“Monster, I don’t think Emory’s going to be spending so much time with us anymore.”
Grace frowned. “Why not? I miss her. She was going to teach me about color theory next.”
Sarah tried to explain delicately. “I’m sure she wanted to, Grace. It’s just that some things have changed between us, she and I.”
“You’re not dating anymore?”
Sarah decided honesty was probably the best way to go. “Not anymore, no.”
Grace looked up at her, clearly crestfallen. “But I really liked Emory.”
Hearing those words was like pressing on a bruise, and she steadied herself from the pain. “I did too, Grace, but it didn’t work out for us.”
Grace considered this before coming to a very resolute conclusion. “Don’t worry, Mama. You two will make up, like Mindy and me. Probably soon.” She seemed so very hopeful that Sarah didn’t have the heart to correct her.
It was in week three that the hardcore reality hit her. Not knowing what else to do, she threw herself into her work full force, anything to keep her mind busy. The article in the Union-Trib certainly did a number on her client list. She’d had to hire her own receptionist just to keep up with her side of Immaculate Home and the huge volume of calls that were now tumbling in.
By week four, the strange, numb, workaholic version of herself started to slide away, and underneath, she found that she still very much missed Emory. And not just Emory her girlfriend, she missed Emory the person. She’d come to be a lot of things to Sarah over the months they’d spent together. Her friend, her business advisor, her partner in crime, and then of course, her lover. God, how she missed those intimate moments with Emory. The smooth, warm perfection of her mouth and the scorching feel of her skin against Sarah’s. But there was still more. They’d laughed so much together. How was she going to make it through the rest of her days without that smile, those crazy dimples? For all her seriousness, when Emory smiled, it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, and Sarah could think of nothing else that compared.
And here she sat in week five, trying to get herself back on track a little at a time, and there was now a glimmer of hope that all would eventually be okay. Of course nothing had the same shine to it, but she was getting by. She could see that the life ahead of her would be clean and smooth, not exactly the place she longed to be, but not horrible either.
It felt good to be out with Carmen, and deciding there was no time like the present, Sarah turned to her and sighed, laying out the series of events that led up to the moment they now inhabited. Knowing that Carmen would have a million questions, she did her best to spare no detail. Once everything was out on the table, she turned to her expectantly and waited.
Carmen looked thoughtful, maybe even a little confused. “And what did you say?”
Sarah shrugged. “There wasn’t a lot to say at that point. She made her feelings clear. She didn’t see a future.”
“And so you—”
“Walked away. Cried a lot. And here we sit.”
“Yeah, but is it possible that something freaked her out and she’s scared?”
Sarah took a deep breath. “Maybe. But that’s not the point. In the end, she has to want to be with us. Grace shouldn’t be a liability to anyone.”
Carmen nodded, mulling this over. “I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, but there must be a part of you that wants to know what changed her mind. Michael, if you don’t stop hitting your brother with that stick, you are going to lose all bike riding privileges for fifteen days.” Michael, wide-eyed, obliged and dropped the stick mid wallop, and instead picked up a handful of dirt and dumped it over his brother’s head. “That’s better,” Carmen muttered to herself.
“Do you really think so?”
“Well, I’m going to have to give him a bath now, but—”
“No, about letting her walk away. Do you really think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Quite honestly, no. I was just trying to be nice. I miss the spark I saw in your eyes after Emory hit the scene. It was like this breath of fresh air to see you so happy all the time. I understand why you’re upset, I do, but in the scheme of life, sometimes you have to fight where love is concerned. God knows Roman isn’t perfect, and some of the things he does make me want to shake him violently, but I love him. Do you love her, Sarah?”
“That’s not what we’re talking about here. What’s love got to do with it?”
“A lot, Tina Turner, it has a lot to do with it. Everything, in fact. Love doesn’t come in a nice neat little package. It’s rough and it’s messy and there are always going to be issues. But if it’s real, you don’t give up.”
“Can we not do this? Emory is a part of my past, and I have to do what I can to focus on the future.”
Carmen sighed and stood up. “I love you and I’m here for you, but sometimes you frustrate the hell out of me. I just want to see you happy.”
“Happy seems a bit lofty at the moment. I think I’ll settle for just getting by.”
Carmen looked at her squarely. “Make sure you’re doing the right thing.”
“I am,” Sarah murmured. “I am.”
*
Emory stepped back from the large canvas and studied the blend of blues. The texture wasn’t quite right, but she knew how to resolve the problem. She reached for a brush a tad thicker in diameter and set to work emphasizing the rounded edge of the saxophone key until the shape filled in just as she saw it in her head.
She’d been painting for three hours, and her neck was starting to tug. Arguably, this was edgier work than she’d ever attempted before, but she acted with the kind of abandon germane to someone with very little to lose, and that’s exactly how she felt.
Her phone had been vibrating incessantly from the nearby stool it rested on throughout the day, but she’d paid little attention. It beckoned her once again, and she decided to finally take her sister’s fifteenth thousandth call or it was possible she would never go away. “Hi, Vanessa.”
“Well, it’s about damn time. Do you know I’ve been trying to get you to answer this phone for a week now? Have you gotten my messages?”
“I’ve gotten them. I’ve just had other things on my plate.”
“Like what? We’re family. I called your office and they said you were indisposed. When I pestered them further, they gave me Lucy who told me you’d taken a leave of absence from the company. Is this true?”
“It’s true.” Emory sipped from her cup of coffee. “I’m in Napa, taking a little time for myself. Surely that’s something you would understand.”
“It’s just not like you, Emory, you’re a workaholic. Is this about Mother?” Emory thought she detected a hint of compassion, a rare commodity where Vanessa was concerned.
“Nope. Just about me.”
“What are you doing up there? Are you with someone?” she practically whispered. “I forget her name. Susan, or is it someone new by now?”
“I’m by myself,” Emory bit out. Which was precisely how she wanted it. She’d been in Napa, more specifically Calistoga, for several weeks now. The slower pace was exactly what she needed to gain some perspective and lick her self-inflicted wounds. She spent her days painting and reading books, either at the small house she’d rented or on the property of some of her favorite wineries. She kept mostly to herself, but enjoyed the anonymity the small tourist town offered.