The Best Is Yet to Come

And then she was looking at him the way she always used to, her mouth slightly open, her lower lip damp from where she'd licked it, and he couldn't stop himself from shifting closer--

  One of the kids ran by blowing a whistle, and both he and Sarah jumped apart.

  He hadn't come here to try to woo Sarah back into his life. He'd come here to remind her of why this small town was so great, so simple and pure. He'd thought he was smarter than this, that there was no way he was going to allow himself to be swept back up into her.

  Suddenly, though, he wasn't sure he had it in him to keep holding out, to keep hanging back. Which wasn't a good thing at all, because thanks to his brilliant suggestion earlier, he still owed her a night.

  One night that just might make him break every vow he'd made about staying away from her in the past ten years.

  "It's getting pretty cold out." Even to his own ears, his voice didn't sound quite right. A little strangled as he tried to push back his desire. His longing for her. "I'll take you back home."

  As she helped him clean up the food and neatly folded the blanket into a perfect square, even as he tried to tell himself that he was glad they'd escaped potential danger, he couldn't push back the regret at how her previously open expression--when she was talking about her family's store, when it looked like she was leaning in for his kiss--had completely shut down.

  And he couldn't deny that being this close to her, and yet so far away, made him miss her more than he ever had before.

  Minutes later, he parked in front of her house and got out to walk her inside.

  "You don't have to walk me to the door."

  "Of course I do." Didn't the guys she dated walk her in at the end of the night?

  The thought stopped him cold. One, because this wasn't a date. And two, because the thought of Sarah going on a date with some stranger made him sick to his stomach.

  Because she should have been his.

  "Your night." She paused to give him a half smile, clearly a little nervous but clearly determined to be strong anyway. "It was a good one. Thank you for sharing it with me. And I wanted to let you know, it would be great if your sister came with us tomorrow night. You've already been away from her the past two nights. I need to get my project details ironed out, but I understand that you have a family."

  Sarah was right. He didn't ever spend this much time away from his sister. But Jordan liked having her own space from time to time, especially as she was getting older. He had just never been able to give it to her before. He'd had to hold on extra tight because she was all he had.

  "Jordan has choir late tomorrow night," he said. "My next-door neighbor can stay with her until I get back."

  "In that case, if we leave early, we can get home early so you don't miss too much time with her. Will five o'clock work?"

  She was sweet to think of his sister, so damned sweet it was hard to remember all the reasons why kissing her was such a bad idea. "It's perfect."

  "Great. See you tomorrow night." Her voice was cool, calm, but her hand was shaking as she opened the door and went inside.

  He shouldn't have been glad to see that the woman no one could ever fluster didn't seem immune to being with him.

  But he was.

  *

  Denise was curled up under a blanket on the couch in the living room when Sarah walked in. The lamp beside her was still on, and there were needles and yarn on her lap. Sarah was about to say hello when she realized her mother's eyes were closed.

  When she was a teenager, her mom would wait up for her like this. So many times, Sarah had come home from a midnight bonfire to find her mother right there on the couch, knitting, waiting.

  What a comfort that had been, to know that she was coming home to someone who cared about her. She'd only been home a couple of nights, and yet her mother was still right there. Caring.

  Wanting her to know she was back safely, Sarah knelt down and put a hand over her mother's. "I'm home."

  Her eyes fluttered open, a smile moving onto her lips. "Did I fall asleep?"

  Sarah nodded, then gently said, "You don't have to wait up for me anymore."

  But her mother just shook her head. "I know you're all grown up now, but you'll always be my little girl."

  Tonight, after the emotional roller coaster she'd been on with Calvin, that was just how she felt. So when her stomach grumbled and her mom offered, "How about I make you a snack before bed?" she decided to let the warmth of being home wrap itself around her like one of her mother's knitted blankets.

  Just for a little while.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Determined that her night for Calvin would be as good as the one he'd given her, Sarah was hard at work on her laptop early the next morning. She pulled up data on tourism in the Adirondack Park, on its residents, their career options, and spending patterns. She made phone calls and set up appointments.

  She should have been glad to finally get a productive day in, but her mind kept wandering. Not only to Calvin, but also to Lakeside Stitch & Knit. This was the first day she hadn't spent in the store, so she decided to drop by with coffee. She'd check in on her mother and grandmother and then come back and work some more.

  First, though, there was one more call she needed to make. Her boss picked up on the first ring. "How's life in the backwater?"

  She winced, even though she'd always referred to Summer Lake like that. "Good. I'm progressing on the project, but I want to run something by you before I call the Klein Group. A new boat launch is great, and I still think they should do it, but there's something else that will be even better for the town--a new high school football field, lights, stands, locker rooms."

  A very intelligent man--ruthless, some might say, when it came to making money--Craig said, "I take it you're having trouble convincing the town?"

  "Small towns operate differently from the rest of the world. High school football is practically a religion here."

  "I'll take your word for it," he said, already moving past their conversation. "Just do whatever you need to do to make it happen. We're all counting on you."

