Finding Home (12 page)

Still, a large part of Sarah wanted to cut into her, to really give her a piece of her mind, to let her know exactly how she felt about how Natalie had taken somebody else’s dog and made him her own. Nodding to herself as she shoved yard debris into a garbage bag, she felt a new resolve. If nothing else, Natalie Fox was going to get an earful. She was going to be undeniably clear on how Sarah felt.

The next morning, bolstered by steely determination and a healthy dash of indignation, Sarah stalked into Valenti’s ready to do battle. She was wearing her favorite, kick-some-ass-and-look-good-doing-it black pantsuit that she knew made her look intimidating as well as sexy. Her opponents never knew what hit them when she wore that suit, and that’s exactly how she wanted it.

Straight-backed, she stood in line, just like always. She watched Natalie wait on customers with a friendly and warm smile, just like always. When Sarah Þ nally reached the counter, Natalie’s smile faltered ever so slightly, and the only thing that gave her away was the way her eyes took on a panicked blinking.

“Hi, Sarah,” she said, and there was an uncertain quaver to her voice, like she was anticipating bad news.

“Good morning,” Sarah said, Þ xing her steely gaze on the face of her foe. As if made of vapor, her determined demeanor instantly left her, just dissipated into the air, leaving her standing

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there in front of an attractive, uncertainly smiling woman with no idea what to say. She felt like an idiot.

They stood looking at one another, and though it was only a couple of seconds, it seemed more like hours. Sarah felt as if they were each trying to read the other, trying to determine exactly what was going on in the other woman’s head, certain that if she knew, she could decide the next course of action with no doubts.

Then they both tried to speak at once.

“Do you—?”

“Could I—?”

Both women laughed quietly as the man behind Sarah huffed with impatience and went around her to the second register so somebody else could wait on him. She could feel his annoyed stare, but she ignored him, and when she looked up at Natalie, she was pressing her lips together in an obvious attempt not to smile. Sarah cleared her throat and gestured to Natalie with a slight nod.

“You Þ rst.”

“Okay.” Natalie cleared her throat and pushed the colored streak of hair away from her eye. “I was wondering if you would be interested in joining Chino—er, Bentley—and I for a walk later.”

Sarah stood still, blinking in surprise, not at all sure she had heard Natalie correctly. “Um…a walk?”

Natalie nodded quickly, and like a person who didn’t know what to do with her hands, began making the latte that Sarah had ordered every morning before she’d left for New Zealand. “After work? Say six?”

As if she had no say in the matter at all, as if her body and brain did their own thing and Sarah’s consciousness was simply there to observe, she felt her head begin to nod. “That sounds great. I’ll meet you out front?”

“Perfect.” Natalie set the latte down on the counter and took the money Sarah robotically handed to her.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

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FINDING HOME

“Great.”

Sarah took her latte and headed out the door, just like always.

When she looked back into the shop from the street, her own face reß ected back at her in the glass and, much to her own dismay, she was sporting a goofy grin.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she muttered at herself in disgust as she headed off to her car.

v

I used to be tough. I used to be strong. What the hell happened
to me?

Sarah sat at her desk later that morning, gazing unseeingly out the window, replaying her visit to the coffee shop over and over in her mind, trying to Þ gure out exactly where she’d screwed up and lost her nerve, her killer instinct that had gotten her so far in the corporate world.

“Am I that much of a sucker for a pretty face?” she asked herself out loud.

“Are you talking to me?” Patti Schmidt was suddenly standing in the doorway.

“Oh.” Sarah shifted in her seat, sat up straighter. “No. No, I was just muttering to myself.”

“What’s going on with you?” Patti asked, plopping into a wooden chair across from Sarah and propping her elbows on the desk to regard her curiously. “Are you okay?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s going on with me.” Sarah tried to play down the immediate indignation she felt at the question, mostly because she’d been read so easily by somebody who really didn’t know her all that well.

Patti snorted, clearly telegraphing that Sarah was full of shit.

“You’ve been staring off into space all morning.” She picked a pen out of the cup on the desk and began to click the plunger.

“Yeah, well.”

“Something’s deÞ nitely on your mind.”
Click. Click. Click.

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“Maybe.”

