Accident?
Just a small one.
Reece eyed the car from bumper to bumper and, apparently seeing no damage, walked around to the other side.
Sara knew the moment he saw the crunched-in door. She longed to flee to the safety of her room, where she wouldnt have to endure his anger. But one thing her parents had taught her-and that had sunk in-was that she had to take responsibility for her actions.
How did this happen?
Someone backed into me in the parking lot.
A muscle twitched in his jaw. So it wasnt your fault?
She shook her head. The guy apologized all over the place.
You have a police report?
Again she shook her head. We exchanged information. She reached into her bag and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper onto which shed written the mans name, phone number and drivers license number.
Reece walked back around to the street and took the paper from her. He examined it briefly before meticulously creasing it and placing it in his wallet. I cant believe you wrecked my new car.
It wasnt my fault.
Maybe not technically, but you drive like you do everything else.
Whats that supposed to mean?
Full throttle, damn the consequences.
He turned and walked back into the house without a backward glance.
His attack was so unfair, and his harsh judgment cut her to the bone. But Sara resisted the juvenile urge to cry. Shed learned not to. When she was little, and her father yelled at her for some sin, real or imagined, she couldnt help the tears. But crying only made everything worse. If she cried, her father would just scold her for crying, too. Hed told her not to be a crybaby.
Reece was not her father, she reminded herself. But she didnt like this self-righteous side of him.
He hadnt even tried to listen or show some understanding. Hed gotten in the last word and walked away.
Now they had this thing between them.
Realizing she couldnt stand in the street forever, she moved her leaden feet toward the front porch. This hadnt been the best day of her life, but neither had it been the worst. Stuff happened. She would go into the kitchen, fix up a nice soup and maybe even show Reece she was a bigger person than he was by offering to share. Then she would get everything ready for breakfast tomorrow. She would have to return to the hospital tomorrow morning to make sure Miss Greer was doing okay, but she could wait until after breakfast was served.
She had no idea how she would get to Corpus Christi, but she would figure something out. Maybe Allie would loan Sara her car. She seldom needed it during the day, when she was out on her boat running one of her charter trips.
She had no idea how she would get to Corpus Christi, but she would figure something out. Maybe Allie would loan Sara her car. She seldom needed it during the day, when she was out on her boat running one of her charter trips.
The B and B guests were all in the living room when Sara entered the house, drinking cocktails and talking about where they would have dinner that night.
Had Reece served them the wine? Miss Greer kept a few bottles of inexpensive wine around, usually to serve the guests on their first night at the B and B.
Oh, Sara, said Mrs. Silverstein, who had stayed at the Sunsetter many times, how is Miss Greer doing?
Much better, Sara answered with a smile. Shes looking forward to learning to walk with her new hip.
I got a new hip last year, said Mrs. Benedict, doing a couple of shallow knee bends to show how flexible she was. Best thing I ever did for myself. Miss Greer is going to love it!
Sara felt cheered by the news. Mrs. Benedict was at least as old as Miss Greer, and she was still active. Hopefully Miss Greer still had several good, productive years to look forward to.
Does anyone need anything before I head to the kitchen? Sara asked.
The youngest woman in the room, who by process of elimination must be Mrs. Taylor, gave a sultry smile. Reece has been taking very good care of us.
Yes, Mrs. Silverstein said. That new boy you hired is doing very well for himself. The breakfast he served was marvelous!
Sara stopped herself before she could point out that she was the one who had cooked the breakfast. That would be petty. But it gave her a little pang to realize she could be replaced in the guests affections so easily.
Sara entered the kitchen expecting it to be a disaster, but Reece had apparently cleaned everything up after breakfast. That was a first. Shed never known a man who would set foot in the kitchen, much less clean it.
Goodness, hed even run the dishwasher.
She opened the door of the industrial-size dishwasher, pulled out the lower rack intending to put away the dishes, and let out an involuntary shriek.
Miss Greers beautiful Haviland china looked as if someone had taken a hammer to it.
What? Reece appeared in the doorway, out of breath. What happened? Then he took in the broken china and his face fell. Oh, no.
Sara was tempted to tell Reece that any idiot knew not to put fine china into a dishwasher. She experienced a brief, childish urge to make him feel the way hed made her feel not ten minutes ago.
