Whole Latte Life (41 page)

“Wow. All of a sudden this is happening so fast.”

“I know. Listen.” Sara Beth takes Melissa’s hands in hers. “Come home with me! I can’t think straight right now, I’m so excited. Tom’s washing the car with Owen. Then we’re taking the kids out for pizza. Bring Kevin and Chelsea.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I want to celebrate. Finally.”

“Let’s close up then. You done here?”

“Almost. I fed the cat and the inventory’s set.” The opened metal box on her desk overflows with cards and handwritten receipts and notes scribbled onto scraps of paper. “All I have to do is lock up.”

She collects her daisy chain and her purse, switches off and carefully unplugs the Steuben glass lamp, then says goodnight to Slinky. “Let’s go,” she says, tucking the framed daisies into her satchel and triple locking the heavy carriage doors.

So now she has this: Reality, and it’s as perfect as she knew it would be.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

S
ara,” Lillian says from the other side of the screen door. It isn’t yet eight in the morning. “I know it’s early, but do you have a few minutes?”

“Lillian? What’s the matter?” Sara Beth asks, tightening her robe.

Tom comes up behind her and sees the Marches on the front step. His tie hangs loose around his collar, his top button still undone. He reaches around Sara and opens the door.

“Lillian. Edward. Come on in.”

“Are you both okay?” Sara Beth asks.

“Yes, hon. We’re fine.”

“Edward,” Tom says, shaking his hand. “What’s going on?”

“Sara. Tom.” Lillian takes a quick breath. “There’s been an accident.”

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” Tom says. “Please, after you,” he motions to them and knots his tie as he goes. The kids, still in their pajamas, crowd behind him.

“Daddy, up!” Owen cries, his arms outstretched. “Up!”

“Katherine. Jen. Take Owen upstairs and get him dressed. And make your beds.” He eyes the girls as his voice drops. “Stay upstairs until I call for you.”

“Dad!” Jen insists. “Why can’t I stay?”

“Because you’re the oldest and I need you to be in charge of the others. Get going.”

“Tom?” Sara Beth asks. You sense bad news, sometimes, and this is her way of asking if he knows it too, the way she does, how bad this is about to be.

“I’ll put on more coffee. Why don’t you set out some cups?”

Lillian sits beside Edward, holding his hand beneath the table while Sara Beth sets out china cups and saucers with silver spoons. Country roses edge the antique white china. She reaches for the pewter creamer and sugar bowl on the pine hutch beside the table. Lillian watches, a sad smile escaping in spite of what is to come because anyone can see this room is pure Sara Beth; the vintage china with a fine crack here and there, hinting at its pedigree. The dull glow of old pewter and a painted country hutch.

“Wait till the kids are settled upstairs,” Sara Beth says as she lays out cloth napkins like this is normal. As though her guests are simply here on a social call. “I don’t want to upset them.”

Tom pours the coffee and they finally both sit with the Marches. “Okay then. Tell us about this accident.” As the words come out, Sara Beth knows.

Lillian pours a splash of milk into her coffee. She stirs it lightly with the sterling spoon, taps it on the edge of the cup and sets it on her saucer. “I’m so sorry. There’s really no easy way to say this.”

“It’s the carriage house, isn’t it?” Sara Beth asks.

“There was a fire,” Edward says quietly.

“What?” Tom pulls his chair in closer. “How bad?”

“We’re so sorry,” Lillian answers. “It’s completely destroyed.”

A silence changes the room. Pictures form in their minds, then are discarded with disbelief.

“Destroyed?” Tom asks. “What do you mean, destroyed?”

“It’s gone. There’s nothing left.”

“Nothing?” Sara Beth’s shaking her head no. Certainly, the fire only destroyed the carriage house. Somehow, her precious antiques are safe. “But the Fire Department, they got out my antiques, right?”

“Sara, dear. Your beautiful furniture,” Lillian clasps her hands to her face with a gasp. “I’m sorry.”

“When? How?” Tom asks.

“We’re not really sure,” Lillian begins. “There was a noise early this morning, after midnight. When I heard it, I ran to the window. It was the carriage house, the whole outside wall caving in under so much fire. The flames, oh my God, they were everywhere. We called for help right away, but it burned so fast. So fast! The Fire Department will investigate and find out more.”