Click. Click.
“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Sometimes it really is better…”
Click. Click.
“To talk to somebody about stuff.”
Click.

Sarah’s jaw was beginning to ache because of how tightly she had her back molars clenched together.

“Come on.”
Click.
“Talk to Aunt Patti.”
Click. Click. Click.

Sarah snatched the pen out of Patti’s hand with a growl. “I miss my dog, all right?” she said, snarling the words in a much louder voice than necessary. “Jesus.”

Patti blinked at her, eyes wide. “Bentley’s gone? Oh, no!

What happened?” The genuine concern in her voice made Sarah’s initial irritation with her dissipate into the air like steam and she was suddenly sorry she hadn’t told her sooner.

“He ran away while we were gone.” She knew the lack of information would only keep Patti asking questions, but she was loath to give up the whole story. The whole thing made her feel irresponsible and stupid.

“Well, did you call animal control? Put an ad in the paper?

Drive around the area where he was?” She ticked off the suggestions on her Þ ngers.

“Gee, Patti, what great ideas. I wish I’d thought of them.” At the ß ash of pain that zipped across Patti’s face, Sarah gentled her tone just a bit, realizing the woman was only trying to help. “Yes, we did all that. It’s Þ ne. I know where he is.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“He’s Þ ne. Somebody found him and is taking care of him.”

“What do you mean?” Patti’s barrage of questions kept on.

“Don’t you want him back? Do you want me to call my cousin?

He’s a cop. And my brother’s buddy works at animal control. I’ll call him right now.” She stood up to leave, obviously ready to

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FINDING HOME

call in the cavalry to rescue Sarah’s dog. Her determination to lend a hand made Sarah grow a little more fond of her.

“No.” The quickness of Sarah’s reply stopped Patti in her tracks. The sudden image of a bunch of large, burly authority Þ gures barreling down on Natalie was just too much for Sarah to bear. “No. It’s Þ ne. Really. I appreciate your offer to help, but I’ve got it under control.”

Patti blinked at her and scratched at the part in her hair.

“Mmm.” Her tone was drenched in doubt.

“Seriously, Patti. It’s Þ ne.” Sarah gave a genuine smile.

“Really. Thank you so much for wanting to help. It’s good.”

Patti’s skeptical expression clearly stated that she wasn’t totally convinced. “All right. If you say so.” She left the room uncertainly, glancing back at Sarah twice, as if hoping to catch her at a moment of weakness, ready to tell Patti the truth.

Sitting back in her chair and returning to her contemplative state, Sarah spent a long while staring off into space again, rolling the current events of her life around and around. The idea that slowly began forming in her mind seemed totally off the wall but somehow comforting, which didn’t seem like it should even be possible. She wondered if she was crazy.

v

What the hell was I thinking?

That same question had been scrolling through Natalie’s mind like CNN’s streaming news at the bottom of the screen since Sarah had walked out of Valenti’s that morning. She felt like her brain had taken a break and her mouth had seized the opportunity to wreak a little havoc in its absence. Since that moment, she’d screwed up seven coffee orders, put salt into the cannoli Þ lling instead of sugar, left a batch of cinnamon rolls in the oven to burn while she was staring off into space, and let a dozen eggs slip out of her hands and onto the ß oor.

“You.” Mrs. Valenti pointed at her as she stood staring

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down at the broken eggs, her face a combination of irritation and concern. “Come.” Gesturing Natalie to her with a rolling of her work-callused hand, she grabbed her by the back of the neck, none too gently, and slapped a palm against her forehead. “You sick? You not feel well? What?” She touched her cheek on one side, then the other, then went back to her forehead.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. V.” Natalie rubbed at her eye, embarrassed.

“I’m just having an off day.”

“No sorry. S’okay. You always work hard for me. Why don’t you take a break and go upstairs? Take a nap or something.

Rest.”

“But I’m okay. I swear.” Natalie hated the idea of letting her bosses down.

“No. S’okay. You go. No more burning buns today.” The gentle snap with a dish cloth she gave to Natalie’s backside helped take any sting out of the words. “Go.”

Like an eight-year-old, Natalie lifted her arms and let them drop back to her sides in frustration. Maybe Mrs. Valenti was right. She’d done enough damage for one day.