  *

  Carrying a tray of hot coffee, Sarah walked into Lakeside Stitch & Knit to find the place packed with kids. "The fifth-graders are paying us a visit today," her mother said with a smile when she gratefully took a cup.

  "Where's Grandma?"

  "She decided to take it easy again today."

  Worry about her grandmother's health rose up once more. "You should have called me. She should have called me. Tell me what you need me to do."

  Five minutes later, Sarah had a girl on either side, correcting their cast-ons just as Christie had done with her on Monday night, while a couple of boys pretended their knitting needles were swords. She hadn't spent much time with kids, not since her babysitting days, but these fifth-graders were easy to laugh with.

  "I just can't get it," one of the girls in the back corner cried, throwing her needles and tangled yarn onto the hardwood floor.

  Sarah was already heading over there when she realized those were Calvin's eyes looking back at her in defiance. This was the little girl with the pigtails and the missing tooth. The baby whose diaper she had changed ten years ago, right before she and Calvin had torn each other's hearts out.

  Sarah nearly stumbled as she reached for the seat beside Jordan and slid into it. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she said, "I was really frustrated too when I started."

  "Knitting is stupid. Why would anyone waste their time on this stuff?"

  Sarah settled back into her chair, looked around the store at the laughter, the concentration, the colors, the creativity. "I suppose it's because knitting makes people feel good. It can be fun to use your hands to make something. It's not just how soft the yarn is, how pretty the pattern is, it's the magic of it."

  "Magic?"

  Sarah started at that. Had she really just said that knitting was magic?

  She thought about the way her grandmother always looked happiest whe
n she was knitting. Her mother too. And she suddenly understood how anything that could make someone feel that good had to be magic.

  She nodded. "Yup. Magic."

  "I guess you could show me how to do it," Jordan said grudgingly.

  Hiding her smile, Sarah said, "Sure."

  *

  Hours later, she was heading for her mother's house to get ready for her night with Calvin when she heard voices coming from her grandmother's cottage.

  She didn't know whether to laugh or cry when she opened the cottage door. Her great-aunt Jean was concentrating on the lettering of her SAVE THE CAROUSEL sign. Dorothy and Helen from the knitting group were there too.

  "Grandma, what are you all doing?"

  "Just what it looks like. Getting a jump on our campaign. This is just the start. Everyone we've told about the carousel wants to help."

  Sarah pushed down the hurt that her grandmother had so little faith in her, not to mention the fact that she hated knowing they were on opposite sides of the issue. First, she and Calvin. Now, she and her grandmother--and all of these women.

  A sharp pang landed smack-dab in the middle of her chest. They were all against her. The insiders versus the girl who had never belonged.

  There were so many things she wanted to say to her grandmother just then, but she made herself stick to her health first. "You're supposed to be resting."

  "I'll rest when we're done here."

  Fine. Then Sarah would skip right to point two. "I told you I was going to talk to my client about the carousel, Grandma. You don't need to do all of this."

  "You gave me no guarantees, and I've always thought it's better to take things into one's own hands."

  And the truth was, Sarah couldn't help but be impressed with how quickly her grandmother and her sister and friends had put everything together. A part of her wanted to jump in and help...but she couldn't fight this battle for her grandmother. Not when it would mean fighting against herself, her client, and her future with her consulting firm. And not when it would be one more step toward failing--and away from the brass ring she'd always reached for.

  "Don't feel bad," Dorothy said, finally looking up from her computer, where she was doing God knew what. "We know you're just doing your job."

  Seeing just how much these women were relishing their task, she decided it would be a good chance to get some more background on the carousel. Something she could share with her clients that would help them understand why it was so important for Summer Lake. "Tell me about the carousel. Tell me what it means to each of you."

  Her great-aunt Jean looked up with a smile. "When we were kids, we would always try to stand on top of the horses like we were in the circus."

  "Mother thought it was too dangerous, but we never fell. Not once."

  Sarah noticed that Dorothy had stopped typing. "What about you, Dorothy?"

  "We were very poor when I was a little girl." Sarah was surprised to hear it. Dorothy looked so classy and put together. "We didn't have money for any extras, barely had enough to keep ourselves clothed and fed. Remember, Olive?"

  "You used to wear my old shoes."

  Dorothy snorted. "Old? You'd barely worn them before you told your daddy you needed another pair, and he bought them for you."

  "Did you hate me for it?" Olive asked. Everyone in the room stopped and turned to Dorothy, waiting for her answer.

  Sarah could see them so clearly--two girls in school together, two friends who came from such different backgrounds, who had such different things. For a second, she was reminded of the way she and Catherine had once been.

  "Sometimes."

  "I hated you sometimes too," Olive said, shocking all of them. "You had so much freedom."

  Dorothy smiled. "Well, more than you lot, anyway, with all of your fancy money and expectations. But you were asking about the carousel, weren't you, Sarah? Not the history of two old friends."

  Sarah worked to bring herself back to the carousel, but it was hard when she couldn't stop wondering about what her grandmother had said about freedom. What hadn't Olive felt free to do? To love Carlos instead of the man who had become Sarah's grandfather?

  "It was five cents for a ride," Dorothy said, "but one day a year it was free."