She opened her mouth, then stopped. Truth be known, this was her responsibility. She knew he had little experience in the kitchen. She should have told him those delicate bone china dishes had to be hand washed, especially since this dishwasher was notoriously brutal.
Can they be fixed? Reece removed a shard from the dishwasher and examined it. He looked so forlorn, any irritation shed felt toward him melted away.
Im afraid not.
Were they valuable?
Probably only to her. Its her wedding china from her hope chest.
Reece put a hand to his head and leaned against the counter, looking as if someone had just hit him. God help me. Ive destroyed an elderly womans girlhood dreams. What kind of a monster does that make me?
Its not your fault, Reece.
He looked at her, surprised. Youre making me feel worse, you know. You should yell at me.
I dont want to yell. I dont like yelling.
His guilty expression would have amused her under other circumstances. I shouldnt have lost my temper about the car. You said it wasnt your fault and I should have accepted that. And even if you were at fault-which Im sure you werent-it wouldnt have been on purpose. Im sorry, Sara.
Now she really wanted to cry. Reece certainly wasnt like her father, whod never apologized for anything in his life-at least not to her.
I might have been driving a little fast through the parking lot, she admitted. Maybe I could have prevented the accident if Id been more careful. And I shouldve told you not to put china in the dishwasher. Its my fault, totally. Ill take the blame with Miss Greer.
Reece actually smiled. Throwing blame around doesnt really make things better, does it? Lets try to solve the problem. Can we replace the dishes?
Sara relaxed. The hideous thing between her and Reece was gone, just with a few words of understanding. Now the dish disaster had been reduced to a tactical challenge, and she liked a good challenge.
There are services out there that do nothing but sell replacement china, silver and crystal, she said. But it wouldnt be the same.
You mean we couldnt match the exact pattern?
No, we could probably do that. But they wouldnt be the exact same dishes.
Reece obviously still didnt get it.
Are you familiar with the concept of sentimental value? These are the very dishes Miss Greer collected, dreaming of a life with a future husband who never materialized. Think how excited she must have been, saving her pennies, buying one plate or saucer at a time, planning for her very first meal. New dishes, even if they looked exactly the same, wouldnt actually be the same.
Could she tell the difference?
Are you suggesting we dont tell her?
Why break her heart if we dont have to? Reece countered.
It seemed dishonest, but she supposed Reece had a point.
All right, Sara agreed reluctantly. Lets figure out exactly how much is broken so well know what pieces to look for.
After removing all of the broken pieces from the dishwasher, they had their tally: three broken dinner plates, two salad plates, six teacups and two saucers. The pattern was Havilands Tea Rose, according to the seal on the bottom of a plate.
Ill get started researching this on the Internet, Reece said.
Sara wasnt particularly skilled on the Internet. She didnt even own a computer. Ill make us some dinner.
Is that allowed?
Sara laughed, the first time shed done so since wrecking Reeces car. Miss Greer was notoriously territorial about the kitchen, and anyone who stayed here any length of time knew it. She lets me cook for myself, Sara said, so long as I dont get in her way or smell the place up with onions. But while shes away, we get to make up the rules. Im going to cook all the things Miss Greer doesnt approve of. Is there anything you especially like to eat?
He thought for a moment. Pot roast with potatoes and carrots?
She should have known. Thats not really my style of cooking. I lean toward vegetarian and ethnic dishes.
No meat loaf then?
Honestly, the man had zero imagination when it came to food. How about tortilla soup? she asked. Everyone loved tortilla soup.
Except Reece, apparently. Look, dont worry about me. Ill go into town to eat.
Will you at least try what I fix? she persisted. Its much more fun to cook for someone other than myself. I mean, restaurant meals are fine, and I love trying new places, but nothing beats a fresh meal from your own kitchen.
Sure, he said after a very long pause, but please dont be insulted if I dont eat the spicy stuff.
Ill tone down the spices just for you. She gave him a little wink, because she couldnt help herself. His life might be boring and predictable, but his food didnt have to be. She was going to convert him to adventurous cuisine if it was her last act on earth.
Chapter Five
Reeces Internet search had started out on an optimistic note.
All of the guests had left for dinner, so Reece had the living room to himself. As he sat on the sofa with his laptop, listening to the comforting clank and clatter of Sara cooking, he discovered a dozen companies that sold replacement china. But he soon found out it wouldnt be as easy as placing the order and waiting for UPS.