forever -- can it?
She's still trying to sort out what
happened the other day with Paula. She really did say that
Molly was dealing
with Brent
and Sarah badly, and that she might even be at fault for some
of what has happened. Somehow Sarah can't quite believe that her mother
actually placed Molly in that position, but she wants to believe it. Badly.
That would make everything so
much better ... Maybe there's some hope then. Maybe I can fix things with
Mom and Dad.
Even as she has that thought, she
isn't certain of quite where things went so wrong. Her contemplating is
interrupted by a shrill ring.
She pulls her cell phone out of her
tiny purse quickly, wanting to silence it before its frenzied call drives
the rest of the restaurant insane. She gets to it just before the third
ring begins.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end makes
her clam up immediately. Brent.
"Sarah, hi. How, uh, how are you?"
"All right," she manages, stammering
far more than she would like. "How about you?"
"I'm fine. Listen, is there any way
we could get together soon? Tomorrow night, maybe?"
"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure," she answers
even as she is reviewing her mental calendar. "Of course."
"Okay, good. Um ... Why don't you
meet me outside your dad's restaurant around seven?"
The proposition immediately strikes
her as odd, but she tries to disregard that. "Sounds good."
"See you then."
Before she can even try to prolong
the conversation, he has hung up. She tries to remind herself that she
is going to see him tomorrow, but the very thought that he might be spending
time with Molly right now sends her blood pressure soaring.
What was that about, anyway? And
why in front of the restaurant? For dinner? For some kind of surprise?
She tries not to have the thought, but it is too late. Maybe he wants
to work on things.
"Sarah?"
The sound of her name from behind
startles Sarah. Instinctively she turns.
"Hi," she says, still a little thrown,
as Diane Bishop smiles at her.
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