“My antiques? Everything?” Sara Beth watches Lillian closely for the slightest gentle look, the slightest smile or touch of reassurance.

“Well we can’t get near the site because of hot spots. And some of the walls are barely standing. Some pieces may have survived, we don’t know for sure.”

“The fire trucks couldn’t get there sooner?” Sara Beth asks.

“They got there in no time, but when the fire woke us, it was already extensive. We called right away, but in a matter of minutes…Oh, Sara, there wasn’t much they could do with that old barn.”

“Can anything be salvaged?” Tom asks. “Even a few pieces?”

“Possibly,” Edward says. “But they sprayed all that water. It doesn’t look promising.”

Sara Beth pushes back her chair and stands. “I have to see it.” She turns to Tom.

“Dad?” Jen is standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Jen. I told you to wait upstairs,” Tom says.

“But Dad.” Jen looks at Lillian and Edward. “What about Slinky?”

“Come here, dear,” Lillian says. Jen moves beside her and Lillian takes her hands. “I don’t think she could possibly have survived.” Lillian brushes a wisp of hair from Jen’s face. “But it all happened so quickly, I’m sure she didn’t suffer.”

“Maybe she escaped?” Jen’s eyes fill with tears.

Sara Beth watches her daughter’s heart break and it’s all too much.

“Well, I could be wrong,” Lillian says gently, “but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. The heat, it was terrible. Even for the firefighters.”

“Slinky died?” Jen doesn’t seem to believe it. “She was just an innocent kitten.”

“Tom,” Sara Beth says, still standing. “I have to see for myself.”

“You two go,” Lillian and Edward say at the same time. “We’ll stay here with the kids.”

“Are you sure?” Tom is already standing.

“Yes, of course. Please drive carefully.” Lillian reaches into her purse. “Take my house key. If you need to get inside, if you want to sit down, you feel free.”

“Can I come?” Jen asks.

“It’s too dangerous,” Tom tells her.

“But will you look for the cat?”

Sara Beth hugs her daughter and kisses the top of her head. “We’ll look everywhere, okay?” Until she sees the destruction with her own eyes, there has to be some sort of a mistake. Some sort of hope. So she has that now.

A police cruiser and the Fire Marshal’s car prevent Tom from parking near the carriage house, but they’re close enough to see.

“Oh God,” Tom utters. Charred timber stands precariously. Black soot and ash carpet the floor and any furniture spared the flames’ fury. The roof is gone, leaving jagged sections of the walls reaching skyward.

Sara Beth’s hand reaches for his and he turns to her. “Sara.” But there is a force to the destruction still, enough to pull his gaze back. “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Let’s go check it out.”

She shakes her head before turning away. “I’ve seen enough.” She stares out her side window.

“That’s Bob Hough over there, the Fire Marshal,” Tom says. “I did the closing on his home last month. Let me see what I can find out.” He sits for a moment with Sara Beth and with this monstrosity in front of them. “I’ll be right back.”

Bob Hough turns when he approaches. “Good to see you, Tom. Are you representing the March family?”

“No. I wish this was a business call. My wife and I leased the carriage house.”

“No kidding,” Bob says. “For storage?”

“Antiques. Sara Beth was about to open a shop in town.”

“Now that’s a damn shame. The guys fighting it last night mentioned furniture, but I had no idea.”

“Looks like she lost almost everything.”

Bob moves closer to what’s left of the carriage house. Then he eyes Tom’s summer suit, right down to his expensive leather shoes. “You game to go in there? Maybe we can salvage something.”

“What are we waiting for?” Tom slips out of his suit jacket and drapes it on the fence post, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Anything he can find will only help Sara Beth, but somehow he knows it won’t be enough.

Bob retrieves a couple pairs of heavy work gloves from his car. “That inside corner is more intact than the rest. Let’s start there,” he suggests. “Technically I’m not supposed to do this. There could still be some live spots. So be real careful.”

The police officer joins them, and Tom glances over his shoulder willing Sara Beth to stay in the car. Because walking on her pieces of charred mahogany, cherry and oak is almost enough to do him in.