Upstairs for more than three hours, she took Mrs. Valenti’s advice and took a nap, something she rarely did. But the summer sun was beaming in through the windows and Chino was used to sleeping away his afternoons, and she couldn’t resist the pull. So she cuddled up with him on the futon, and they drifted in and out of a lazy doze for almost two hours. Rather than cranky and more tired—the way she usually awoke from a nap—she felt rested and energized. A timid knock on her door revealed Anthony, Mrs. Valenti’s twelve-year-old great-grandson, carrying a bowl of homemade minestrone.

“Nana said to give you this.” His voice was soft, he was blushing, and his deep, dark eyes never met hers. Andrea always teased her that Anthony had a crush on her and for the Þ rst time, she wondered if Andrea was right.

“Oh, that’s so sweet.” She took the bowl gingerly from his outstretched hands, careful not to spill.

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“She said to tell you to make sure you eat it all. So you get better.” He still avoided her eyes. Chino poked his head around her legs and Anthony’s face lit up. “Hi, boy. How are you?”

“Do you want to come in, Anthony? Play with Chino while I eat?”

“Nah.” He grimaced, telling Natalie he’d love nothing more than to take her up on her invitation. He squatted and held a hand out to Chino, who licked it, his nubby tail wiggling uncontrollably.

“Papa’s got some stuff he needs my help with.”

“All right,” Natalie said, smiling. “Well, if you change your mind, come on up, okay?”

“Uh-huh.” He turned and headed down the stairs.

“Thanks for the soup, Anthony.”

“Welcome,” he called over his shoulder.

She followed him with her eyes, thinking how much she adored the Valenti family, how lucky she was to have them as part of her life, especially given that she lived a couple of hours from her own folks. Mr. and Mrs. Valenti treated her like one of their own, and the steaming bowl of minestrone was as much proof of that as anything else.

And it was indescribably delicious.

By six o’clock, Natalie was Þ ghting an attack of the guilts.

Despite the fact that she’d been trying to talk the Valentis into staying open for an extra hour to catch the after-work crowd that might be interested in fresh bread with dinner, she was glad they closed at Þ ve. By the time she and Chino were ready to head outside and wait for Sarah, the shop was closed up and everybody had gone home. There was nobody left to wonder why Natalie had been too “sick” to stay at work, but seemed healthy enough to go for a stroll with her dog. Not that anyone would have really thought that way. It was more likely Natalie’s guilty conscience was making her feel weird. She donned a pair of black, seen-better-days nylon shorts and a pink T-shirt with a faded Old Navy screen print across the front. Strapping on her Tevas, she asked Chino if he was ready to go. He began to wiggle his butt

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emphatically and spin in circles, something that never failed to make Natalie laugh.

The temperature still hovered in the mid eighties and Monroe Avenue was busy with people soaking up the too-short season. Natalie and Chino hung out in front of the shop, Natalie reclining on an iron bench and watching the world go by as they waited for Sarah, and she absently wondered what the hell she’d been thinking inviting Sarah on their walk. The woman hated her, and frankly, Natalie was a little bit afraid of her.
God, I make
some stupid spur-of-the-moment decisions, don’t I?
She shook her head ruefully.

Chino knew by now that the next step was that they would head for the park and his little body thrummed with anticipatory energy as he paced in front of Natalie, unable to completely relax, his doggie brain probably preoccupied by visions of chasing a red rubber ball through the grass. Natalie scratched his head absently as she kept a lookout for the third member of their threesome and her heart thumped a nervous rhythm.

She’d been looking to her right and Sarah’s face registered belatedly as she swiveled to look in the other direction. That’s when she noticed Andrea coming from her left.

“Oh, crap,” she muttered, cursing the bad timing and feeling like she was about to be tossed into a box with a snake and a mongoose. Steeling herself, she stood up and waved to Sarah, who actually smiled and looked happy to see her.
Interesting,
she thought, not unhappily. But Natalie could pinpoint the exact moment when Sarah recognized Andrea coming up behind her because Sarah’s warm expression dissolved like a sidewalk chalk design in a rainstorm. “Crap,” Natalie said again.