  "The Fall Festival," Jean put in.

  "We would finish our chores early and run over to get in line to ride it over and over."

  "Why was riding it so great?" Sarah vaguely remembered enjoying carousel rides as a little girl, but she couldn't imagine it being a cherished memory in her eighties.

  "You have to understand," her grandmother said, "we didn't have roller coasters or TV or the Internet. Just the sand and the sun and the lake. And the carousel."

  "If it was so important to all of you, then why haven't you tried to fix it up or get it running before?"

  Sarah's grandmother looked her in the eye. "You're right. We should have done something about it long before now. But sometimes it takes almost losing something to realize just how much it really means to you."

  "I have to confess," Sarah said, "I still don't completely get it."

  "Maybe that's because listening to our stories isn't the same as telling one of your own."

  "I don't have a carousel story." But as soon as Sarah said it, one came to her, spinning back into her conscious mind as if it were the present, not the past.

  She'd been five years old and her kindergarten day was over. She walked outside onto the playground expecting to see her mother. But her father had been there instead, saying, "How about the two of us go get an ice cream?"

  She'd been excited, so excited that she ran away from Calvin and Catherine without saying good-bye. She remembered getting a double scoop of rainbow sherbet, but she was so intent on holding her father's hand that it kept almost falling over in her free hand.

  Her father had wanted to sit and eat their ice cream on the carousel. He held her cone while she got on one of the matched pairs of horses, then he climbed onto the other. She'd loved it, just the two of them. The carousel didn't even run anymore at that point; it hadn't been running since long before Sarah was born. But it had been fun to sit on it and pretend with her father. So much fun she could hardly believe it.

  He'd been smiling, a bigger smile than she'd ever seen before as he'd said, "The brass ring used to be a real part of the carousel ride. You'd reach out and grab it as you went by." She loved the picture he was painting for her, wishing there was still a brass ring she could reach for right then. "Now it has a different meaning--to always do your best to strive to achieve your goals. Promise you'll never forget to always reach for the brass ring, Sarah. No matter what the obstacles are, always go for what you want and don't give up."

  Sarah started in her seat in her grandmother's cottage. That had always been her father's mantra for her. "Always reach for the brass ring, Sarah." But until now, she hadn't realized that was the first time he'd said it to her.

  "Sarah, are you all right?"

  She looked up at her grandmother. "How old was I when Daddy won his first election?"

  Olive thought about it for a moment. "You must have been around five."

  Sarah worked to keep her expression clear. All these years, she'd thought her father had been so happy because he'd finally been able to spend the day with her. Now she realized--that was the day he had become senator.

  He'd chosen her to celebrate with him, but only that once. After that, he'd been busy in Washington, DC, always gone when she needed him.

  Was this the reason she hadn't cared about getting rid of the carousel? Not only because it was falling apart, but also because instead of associating joy with it, there was pain?

  The pain of being left behind.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Calvin was impressed with the night Sarah had set up for them. She'd taken him to Loon Lake, another Adirondack town thirty minutes down Route 8, and she'd introduced him to families who had bought into the condominiums that had been built on the lake a hand
ful of years ago.

  Again and again, people told him how thrilled they were to own a small piece of property in the Adirondacks. For some of them, it was an escape from the pressure of their regular nine-to-five. For others, it had been a chance to start over again, to build a new life.

  She took him down the main street, busy and beautifully lit even on a weekday in the fall, and introduced him to store owners who told him how glad they were to be able to keep their doors open year-round rather than having to rely on a big summer and winter to sustain their bottom lines.

  She pointed out how careful the town had been with its expansion, showed the ways in which the people had been firm about staying away from chain stores, fast-food restaurants, and arcades like the ones they found in nearby Lake George. According to Sarah's research, Loon Lake was making a name for itself as not only the perfect weekend getaway from nearby cities, but also as an ideal place to summer and retire and start new businesses as well.

  "Loon Lake embodies everything I've been talking about. Development without going in the wrong direction. No casinos. Not too many tourist shops. The only thing about it that isn't really ideal is the fact that the lake is so small. They can't have any motorized boats on it or even the bigger sailboats." She turned to him, a small smile on her lips. "You've had a good time tonight, haven't you? Talking to everyone, learning about their town."

  "I have. I should have done it before," he admitted. "You're a very impressive salesperson, Sarah."

  She had made reservations at a restaurant on the lake, and they'd stepped out onto the porch with their drinks. Clouds had come in during the past hour, completely covering the moon. Calvin could smell rain in the air.

  But the weather wasn't the only thing shifting. The wall that had been so firmly between them that first night seemed to be shifting too.

  "I met your sister today at Lakeside Stitch & Knit." Sarah was so beautiful in the faint moonlight that his breath hitched in his chest as she said, "She's fantastic."

  He didn't bother to hide his pride. "Jordan is a really good kid. I got lucky with her."

  "And she got lucky with you." Her voice was soft, filled with emotion. "I realized the other night that it's been a long time since I've been in the lake. Any lake."

  He couldn't stop himself from moving closer, unable to keep his distance after such a great evening. "How long?"